Dark Desire

by Lauren Smith

  Dimitri couldn’t help but smile at Elena’s adorable face in the pictures. She was so vibrant, so full of life. And that roaring fire that defined her had very nearly been extinguished by Vadym. Dimitri was not going to let that happen. He felt as though he were holding that flame in his palms now, shielding it until it could return to that unstoppable inferno that only grew stronger in the wind, not weaker.

  He turned off the tablet and slid it back into his briefcase before he turned off the light above him. Then he retrieved the blankets from under their seats and pressed the button to recline Elena’s seat back into a bed. She didn’t even stir as the seat moved. He tucked a pillow beneath her head, wrapped one of the fleece blankets around her, and then finally closed his own eyes.

  These next few months were going to be the hardest. He had to find a way into Elena’s life and begin the process of helping her heal. Maxim and Nicholas, his two other friends in his group, thought Elena couldn’t be healed, but Leo believed it was possible. Dimitri held on to that hope with all his might.

  As he slipped into a land of dreams, images from his past plagued him, ones of empty palaces and ghosts who stirred up secrets in the shadows and dust. He kept seeing a face, one in a portrait that had once hung in an imperial palace a hundred years ago and had been smuggled away, the child in that painting now long forgotten . . .

  2

  Elena slept all through the night and into the morning, nearly nine of the twelve hours between Moscow and Los Angeles. When she finally woke, she found herself tucked beneath blankets she didn’t remember putting over herself. She sat up and hit the button to turn her bed back into a chair. The man next to her was sipping a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper. It looked like the Wall Street Journal.

  A man who read a physical paper was kind of hot. Okay, really hot. And combine that with all the other things about him . . . she couldn’t stop looking at him. She was feeling true, deep attraction to this stranger. Just as quickly as the thought hit her brain, she banished it.

  “Did you sleep well?” the man asked, still perusing his paper.

  “Uh . . . Yeah. Really well, actually. I don’t think I’ve felt safe since—I mean, slept that well in months.”

  He sipped his coffee again and then handed her a bottle of water. “Drink this. You need to rehydrate. Then you can order breakfast.” He passed her a slender menu, and she drank half the bottle of water before she looked at her options. By the time she was ready, the man beside her had summoned the flight attendant so she could order.

  “I’ll take two eggs over easy, whole wheat toast, and bacon. Thank you so much.” Elena passed the menu to Dimitri, who handed it to the flight attendant. He took her order on a small electronic pad and left. Elena peeped at her seatmate, feeling suddenly shy.

  “Thank you again for last night, for keeping me from . . .” She stopped just before she said “falling apart” out loud.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m Elena Allen,” she offered.

  He held out a hand to her. “Dimitri Razin.”

  Elena hesitated a second before putting her hand in his. “Do you have experience with a lot of crying women?” She tried to laugh, but the sound came out rough. She hadn’t felt humor, let alone joy, in months. It was one more thing Vadym had ripped away from her.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Dimitri clasped her hand in his. “And I do not have a lot of experience with crying women, but I am quite capable of dealing with it.” His grip was firm but not crushing, and his hand was warm, just like his body had been when he’d held her in his arms. A sudden feeling of despair came over her as she realized that she would never see this man again after the flight. Some part of her felt connected to him.

  “So are you traveling to Los Angeles on business?” she asked when her food arrived. She dug into her eggs and toast, feeling hungry for the first time in a long while, and it made her weirdly relaxed and conversational. It must have been because she had slept and had a good cry. People always made fun of crying, but last night, sobbing until she had exhausted herself had made her feel lighter, as though some of Vadym’s evil had bled out of her through the tears. She wasn’t whole, not by a long shot, but she felt better.

  “Not exactly business. There are some interests I need to oversee and protect.”

  She found herself lost in Dimitri’s blue eyes. An ocean existed in that gaze, pulling her down beneath the surface, yet she wasn’t drowning.

  “And you, kiska? What are you going to do in Los Angeles?”

  “I was going to college at Pepperdine, but my school has given me a semester off.” A few days before she left Moscow she’d gotten the news that she’d been granted a pause in her classes to recover from what had happened. Moscow had given her class credit for the completed work and she could finish up her Russian language credits at Pepperdine.

  “What will you do with your free time?” Dimitri seemed genuinely interested.

  “Probably lie on the beach, see a few museums.” She wanted to do normal things, fun things. She wanted to be a person again. As much as she loved school, she really did need time to regroup. Everything felt overwhelming now, and she was afraid trying to focus on classes would be a bad idea. Vadym had kept her locked up, shamed like an animal in that dark, enclosed space. Every minute of the day, she’d faced the possibility of death and torture. It wasn’t easy to simply revert back to the old Elena who might frolic about in a park or lie on a beach and sunbathe. That Elena no longer existed.

  “The beach, that sounds lovely.” Dimitri smiled. “Perhaps I will see you there?”

  From any other man it would have sounded like a pickup line, but with him it sounded hopeful, and that tenderness in his eyes seemed to cradle her body with invisible hands.

  God, what was wrong with her? She was fixated on this man and how safe he made her feel, like some baby chick who had peeped out of her shell and latched onto the first creature she saw.

  “Yeah, if you’re ever near Malibu, maybe I’ll see you.” She laughed it off, trying to shake the sudden bout of nervous excitement at the thought of running into him on a beach.

  “Passengers, please prepare for landing,” one of the cabin crew announced.

  Elena put up her tray table and kept silent as the plane began to descend. Her hand touched the edge of Dimitri’s palm on the armrest. His skin was soft, and something seemed to jump from his skin to hers. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if he really touched her, put those hands on her body . . .

  What was she thinking? She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be touched ever again. Her stomach flipped as she felt his gaze on her. He didn’t say anything, however, and after a moment, he turned his focus to stowing his briefcase below his seat.

  All too soon, they were disembarking. She and Dimitri stayed close as they left the plane and headed for customs. Their paths diverged at the point where US citizens were led in one direction, while non–US citizens went the other. The thought of suddenly never seeing this man again sent a flash of panic through her.

  “Dimitri,” she called out as he started to walk away.

  He paused and looked over his shoulder. His square jaw and high cheekbones made him look like a movie star from an old black-and-white film. He had a timeless appeal that left her near speechless every time she looked right at him.

  “Thank you,” she said again, but her heart wanted to say so much more than that. A storm of emotions flashed across his features before that tranquility returned.

  “I am always happy to help you, kiska.” He turned and walked away.

  Elena carried her backpack and got in the line for US citizens. When she got up to the front of her line, a female customs officer waved her forward, and she presented her passport. The officer scanned it and frowned.

  “You were in Russia for several months. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. I went there for a study abroad semester, but . . .”

  The off
icer waited for her to continue. Lord, she was going to tell this woman what had happened. If only she’d just kept her answer limited to school and hadn’t said ‘but’.

  “I am . . . was kidnapped at a bar and held captive for two months.”

  The officer’s lips parted, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Elena reassured the other woman. “I’m free now, and I’m here.”

  “That you are. Welcome home.” The custom’s officer handed her back her passport, and she was waved through.

  Elena cringed as she realized that she would have to explain her situation like this again and again. It was unavoidable. And everyone was going to react just like that, and she was going to hate it. At this point, Elena considered just living on the beach and avoiding everyone like a hermit.

  After she picked up her luggage, she called for a taxi to take her to where she would stay for the next few months. She’d lost her spot in the Pepperdine dorms a long time ago, but Royce Devereaux, the professor who had helped save her, apparently owned a Malibu beach house. He’d insisted that she stay there for the rest of the semester until housing opened back up at the university. She called her parents while she sat in traffic. She’d spoken to them nearly a hundred times since she’d reached the embassy in Ulaanbaatar, but this was, in a way, the most important call she would make because now she was on US soil.

  “Honey!” Her mother’s relieved voice came through the line. “Did you get through customs okay?”

  “Hey, Mom. Yeah, I got through okay.”

  “So now you’re safe in LA, right?” Her mother’s tone turned sharp with worry. “Your father and I should be there in a few days. We wanted to come right away, but all the flights were booked up.”

  “I’ll be fine until you get here. I’m almost at Dr. Devereaux’s house. I’m just stuck in traffic.”

  “Good. Your father and I can’t wait to see you. He’ll be sad he missed you. He’s just run to the store for a few things.”

  “I’ll send him a text when I get to the house,” she promised. Elena couldn’t imagine how terrified her parents must have been when she’d gone missing. They’d tried to act all calm, but when she’d first seen them on the computer at the embassy in Ulaanbaatar, her mother had burst into tears.

  “You know, I really like that man, Dr. Devereaux.”

  “Me too,” Elena admitted. She’d had to tell her parents all the details of what had happened to her—how could she not?—and she’d told them about Royce and his grad student assistant, Kenzie, and how they had saved her. Royce and Kenzie had flown back to the States earlier and had made the trip to Maine to personally introduce themselves to her parents and tell them that Elena was alive and well.

  For the most part.

  “You know, he said you can transfer to his university on Long Island anytime.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about it.” But the truth was, right now she just needed to find herself again. She couldn’t make another big life change until she felt more secure.

  “Call me when you get there. Text me Dr. Deveraux’s address so your father and I will have it for when we come.”

  “I will,” Elena promised, and hung up.

  The driver stopped at the gatehouse and helped Elena with her suitcase, then drove off. Elena approached the gate and checked her email for the gate code. She pressed the five-digit code on the keypad, and the white wall of the gate slid open silently.

  Elena’s jaw hit the ground as she saw the house in front of her. She had expected a cozy beach house, but what she was looking at was no quaint cottage. It was a mansion. Something her Malibu Barbie would have had when Elena was a child. The front of the house looked like an Italian villa, and there was a lush garden between her and the front door. Beyond it was an endless expanse of blue water.

  Elena rolled her suitcase down the stone walkway to the front door. The same code unlocked that door as well. She stepped into the house, and her heart leapt with quiet joy. It was even more beautiful inside, with modern décor that was light and airy, yet the furniture looked comfortable and lived in. She could stay in a place like this and just feel safe and calm forever. It was paradise. She closed the front door behind her and left her suitcase by the spiral staircase that led up to the second floor.

  “Oh, wow . . .” Ahead of her was a huge living room with a large leather sectional sofa and a massive eighty-five-inch TV. Beyond that was a kitchen that was bigger than her dorm room at Pepperdine. Elena kept walking until she reached the outdoor deck, and then she froze.

  She wasn’t alone. A man stood at the balcony’s edge, hands braced on the railing, his face hidden from her as he stared at the sea. He wore khaki shorts, a pair of athletic shoes, and a loose black T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders as the breeze plastered it against his skin.

  That wasn’t Royce . . .

  Fear spiked within her. She stumbled back and tripped over the rug and fell to the ground with a crash. Her head glanced off the island counter, and she cried out in pain.

  The man on the porch turned to face her, and Elena flinched, her eyes closing as she waited for whatever awful thing would come next. His footfalls were quick as he rushed toward her.

  “Please, please, don’t hurt me,” she begged, and held her hands and arms above her face to shield herself.

  “Kiska?” a familiar, rich deep voice said to her.

  Slowly, she forced her eyes open and lowered her hands from her face.

  Dimitri Razin, the man who’d been so kind, so helpful on the flight from Moscow, was crouching over her inside Royce Devereaux’s Malibu house.

  “Dimitri?” she gasped. “Wh—what are you doing here?” It couldn’t be a coincidence he was here. This had to be a trap. He was one of Vadym’s men, come to take her back.

  “My old friend owns this house. He heard I was to be staying in Los Angeles for a few months, and he told me I could stay here rather than at a hotel. What are you doing here?” he aske as she got to her feet.

  She looked at him, uncertain. She made sure she kept her distance from him, enough room to run if he made any sudden moves, but she tried to look as if she were calmer now. “Uh . . . the same thing. I lost my dorm at Pepperdine, and since I’m not taking classes, a friend offered to let me stay here for the semester.”

  “Ah . . .” Understanding lit Dimitri’s eyes. “You are a friend of Royce Devereaux?”

  Elena nodded. “You as well?” Why hadn’t Royce warned her that he was going to let some random stranger—a Russian, no less—stay here while she was here? As soon as she had a moment alone, she was going to call him and demand answers.

  “We’ve known each other a long time. He is a good man.”

  “On that we agree.” She started to sit up and groaned as pain swamped her. She reached up to touch her head, and blood came away on her fingertips.

  “Here, let me.”

  He tried to reach for her, and she flinched back. Then the reality of what she’d done swamped her, and she forced herself to relax as he again gently reached for her, this time lifting her up. He gripped her by her waist and set her on top of the kitchen island. She started to slide off, to get far away from him, until she understood exactly why he was here.

  “Stay, kiska, I won’t hurt you,” he said. The order was gentle but firm and absolute. The old Elena would have shivered in delight and excitement, but right now her body and mind were at war over how to react.

  Dimitri returned with a first aid kit and set it on the counter by her hip. He opened the case and dug through the contents, removing an antiseptic cloth, a tube of antibacterial cream, and a small Band-Aid.

  Elena stared at him as he ripped open the packet containing the antiseptic cloth. Then he cupped her chin with one hand and tilted her head to the side. Their faces were close enough that she noticed a hint of stubble on his jaw, creating an enticing shadow. God, he was a beautiful man, masculine in all the right ways—even h
is smell, which was natural and woodsy. Vadym had always worn too much expensive cologne that made her gag.

  Dimitri dabbed at her forehead. “It does not appear deep.”

  Pain flared at the spot, but she didn’t react. If she had learned anything while being held captive, it was never to show you were in pain, especially to those who thrived on it.

  Dimitri rubbed the antibacterial cream on the small cut and then placed the Band-Aid on it.

  “You are very strong.” He set a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

  “No, I’m not,” she muttered as he walked away to throw the bloodied cloth in the trash. He had no idea what she’d been through and how very weak she’d felt for the last two months. The old Elena had been strong, but who she was now? She felt as delicate as spun glass.

  “So, kiska . . . it seems we are both staying here. Is that all right with you?”

  “You’re asking me?” She was surprised. “I . . .” She paused to think it over. Could she relax with him here under the same roof? He kept his distance, not crowding her, and it gave her a chance to think with a clear head. “If Royce invited you, I wouldn’t want to be rude or anything by asking you to leave.”

  “No, kiska. I can only stay if you are comfortable. Forget about Royce. What do you feel about me staying?”

  She was quiet a long moment. Her first instinct was to say no, but she was tired of being afraid, tired of letting that fear control her life. It didn’t mean she needed to go skydiving tomorrow, but she needed and wanted to start taking steps toward being her old self again if she was to eventually get past her trauma. That meant she could agree to him staying here. It wasn’t like they would be sharing a bed or anything. Just housemates.

  “I’m okay with it,” she replied with more confidence.

  The tension inside her suddenly ebbed away, like the tide of the ocean pulling it farther out to sea.

  “Very well. I’ll stay. Do you wish to choose which bedroom you prefer to sleep in? He has several. I am fine with any of them, so you choose where you want to sleep, and I will take one of the other rooms.”