I don’t care who she is.
Her value to me is the impact she has on my heart, not what she could mean strategically for my family.
"Why not?"
She steps toward me now with her hands spread wide.
"You said it yourself. I'm a liability. I've brought you nothing but trouble since the moment we met."
Tears brim again in her eyes, and it guts me.
I grab her wrists and pull her against me hard enough that she gasps.
My face bends close to hers, and I can see my own reflection in her eyes.
"I went into that warehouse knowing they might kill me for you. Because I shot two men in the head and I'd shoot twenty more if that's what it took to get you out. Because the thought of losing you made me stupid in ways that should've gotten me killed."
Her breath comes fast and shallow.
"Dimitri—"
"You're mine, Katya."
My words are an oath, sealed in blood and permanent.
I will not give her up.
"I don't care what your name is or what pact your father made. You belong to me now, and anyone who tries to take you will die for it."
I kiss her then with all the violence and desperation of the past few hours compressed into a single point.
She kisses me back with equal ferocity, her hands fisting in my shirt as she pulls herself up into me.
The blood on her face smears against my cheek.
I don't care.
My hands slide down her back, gripping her ass hard enough to make her gasp into my mouth.
I lift her off the floor, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively as I carry her toward the bedroom.
Our tongues clash, and I can taste the salt of her tears mixed with the metallic tang of blood.
It's raw and real, and it makes my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
"Fuck, Katya," I growl against her lips as I kick the bedroom door open.
"I thought I'd never see you again. I need you."
She moans, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
"Mmm, I thought I was going to die too…"
I drop her onto the bed, and she bounces once before I'm on her, pawing at her torn shirt.
The fabric rips easily under my hands, exposing her bra and the smooth skin beneath.
Her breasts heave with each breath, nipples already hard and straining against the lace.