Page 51 of A Song of Saints and Swans
“Let me taste you, little fox,” he purred, shimmying down my body so he could flip up my skirt, quickly pulling down my tights and underwear. “I need a pick-me-up before we head to Kira’s launch party.”
I half-heartedly batted him away, but he simply grinned and threw my legs over his shoulders before enthusiastically diving in. Konstantin never pressured me for sex. He was always a perfect gentleman—albeit a roguish one who seemed determined to get me off at every opportunity, in any setting—but it only made me desire him more.
I am definitely in too deep.
“Eyes down here, Margo,” he commanded, effortlessly distracting me from the dark place I was spiraling toward, even if he had no idea of my inner turmoil. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
I couldn’t look away even if I tried. It still boggled my mind why someone like Konstantin had pickedme,especially with how women stared at him everywhere we went. Whenever I dared to bring it up, he scolded me, saying it was love at first sight—that he loved me more than all the stars in Siberia.
Of course,he’dsaid “I love you” first.
The only one who’d said it.
His tongue was wet, hot torture, every lick bringing me closer to the edge, to the point of no return. As instructed, I kept my gaze locked on his, gasping through my release, my legs shaking and my hands yanking his hair harder than I meant to.
Drowning yet again.
When his mouth found mine, he kissed me until I was dizzy. He kissed me until I was so high off his presence, I deliriously promised forever, knowing full well this could never last.
Nesting Doll
KONSTANTIN
We ran until my lungs burned, although an upside to our midnight marathon was that my thoughts cleared enough for me to fully assess my situation.
My girlfriend is a zombie.
No. Not a zombie…
I shook my head, trying to knock some logic back into place to make sense of it all. She looked so much like Margo my chest ached, although there was a translucence to her skin that I’d only seen once before—on a day I wanted to forget. Her glorious red hair was plastered to her head as if it were still wet, and her teeth were definitely sharper than remembered, but this creature was familiar. A vague memory surfaced from one of my grandmother’sskazkis…a reason to be wary of the woods...
Rusalka.
I sharply hissed through my teeth, wrenching my hand free and stopping dead in my tracks. Rusalka were beautiful sirens of the Siberian wilderness, undead creatures who fed on the flesh of humans—specifically human men.
The Rusalka immediately stopped, slowly turned to face me, deathly quiet. It was too dark to clearly make out her expression, but I soon felt her claws brush my wrist, attempting to grab hold again, and my revulsion disappeared. As her hand touched mine—the shape of it as familiar as my own—I realized just how broken I’d become.
I’ll follow you anywhere.
“Wait,” I rasped, horrified that I was actually considering letting this creature lead me to my doom. Itcouldn’tbe Margo. She was six feet underground, and I was idiotically following a dangerous monster who’d somehow mimicked the love of my life.
But the way she smelled…
Fresh and floral—like roses.
“Margo, I need to know if it’s really you,” I pleaded, practically begging to be deceived. Desperate for it.
“I…” the Rusalka faltered. “I don’t know. Right now, I need to get you somewhere safe.”
I was so caught off guard by this reply that I simply allowed her to drag me along once again. All this creature had to do was assure me shewasMargo, yet she seemed more confused than me. Oddly, it was this uncertainty that made me dare to hope for the impossible.
Margo had always been a fascinating mix of confidence and insecurity—sometimes boldly taking the lead and other times paralyzed by doubt. It took me months to learn things I usually found out on the first date, and even longer to get her to really open up. Every new discovery was like Christmas morning, even if it felt a little like twisting off the top of aMatryoshkadoll only to discover a smaller version waiting beneath. As hesitant as she was to share, the more I learned about Margo, the harder I fell in love.
Something shifted between us the first time we fucked, not just in our relationship, but with Margo as a person. She blossomed like a flower finally being brought into the sunlight, and while I would’ve loved to give my dick all the credit, there was more to it than that. It felt like she finally trusted me—like she felt safe enough to let down her guard—and I vowed to spend the rest of my life maintaining that sense of safety.
Then I went and broke her trust.
Back in my nightmarish present, we abruptly entered a circular clearing with a tall willow at its center, its leaves draped over a stone altar covered in moss. Despite the openness, the air felt heavy and stifling, and I couldn’t shake the feeling we’d trespassed into some magical place we shouldn’t have. The Rusalka appeared unconcerned—if anything, she seemed relieved as soon as we reached the clearing—and I wondered if this was a haven for her kind.
