Page 97 of Blood & Snow

"You can."

"How do you know?"

His free hand finds mine, fingers threading through mine.

"Because you were made for this. Made for me. And I won't let you go now."

The words aren't a declaration of love.

They carry no promises of gentleness or protection from the world he inhabits.

He can only speak in terms he knows, and it's startling how easily he can take a life.

How simple it was for him to wipe his blood clean on the coat of a dead man and walk away without shaking.

He shows no remorse.

But I know he feels.

I know his heart isn't a stone because I feel it when he kisses me.

And I need to feel something other than this terror or I'm going to snap and go insane.

I pull him toward me.

His mouth finds mine, and he doesn’t pull away though I'm sure I taste like vomit.

He responds with matching urgency, his hands tangling in my wet hair, and crushing my mouth to his.

"Nadya…"

His tongue claims me, forcing every thought of the courier out of my head.

My chest heaves with broken sobs against him, but he doesn’t relent.

He swallows the sounds, kisses me harder, until I’m drowning in something I can finally feel—his heat, his hunger.

“You’re safe,Ptichka,” he growls against my lips, water streaming down both of us.

His soaked shirt clings to him, plastered against my skin as he drags me upright.

My legs wobble, but his grip on my hips steadies me.

“I can’t?—”

“You can,” he cuts me off, his hand sliding between my thighs.

Fingers part me with no hesitation, finding me raw, trembling, but already slick from need.

“You were made for me. Say it…"

I choke on a whimper as his thumb circles my clit, the rough pad teasing me until my knees buckle.

He pins me to the tile, his broad chest pressed to mine, his hard cock straining against wet denim.

“Say it,” he demands, teeth grazing the edge of my jaw.

“For you,” I gasp, clutching his shoulders as heat spreads through me.