Page 8 of Blazing Embers

“To Vegas?” Tara asks, hopefully.

“Moscow, as we have an appointment booked for later this evening,” I tell her. “Then we’ll leave first thing in the morning for Dragunov Village to get there so the celebrations can begin.”

“Is it your birthday?” Tara’s eyes narrow.

“Not quite,” I answer. “But that’s not what the celebration is about.”

“Is that why you kidnapped me—again?” Tara emphasizes the word “again”. “So you can sacrifice me to some weird deity your tribe worships?” Her eyes grow mocking. “You do realize that it’susually virgins that deities want, and you do realize what that is, right?” Her voice changes to a tone like she’s talking to a child. “Or do you need me to give you a talk about the birds and bees?”

I let out a dark chuckle, moving closer to the bed. The way she's trying to provoke me, even tied down and at my mercy, sends a familiar heat through my veins. This is the Tara I remember—all fire and defiance, even when she should be cowering.

“No deity,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “Just a priest. For our wedding, and I’m okay with you not being a virgin.”

4

RUSLAN

With an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, I watch as the blood drains from her face, leaving her as pale as a ghost. I wonder if she'll pass out again. Her mouth opens, shuts, then opens once more, like a fish desperately gasping for air. The fury blazing in her eyes wavers, momentarily eclipsed by a look that skirts dangerously close to sheer panic. But then, with defiant resolve, she lifts her chin and glares down her perfect little nose at me, a silent challenge burning in her gaze.

“You're insane,” she gasps, tugging at the restraints with a frantic, wild energy. “I will never marry you.”

“Oh, you will,” I interrupt her sharply, perching menacingly on the edge of the bed and leaning in until our faces are mere inches apart, our breaths mingling in the tense air. “You see,moya dorogaya, you've taken more from me than you can fathom. Eight relentless months of my resources. My beloved sister. Her unborn child. And the life you once carried within you.” Each syllable is a deliberate strike, watching them sear into her like daggers. I lay my hand on her vacant belly, and she flinches as if scorched by fire. “You’re fortunate to be who you are,holding immense value to me. Anyone else...” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear with a chilling intimacy. She stiffens, trying to recoil from me, but she’s stuck right where I want her. “Wouldn't find themselves bound to my bedposts.” I withdraw slowly, my gaze cold and lethal. “They'd be six feet under, buried, and already forgotten.”

The gasp erupts from her, raw and jagged, as the gravity of my accusation hits her. “You think I’m to blame for their deaths? That I somehow aborted my baby?” Her voice is a rasp, each word like a shard of glass tearing from her throat. “My baby...” The words tremble out, barely a whisper, her lips quivering with the weight of unshed tears misting her beautiful eyes. “How can you even think that…” She halts, her chest heaving, and I witness as the glistening tears dissolve, replaced by the icy, lifeless stare that returns to her eyes. “But you've already decided I'm guilty, haven't you?” She sneers, her eyes slicing through me with contempt as if I were something foul underfoot. She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Think what you like. I don’t give a damn about your opinion. I haven’t since the moment I uncovered who you really are. And you know what…” She pauses, inching even nearer, her breath a warm tickle against my ear. “I think we both know the truth about the child that was inside me… And I’m glad it didn’t survive. My child escaped a fate worse than death by being spared having you as its father.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, and for a moment, I can't breathe. My hand shoots out before I can stop it, gripping Tara’s throat—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to feel her pulse hammering beneath my palm. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Just stares at me with those dead eyes that used to burn with passion.

“Say that again,” I growl, my voice barely human.

“I said,” she rasps against my grip, “I'm glad our baby is dead. There is no way in hell I’d ever wish a child upon you, not even the spawn of Satan.”

My fingers tighten reflexively, and for one dark moment, I imagine squeezing until those defiant eyes flutter closed.

I release her throat and stand abruptly, turning away before I do something I'll regret. My hands shake with the effort of not destroying everything within reach. The cabin walls feel like they're closing in, the air too thin, too hot.

“Be very careful what you say to me,ptichka.”

My eyes lock onto hers, hard and unrelenting. “Just because I’m marrying you doesn’t mean you have the freedom to speak your mind. Or that you’ve gotten away with murder.”

I run my hand over her cheek. Her jaw tightens instantly. I can’t tell if she’s bracing against the familiar pull between us—or if it’s well and truly gone, snuffed out like everything warm that ever lived inside her.

“It doesn’t mean you’re getting off lightly either.”

I lean in, nuzzle the curve of her cheek, and press a kiss against her ear. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just freezes—like I’m dead to her.

I whisper, low and vicious.

“Oh no, my dear Tara. You’re about to find out just how cruel payback can be. Your days will bleed into one another. Long. Unforgiving. Until you break and confess what you did.”

“Then it is going to be a long life we’re about to embark on together.” Tara’s voice falls and sounds weary. She sighs. “I’m getting bored with this conversation that’s going nowhere. So why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with?”

“You don’t kill your prize cow just because it’s got a bad attitude or even just gorged someone to death,” I respond. “You keep it locked away from anything it can damage or harm. Then slowly break it in until it’s no longer a threat.”

“Oh, great, now I’m a cow. Fuck! Just turn the drip back on so I can get knocked out again?” She glances at the IV bag and then coughs. “Is there water?”

I nod, grab the bottle I left earlier, open it, and bring it to her lips.

“Go slowly,” I warn.

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