Her pulse beat faster and faster, the sound of it dragging him into insanity. He left the sweet spot, plundered her whole throat.

"Mikhail! What are you? Oh!"

As she peaked, he sank his nails into her lush a.s.s and held her tight against him, stilling her. She stiffened, breathless, suspended on the brink. He took her throat in his teeth.

"Don't hate me-"

He broke her flesh and she came, jerking helplessly in his arms, her consciousness shattered, along with all her defenses.

Like a city after a long siege, she opened her gates. He walked in, unarmed.

And inside, all he found was the heart which he already knew as well as his own. There was nothing there that could not be forgiven.

"Don't you know you're the other half of my soul?"

"Filthy as I am?"

"Perfect, as you are." Brave, fierce, strong, resilient, clever, pa.s.sionate and tender. Yes, tender, beneath it all.

The stories of her life pa.s.sed into him as he drank, one glimmering image after another. They rushed to fill up all those vacant s.p.a.ces he'd held open for her all these years.

When he came back to himself, he found they'd fallen on their sides. For the first time in his life, he felt replete.

Alya lay limp in his arms, flushed and tousled and oddly shy. She touched his cheek.

"Mikhail?"

"Hmm?"

The corners of her mouth curled into a wicked smile as she slid off of him. "You can come now."

He'd forgotten his body entirely. "I don't-" he began, but didn't finish, because the o.r.g.a.s.m was there, waiting, and at her command it hit him like a knockout punch.

"How do you feel?"

He'd stopped twitching, but his eyes still hadn't focused.

"Deboned," he croaked.

"And you like it?"

He rolled his head her direction and met her eyes. A slow, satisfied, unspeakably s.e.xy smile spread across his face. He was happy. She wanted to keep him that way. She'd spend all her spare hours contriving ways to make him give her that smile.

He drew her to his chest. She felt safe there, pressed against his heart.

"I underestimated you. I've been such a b.i.t.c.h."

When he didn't rush to rea.s.sure her otherwise, she laughed. Mikhail was no flatterer.

"And what was I? Some a.s.shole threatening you with a rope?" he said. "I'm no good at courting."

"Courtship? Is that what this has been?"

"Isn't this how other people do it?"

He was perfectly deadpan. The man did indeed have a sense of humor. Propping herself up on her elbow, she smoothed his hair out of his eyes. "This is for real, isn't it?"

He caught her hand and kissed the palm. The warm lights in his eyes said believe.

"And the terms you named-you can live with them?"

"I wouldn't have named them otherwise."

"But a knyaz is expected to take a wife. To produce heirs."

"I don't need that to be happy." Lazy, he circled her breast with his forefinger. "All I want is you. Exactly as we are now."

"But your family will demand that we marry-"

"They will be told what they need to know. They'll support whatever I choose."

"Easy to say, but I remember your mother."

Mikhail laughed aloud. He sounded like a consumptive seal. He needed more practice. She added another item to her to-do list.

"What are you going to do with Dominick?" he asked.

"Skin him alive."

Mikhail grunted his disapproval. There was a definite man crush going on between those two.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she admitted. "Depends on why he did it, and I can't know that until we get out of here. Do you want to try the door again?"

"I don't want to go anywhere."

Alya stretched, a long, luxurious flexing of the spine, trying to remember the last time she felt so good. "We do have a blood bond to complete, I suppose."

"And I have questions." He rolled over and picked up the discarded mask. "Questions about these things of yours. How you use them."

Even after seeing him in bondage, she couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that he was still curious, that he might want to do it again. "What would you like to know?"

"Well, first I'd like to know why you have fifteen boxes of cling wrap in your cabinet."

"Oh, my sweet innocent."

Chapter Fifteen.

Dominick planted himself in front of the door. "They're not to be disturbed."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you. You've sealed my brother in the cellar-"

"Along with my prince."

"Exactly. You've entombed my brother in a cellar with the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Gregor." Maddy put her hand on his arm. "Hear him out."

"They've not murdered each other, that I'm sure. I've heard them laughing."

Gregor said, "Mikhail never laughs."

Maddy liked Alya's handsome lieutenant, and she didn't think he was lying. If Alya Adad employed men like him, she couldn't be all that bad. But Gregor wasn't patient at the best of times, and all the way to Los Angeles he'd been on edge, worried for Mikhail and for the whole family. Something had to give, and soon.

Gregor picked up the screw gun. "I'm not waiting. I don't trust this f.u.c.ked-up matchmaking scheme of yours."

Dominick stepped forward, fist raised.

Maddy slid between them. "Dominick, you'll agree they have to come out sooner or later, right? Why not now?"

"If they're happy just now, I want them to stay that way. Let it sink in to their thick heads that they're good for one another."

Maddy said, "You think they're a good match?"

"Mrs. Faustin, I know my prince."

She squeezed his arm and they shared a smile of understanding. The tension dissolved. "That's wonderful, but they can't live in the bas.e.m.e.nt for the rest of their lives. Let Gregor unscrew the door. Mikhail will want to see us, I'm sure of it."

Dominick agreed reluctantly. It took a long time to take the bracings off the door. Considering all the racket, she was surprised-and a little worried-that Mikhail didn't come up and speak to them through the door.

Gregor ventured down first, moving cautiously, keeping her behind him with one hand. Dominick brought up the rear. She supposed he had more to fear than either of them. The narrow stairway emptied into a dim room, very leathery and red, like the door above. The first thing Maddy saw was a scary looking cage. The next, a set of broken chains dangling from the cracked ceiling.

"Sweet f.u.c.king Jesus," Gregor whispered.

She followed his gaze to the floor and saw Mikhail and a tawny G.o.ddess lying together in gorgeous tangle of flesh. Not dead, but deeply, profoundly asleep.

They slept in a nest of what looked like yards and yards of shredded plastic wrap. Around them lay a debris field made up of every s.e.x toy Maddy could name, and others she'd never even imagined.

Mikhail was smiling.

Epilogue.

Six months later, Central Park "That one." Mikhail pointed to a man walking alone fifty yards away. Alya leaned forward to see him better. The tree branch they shared creaked in protest.

"Too skinny."

"Picky."

"I'm famished. I want someone I can really tap."

He lifted his nose, testing the air. "Snow's coming."

Alya caught the scent. "You're right."

A woman with a stroller walked beneath them, followed by an old lady with a tiny dog. The dog glanced up at them, tucked its tail between its legs and scooted away. Alya kicked her heels in the air, admiring her cashmere tights and new half boots. She'd missed shopping in New York. Beside her, Mikhail scanned the darkness, intent on hunting. She didn't want to go home the next night. Though she never would have believed it a year ago, she liked sharing a bed with Mikhail Faustin and waking up together at sunset. When he was with her, she didn't need pills to sleep and never had nightmares. As he'd promised, he was her shield.

"Dominick says I'm intolerable when I come back from visiting you."

Mikhail glanced her way with a half smile, but said nothing.

"And I smoke way too much."

That got his attention. "Since when do you smoke?"

"When I'm alone. I have to do something with my mouth." She batted her eyes at him. He was learning to laugh, but he didn't laugh now. Instead his gaze flicked across her lips.

Alya's breath caught in her throat. Living separately was almost worth this love junkie's paradise of intense good-byes and sweat-soaked reunions.

"And Lulu. She's a wreck without you." Invoking the cat. How pathetic can you be?

"I suppose this means I should visit more often." He dropped his voice to that suggestive rumble that gave her goose b.u.mps. He knew it did too, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. "That way I can save you from yourself, Dominick from you, and the cat from despair."

"I have a better idea." For a moment she lost courage, realizing how much she needed him to agree. Even now, it was hard to admit how much she needed him. She made sure her tone was breezy and her mind tight. "I've been thinking maybe we should go bi-coastal. Alternate households by quarters. Say, fall in the city, winter in LA..."

Mikhail frowned. She wilted inside. She knew he'd hate this idea. He said, "We'd each leave our territories unattended for half the year?"

"That's what the Internet and airplanes are for."

"Dominick could hold things on your end. Maybe. But Gregor isn't ready, and he's so busy with his clubs."

"Spoken like a true big brother. Gregor's all grown up. He could do it if you gave him a chance. You're a phone call away, and he'd have your dad to advise him and Alex to back him up."

"I don't know. I don't know if I could ever rest easy." He stared off into s.p.a.ce, considering, his face troubled. Suddenly, he tensed and lifted his hand. He'd caught scent of something interesting. A moment later, a hairy giant of a man strode out of a stand of trees. He was a teamster, or a lumberjack, or maybe a sasquatch. Something huge. Three hundred pounds of good eating.

"Go get him."