Page 110 of Impenitent Claim

“Um, stab him in the neck and claim self-defense.” As I said it, the logistics fell flat in my mind.

“What prompted this?” There was a bite to his words. The way he held me grew more possessive, if that was even possible.

“I think he saw something—when we were talking earlier. I don’t want to risk him running his mouth or creating rumors. I was ending the threat,” I rushed to explain.

The spectre nuzzled his lips against my throat. His own mask rubbed against my skin. If I turned my head, I could just see the flash of silver and black covering his face. “Sweet and beautiful, cunning and ruthless. You’re the whole package, Izzy.”

I warmed at his praise.

“I’m ending him and his father tonight. The don tomorrow or the day after. Will you let me handle it?” Ilya closed the flap of my purse. “Cosimo won’t cause any problems for us.”

He was asking my permission. He didn’t need to. We both knew he was capable of destruction. But he also wasn’t swooping in to save the day.

If I asked him to let me do it, he would.

That consideration made my heart thump desperately. Everything this man did, every word, every action, made me fall more in love with him.

“Tonight. Kill him tonight, Ilya.” I squeezed his fingers.

“Yes, rusalka,” he breathed.

With a huff, I sagged into him. “Now I have all this energy and no outlet.”

How did killers like him hold it together? The desire to fight in the underground cage matches suddenly looked incredibly appealing.

Ilya tugged me back against his hard frame. His lips brushed against my ear and the words came in a hot, rough breath. “Does my little siren want to play a game?”

The physical response was instant. My skin tingled. My nipples hardened. And a rush of heat surged in my pussy.

“Yes, but there are cameras and alarms in various exhibits,” I lamented.

“I’ve already taken care of them.” The back of Ilya’s curled finger brushed down my bare arm.

Laughter, bright and delirious, bubbled out of me. “You planned this!”

First a haunted ship and now a mansion? Life couldn’t get much better than this.

“Run, Izzy. Run fast.”

The man who wouldn’t chase me through the woods because I might trip in the dark arranged it so I could play out my fantasy of being chased—chased on Halloween.

And with that realization, I knew exactly where I would flee. The family cemetery was freaky and not too far. I could just make it, if I ducked through the library. Since Ilya took care of the cameras and alarms, then there was nothing left to worry about.

My spectre wouldn’t put me in a position where I was in danger.

I trust him…completely.

Darting forward, I reveled in the thrill surging in my veins. The costume, especially the mask, was a handicap. But since they lent to the illusion, I kept them in place. There was no electronic blast of alarms as I pushed through the doors. Wicked delight surged through my veins. I dashed past the roped off areas and threw open the next set of doors.

The spectre had given me a head start. But not for long.

I ran fast; I ran hard. I wouldn’t make it easy for him to catch me. That wouldn’t be very fun.

Realizing I miscalculated, that the next set of doors didn’t lead to the outdoor paths, I doubled back. Desperate gulps of air filled my lungs. We were at a society ball, could easily be caught despite the precautions, and yet I never felt more alive. Iscrambled across the polished floor, heading to the study where the proper doors were located. These exhibits weren’t decorated for the autumn, but that didn’t make the space any less spooky. My theory about the former owners wandering the halls seemed to hold merit in the dimly lit space.

I barely made it over the threshold of the next room before a rough growl preceded the monster’s spring.

Ilya grabbed me effortlessly around the waist and tugged my body firmly to his, as he turned me to face him. The half mask and black-on-black suit made him look every bit the villain I knew him to be. He was so handsome—blindingly, terribly handsome. My pulse exploded.

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