Page 104 of Impenitent Claim

Warmth infused my cheeks at the memory of meeting him that night in the back corridor after consuming the bottle of wine. Damn, I was lucky no one caught us.

“If you could befriend any animal, what would it be and why?” Ilya took a sip of his own drink.

A giddy laugh bubbled up my throat. “You looked up date questions!” I accused.

Ilya lifted his hands. “I did. I wanted to pass your tests, so I studied for the quiz.”

This man—thismonster! My lungs expanded with a deep inhale, flooding my veins with gratitude. “Cat,” I answered. “It would be more familiar than pet, but I would still dote on it. Besides, I always wanted one growing up.”

“You never had a pet?” he followed up.

I shook my head. “Mama was allergic, but I think that was the excuse she gave so I wouldn’t find out my father would use the critter as target practice.”

“Italians,” Ilya muttered.

We continued the back and forth until the thermos was empty. Opening the second, which was hot chocolate, likewise spiked but with booze—peppermint this time—Ilya brought out the snacks.

Above us, the trees swayed gently in the night breeze, their branches like skeletal arms stretching toward the star-studded sky. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, but the glow of the candles defied the silvery illumination, contending that it was in fact the more magical light.

Popping the last bite of lemon tart between my lips, I considered my next question. “Tell me about Russia.”

To a girl who never traveled farther than the Midwest, the snowy Slavic lands seemed a faraway winter paradise. The way the hard mask fell in place over Ilya’s features told a different tale.

“You don’t have to!” I whispered quickly, remembering that I’d had quite a bit to sip, and we were supposed to be quiet.

In a soft, faraway voice, the spectre began a terrible history that dared to shatter the magical ambiance. “I don’t remember the before times. My life started the day the soldiers came to take me from my village. There was smoke, screams, and blood. The red is so bright against the snow, did you know that?”

I gulped. “No, but I can imagine.”

“I was kept in a drafty metal building with other boys. We did chores for the camp, but when the soldiers were bored, which happened often in the long winters, we were the disposable pawns. They kept wild animals. The boys were given a knife and let into the pens. Unlike the others, I survived my encounter with the bear.”

The bear.I shook my head. Soldiers? Pawns?

“Camp?” I breathed.

“While there might have been some tie to the government, we were under the sole command of a warlord. He helped the powers-that-be, and so long as he didn’t do anything too heinous, he could rule as his own little kingdom.” Ilya flicked a crumb of graham cracker crust from his knee where the tarthad been resting before he’d eaten it, which had thankfully been before my stupid question about the winter hellscape.

“Ilya—” I didn’t know what to say. We were bad, but even the way they handled trainees like Gio wasn’t that terrible.

“Don’t pity me, rusalka. Every step I’ve taken has forged me into what I needed to be.”

My heart pulsed painfully. Touch him. Hold him! I needed to be closer. I scrambled to my knees, crawling over to the spectre of darkness. There was nothing to fear from this man. I never had, never would.

The predator lurking inside tracked my every movement as I straddled his lap.

“You’re exactly who I needed, phantom. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize.” With that, I leaned forward to kiss him.

It started as a rush, a terrible onslaught. There was a connection between us that couldn’t be denied. I kissed him hard, letting him know I felt it and wouldn’t back down. Our breath mingled. My pulse quickened, every beat a clap of thunder in my chest. His lips met mine softly at first, hesitant, testing. But I could taste the hunger right under the surface. I wanted to break his control. The warmth of his skin encouraged me in this madness.

Pulling back sharply, I gasped, “I’m coming with you, phantom.”

He didn’t lose a beat. Those eyes, twin drops of silver, flashed with a possessive heat. “Of your own free will, Izzy?”

I nodded, my fingers trembling as they gently cupped his face. The world around us blurred, the distant sounds of the outside fading into nothing as I was consumed by the sensation of this man.

“Say it,” he demanded, hands splaying against me to press me closer. The heat of his body radiated under me, around me—through me.

“I choose you, Ilya Pavlovn. Where you go, I’ll go. Your home will be mine, and we’ll carve a future from the charred remains of the past.”

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