Dark Desire

by Lauren Smith

  Dimitri took shelter around the corner of the lodge. In a place like this, it wasn’t smart to be in a dwelling you could get trapped in and your enemies could smoke you out. He held a long hunting knife.

  The car in the distance finally reached the lodge. The high-beams blinded him, and he couldn’t see past the glare. The lights died, and the driver killed the engine. Dimitri counted the car doors that opened and closed. Two, no, three people. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness after the bright headlights.

  He crouched down as he listened for any sound of their movements. They were very quiet, but the loose gravel made it impossible to be completely silent. As his eyes regained their night vision, he counted two men, but his gut warned him that he’d heard three doors closing. Dimitri spun just in time to deflect an attack that came from behind him.

  He turned, took the man down, and rolled backward in a somersault, sending his assailant flying over the top of his head, and then he flipped up onto his feet with his dagger ready.

  “Fuck, Dimitri,” a voice grumbled as the man got up and dusted himself off.

  “Maxim?” Dimitri exhaled, and every tensed muscle in him went lax. He turned to see Leo and Nicholas, guns in hand as they rounded the corner.

  “You’re here.” Dimitri couldn’t believe his friends had caught up so fast.

  “Yeah, you’d know that if you’d answered my calls,” Leo said.

  “I left my phone at the house. I thought . . .” He shuddered. He hadn’t thought. That was the problem. He had been so focused on taking Elena out to stargaze and having a quiet evening alone with her and not worrying about what was to come that he’d broken one of the most basic rules of protecting someone. He’d let his guard down. It was a small mercy his friends had found him before his enemies.

  “How did you find me? I didn’t leave instructions on how to get here.”

  Leo grinned smugly. “I may have put a tracker in your favorite boots some time back. The black widow model is so small, airport security misses it every time.”

  “So did I, apparently.” Dimitri was glad his friend had kept track of him. It was a smart move, and he was mad he hadn’t thought of it. Maxim looked to Leo. “Wait. You did not put one in my boots, did you? You know I demand my privacy.”

  “Of course not,” said Leo. “I’d never do that to you.”

  Maxim turned back to Dimitri, all business. Leo grinned and nodded behind his back, indicating that he totally did.

  “We handled your body,” Maxim said. “Cleaned the scene for Devereaux too.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nicholas stared at Dimitri and glanced around. “Is it just me, or are we missing someone?” There was a teasing note to his tone that Dimitri had missed since he’d been away from his friends.

  “Elena is hiding,” he explained.

  Nicholas snorted. “Where? Under a rock?”

  “Almost.” Dimitri led his friends toward the rocky embankment of the river. He held up his hand up to indicate they should stay back. He put his knife into his boot and called out.

  “Elena, it’s safe. We have company. Good company.” Then he carefully peered over the edge of the bank.

  It was empty. She was gone. His stomach plummeted as he feared his friends might have been followed.

  “Stay where you are!” A shout rang out. Elena stood behind them, her back to the lodge, gun aimed at Maxim, who was closest to her.

  “Well now, she’s a clever one,” Nicholas mused in Russian.

  “Kiska, it’s safe. Phoenix . . . remember? This is Leo, Maxim, and Nicholas, the brothers of my heart.” Dimitri moved toward her, hands held up.

  “These guys are your friends?”

  “Kiska?” Maxim chuckled and continued speaking in Russian. “Dimitri, you have found your kitten at last, and you had to choose the one woman you can’t have.”

  “What?” Dimitri responded.

  “Not now, Max,” Leo interjected. “Let’s get the gun away from her before we break the news.”

  Dimitri reached Elena and gently took the gun from her before he pulled her into his arms.

  “Elena, this is Leo. That’s Maxim, and Nicholas is over there.” He pointed at all three of them. One by one, his friends put their right fists over their hearts, and each man knelt on one knee before Elena.

  The next words they spoke changed his life forever.

  “Klyanus' zhizn'yu tebe, poslednemu iz roda Romanovykh. Pravnuchka velikoy knyagini Anastasii.”

  12

  Elena stepped back when the three men knelt before her and Dimitri. They all spoke in Russian, but they weren’t words she had learned in her Russian language studies. She shot a glance at Dimitri, who was still as stone beside her. Whatever they’d said had swept over him like a powerful tide. Even though she couldn’t understand the words, she realized that everything had changed.

  “What did they say? And why are they kneeling?” she asked.

  Dimitri slowly released her from his gentle hold, and he moved to stand next to his friends. Elena’s stomach suddenly bottomed out. What was happening? What was he doing?

  “Dimitri, what did they say?”

  He cleared his throat. “They said they vow their lives to you, the last of the Romanovs, the great-granddaughter of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna.”

  There was only the glitter of stars above as Elena watched Dimitri join his brothers-in-arms by kneeling at her feet, one fist clenched over his heart.

  It took a moment for what Dimitri had said to sink in. If her knees hadn’t locked just then, she would have fallen down.

  “I am what?”

  “You are the last . . . ,” Dimitri said. “The last of the direct imperial royal bloodline of the Romanovs.”

  “But . . .” Elena had no words. What he had just said was impossible. They all continued to stare at her expectantly, still on bended knee.

  “I can’t be . . . that’s not possible. She died. The Russian government said they found bone remnants of hers in a shallow grave.” Elena remembered that news story from when she’d been younger.

  Leo spoke up. “Those findings were fabricated. They wanted to stop the rumors due to the current political unrest.”

  “Wait, please tell me this is a joke.” She searched Dimitri’s face, which had gone as pale as the starlight.

  “This is no joke, Your Grace,” Dimitri replied solemnly. That was when Elena realized he was serious.

  No more kiska, no more teasing, no more sweet seductions. Some invisible barrier had just risen between them. The freedom she had felt so sure was in her grasp had now been ripped away, tossed upon the wind.

  “Please, get up. All of you.” She waved at them, and they all stood. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Your Grace,” Dimitri said uncertainly, and that was the worst part. She needed him to take charge, to be the man she’d come to rely on. But now he wanted her to be in charge? Some kind of royalty? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t okay.

  “Please, just all of you go inside and leave me alone for a minute.”

  “You cannot stay out here alone . . . ,” Dimitri began.

  “Then he’ll stay.” She pointed at Maxim. He seemed to be the quietest of the four, and she believed that he would give her some space.

  “Max,” Dimitri said softly to his friend.

  “She’ll be safe out here with me,” Maxim assured him.

  Desperate for a moment alone, Elena turned and strode away. She stopped as she reached the picnic blanket. Only a short time ago, she and Dimitri had been lying here beneath the stars, ready to make love. The strength in her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the blanket and buried her face in the pillow that still carried his scent.

  This was a dream . . . or a nightmare. Something her exhausted imagination had conjured up after everything she had been through in the last few months. Anastasia died in Russia more than years ago. Elena was just a girl from Maine. A girl who had been adopted and, according to
her DNA profile, was part Russian on her mother’s side.

  But the descendent of Anastasia Romanov?

  It was a fairy tale, one with blood and darkness in it. The Romanovs had been brutally murdered by Communist soldiers. The young duchesses had died slowly because of the royal jewels they had hidden in their corsets, and the soldiers had finished them off with bayonets. It had been a heartless, soulless murder of innocent people like Anastasia and her little brother Alexei, along with their three beautiful older sisters.

  Elena closed her eyes, and thick tears rolled down her cheeks.

  You are the last . . . Dimitri’s voice echoed in her mind.

  She was a Romanov.

  For her entire life, she had known she was adopted, but she’d only begun to wonder about her birth parents in the last few years. She’d had a wonderful childhood growing up. She wouldn’t give that up for anything. But now she had answers, terrifying ones, as to who she truly was. She thought of her mother, scared and alone as she gave birth only to die a few minutes later.

  Who was she? Who was her father? The answers she had been given had only raised a dozen more questions.

  She was barely aware of Maxim’s presence at first, but after a moment, she forced herself to sit up and face him.

  “Why . . . why did Dimitri change when you told him about my ancestry?”

  Maxim did not look at her. His eyes searched for threats on the dark horizon.

  “Because it is his duty, his life’s greatest mission, to protect you. You are the descendent of the last emperor and empress of Russia. You will forever be out of his reach now. He knows that.”

  Maxim’s words, intended to be kind, only cut her deeper.

  “I’m not out of reach. We . . .” She blushed and was grateful for the night shielding her so that he couldn’t see what was so plain on her face.

  “You are drawn to each other, but that cannot continue. To be your guard, he must keep his heart out of this. If he doesn’t, he could make a mistake that could get you killed.”

  “But he cares about all you . . .”

  “True. But you are the woman he loves.”

  Dimitri loved her? But they had only been together a short time. All she knew was that, to her, he had become more than a life raft in a storm. He was something deeper, something more to her than any words could express.

  “I need him,” she told Maxim. Her words were soft, but they carried on the night air.

  “You will always have him, Your Grace.”

  “Please, don’t call me that. Titles like hers don’t pass down to someone like me.”

  “They do according to the White Army.”

  “The White Army?” She stared at him. “The army that served the Romanovs? They were wiped out a hundred years ago by the Communist forces.”

  “The elite royal guards went underground. We had to, after the Romanovs were slain.” He paused for a moment. “One of the Red Guards realized Anastasia was still breathing. He carried her to our forces, and she was smuggled away by our men. The guards who stayed in Russia never knew if she survived her wounds.

  “All our lives we have grown up with the story in our hearts, but we’ve had no proof it was more than a child’s fairy tale until tonight.” Maxim smiled wryly. “You even look like her. I’ve studied her portrait enough to see the Romanov beauty in you.”

  Elena wiped tears off her cheeks with the back of one hand. Never in her life had she felt so alone. Even when she had been trapped in Vadym’s dark cell, she hadn’t felt like this.

  “Why does it even matter who my great-grandmother was? Why would the Kremlin even care? I just want to be left alone to live my life.” She sniffled. God, she hated crying, and she had done so much of it lately.

  Maxim stepped closer and produced a white handkerchief. He held it out to her like some old-fashioned hero out of Downton Abbey. She wiped her eyes and then stared at the phoenix symbol embroidered in gold thread on the corner of the cloth.

  “Nothing will ever be the same. You are a beacon of hope to many in Russia who resist the current regime. You are the living, breathing cry for change, for an end to the government that has broken the backs and souls of our people. That is why the Kremlin wants you dead.”

  She handed him back his handkerchief. “But how do they even know about my ancestry?”

  “The DNA test you did last year. Every major government in the world can easily access those databases. The Kremlin has been on alert for years, waiting to see if direct descendants of imperial royal family are out there. They wouldn’t have had access to your blood like I had to determine that you were linked to Anastasia, but they would be able to narrow it down enough to know you belong to Nicholas and Alexandra’s bloodline.”

  “Are there more? Perhaps someone else could—?”

  “It is possible, but unless we find them, you are the best we have.”

  “Listen, I don’t want to be anything like that.” She nearly told him she just wanted to go home, but Dimitri was home to her in a way no other person or place had ever been.

  “Sometimes fate chooses our paths for us, and we must bear the burden of our gifts.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Gift? It’s a curse.”

  “There are millions of people you could help, Elena.” Maxim held out a hand to her. “The question is, will you let your past keep you a victim the rest of your life, or will you face your destiny and be a leader for those you could help?”

  She flinched. He was right. She had been letting herself hide and focus on her pain. Only weak people did that. They let others define them, and they let their own selfishness corrupt them until all they did was demand things of others and blame them when things went wrong.

  Her parents had raised her to be self-reliant, not destructive. She had to do the right thing, no matter how hard it was. The world had become so dark with hate and fear . . . it was time to believe in herself, time to shine through the darkness. To become a star in the empyreal wonder of the night. But that didn’t mean she had to be a slave to the expectations of others, either.

  She reached up and took Maxim’s hand so he could help her to her feet. Then they started back to the lodge. Somehow she would convince Dimitri that her bloodline didn’t matter, not when she needed him in her life.

  Dimitri paced the entryway, his hands clasped behind his back. Every few seconds he paused to check his watch. She had been out there too long. She was going to get cold . . .

  “Dimitri, stop or you’ll wear a hole in the floor,” Nicholas teased.

  Dimitri glared at him. He and Leo watched him pace with bemused expressions. For the last several minutes, they had been joking with him about his overprotectiveness and how his little kiska had managed to get around them from behind. They had been impressed. He had been relieved. He knew she was strong and could take care of herself, but he didn’t want her to have to.

  Yet the thought of her out in the night alone, shivering from the cold and facing the news that her life would never be the same again, was too much for him. He didn’t care if she needed space—he had to make sure she was all right.

  “I’m going after her.” He opened the door, only to find her standing right in front of him, Maxim behind her, looking out to the road for danger. Dimitri’s focus locked on her red-rimmed eyes. His kiska had been crying. Her face reflected the devastation he felt inside, knowing he could never hold her again, never again touch her the way he had, and never be with her in the way they’d both dreamed. It was an icy hand of grim truth that dug into his chest and fixed its claws into his heart.

  “Excuse me.” Elena stepped past him into the lodge, her tone emotionless.

  “What did you say to her?” Dimitri growled in Russian at Maxim the second he followed her into the lodge.

  Maxim lifted one dark brow. “Say?”

  “She’s been crying.”

  “She cried because of you and because her entire world was just turned on its head.”

  Dimi
tri shot a look at Elena again, who was watching him and Maxim argue in Russian. Her eyes, such a lovely green, were shadowed with worry. Those beautiful eyes bored into him, carving out a hole and leaving him defenseless against her.

  “She cried because of me?”

  “She’s in love with you,” Maxim snorted. “I explained to her that we have been raised to put her above all others, that you aren’t good enough for her, not in that way. None of us are.”

  Maxim’s words hit him in the gut. Not good enough . . . He supposed Maxim wasn’t wrong. Dimitri had no business trying to carry on a relationship with a woman who was the last of the Romanov bloodline. His sacred duty was to protect her, not indulge in fantasies of taking her to bed and soothing her painful past with pleasure.

  “I’m not wrong,” Maxim said to Dimitri, a rare apology lingering in his tone. “But I understand what it means to want something you will never have.”

  “Can you guys please stop that?” Elena asked.

  “Stop what?” Dimitri and Maxim spoke at the same time.

  “You’re talking too fast. I’m trying to follow, but I’m not fluent, so most of what you are saying is going right over my head.”

  Nicholas stood behind Elena and seemed to be fighting off a grin. Leo’s curiosity and admiration for Elena was clear on his face.

  “My apologies, Your Grace,” Maxim said politely.

  Elena stared expectantly at Dimitri.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She blew out a breath. “I didn’t want an apology. I wanted to know what you were talking about.”

  “You don’t need to worry about it. You should go to bed.”

  “Bullshit,” she snapped, her eyes like jade daggers. “I do have to worry about it. This is my life, and you can’t just tell me what to eat and where to sleep like some little pet.”

  Dimitri held his tongue. Had she not been a Romanov descendent, he might have teased her that she was a little kitten in his bed, but she wasn’t. If anything, he was the one who belonged to her, who would do anything she commanded.

  Elena turned to his friends. “Which of you is Leo and which is Nicholas?”