Page 51 of Jewel of the Assassin

I chuckle, low and dark, and lower my lips to her brow, savoring the way she shivers beneath me.

“Iama gentleman, Valentina Makarova.Mykind of gentleman. I’ll romance you when I damn well please. I’ll rouse you, wine you, dine you, and gift you anything and everything your heart could crave—and more.”

Tears rim her lashes, wide eyes searching mine.

“You are blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh,” I tell her, skimming my fingers along her jawline and the bruises I left on her throat. Her pulse flutters. “Heart of my heart. Soul of my soul. My empire is yours. My blood and flesh are yours. You have a throne next to mine. But…”

“But?” Her voice trembles.

“But you also get the beast,” I whisper. “The monster no one else has ever tamed. The one who hungers only for you.” I run my knuckles down her teary cheek.

“Tonight, he went to war with you,” I say. “And you didn’t flinch. You met him on the battlefield—teeth bared, claws out, heart ablaze. You broke through his armor. You stripped him down to his most primal form—something no one haseverdone. You looked the beast in the eye…And you claimed your rapture as he gave it. You also marked me. Claimed me.”

I gesture to the imprint of her teeth on my neck, where she drew blood like a vampire and siren. I will take great strides to ensure the mark stays.

“You’re confusing me.” Her voice cracks as she lowers her head.

Touching two fingers beneath her chin, I lift her face back to mine, offering her a chaste kiss. Her body softens. “Sometimes, confusion is a gift. If life were black and white, it would be easier to hate me. Da, Moy Samotsvet?”

She sighs heavily. “I don’t understand you. You’re impossible.”

I crook a smile. “Impossible. I like that. It’s true. Everything you endured tonight should have been impossible. Everything we felt—impossible.Ty nevozmozhnaya.You are impossible, Valentina. My impossible, made possible. And I am yours.”

I kiss her again, hold her close, lifting her effortlessly into my arms. A quiet prayer of thanks escapes me when she wraps her legs around my waist. She leans into the kiss, and I tilt my head to taste her, careful not to overwhelm her. She’s worn down, fragile, but that only sharpens my desire.

Slowly, I guide her to the edge of the pool, positioning her just above one of the glowing underwater lights. The golden shimmer bathes her body like starlight filtered through a dream, casting her in ethereal light.

When I break the kiss, her breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. We linger suspended there—her body inches above mine, chin lowered, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Then, when she rests her brow against mine and sighs, my entire body tightens, as if thunderstruck.

“There are worse fates than living like a queen in a beautiful manor,” she murmurs, voice low and teasing. “And I suppose you’re not too hard on the eyes either.”

I chuckle and kiss her cheek. “Is that so, Koroleva?But I assure you, I am quite hard elsewhere. And since you are at fault, I’d advise you to take such responsibility for my condition.”

“Your body, your proble?—”

I take her hips and thrust into her. Slow but deep enough for her to lurch and moan, her head falling over my shoulder.

“Youare the solution, Valentina,” I finish.

Still sealed to her, I wade into the deep end, cutting through the tepid water until I’m treading and gently rocking my cockinto her. Panting, she clings to me, burying her tear-stricken face into my neck. But she clenches, growing warmer. I rock her slowly and deeply in the water until her inner walls lock around my dick as she comes apart for me all over again. I shoot my cum in her.

She’s unraveled and now tangled up in me. Twisted. Wild, mad, and messy. Just how I want her.

I never want her to hide from me. Not her pain. Not her shadows. She can give me everything—her flaws, her insecurities, her fire, and every jagged edge. I will strip her down to the bone, unearth every scar she’s buried deep, and kiss them all like scripture.

She wears mine now instead of her father’s.

I’ve rewritten the script carved into her back and soul. And one day, she’ll know it as clearly as I do.

That it’s an honor. My honor.

Her hand iswarm in mine, fingers still trembling from the snow. I carry her slowly over the smooth stones, the steam curling around us like a veil. Not just because she’s blindfolded, barefoot, naked. No. Valentina cannot walk without limping from the pain.

Pride swells in my chest from that knowledge.

Her ivory skin is goose-pricked from the cold and the heat, and I’m so hard I ache with it, but I wait. Because this is for her.