Dark Desire

by Lauren Smith

  And what a glance it was. He wore only a tiny motel towel, barely big enough to stay on his lean hips. Dimitri had perfect slender hips that accompanied a set of broad shoulders. She had seen him in swim trunks and even briefs, but just a towel and dripping wet? That was something far more exciting. She bit her lip to hide a smile. This was good. She wanted to see him naked. She had never thought she would want to see any man naked ever again.

  “I know you are awake, kiska,” he teased. She let out her breath in a rush before opening her eyes. “Did you rest well?”

  She sat up and stifled a yawn. “I did.” She didn’t mention the dream that had woken her up. It wasn’t exactly a nightmare, but it was far too personal to share. He might not want to know just how dependent she was on him. It might scare him away, no matter what he’d vowed to her.

  “How long have you been up?” She looked at the clock on the nightstand. It said 9:00 a.m.

  “About an hour.”

  “Did you get any sleep at all?” Somehow, she pictured him standing guard all night. She hoped he hadn’t done that. The last thing she needed was for him to exhaust himself protecting her. They were in this together, and she didn’t want him taking all the responsibilities.

  “I did.”

  “But not much,” she guessed.

  Dimitri shrugged. “I am used to working with very little sleep.”

  “When we get to Colorado, will you sleep then?”

  He came toward her, stopping mere inches from the bed. If she wanted to, she could just reach out and pull his towel away.

  “Why do you worry so much about my sleep, kiska?” He cupped her chin, tilting her head back so they could meet each other’s eyes.

  “It’s just . . . I know what sleep deprivation can do to someone.” When she admitted this, her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Dimitri leaned over the bed and cupped the back of her head. “You kill me.” Then he was kissing her. The magic of his mouth on hers chased away the bad thoughts and memories. This man was a light-bringer, the hero she had always wanted who would carry her out of the darkness.

  She moved closer, her legs getting tangled in the sheets, and she heard him laugh against her lips. It was the most wonderful thing, to feel such tender joy with a man like this, where passion was not a punishment but a pleasure.

  “Please never stop,” she begged as he started to pull back from her.

  “If I don’t stop now, I will go too far, and neither of us is ready. We need to keep moving. When it’s safe, you and I will take our time and explore this.” He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb and pressed his forehead against hers, holding her close, their breath mingling as he slowly reined in his control.

  “Shower and dress. I need to change cars and fetch us breakfast.”

  “Okay.” She freed herself from the blankets and got out of bed.

  “Keep this door locked. When I return, only open the door if I say the word phoenix to you. Do you understand?”

  Elena nodded, then collected her clothes and shower kit before heading into the bathroom.

  Phoenix . . . it reminded her of the gold signet ring he wore on his pinky finger on his left hand. She hadn’t gotten a full, detailed look at it, but from what she had seen, it might have been a phoenix. She wished she had a cell phone. She wanted to look it up, see if any secret organizations had members who used a phoenix symbol. The Masons had their Square and Compasses, the Templars had the red cross, and the Illuminati had the Eye of Providence. She wasn’t an expert on symbols in secret societies. She had read The Da Vinci Code, and that was pretty much her only experience.

  She showered and put on a pair of jeans and a loose white blouse that had a cute little blue whale pattern embroidered on it. Then she put on her running shoes.

  As she finished packing her bag back up, she realized that Dimitri had left his phone behind. On purpose? She turned on the screen and swiped. It required a ten-digit code.

  “Of course.” She put the phone back and tried to lose herself in the news on the TV.

  There was a large event for the United Nations coming up soon. A dinner to honor the recipients of the humanitarian awards. Ambassadors from all over the world planned to attend, and security was heightened all over New York. The second news story focused on local news, the weather, and the latest shows in the major casinos. She scanned another channel and another until there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s me,” Dimitri said.

  She started to unlock the door, then froze. “What’s the password?” She felt like a silly kid, but he had warned her to do this, and she trusted him. He had kept her alive and safe so far.

  “Phoenix,” he said.

  With a sigh of relief, she undid the locks and let him in.

  “You almost unlocked the door,” he said, a dark brow raised in challenge.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. This whole Spy vs. Spy thing isn’t easy to get used to.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “Spy versus spy?”

  “Yeah, you know, those cartoon characters with big hats and triangle faces, one all white, one all black. Always running around and trying to kill each other in espionage games?”

  Dimitri shook his head in disbelief. “You Americans with your cartoons.”

  “It was more of a comic strip.” She felt oddly compelled to defend her childhood. She actually liked comics. Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Wonder Woman had been her favorites.

  He chuckled and retrieved his phone and suitcase. “You are sweet, kiska. Never change. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yep. You already switched cars?” She grabbed her suitcase and followed him to the door.

  “Yes. I found something more appropriate.”

  Waiting for them outside was a black Range Rover.

  “Not exactly inconspicuous,” she pointed out.

  Dimitri frowned, not following. “It is very inconspicuous.”

  “Sure, but, you know, in that trying-too-hard kind of way.” He still didn’t understand, so she added, “Like you’re expecting people with dark sunglasses and suits carrying concealed guns to pop out of it?”

  He shrugged. “You watch too many movies.”

  “I suppose you just had another friend willing to lend you a car like you did the Aston Martin?”

  “I do, and I asked him for this one because it has bulletproof glass.”

  At this, her eyes widened. “Are we expecting to get shot at? I was only kidding about the men with guns popping out.”

  “Under the circumstances, it is safer to plan for all scenarios.”

  “I don’t think I want to know what the scenarios are.”

  Dimitri lifted her suitcase into the back alongside his. “No, you do not.”

  She climbed into the passenger side, and sweet heavenly smells hit her.

  “Oh my God . . . Where did you get these?” She practically pounced on the cinnamon roll box between the seats. The bun inside was still warm, and the frosting was still gooey. A cup of coffee, steaming hot, was in the cup holder next to the box.

  “I snuck into the Bellagio breakfast buffet.” He laughed at the look of shock he saw on her face.

  “Seriously?”

  “Why not? We are pressed for time.” He grinned, and the boyish mischief on his face was so appealing that Elena had to remind herself that this man was some sort of secret agent and not just a harmless, sexy Russian billionaire.

  “You told me back in LA that you aren’t a spy.”

  “I’m not. I just happen to have the same skills.”

  “Tomato, toh-mah-toe,” she muttered.

  “Sorry?”

  “Never mind. So how long is the drive to Colorado?”

  “Depending on the weather, it will be around ten hours. Though if we were going to cut straight through Utah, we could take a day to relax. I trust open land more than cities, and no one would expect us to stay overnight on parkland.”

  “Parkland? Like camping?” Elena wri
nkled her nose at the thought. She was definitely not a camper. Glamping, maybe, but definitely not roughing it.

  Dimitri grinned as he pulled a lock of her hair. “Not a camper, little kiska?”

  “Not exactly. I like hot showers and a door I can close against bugs.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “A true printcessa.”

  “Did you just call me a princess in Russian?” She scoffed, but only to hide a giggle. “Okay, I might be a bit of a princess. You know, when I was a kid my dad took me to this group of young scouts, called Indian Princesses. Totally un-PC, name-wise, I know, but it was fun. It was just dads and daughters. I loved all the adventures, but camping in tents with mosquitos was really not my thing. So Dad would flatten out the seats in our SUV, and we slept in sleeping bags in the car. One year there was a massive thunderstorm, and I was damn glad he and I were in the car when it hit. The rest of the girls and their dads got flooded out of their tents.” The memory warmed her, and she couldn’t help but smile as she watched the road ahead.

  “You have a beautiful smile, Elena,” Dimitri said. “You must smile more.”

  “You can’t say that here.”

  “What?”

  “Never tell a woman she should smile more. Trust me.” The frown on Dimitri’s face was one of puzzlement and disappointment, so she tried to explain. “The kind of men who say that tend to be creeps. They always say, ‘You should smile more, it makes you pretty.’”

  Dimitri nodded. “Ah, I understand. They objectify the women, correct?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I did not mean it that way. Smiling can make you feel better. That is why I suggested it.” He offered his own smile, the gentle one that melted her inside out like a popsicle on a sunny day.

  “I know,” she sighed, and her attempt at a smile faltered. The therapist at the US embassy in Moscow had told her that the act of smiling could often trigger feelings of genuine happiness. It was just so hard to think of smiling, let alone being happy, most of the time. But smiling, even laughing, was becoming easier and easier with Dimitri around.

  “Why don’t you eat your breakfast and then try to sleep a bit more?” he suggested. “Sleep is nature’s way of healing, both emotionally and physically. I want you to feel your best. You deserve that.”

  He was bossy, but in a sweet way, and she kind of loved him for it. It had been disorienting after two months in captivity, unable to make any choices about her own life, to be suddenly thrust back into full control. She had been conditioned to follow orders without question. While she desperately craved her own life back and control of her own decisions, she was relieved that Dimitri could offer her some sort of structure until she was comfortable enough to control her life again.

  She turned her gaze to the road, taking in the glittery, flashing world of Las Vegas before they passed through to the open road again. The bright sun illuminated the highway in front of them, and the strangest feeling came over Elena. She looked at Dimitri discretely from beneath her lashes as she recalled him in her dream carrying her into the light.

  This man was her destiny. As wild and unexplainable as it was, she could feel it. Fate had driven her into his life, and he had welcomed her, scars and all. Elena reached across the console between them and placed her hand on top of his. He turned his hand over, and their palms connected. His fingers curled around hers, and it felt as though the seismic plates deep within her soul shifted, sinking into place. She was home, only now home was no longer a little house in Maine with a white picket fence.

  It was this man, her beautiful, scary, Russian protector.

  Maxim Kamenev entered the Malibu beach house address Leo had given him. The door code worked at the gate as expected, and he slipped into the house with the stealth of a leopard on the hunt.

  Leo followed right behind him. “What do you see?”

  Maxim didn’t answer. He had his gun out at the ready. Glass shards and blood littered the kitchen and family room.

  The sight made him tense. He was so close to Dimitri, Nicholas, and Leo that when one of them was hurt, he practically felt the pain in his own body.

  “Are we on body removal?” Nicholas asked as he came up behind Maxim and Leo. “Because that is my least favorite part of the job.”

  At this, Maxim and Leo turned to stare at him.

  Nicholas gave his devil-may-care smile. “What? You can’t say you enjoy it.”

  Maxim shrugged. “It’s like laundry. Boring but necessary.” He turned his focus back to the house, moving from room to room. He noticed that only one bed was unmade.

  “Dimitri is sleeping with her,” Maxim said to the other two men as they joined him in one of the rooms that faced the sea.

  Nicholas’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”

  “Only one bed was unmade. They had no time to tidy up.”

  “But he . . . he doesn’t know who she is. If he did, he would never have . . .”

  “He knows enough. He knows she has Romanov blood,” Leo said.

  “But so do a lot of people,” Maxim countered. “You couldn’t tell him her true ancestry over the phone. He’s just following his desires now. The moment he learns that she’s not just any Romanov descendant, he will let go and step back.”

  “I hope so,” Leo murmured. “We took a vow.”

  “A vow to protect,” Maxim said as he knelt by the pool of blood on the balcony.

  “We vowed that we would protect, and we can’t do that if we are emotionally attached. It makes us vulnerable,” Leo reminded him.

  Maxim believed in the rules, but this was one that made him conflicted. Sometimes a person was braver, faster, more alert, when defending the life of someone they deeply cared about. It was why the four of them worked so well together even after all these years. They loved each other like brothers, and that made the fight in them that much stronger.

  “Where’s the body?” Maxim asked Leo.

  “Basement.”

  “You two handle the blood and anything broken. I’ll handle the body.”

  The three of them split up, and Maxim located the door to the basement. It wasn’t some creepy dark lair—no, it was a casual family room complete with a flat-screen TV, sectional sofa, and in the corner, well, damn . . . a spanking bench, a Saint Andrew’s cross, and a wall of fun little toys.

  Maxim whistled softly. A Dom definitely lived here, one who knew where to purchase the best toys, not the crap most men bought for their private playrooms. No, these were quality BDSM products. It was no wonder Dimitri and Royce got along. The rest of them were into the lifestyle a little too, but not as much as Dimitri.

  Turning his focus from the play area, Maxim found the body of the Russian agent who had attacked Dimitri and Elena. He frowned as he recognized Viktor Ivanoff. He’d never tangled with Viktor personally, but he’d cleaned up a lot of situations Viktor had been involved in. Most Kremlin agents these days focused on subtle deaths, making it hard to prove who committed the crime. For Viktor to attack so openly like this . . . it was unusual. Whoever sent him here believed blunt action, something not survivable like a gunshot, was necessary, but that raised a whole new question. Who was the target? Dimitri or Elena?

  Maxim guest Elena, simply because of what he knew about her bloodline, and Dimitri’s cover had always been the most inconspicuous of the four of them. The Kremlin believed Dimitri to be a rich playboy who liked to visit Paris and Long Island and blow his money on women and indulge in BDSM. The Russian government thought him a fool who would support the men in power without question. That meant it was more likely Elena was the target, and that meant the job of protecting her had become that much more difficult.

  With a heavy sigh, Maxim focused on the body he was meant to dispose of. It was going to be an unpleasant couple of hours, and all he wanted to do was lie on the damn beach in the sun.

  11

  Dimitri took a turn off the highway down to a small country road.

  “Where are w
e going?” It was late in the afternoon. Elena sat forward in her seat, eyes glued to the red-and-gold landscape of the craggy desert terrain of Utah.

  “Dead Horse Point State Park.”

  “That name sounds foreboding.” Elena bit her lip, more than a little worried that there were no signs of life anywhere. It was barren. Beautiful, but barren.

  “It will be fine, kiska. You are with me.”

  “So not only are you an actual mystery man, you also are a wilderness survivor type?” She was only half joking.

  “Yes and no. I can promise you we will be fine, but we won’t be out in the wild—at least, not the way you think.”

  She sat back, arms crossed. “Russians and their riddles . . .”

  He laughed. “See, we are already here.” In the distance, beside a lazy brown river, was a large lodge, a smaller building, and a huge set of solar panels.

  “This is the base camp adventure lodge. I booked the entire building, all seven bedrooms, just for us. It isn’t fancy, but it’s well above a tent on a patch of hard rock.”

  “You had me at lodge.” She relaxed as he parked the Range Rover in front of the building. A man in his late fifties came out to meet them.

  “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”

  “That’s us,” Dimitri said in that perfect American TV accent.

  “Congrats on your wedding. This is a perfect place to have a honeymoon. The skies will be clear tonight, and the stars will be magnificent. I left you some directions on the kitchen table as to where the best stargazing spots are.” He shook Dimitri’s hand. “Name’s Walter. If you need anything while you’re here, just use the walkie-talkie. Channel 8.”

  “Thank you,” Dimitri said, then turned to Elena. “Honey, I’ll get our bags. You go on inside.”

  That American accent made her shiver, but not in a good way. He so easily morphed into a man who wasn’t him. Did she even know the real Dimitri? There was still a lot she didn’t know. While they were here, she was determined to find out as much about him as she could.