Page 70 of Sadistic

"He did! He literally?—"

"I'm going to murder you."

"With what? Your law degree?" She's laughing now, and it's so good to hear. "Tell me more about last night. And don't skip the good parts. I want details. All the dirty, sweaty details."

So I do.

The wine has loosened my tongue and honestly, I need to talk about it.

I tell her about the hotel bar, about Doran admitting he bought a girl a horse, about how he'd been watching me with Njal for two years and hating every second.

"That's either romantic or creepy," Dalla interjects.

"That's exactly what I said. But the way he said it... Dal, he looked destroyed. Like those two years of watching me with someone else had actually hurt him."

I tell her about going to his suite, about how he kept asking if I was sure, about how he'd mapped every inch of my skin like he was trying to memorize it.

"He has scars," I add quietly. "So many scars. Bullet wounds, knife wounds, things I couldn't even identify. Each one a story of violence. But his hands were so gentle."

"And?" she says when I pause.

"And it was amazing," I admit. "He was... attentive. Really attentive. Like he'd been thinking about it for a long time and wanted to get everything right. Like making me feel good was the most important thing in the world to him."

"How many times?"

"Dalla!"

"What? It's a valid question. Was this a one-and-done situation or did he have stamina?"

"Three times," I mumble into my wine glass.

"Three?! Damn, girl." She fans herself dramatically. "And you can still walk?"

"Barely," I admit, and we both bust out into giggles.

It feels good to laugh about it, to treat it like any other hookup instead of the life-altering decision it probably was.

But as our laughter dies down, reality creeps back in.

"He said something," I tell her quietly. "He said 'I've been yours for five years, the question is when you'll be mine.'"

"Wow."

"Yeah." I pick at the pizza crust. "What kind of person waits five years? Who has that kind of patience?"

"Someone who's either deeply romantic or deeply obsessed."

"Maybe both?"

"Probably both." Dalla reaches for my hand. "So what happens now? With you two?"

"I don't know. The wedding's still happening, obviously. I'll be Revna Volkolv whether I like him or not."

"But you do like him."

"I think I do." I pull at a loose thread on the pillow. "Is that fucked up? To like the man who's been stalking me for five years?"

"Everything about this situation is fucked up. Might as well find the silver lining." She squeezes my hand. "What about Njal though? Him disappearing... that can't be good."

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