Page 66 of Deadly Knight

I give her another moment and sip my drink. And then another before resting my glass on the side table and sliding from the couch, lowering to one knee in front of her. My movement gains her attention, but her eyes go through me, wide and shocked, like she’s seeing a ghost.

Which, maybe she is. Maybe that’s what I’ve become. She killed me when she left me, and I’ve spent years haunting her. There’s no better definition for the man I’ve become.

I ache to touch her so fucking badly. To hold her through this, except I’m the source behind her discomfort.

“Katya.”

Fuck, it feels so good—soright—to say her nameto her. Not about her. Not while she’s asleep. But while she’s with me, able to respond.

It seems to snap her awake, and her legs scramble, her body leaning away.

It hurts.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.No.What—how—why?”

“You must have a lot of questions.”

“Must?”she all but shrieks before launching to her feet, moving as far from me as the plane allows. Her back presses to the bathroom door, her hands coming up between us as I slowly get to my feet. “Dimitri,whatis going on? Why are youhere?” Her eyes flick around the plane, landing on the small, oval windows; the distinct design limited to few things in the world, and the blue and white beyond. “Where. Am. I?” Her teeth grit between each punched-out word, and we’re both aware she knows exactly where we are.

I lower back to my couch again, figuring sitting is the only way to get anywhere with her. “You were in danger, so I’m ensuring you’re not again.”

Her mouth opens with another argument before her brows furrow and her mouth shuts, quietly piecing it together. “Your father attacked me.”

“He drugged you and threatened to kill you to get to me.”

She nods, accepting what I’ve told her like it’s a casual thing, which pisses me off more, and I reach for my drink to grip something. “Okay, but why, after all these years, did he think that’d work? Life is different than back then.We’redifferent from back then.”

We’re not, but I stare at her, unwilling to say the words she’s smart enough to figure out herself.

Her eyes drop to my right wrist, spotting the symbol. Understanding its meaning, she whispers in a dead voice, “You were supposed to let me go. To forget about me.”

Easier said than done.

“It’s what I asked you to do. What we both needed.”

Whatyouneeded. Not me.

She crosses the plane to stand in front of me, her brows pinched together like she’s pleading for me to give the responses that’ll make all this better in her head. “How did he know where to find me?”

I force a sip, hiding the way my hand shakes with her nearness. “He’s smart and has means. If you’re blaming me for leading him to you, don’t bother.”

Even though if I wasn’t still obsessed with her, he wouldn’t use her against me, so I am completely at fault here.

Katya’s citrus scent makes it impossible to focus on anything else, including this conversation. She has to accept what I’m saying soon so the landing and transfer to a vehicle goes smoother.

“Okay, but how didyouknow where to go when he caught me?”

“He called me.”

“And you came, just like that, all the way from Russia?”

Once again, I stare, letting her figure it out without saying the words.

“Un-fucking-believable.” She crosses her arms, the simple act of defence breaking me. She stares, her jawline taut and back rigid, and with every passing second, her anger seems to cool slightly. My hope is a seed, planted and waiting for her nurturing touch. Her arms slowly separate as one hand moves up to lightly brush her throat, over the red marks faded but present. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispers, watering that seed a bit more.

“You’re welcome.”

Something flickers in her eyes, and she stiffens before stomping on the plant. “Nothing’s changed from ten years ago. I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be here.Ishouldn’t be here. Take me home.” Her voice is low, pained, her words pushed from every emotion rolling through her.“Please.”