Page 61 of Sacrifice
The water shuts off.
A few minutes later, the door opens and Saga emerges in a cloud of steam, my clothes hanging off her frame.
Her hair's wet, face scrubbed clean of makeup.
She looks young, vulnerable, nothing like the woman who regularly tells me to fuck off.
"Better?" I ask.
"Yes. No. I don't know." She sits beside me on the bed, not quite touching. "Elfe's in the hospital because of me."
"Because of whoever did this. Not you."
"Semantics."
"Facts." I turn to face her. "You didn't slash your own tires. You didn't break into your apartment. You didn't hurt Elfe. Someone else made those choices."
"To get to me."
"To get to the club. You're just the avenue they chose."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's supposed to make you see this clearly. Guilt's a luxury we can't afford right now. Save it for after we handle the threat."
She laughs, but it's bitter. "How very practical."
"I'm a practical man."
"No, you're not." She finally looks at me. "A practical man would have given up on me months ago. Found someone easier. Someone who doesn't fight him at every turn."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"I'm serious."
"So am I." I reach out, tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "You think I want easy? I've had easy. It's boring. Unfulfilling. You... you're a challenge. A puzzle. Something worth fighting for."
"Even now? When being with me puts targets on the people I love?"
"Especially now." My hand cups her face. "You have no idea what I'd sacrifice for you."
Something breaks in her expression. "Emil..."
"I would burn this whole city down to keep you safe. Would put bullets in anyone who even thinks about hurting you. Would give up everything I've built if it meant you're protected." I lean closer. "You're not just some woman I want to fuck, Saga. You're the woman I want to keep breathing."
"That's intense," she whispers.
"I'm an intense man. Thought you knew that by now."
"I can't fight this anymore." The admission seems to pain her. "I can't fight you. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again."
"Then don't."
"It's not that simple?—"
I kiss her, cutting off whatever argument she's building.
It's different from our other kisses—less desperate, more deliberate.
