Page 77 of Jewel of the Assassin

I tip my head back and bark out a laugh. Warmth spreads through me—amusement, pride, and the growing heat below my belt that this blood-soaked goddess has somehow made worse.

“I don’t know what impresses me more,” I say, looking downat her. “Your diabolical mind and ability to finally cut through the bullshit of those two…or how goddamn gorgeous you looked covered in blood, holding that knife like a queen of death.”

She wraps one arm around my neck, the other pressed to her chest like she’s holding in her own heartbeat. “Let’s just go with both.”

I chuckle low, leaning in to kiss her temple. “I’ll call Zina’s seconds to take care of the body. The last thing we need is a pack of wolves sniffing around.”

“Wolves are too good for that miserable piece of shit.”

I will learn more soon, but my wife’s well-being comes first.

“Where are we going?” she murmurs.

“To the hot spring,” I say, already moving. “It’s closer than the bedroom, and the minerals will do more for your skin than the shower. We’ll warm you up properly.”

And cleanse her.

Not just her skin—but whatever shadow clung to her tonight.

“Mmm, Roman,”she moans appreciatively as I slowly lower her head back, one hand stationed on the back of her neck while my other sinks her hair into the water. Blood swirls off her skin in ribbons, soon disappearing.

The night wind stirs, brushing our upper halves with its chill, but the hot spring wraps us in a cocoon of steam. Above, wispy clouds drift like gauze across the sky, delicate pulsing veils stretched over a thousand stars.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, bringing my wife back up, reveling in the heat of her nude body against mine.

Fuck if I don’t love how she clings to me as I lower myself onto the bench. Curling up in my lap, she nestles her head on my shoulder, legs dangling off the edge of the bench. I swear that ripe, little ass is purposefully rubbing against my hardness.

“Better,” she whispers.

Her lips touch my jaw, and she squeezes her arms around my back, but they hardly connect, given how broad I am. Her need and that light kiss are enough to undo me. It’s a miracle I haven’t rutted her up against the side of the spring, especially after a week-long absence. But I require answers first. And…she deserves some.

“Tell me everything,” I urge her.

“Um…” she stiffens, her head popping up. “Whatever Emilian says, I promise I didnottry to burn down the kitchen, Roman.”

I refrain from laughing as I picture her in an apron trying to cook. More mischief and mayhem from my fiery zhena. If I weren’t preoccupied by the latest event, I would bend her over my knee and give her a just spanking.

“Valentina,” I lower my voice, warning, then cup her chin, arresting those violet gems.

She heaves a sigh. “I went to the cemetery. It’s become a bit of a nightly ritual.” She shrugs, her lips pressing into a frown. I rub my thumb along the edge of her jaw. “But I heard a noise in the woods. I tried to run back to the manor, but Mr. Tall, Dark, and Asshole grabbed me before I could.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted you,” she says, her voice cracking. My thumb stops. “He said you needed to pay for your sins and the lives you took from him.” My chest bulges, turning to iron as her palms settle above my heart, fingertips poised. “He asked if I even knew what my husband does.”

“What else, Maya Valya?” I cup her cheek now.

She shrugs, her eyes burning again. “He called me a whore. Made me strip. I was his bait, and he didn’t care if I was alive or dead when you came.”

“Hmm…curious how he called you bait.” I comb my fingers through her sodden waves while I trail my other hand along the top of her thigh. “What I saw was not bait, Valentina, but a lioness, an empress, dealing the highest order of reckoning to a worthless, wriggling worm.”

She smiles up at me and kisses my cheek. Fuck, my cockthrobs as she rubs against me and says, “I like that. Especially since worms are bait. Or fish food in this case.”

“Indeed.” I smirk, considering how his body has likely been tossed to the sea at this point. “Did he say anything else?”

She bites her lower lip, her eyes darting to each corner. I tense, a dark suspicion prowling along my spine. I can’t be certain, but I believe she’s keeping something from me—holding back. But then, she shakes her head, and those eyes seem to melt with longing and need. I imagine she wishes to forget what happened, what she did. No matter how spirited and strong my wife is, Valentina is still a woman, flesh and bone, heart and soul. Human.

“How are you here, Valentina?” I tap the side of her head, then lower my palm to her heart. “And here?”