Page 33 of The Bone Doll
“We’ll marry another noble,” he said quietly.
“Your sister is engaged,” Syra said. “Do you have an intended?”
When he looked up at her, Viktor was pallid with two rosy blooms on his cheeks. “I never proved myself worthy of a match.”
“It’s not about proving yourself,” she said. “You are worthy just as you are.”
Viktor shook his head and returned to sharpening the knife.
Once they had rested and Yefrem had secured them fresh supplies, Syra and Viktor continued northeastward. The next day, they stopped at Kholm; and Syra avoided the retaining wall where Viktor had first kissed her. For the most part, they didn’t speak while traveling either, which reminded Syra of the early days of their journey. That made her sad, but she had nothing to say to Viktor and so remained quiet. After Kholm, she spotted the half-rotted hunter’s hut where she and Viktor had lain back-to-back in the same bedroll.
And they kept walking.
She spent most of her days trying to remember any and everything her grandfather had taught her about making talismans like the Bone Doll. At night, she tried to read omens in the stars in case there was an answer there. After a few days, she thought she had pieces but not the whole.
In Vishnaya, the cherry trees had lost their pink blossoms and now wore bright green leaves. But the Bloom and Bramble Inn was exactly the same as she remembered: painted in bright red with a small tavern in the front. The same brown-eyed innkeeper greeted them, and offered them the same pair of cozy rooms.
But rather than retreating into her own room, Syra leaned against the doorframe of Viktor’s room. She remembered aloud,“In thebanya, there were two women talking about how pretty you are.”
Viktor turned bright red, dropping his pack awkwardly on the cot in the far corner. “I am glad to serve as … art … for the people of Vishnaya.”
“I thought they were right,” she said.
He soothed the front of his caftan, his head lowered. His voice was quiet. “Back then I was sure you hated me.”
“I hadn’t wanted to leave my family,” she admitted.
“And you were right to think so.” He smiled brokenly. “I’m not much of an honorable man.”
She considered him for a long moment. “You made a mistake. A grave one. But you are trying to right what you did wrong. Is that not honorable?”
“Syra…” Viktor met her gaze, his amber eyes gleaming. “I want to be honorable, I want to be brave, I want to be good. For you. But I don’t want to be like Dobrynya. I don’t want to give up my woman.”
She pressed her hand to her chest, where her heart stuttered painfully.His woman.She held her breath as he stepped forward so she wouldn’t inhale his cinnamon-scent.
“Do you hate me?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I just don’t know if I can trust you. But perhaps I can try.”
“I will do anything to earn your trust,” he rasped. “I will beg. I will grovel on my belly. I will–”
Syra silenced Viktor with a finger to his lips. His cheeks turned a fetching color of red again; and his chest rose and fell along with his rapid breaths. “Always tell me the truth. Even when it’s hard. And be Viktor. No one else.”
He nodded.
Letting her finger drag down his chin and then throat, she leaned forward and then kissed him. She was soft and tentativeat first, tasting the man who had both endangered and saved her. When he moaned against her mouth, desire flickered to light – hot and red inside her. Slowly, Syra folded her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. He settled his hands on her waist.
Eventually, she sighed and pulled back, letting her gaze drift across Viktor’s face. His bright eyes, his arched nose, his full lips.
“I want you,” he whispered. “I love you.”
“Love?” Syra echoed before kissing him again, her desire a deep thrum in her belly.
Viktor cradled her, kissing her back. His body was hard; and she pressed against him, relishing the feel of his wiry muscles. He felt like a man.Herman. She tangled her fingers in his orange hair, holding him in place as she savored his mouth. When their tongues brushed against each other, a gaping need opened inside her and she moaned. His grip tightened as though Viktor knew that Syra needed tofeelhim. He pressed her against the doorframe, then, and kissed her so hard and deep that she lost her sense of time.
Finally, they both came up for air.
Viktor rested his forehead against hers. “I am yours, Syra. Always.”
