Page 86 of Blood & Snow

When he pulls me down for a kiss I let him.

It's warm and sensual, deepening to open my mouth.

He groans into it and I feel the familiar stirrings of heat in my groin, but I can't let myself go this time.

All I can think is that he wants me to help him kill people, and I'm not okay with that.

My stupid brain might possibly be able to turn a blind eye when it comes to his misdeeds.

I might be able to lie down and sleep at night because my schooling has trained me to look at blood spatter patterns as mathematical equations, but if I knowingly help him plan a man's murder, what does that really make me then?

"What is it?" he asks, pulling aback.

The vodka on his breath is intoxicating.

I want to stay, to lean into his kisses and forget, but if I do, he will convince me that helping him is the right thing.

"I can't…" I whisper, and push back on his chest.

"Mycycle…" I tell him, muttering the lamest excuse so I can get out of this.

"It doesn't bother me," he grunts, pulling me back, but I press my hands more firmly against the heated kiss he offers.

"Xander, no."

This time, he lets me go, and I stand.

"I should change…"

Lingering, I wait for him to rise and lead me to the bedroom where he has a few other things he bought for me weeks ago, things I refused to take to the apartment because of Irina's questions.

He walks into his closet and finds another black dress, similar but not identical, and tosses it at me.

The things he asked me to do for him feel like an elephant in the room as I strip out of the ruined dress and slide into the fresh one.

Xander's eyes never leave my body.

They map every curve and trace every line.

I notice his bulge and feel guilty that I'm outright refusing to pleasure him when I damn well want it just as bad, but I need space to breathe.

"You'll call, I assume?" I ask him, knowing the next time he calls it won't be for a clean up job.

He will be asking me to plan an execution, and worse.

He will want me to find a way to stalk someone and deliver them to the executioner too.

I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the neckline as I zip into the new dress, which I hope Irina does not recognize is different, and he comes to stand behind me.

His hands grip my biceps as he presses a kiss to the back of my head.

"Stay with me, please. We don't have to fuck. I just don't want to be alone today."

Sunlight is starting to slowly trickle in the windows as dawn approaches.

But I have an obvious excuse and one I am more than happy to use.

"I promised to help Anya and Mikhail with the yolka."