Dangerous Desire

12

After a while, the roar of an engine drones over the sound of my labored breathing. A small boat pulls up about ten meters away and slows. It’s the tender from the Silver Shadow, driven by one of the uniformed crew.

Gazing down at me over the edge, Killian stands with his arms folded, watching me with hooded eyes.

I keep swimming and ignore him.

For a long time, he does nothing but watch me. The tender puts along slowly, keeping pace as I swim, never surging ahead or lagging behind, just staying even. When I stop to catch my breath and tread water, they cut the engine and float silently. When I begin to swim again, the engine starts anew.

And still Killian watches me, patient as a predator lying in wait for a meal.

Soon enough, I’m close to exhaustion. The initial surge of adrenaline has burned out, and all my muscles are shaking and sore. The sea is choppy, and the water is frigid. I know I’ve only got moments left before hypothermia sets in and I lose consciousness.

Naz.

I accidentally inhale a mouthful of brackish water and cough so hard I can’t catch my breath. My eyes sting, my legs are badly cramping, and I suppose this is as good a way to go out as any.

To be sure, I’ve faced far worse deaths than this.

I tilt my head up to the sky and let the sun blind me. The next inhalation I take is all water, and God, how it burns.

Naz. Thank you. You made it all worth it in the end.

I’m yanked out of the sea by a pair of brutally strong hands that pull me over the edge of the tender and throw me, violently hacking and wheezing, onto the floor.

“Stubborn,” mutters Killian as he looms over me, a giant casting shadows.

I can’t stop coughing, and I can’t see. Water streams from my nostrils and mouth. My entire body heaves again and again, instinctively trying to expel the rest of the water from my lungs.

Killian pounds me on the back. Punishingly hard, because that’s his default setting.

I spit out a mouthful of water. He thumps me on the back over and over until I can finally breathe, sucking in great gasping breaths. Then he shoves me onto my stomach and says something else in a language so beautiful it sounds like music. Even though the tone is angry and it’s probably a curse, the words sound as smooth and lovely as water flowing over stones.

“A chonách san ort!”

Huddled against the unforgiving metal floor, I curl into a ball and close my eyes. I’m shivering uncontrollably. My teeth chatter. The smell of diesel fuel burns my nose.

I must fall into a daze or lose consciousness, because the next thing I know, I’m being hauled out of the boat by my wrists. We’re on a platform inside an opening in the side of the yacht where the tender is kept. As soon as my feet touch the deck, I crash to my hands and knees. My legs are too rubbery to hold me up.

Killian sweeps me up into his arms.

When I stiffen, he says, “Stay still or I’ll strangle you.”

Far too exhausted to put up a fight, I close my eyes and let my head fall against his shoulder. “Not if I strangle you first.”

His response is a wordless sound. I can’t tell if it’s a grunt of anger or a chuckle.

We move through the ship’s corridors quickly and silently until we arrive at my room. Killian stops at the edge of the bed and sets me on my feet, steadying me with his hands gripped around my shoulders.

“Take off the dress.”

I recoil in horror, my weak limbs finding just enough strength to pull against his grip before he gives me a swift, forceful shake that snaps my head around like a leaf on the end of a twig.

He puts his face close to mine and says slowly, “Take it off. Don’t make me say it again.”

I hiss, “You’ll have to kill me before I’ll volunteer to make it easier for you to rape me.”

Enunciating each word but not raising his voice or losing any of his perfect control, he says, “Rape is beneath me. But murder isn’t.”

The room tilts. I can’t think. I’m too weak to run, and all the fight has drained out of me.

Suddenly, all I want is for it all to be done.

“Funny, I never thought Death would speak Gaelic.”

His eyes turn icy. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you. I just don’t care. The only thing I had worth living for is behind me.”

Frowning, Killian c***s his head. “Behind you? What are you talking about? Dimitri—”

“Is a monster who stole seven years of my life,” I say, my voice raw with pure hatred. Wait—why is the room getting dark?

My legs give out. I go slack in his grip. My head falls back and my lids slide shut.

The last thing I remember is Killian’s eyes, hard and speculative, narrowed and dark, and shadowed with obvious confusion.