"That's not my story to tell. But I can say that Mr. South deserved the death I dealt to him."

Honor gave a short nod. "If he was going to kill Alex, I'm quite sure he did."

At that moment, the door opened and a doctor put her head around it. "Mr. St. James is waking up now. I don't advise you all go in at once, though."

The rest of them had started toward the door already, but Honor's clear voice cut through the room. "No. I think Katya needs to see him first."

Katya looked at her in surprise. "I can't possibly-"

"You can," Honor said. "He was prepared to die for you. I think he'd want to see you first of all."

She wanted to protest, but the doctor was waiting for her and everyone else was staring. And she felt a sudden clutch of fear. As if walking through those doors with the doctor, to Alex's room, would decide something. Choose something.

But she couldn't refuse, not with all his friendshis sister for God's sakewaiting for her. She had to be strong, remember?

So she fought down the fear, got to her feet, and followed the doctor along the white, echoing corridors of the hospital.

Eventually they came to a room and the doctor showed her in, closing the door behind her.

There was a bed in the middle of it, with lots of tubes and the beeping of a heart monitor, and a man lying in the middle of it. Pale, his black hair on the white pillow like spilled ink.

Alex.

The pain in her chest crept outward, coiling around all her limbs and squeezing tight. She didn't want to breathe, he was so still, only the sound of the heart monitor letting her know he was even alive.

Quite suddenly his eyes opened, a narrow strip of sapphire gleaming between long, black lashes. And the pain in her chest felt like it was going to claw its way out.

"Why?" The word burst from her before she could stop it. "Why did you do that?"

He smiled. The bastard actually smiled. "Come here, Katya mine," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper of sound.

But she couldn't move, her breathing coming short and fast. "No. Tell me why. I need to know. I need to know why you took that bullet."

"And I need you to come closer. I'm in no condition to shout."

Her feet were like lead, but she made herself move over to the bed, coming to stand beside it and looking down at him.

His mouth still had that curve to it and she didn't know why. "Take my hand."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

She didn't want to touch him, fear nestling like an ice cube in her chest. But she didn't know what she was so afraid of, so she ignored the sensation, lifting her hand to put it over his where it rested on the blanket. He felt cold, like his sister had. Slowly, painfully, he turned his hand over and laced his fingers through hers.

Inexplicable tears filled her eyes. "Alex. Please..."

His fingers tightened. "Before Conrad appeared, I told myself that I was going to avoid you. Because if I touched you again, I didn't think I'd be able to let you go." His voice was cracked and broken, but she heard every word. "So here I am, touching you, Katya. And that makes you mine. You always were, remember?"

A tear ran down her cheek and hit the sheet. "Don't..." she whispered, her voice as thready as his.

"You know why I took that bullet for you," he said, relentless. "You know."

Another tear rolled down her cheek. "You would do that for anyone. You would-"

"No, I wouldn't." And there was no denying the certainty in his voice. No escaping it. "I mean, I wish I was that altruistic. But I'm not. You're the only person I've ever wanted to die for, Katya Ivanova."

She bent her head, the tears rolling down her cheeks without stopping. She couldn't understand why she was crying. Why every word felt like a needle point of glass sliding under her skin. Why she felt like she was breaking apart. "Please..." she murmured thickly, "don't say it."

"Don't say what? That I'm in love with you?"

She shook her head. "You can't."

Alex's fingers closed around hers. "Look at me."

The command in his voice was undeniable and she couldn't disobey. Lifting her head, she met his eyes, the impact of his gaze hitting her harder than any bullet. There was something powerful in the blue depths, something that hadn't been there before. Certainty.

He released her hand and touched her face, his fingers gently brushing away the tears. "Why are you crying?"

Her throat was tight, her breathing harsh. "This is my fault. If I hadn't crossed the line, if I'd never have slept with you, none of this would have happened. If I'd been stronger, you wouldn't nearly have died."

"Come on, what did you tell me about taking the blame? That we can't take responsibility for other people's choices? Sweetheart, without you I would still be hiding from what Conrad did to me. Still pretending it didn't matter." His fingers brushed her mouth. "You made me face it, Katya. And you made me deal with it. You made it better. You gave me strength when I had none. The question isn't why did I take a bullet for you? The question is why wouldn't I take a bullet for you?"

She tried to blink away the tears in her eyes, but it wasn't working. "You shouldn't have had to, though. It was my job to protect you and I failed. If I'd done my job properly, you wouldn't have been in that position."

But he only smiled and it wasn't the lazy, mocking smile she was familiar with. This smile was warm and genuine. It made her heart stop. "I'm not a mission, sweetheart. And my choices are my own. And stopping Conrad's bullet was the best decision I ever made."

Her throat closed up. "You don't understand. I can't be with you, Alexei. There is another man who needs me more."

His blue eyes glittered. "Mikhail?"

"Yes."

"What about what you need, Katya? Have you ever thought about that?"

"I-" She stopped, staring down at the white sheet and their linked hands resting on top of it.

His fingers tightened with the ghost of his old strength. "Stop trying to save your mother, sweetheart. She doesn't need you anymore. But I do. And I think you need me too."

The words were loud in her head, echoing down the years of her life. All the way back to a little girl standing beside a bathtub, looking at the woman in it. The dead woman with a smile on her face. The woman who'd left her without even a good-bye.

More tears filled her eyes, so she closed them, the tears falling onto their linked hands. "I can't. I can't need anyone." Her voice sounded scraped raw. "I have to be strong. I have to."

"Why, sweetheart?" There was so much gentleness in the words, a tender note she'd never heard him utter before. "Who do you have to be strong for?"

And she felt something break loose inside her. "For myself. Because it hurts. Because she left without even a good-bye. Because one day she was there, kissing me good night; the next she wasn't. And I miss her, I miss her so much." The words came out of her in a flood. "But if I'm strong, the pain goes away. And I'm tired of hurting, Alexei. I'm just so tired of it."

"I know," he said quietly. "But you can't be strong all the time. And it doesn't get rid of the pain. That's why you need someone to be strong for you. To help you through the times when you can't bear it. When it gets too much." His fingers tightened through hers. "You were strong for me. Now it's time for me to be strong for you. Give me your grief, Katya mine. You don't have to be strong now."

She didn't think it would be so simple to do that. To stop being strong, to allow herself to grieve for Anna Ivanova. But with her hand in his, the warmth and subtle strength in his around hers, it was. And it was painful. Then again, when you loved someone, when you cared, pain was always going to be part of it.

And afterwards, when she was quiet, when the tears had dried up, it was like her heart shuddered. Like it had stopped and he'd restarted it.

She finally raised her head and looked into the vivid blue of his eyes. "You really want me to stay?"

"Yes. I told you. I'm touching you. And that means you're mine."

"For how long?"

"How about forever?" He smiled. "I'm a selfish man, sweetheart. I want you to stay with me because I love you. Because if you don't I will follow you to the ends of the earth to bring you back. And I will never, ever let you go."

This was happiness, she realized then, with sudden, blinding insight. Right here. Right now. Clasped in her hands. And that the key to it wasn't strength but vulnerability. Opening yourself to another person, admitting to yourself that they were important.

That what you wanted was important.

You can't lose it. You can't lose him.

No, she couldn't. No one had ever wanted her like this. No one had ever warned her he'd come after her. And certainly no one had ever wanted to die for her.

No one except Alex.

He needed her, certainly more than Mikhail did. And perhaps he was right. Perhaps she needed him too.

Perhaps her heart wasn't so irrelevant after all.

All he wanted to do was get out of this fucking hospital bed and take her in his arms. But of course he couldn't do that.

"Katya," he croaked, ignoring the dizzy, floaty feeling of the anesthetic. There were tears rolling down her face and her fingers in his were loose.

Abruptly she looked at him, the color of her eyes like the grass after rain. She lifted her free hand, wiped the tears away. "You really love me?"

"I do. But I've never loved anyone before. You'll have to show me how it's done."

"Seems I'm always showing you how to do things." She bent her head, lifted his hand, kissed the back of it. She said something in what sounded like Russian. Then she murmured in English, "I love you, Alexei."

He closed his eyes a moment against the fierce rush of pleasure that gave him. Wishing he weren't here. Wishing he were with her in bed. Nothing between them. "And you'll stay, won't you? You're not going to leave?"

"No, I'm not going to leave. But ... there may be a difficulty." Her voice sounded hoarse. "I shot Conrad. He's dead."

He should be appalled. He wasn't. Conrad didn't matter. He'd never mattered. Of course there was the issue of the bombshell he'd dropped right before he'd aimed the gun at Katya, but Alex didn't want to think about that right now. That could wait until he felt ready to deal with it.

"Good," was all he said.

"I'm sorry," Katya murmured. "You should have had the honor."

"So bloodthirsty, Katya mine. No, I'm glad you did." He opened his eyes, met hers. "You shot the gun, I took the bullet. Seems fair."

It was faint, but her mouth curved, so he counted that as a victory. Then she bent over him and his victory became something even more special as she brushed her mouth over his.

"Your friends are out there," she murmured against his lips. "They want to see you. And..." A slight hesitation. "Someone else."

He knew who she meant. But the weight that had been hanging over him for so long was gone. He didn't need it anymore. "Can you get her for me?"

Katya straightened and she smiled properly this time. Then without a word, she went out of the room.

A minute later, a figure appeared in the door. Slender. Black haired. Blue-eyed.

Alex swallowed. "Hello, Honor."

EPILOGUE.

Zac stopped the video, peering at it. He'd been looking at it frame by frame, searching for clues. But for the life of him, he couldn't work out what was in it that the mysterious mercenary Elijah had been desperate enough to destroy.

Eventually, frustrated, Zac sat back in the seat of his office, staring at the screen.

At that moment, the door opened and Eva wandered in. Late for their lunch date as usual.

Irritated, Zac reached for the screen and spun it around to her. "Do you see anything there? I've been studying this damn thing for days now and I'm buggered if I know what's so important about it."

Eva scowled, then narrowed her gaze. "Why are you asking me? I haven't seen..." Her voice trailed off. Slowly, the color leached from her face.

Instantly Zac stiffened, dread tightening in his chest. "Eva?"

She stared at the screen a long time.

"Eva," Zac demanded. "What the hell is it?"

Slowly, she met his gaze. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."

Read on for an excerpt from YOU ARE MINE.

the next sensational romance from Jackie Ashenden.

COMING SOON FROM ST. MARTIN'S PAPERBACKS Slowly, Zac stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, studying her over his steepled fingers. "Sit down," he said, allowing the hard edge of authority to creep into his voice.

She ignored him, her palms pale and spread out like starfish on the window, her long, straight silver hair falling over her shoulders. Her gray eyes were wide, fear and anger glittering in the depths. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

"I have a key."

Her eyes widened ever further. "You have a key? To my freaking apartment? How dare you-"