Page 172 of Hellbound

“You deserve worse, you know that?” she hissed, pressing the blade deeper, blood pulsing.

His breath punched out. “I—know.” His eyes moved over hers, vacantly. “I’m sorry.”

Ksenia ground her teeth and let out a quavering breath, her eyes burning.

The blade shook.

Her heart pounded in her chest, blood rushing to her face.

Caromir clattered to the floor. She could feel the heat of his chest against hers as she clenched her fists in the sheets on either side of his head.

“Why are you a force I cannot fight?”

He sucked in a breath, his neck red with her handprint.

Bohdan’s head dropped forward. He didn’t reach for her tremoring, heated body, not yet.

But the look in his dark eyes was unraveling her.

The captain she knew was gone. The enemy she’d rallied against was gone. And what was left was just him, stripped down to whatever lay underneath the mask.

She had so desperately wanted to see what was beneath.

And what she found was a man forced to be a killer, like her.

Bohdan’s hand slowly rose, and this time, it didn’t stop.

His long, slender fingers traced her jaw in question, not claim.

What now?

The power of choice was a heavy, wondrous thing. He waited, giving her the opportunity to step back, to pick up the blade, to choose otherwise.

He saw the monster she had become and chose to see her, instead.

Their breaths ghosted against one another’s lips. Her chin angled up just a fraction.

Green met gold.

Words couldn’t explain what she needed from him.

So she took it.

Dragging him from the floor to roughly slam him down on the bed.

Their mouths scraped, urgent, desperate. It tasted both sacred and sacrilegious.

They broke apart momentarily for him to rip the oversized tunic off her and his shirt and trousers off himself. His skin was hot and velvety against her torso as she raked her teeth against the scar on his neck.

The scent of him clouded her mind—pomegranate and sage.

Ksenia’s hands fisted in the sheets as he bore his weight down on top of her, quickening her pulse, the promise of pleasure pooling in her core.

His fingers hungrily roved her tender flesh, goosebumps appearing in their wake.

The soft rustle of silk and the tapestry behind his bed gave way once more.

Bohdan’s fingers grasped her cheeks, turning her face to him. “I should have dragged you back into my room when I caught you sneaking out of it.”