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One.
Only one before he transfers both of my hands into one of his, squeezing my throat with the other. I thrash, but the more I fight, the tighter he holds. The panic is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Sinking is no longer peaceful. I’m being pushed into the depths of unfamiliar waters where it’s dark and cold. My chest is burning and death is floating above me, whispering for me to just breathe.
“What did you tell them?” he growls.
I was right—he knows. I’m going to die.
“No,” I rasp. I’m not sure who I’m talking to—death, or the man delivering it.
When I don’t think I can take any more, when my lungs are going to burst and I’m going to finally slip under, the pressure release and the same warm lips press against my ear again.
“Just breathe.”
“Just breathe, Ava. I won’t let anyone ever hurt you. I promise.”
I shake my head,gasping for air. I have no idea if I’m hallucinating or already dead. The words in my ear are the same as death’s soft whispers, and a memory long buried. However, they all sound different. Death’s taunts entice me. In the memory, they comfort me. However, the ones trailed by the hot breath against my skin are a seductive challenge—as familiar as the gravelly voice.
That’s when I know who it is. The mind may play tricks, but the heart will tell you the truth even when your eyes refuse to believe it.
Before I can drag in another precious breath, both hands are around my neck. The pressure is enough to deny me air, but not quite enough to crush my windpipe. He’s skilled—trained to torture and designed to kill, but as the bulge against my stomach turns from rock to steel, I realize he’s getting off on it.
For reasons I can’t explain, that detail calms me. In my oxygen deprived mind, I believe that’s what will save me. Maybe that makes me as fucked up as him.
Or maybe I’m making it easier on myself to obey everyone and just breathe.
When I’m almost unconscious, he explodes. “Answer me, Ava!”
“Take what you want…” The words are barely there, but they’re enough. He stills, and there’s a heavy shift in his labored breathing.
“Fuck it,” he growls.
I’m still sinking when he kisses me. It’s warm, wet, and hungry. I’m too weak to deny him, so it takes little to no effort for his tongue to slip past my lips. I struggle to see his face—to appeal to his human side, if he has one. The moment he releases my throat again, I use all the strength I have left to lift my hand and brush my fingers across his cheek.
“Niko…”
Even in the darkness, I see it. He stills as his hands curl into fists. It’s uncertainty. It’s affection intertwined with regret. Then it’s gone. Pulling something metal out of his jacket, he presses it against my head. “Pchelka.”
Before I can say another word, a bright light bursts through my skull and everything goes dark.
