Page 88 of Her Darkest Possession

"You are mine." She grabs my wrists. "Just as I am yours. And I won't let anyone take you away from me."

"Nor wouldI let anyone separate us ever again," I tell her, my voice low and fierce. "I promise."

I pull her to me for a fierce kiss, claiming her mouth with mine. She returns the kiss with equal intensity, her fingers tightening against my arms to pull me closer.

There's desperation in the way we hold each other. Both of us know what's coming. And both of us steal what little moments we can still have before that uncertainty arrives.

Her body presses flat against mine, as soft and warm as it has always been since that first night when she stopped fighting what was between us. As her tongue sweeps into my mouth, I breathe her in, letting the little particles of her scent settle so deep in my lungs that I know I'll never get them out.

My hand moves down her back to memorize the shape of her curves, and the warmth of her skin. This is what I'll hold onto in the hours ahead.

We stay locked together like this, neither willing to be the first to break the kiss or let the other go. The half-painted nursery walls surround us, at times promising us a future that we've built together and the other, and at times cruelly reminding us that the future is not yet here.

Indigo moans and gasps against my mouth as she presses herself even closer to me. The same desperation to commit the moment to memory that burns through me also burns in her.

The kiss grows stronger. My hands grip her waist harder, pulling her close to me until all space disappears between us.

I don't ever want to let her go.

Something wet touches my cheek. Salt mingles on my tongue as our lips remain locked together, and I realize Indigo is crying. I pull back just enough to look at her face, my thumb gently wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks. She blinks fiercely, trying to force the wetness away, as if acknowledging her tears might make everything more real.

Our eyes meet and lock. No words pass between us, but I understand everything she's feeling as I look upon the storm of emotions swirling in her eyes.

And beneath the rippling tears, there's steel beneath the surface.

I feather my thumb across the corner of her eyes to wipe away the drops as her fingers rises to trace the lines on my face.

A soft knock at the door breaks the moment.

We turn to see one of the household staff, standing there in the doorway. Her eyes are respectfully lowered, and her face is lined with worry.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Anatoly Stepanovich," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "But a Detective Tyler Webb is here with several officers. They're waiting in the foyer."

I feel Indigo stiffen in my arms, but when I look down at her, I see no fear in her eyes—only fierce determination.

"I have to go now," I tell her, brushing my thumb across her lower lip.

"I know," she says. Her voice doesn't waver. "I'll be here when you come back."

It's not a question. It's a statement of absolute certainty.

I nod once, pressing one final kiss to her forehead.

"I'll be back."

When I stepinto the foyer, I see a gruff-looking detective in a rumpled suit flanked by several uniformed officers. Through the open front door, I can see the flashing lights of multiple police cruisers lining my driveway.

"I'm Detective Tyler Webb," he says. "Anatoly Baryshev, you are under arrest for the suspected murder of Ryan Bennet."

"I understand, Detective," I reply evenly.

"You have the right to remain silent," he starts reciting the familiar phrases.

But it's not his words that I'm paying attention to. As I stare at his face, I notice that there's no hatred there, no personal vendetta. Only a measured gaze of a man doing his job.

Something tells me that I'm facing one of the rare cops in this city who still actually believes in justice and fairness.

It doesn't mean that he like me. In fact, that belief of his might even lead to him despising me. But that dislike isn't personal.