Page 56 of Anton

“Hold on, printsessa.”

My arms circle him as we tear onto the road even faster than last time, but the fear never comes. With every mile, exhilaration rushes through me until laughter bursts free and vanishes into the wind.

I let go of him and throw both arms into the air, surrendering completely to the thrill.

“This is amazing!” I yell over the engine.

A low chuckle rumbles from him, vibrating through his back and into my chest.

God, I could listen to this man laugh forever.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THORA

With my arms around him and my veins filling with adrenaline, we speed through the streets until we enter a narrow road leading into a wooded area. I glance around, expecting a hidden home somewhere, but he stops beside a bunch of pine trees and turns off the engine.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, removing my helmet before passing it to him.

He hops off the bike and steps in close, a hand hovering near my waist like he’s fighting the urge to touch me just as badly as I want him to.

“This will be your first shooting lesson.”

“Here?” There’s nothing here but a dense forest.

“Yes.”

He clasps my waist and lifts me from the bike with such effortless strength that a sharp thrill runs through me. He clearly feels it too, his eyelids lowering as my body brushes against his.

My boots touch the ground, but he remains close enough for his heat to surround me, his hand trailing slowly down my side before his fingers link with mine.

“Come on,” he mutters, leading me deeper into the woods.

I don’t know why I’m not nervous. He could kill me out here and no one would ever find the body. Yet I’d still follow him anyway, which honestly feels like a problem I should maybe be more concerned about.

But if Anton wanted me dead, I have no doubt he would’ve done it by now.

When I glance up at him, he catches me staring and grumbles something under his breath in Russian.

New plan: learn Russian.

“So…” I say, cutting into the tension before it can swallow the rest of the air between us. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at this. I know you probably wonder how that’s possible, but what can I say? I’m probably the only girl in Texas who didn’t find the idea of shooting all that exciting.”

“Oni vso ravno idioty,” he says, and I’m almost positive that was an insult.

He stops near a clearing and turns to face me, and whatever smart comment I’m about to make dies when I catch the calm intensity in his eyes. Reaching beneath his jacket, he draws a gun from the waistband of his jeans.

My mouth goes dry.

“Take it.” He places the weapon in my palm. “Get used to the weight. Learn how it feels.”

It’s strange that I’ve never even held a gun, but that was my choice. My family would have taught me if I’d let them. I wrap my fingers around the grip and raise it toward the thick trunk of a tree a few yards away, trying to look like I know what I’m doing.

After testing its weight, I glance at Anton beside me. “What do I do now?”

His gaze narrows as he takes me in, satisfaction glinting in his eyes at the sight of me holding his weapon.

Instead of answering, he comes up behind me, and my body goes rigid. His palm settles at my waist, guiding me into position before his other arm reaches around mine. His torso presses against my back as he adjusts my grip and angles the gun toward the tree.