Page 47 of Bride of Vengeance

Possessive. Definitely dangerous. Exactly what I want to hear from the man who's just claimed me so thoroughly.

"And you? What does this feel like to you?"

"Like everything I always wanted and never allowed myself to admit," I whisper.

The point of no return.

And I don't regret it for a second.

Chapter ten

After the Storm

Mikhail

I wake up alone.

The bed beside me is empty, the sheets already cold. She's been gone for a while, then. Long enough that the warmth of her body has faded from the expensive Egyptian cotton that still smells like her shampoo and the sex we had hours ago.

Hours ago.When she was soft and vulnerable in my arms, whispering that what we have feels like everything.

When we were naive enough to think one night of honesty would erase years of training and professional identity.

I sit up, noting the time on the bedside clock. Six-thirty in the morning. Early, but not unreasonably so for someone who runs five miles every morning at six-thirty sharp.

Except she can't do that anymore. Not when every federal agent in the city is looking for her.

This means she’s awake and moving around my house, probably processing what happened between us last night. Probably building walls to protect herself from feelings that scare her more than any physical threat.

Probably regretting everything.

I find her in the kitchen, fully dressed in jeans and a sweater, hair pulled back in a professional ponytail instead of the sleep-mussed mess I woke up to yesterday. Mariana is making coffee with mechanical precision, and when she sees me, her expression is carefully neutral.

All business.

"Morning," she says, her voice carrying none of the warmth from last night. "I made coffee."

"Thank you."

I pour myself a cup, conscious of the way she's positioned herself on the opposite side of the kitchen island. Maximum distancewhile maintaining the appearance of normal conversation. A tactical retreat in disguise.

She's running.

Not physically - she obviously can't go out of here, not with Harrison's people looking for her. But emotionally, she's putting up every barrier she can construct. Protecting herself from her own vulnerability, and of what we shared.

Protecting herself from me.

"Sleep well?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral despite the frustration building in my chest.

"Fine." She takes a sip of coffee, not meeting my eyes. "We should get back to work. We need to start moving."

Work.Safe territory..

A perfect excuse to pretend last night didn't happen.

I should call her on it. If she's having second thoughts, we should definitely talk about it..

But pushing her now would only make her withdraw further. And we do have work to do. Real threats to address. Significantly more urgent talks. The rest will have to wait..