cell.
Chapter Eight
Nikolai needed to punch something. Repeatedly. Anything to distract himself from the hurt and humiliation he’d seen in Katherine’s pale blue eyes. The hurt and humiliation he’d put there. What the hell had he been thinking?
He glared at Leo, standing with his arms crossed at the end of the hall, and dared the young warrior to give him a reason to lose his shit right here and now.
Leo dropped his gaze. “Anton’s in the security booth.”
The king—for it was the first time in a long time he felt so deadly serious about an order—got right up in the blond’s face. “After the doc’s done with her, you get her out of that cell. Back to Moscow. Out. Of. Here. We clear?”
“My lord—”
Nikolai fisted the man’s T-shirt and dragged him in closer, flashing his fangs in warning. “Are we crystal fucking clear?”
Leo’s gray eyes flared a silver light that hinted at the man’s own building anger, but he kept his mouth closed.
“Nikolai,” Mikhail said, stepping from the security booth. “Let him go.”
He released Leo with a shove and stalked past his friend into the booth.
Anton dropped his phone into his pocket and smiled. “My lord, you’re looking better. Want me to examine your n—”
“There’s a human woman in there who got banged up earlier and was complaining of headaches.” He pointed in the direction of the dungeons. “I want you to examine her. And then I want her out of here.”
Anton shook his head, his good nature not dampened at all by Nikolai’s lack of niceties. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Been snowing all day. Must be two feet of snow out there. Roads are a mess.”
“You made it here okay.”
“I made it as far as Poreche and hiked in the rest of the way until Leo rode out with the snowmobile. The roads back to Vasilievskoe are completely impassable.”
Nikolai stared at him a long moment, then paced the room. He couldn’t get rid of her. Just perfect. The weight of the other males’ eyes settled on his shoulders like an anvil. He paused at the computer panel, his gaze falling on the controls to the security cameras. Heaving a breath, he hit a series of keys and buttons, bringing the monitor displaying the feed from Katherine’s cell to life.
A pang his heart had no goddamn business feeling squeezed his chest. She sat on the floor, in the exact spot he’d left her standing, her back against the bars and her arms hugging her legs in front of her. Her face rested sideways on her knees, so he couldn’t make out her expression.
Damn it all to hell and back. He wanted her. He wanted more of the way he felt when he was around her. Lighter, freer, relieved just the smallest, life-giving amount from the constant suffocating press of his grief. She made him believe it was okay to take a breath, a single in and out of his lungs, without thinking of how he’d utterly failed his kid brothers.
And damn, she was so strong. Despite being locked behind dungeon bars, the first thing she’d asked was if he was okay. Her compassion overwhelmed him again and again. He kept trying to imagine the scene Mikhail had earlier described. Her, feeding him and holding his warriors at gunpoint at the same time. Of course, his men were there for him, but to think he’d met a woman with the mettle to do what she’d done, to stand up for him in a do-or-die situation. He wanted to melt into her, to crawl into his bed with her in his arms, to lay his head on her chest and sleep his pain away.
She was his equal, in every way. No, not true at all. She was so much better than him.
Yeah, and that kind of woman would never want a male so grossly tainted by dishonor.
He dragged his hand through his hair, and the movement of air carried her scent to his nose. Jesus, she was fire wrapped in satin and silk. She touched him and he burned. But it hadn’t been enough. With her, it would never be enough.
And that meant she had to go.
With the Soul
Chapter Eight
Nikolai needed to punch something. Repeatedly. Anything to distract himself from the hurt and humiliation he’d seen in Katherine’s pale blue eyes. The hurt and humiliation he’d put there. What the hell had he been thinking?
He glared at Leo, standing with his arms crossed at the end of the hall, and dared the young warrior to give him a reason to lose his shit right here and now.
Leo dropped his gaze. “Anton’s in the security booth.”
The king—for it was the first time in a long time he felt so deadly serious about an order—got right up in the blond’s face. “After the doc’s done with her, you get her out of that cell. Back to Moscow. Out. Of. Here. We clear?”
“My lord—”
Nikolai fisted the man’s T-shirt and dragged him in closer, flashing his fangs in warning. “Are we crystal fucking clear?”
Leo’s gray eyes flared a silver light that hinted at the man’s own building anger, but he kept his mouth closed.
“Nikolai,” Mikhail said, stepping from the security booth. “Let him go.”
He released Leo with a shove and stalked past his friend into the booth.
Anton dropped his phone into his pocket and smiled. “My lord, you’re looking better. Want me to examine your n—”
“There’s a human woman in there who got banged up earlier and was complaining of headaches.” He pointed in the direction of the dungeons. “I want you to examine her. And then I want her out of here.”
Anton shook his head, his good nature not dampened at all by Nikolai’s lack of niceties. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Been snowing all day. Must be two feet of snow out there. Roads are a mess.”
“You made it here okay.”
“I made it as far as Poreche and hiked in the rest of the way until Leo rode out with the snowmobile. The roads back to Vasilievskoe are completely impassable.”
Nikolai stared at him a long moment, then paced the room. He couldn’t get rid of her. Just perfect. The weight of the other males’ eyes settled on his shoulders like an anvil. He paused at the computer panel, his gaze falling on the controls to the security cameras. Heaving a breath, he hit a series of keys and buttons, bringing the monitor displaying the feed from Katherine’s cell to life.
A pang his heart had no goddamn business feeling squeezed his chest. She sat on the floor, in the exact spot he’d left her standing, her back against the bars and her arms hugging her legs in front of her. Her face rested sideways on her knees, so he couldn’t make out her expression.
Damn it all to hell and back. He wanted her. He wanted more of the way he felt when he was around her. Lighter, freer, relieved just the smallest, life-giving amount from the constant suffocating press of his grief. She made him believe it was okay to take a breath, a single in and out of his lungs, without thinking of how he’d utterly failed his kid brothers.
And damn, she was so strong. Despite being locked behind dungeon bars, the first thing she’d asked was if he was okay. Her compassion overwhelmed him again and again. He kept trying to imagine the scene Mikhail had earlier described. Her, feeding him and holding his warriors at gunpoint at the same time. Of course, his men were there for him, but to think he’d met a woman with the mettle to do what she’d done, to stand up for him in a do-or-die situation. He wanted to melt into her, to crawl into his bed with her in his arms, to lay his head on her chest and sleep his pain away.
She was his equal, in every way. No, not true at all. She was so much better than him.
Yeah, and that kind of woman would never want a male so grossly tainted by dishonor.
He dragged his hand through his hair, and the movement of air carried her scent to his nose. Jesus, she was fire wrapped in satin and silk. She touched him and he burned. But it hadn’t been enough. With her, it would never be enough.
And that meant she had to go.
With the Soul
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