Page 14 of Possessive Vows

But I can’t.

It took me too long to trust Nico Russo and Ermanno Mancini because of men like my father and my attackers, and now I can’t trust my own judgment.

“You should not. I am a stranger,” Dimitri says. “But I will not be for long. Come with me,so´lnyshka,and I will keep you safe long past earning your trust.”

By the intensity in his blue eyes and the tone of his voice he means the words as a vow.

I wrap my fingers around the hilt of the knife. The warmth lingering from his palm thaws the ice in my veins.

My heart lurches as the corner of his lips shift upward, the movement barely discernible, but with my senses locked on him, the change completely morphs his features.

I rise and wobble on shaky legs but find my balance and square my shoulders.

I can’t trust him, but I want to. A small, quiet voice inside me demands I get closer to him even as my skin crawls at the thought.

With a shuddering breath, I realize this man is more dangerous than all the rest. Not because of the lethal knowledge in his eyes or the brutality lurking behind his every action, but because every cell in my body naturally attunes to him. As tiny as it may have been, he inspired the first spark of arousal I’ve felt since that horrible night a year ago.

I should get as far away from Dimitri Volkov as possible, but I can’t.

I want to get closer.

Chapter 4

Dimitri Volkov

The broken little sunbeamshows her wisdom and resilience as she accepts my knife and stands. Only the strong know how to rise after being cut so low.

Even with her jet-black hair and burnt-umber eyes, she resembles a fairy dancing among rays of sunshine with her delicate features and petite frame. Her elegant beauty wars with the misery shining from her dark eyes, and I long to make her whole.

“If you touch me, it will mean war,” she says.

Spoken with no heat, her words ring with truth. My respect for her grows as she maintains eye contact with me, a feat very few men would dare.

She’s gorgeous. Even with her hair pulled back and a heavy layer of makeup on her face, her full lips and expressive eyes call to me on a level I thought was dead long ago.

Guilt sweeps through me. I will not lust over a woman so soon after my wife’s death.

“He was not alone,” I say with a gesture to the dead man. “You cannot stay here. Come with me.”

Her pupils shrink as she works through the news of other men coming for her. She glances toward the buildings but swings her attention back to me. A frown mars her perfect features.

“I can’t leave without my purse. I need my phone and ID,” she says.

The dead man’s partner will not be far behind. I need to get her far away from here before he arrives so Yerik can trail him when he leaves.

I shake my head.

“There is no time, and I cannot leave your side,” I reply.

Her gaze shifts behind me. She stiffens and looks ready to call out but stops and lifts a brow in question. I glance behind me. Yerik rolls the dead man into a blue tarp and cinches the ends. I turn back toward Camilla as he hefts the tarp onto his shoulder and launches it over the wall.

Despite the questions burning in her eyes, she stays silent for a few moments, highlighting how different she is from other females.

Yes, she ran like a scared little rabbit the first time she saw me, but I murdered a man at her feet. Since then, she’s shown a level of control in her responses most men only dream of having, and her resilience despite the pain lurking in her eyes is unlike any I have seen before.

I want to protect her. Not just because it is my duty, but because I long to see her healed and healthy. I yearn to see her vibrant and vicious.

The power is there, hidden underneath her pain and suffering. I will coax it out of her, piece by piece.

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