Page 38 of Dissolution


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“No,” she snapped, then straightened a bit like she’d somehow gained confidence after putting on pretty clothes and leaving the house. “I’ve made a choice.”

My breath hitched. That couldn’t be a good thing. “And what choice did you make?”

She hesitated and then squeezed my thigh harder. I felt an electric jolt all the way up my body causing goosebumps to erupt all over my skin. “I’m going to help you.”

Oh hell, here we go. “Help me what?”

Her eyes explored mine in a way that made me think I was about to regret letting her in that SUV and allowing her to come. “I’m going to help you kill them all.”

I had no clue how to respond except, “And how are you going to do that?”

She moved fast.

Her hand from my thigh.

Her body from her seat.

She threw herself over me, straddling me with her thighs as she whispered, “Anyway, I can… I just need you to show me.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I almost pushed her away but was too stunned to do anything except stare at her. It wasn’t often people shocked me; it was my job to know their body language and their decisions before they were ever even made. But she just threw herself at me after scratching the hell out of me, and she was wearing a dress.

Oh, God.

It slid past her thighs, her knees met my hips. Shit, shit, shit.

She gripped my head with her hands, tears running down her cheeks. “Show me how to kill them.”

“Make more sense,” I clipped out, my body already on high alert, feeling her warmth, her sex.

“I’ll use my body. Gain their secrets. Slit their throats.”

I froze in place. Just the image of her trying to seduce a murderer filled me with so much rage and jealousy that I wanted to throw her against the floor and screw the idea out of her. “Andrei will kill you.”

“Train me,” she demanded, lifting her chin the way she did when she wanted no arguments. That damn Sinacore stubbornness definitely made it through, didn’t it?

“You don’t know the first thing about—”

Katya ground her hips against me.

I clenched my teeth in denial of what I was feeling, but I needed her more than I’d needed anything in my life as she lowered her lips to my neck and whispered, “Train me, and I’ll give you something your fiancé doesn’t have, something you want.”

“Oh?” I breathed out. “What’s that?”

“Me,” she said simply. “Train me for the next six months and I’m yours, fully.” She lifted her skirt to her hips. Fuck, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Yours. For six months. I’ll fight. Train. I’ll fuck. Isn’t that what the guys do? I’ll do it all. I’ll put my traumas behind me and fuck it into you. Just teach me.”

I couldn’t think straight as my hands went to her hips, moving her across me, hating myself in the process for being so weak. “Teach what?”

She had no idea what she was asking, what she would be getting herself into. This wasn’t love at all. This was lust. Lust, I knew how to handle, but if she fell, if I fell…

Then again, I couldn’t. It was impossible. And she was too damaged to even try. She was probably the safest bet of someone who understood a sexual business transaction than anyone. But I’d be a dick to take it.

Her eyes zeroed in on my mouth. “How to survive.”

I shook my head.

Her hands moved to the sides of my head and held me there so I could only see her, my focus on the tears in her eyes, on the fierce determination in the way she held an assassin hostage like she wasn’t afraid and needed that same assassin to teach her how to live the way he did.

I didn’t want that for her.

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