J A K E

After another battle in the morning—which we'd won—we set up camp a few miles from the battlefield, deeper into Romania than before. The encampment was on a hill, providing a view in every direction—perfect for spotting Imperium's next attack.

There would be another. They'd attacked us three times in a week, but not with the full might of their army. No, the enhanced soldiers hadn't even made an appearance yet. Nor had Orion's unknown weapon. I had an inkling of Orion's war strategy, but wouldn't be sure of it until he struck again.

My eyes shuttered against the golden-orange rays of the sun, only a small distance separating it from the earth. Normally, I would have refrained from fighting in such a war, especially because it included being ordered around by army sergeants and risking my life for others. But it could only have one victor, and I needed it to be us. There would be no world left for me to conquer if Imperium had control over it.

I just needed to wait until the war was won. When it was over, I would return to New York and retrieve what was mine. I would finally pull the last stone holding up Adiago Hundsen's empire.

I just needed to hold out until then.

Turning my back on the gold-cast world, I went to the tent I was sharing with Jaxon and Kane. Needless to say, it was not enjoyable. At night, I stayed awake and jotted down war strategies while the two brutes snored together on the ground. I'd been seriously considering smothering them to death for some peace and quiet.

The lines of tents—varying in size and height—were calm, but only because the soldiers had begun to eat their dinner in the largest tent of all: the mess hall.

When I stepped under the flap of the beige tent, only Jaxon was inside. As usual, he was tinkering with something small, hands working almost of their own accord.

He looked up. "Ah, perfect timing." He held the thing out to me. "I fixed this for Delphinium and I need you to take it to her."

I looked at it with distain. It was a necklace with two rings on it, apparently with a new clasp. "I'm not your errand boy. Do it yourself."

Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself up. "Some of us are normal functioning humans and aren't able to run on fumes like you. A man's got to eat. Especially before Kane and Arlo take all the food."

He shoved the necklace into my hand before I could resist again. "Although I am a wonderful person to be around, I assume she'd like it to be you at the moment." Raising an eyebrow at my expression, he said, "It won't kill you to talk to her, you know."

I narrowed my eyes, not wanting to think further about that statement.

Brushing past me, Jaxon went out the exit. "She was going to get herself fixed up in a medical tent." When I glowered at his back and considered freezing his insides, he threw over his shoulder, "You don't even get it. But you'll thank me later."

I should have smothered him in his sleep.

Because of the chaos of war and the uncertainty of our group, I had barely seen the assassin for the past few days.

Good.

Curling my fist around the cool metal, I told myself I would throw it at her and get out. It would be a different sort of escape.

As I dreaded, all the medical tents were abandoned. After all, everyone was taking advantage of the first meal we'd had for a day. Well, everyone but the assassin, who was covered in blood and gore that I assumed mostly wasn't her own. But from the stiff, jerky movements she made, I wondered if I'd guessed wrong.

Her eyes snapped to me when she heard me approach, like she hadn't been expecting me. Hell, I wasn't even expecting myself to be there.

"Jaxon fixed it?" She asked, gaze dropping to the suspended rings. "I'm glad. They...used to belong to my parents."

I set it on the counter adjacent to the one she leaned against, not wanting to touch them any longer now that I knew whose it used to be. This was dangerous territory.

I should leave.

Her eyes bored into me when I didn't immediately make a break for the exit. She was wondering why I hadn't. As was I.

Now that I was closer, I could see how a stab into her thigh forced her weight to shift to the opposite leg. A cut across the bridge of her nose, both nostrils leaking red where someone had hit her in the face. And the straight bleeding line across her throat where she'd escaped death by less than an inch.

I did not want to notice those things. I did not want to care. I just wanted to leave.

Instead, I saw the bandages she was holding between stiff fingers, meaning to use them to stifle the blood on her leg. And remembered how she'd sewn my own wounds closed. I was stupid for remembering when I'd promised myself I wouldn't think about that day again.

Her words still haunted me. I'm willing to face this fear. For you. Would you do the same for me? Preposterous. I had no fear.

Then why do you barely let yourself look at her? Asked a tiny voice in the back of my mind. Why can you not think of her without despising yourself for it?

In spite of those thoughts, I moved forward, very unaware of my purpose here. I should leave, I should leave, I should leave. The desire was stronger when I neared her.

I outstretched a hand to her, already hating myself for doing it. And hating myself for giving her words power over me.

"W-what?" She actually stuttered, eyes flicking between my face and hand, like this was some sort of trick.

This was my opportunity to back away from her. I could go back out onto the hill and escape that narrow-eyed stare, the confused expression.

"The bandages," I said, seemingly only able to speak in short sentences.

A mistake.

She handed them to me and then hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the counter. I reached for a first aid box above her head, seeking the needle and thread that would need to be sewn through the stab wound on her leg. She watched my every movement. I pretended not to notice.

Now that the laceration was directly under the light, I could see how deep it went. The blade had cut right through the black material of her pants and into the muscle. She didn't wear her normal assassin garb; this was an ONNT-issued uniform made of thick material meant to help deter knife attacks. That meant her wound had been dealt with so much force that the fabric did nothing.

Gigi could heal it. Even if they still had that strange tension between them, I could force her to oblige.

But the assassin had tended to my own wounds, despite not having a single reason to. Part of me still wondered why she did.

The wound still bled. Making sure I wasn't touching a single inch of her skin, I pressed the bandage to it, stifling the blood. I kept my head low so I wouldn't have to see her face. It was bad enough that I was bent down close to her and touching her thigh.

Exchanging the bandages for the thread, I gripped her leg, preparing to stick the needle through the skin. Her breathing labored for a moment with the pain, but she said nothing, even as I began to weave it back through the cut over and over again. The stitches were systematic and nearly perfect—better than the ones she'd given me.

I straightened when I finished tying the knot keeping the stitches in place. Still not looking into her eyes, I saw how her shirt was coated in darker wet patches. It could have been the blood of her enemies or her own. There was only one way to be sure.

I hesitated. Would you do the same for me?

Clenching my teeth together, I put my freezing fingers to the zipper at her neck. Waited for her to object. Holding my gaze, she did not. Before I could convince myself otherwise, I pulled the zipper all the way down, her top unlatching from her belt. Stripping it off her arms, I tossed it to the side.

Behind us, there was the rustling of fabric, but I knew no intruder came in; Delphinium was tying the tent flaps closed with her mind so that it would appear temporarily closed. Only I would see her like this.

I ignored her barely-bound chest and toned abdomen, gaze going directly to her arms, which were stained red in a mess of gore. After wetting a cloth under the sink with one hand, I gripped her wrist a bit rougher than necessary and let her arm hang limp in my grip.

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was—

Wordlessly, I cleaned her skin free of blood. Her wrist was surprisingly warm under my touch. I tried not to think about it. As I glanced down at the bloodstained fingers suspended in the air, I also tried not to remember how she'd held my hands in her own as she told me all the things I feared.

Switching sides, I grabbed her other arm. She let me. A few moments went by before she murmured, "You confirmed you had no feelings for me that day when you walked out the door. You didn't look back."

"Yes." It was difficult to get out. I wasn't necessarily sure which statement I was affirming.

Her soft reply came after a pause. "If you feel nothing for me, then why are your hands shaking?"

"My hands are not shaking," I snapped.

My hands were shaking. My damned, traitorous hands were shaking for the first time since I was a child and I wasn't sure why.

Knowing she could still feel it, I dropped her arm. She knew too much; I should leave her now before things took a turn. I couldn't give in again, not to...whatever it was I felt when she was near.

Her throat still bled, the line dripping beads of blood down her neck like a necklace of red. Knowing that I was looking, she tilted her head back ever so slightly, allowing me access.

I didn't want to touch her. I really didn't. But I was strangely committed now; it would be cowardice if I backed out. Making as little contact with her slender throat as I could, I pushed her jaw up higher with a thumb to fully expose her wound.

Head bent back, she watched me through half-lidded eyes as I pressed the cloth to her throat, stopping the bleeding. She was looking at me the same way she looked at the night sky. And I knew how she loved it.

My gaze dropped to her lips, slightly parted. I remembered that time right before infiltrating the Russian fortress—how I'd allowed myself to give in and let my hands explore her lithe body, how she'd whispered my name breathlessly against my mouth. It suddenly became harder to breathe.

That time hadn't meant anything. Not really. Not even now, as I had to fight to forget it. I prided myself on my calm and collected mind, so why wasn't it working now?

My fingertips accidentally brushed against her bare skin. The pulse underneath was hammering. It was only then that I realized its rapid pace matched my own. I dropped the cloth again, her blood only remaining from her bloody nose, staining her top lip.

This was the part I'd been dreading. I wasn't sure why I'd saved it for last.

She remained perfectly still as I swiped away the blood from her face, but her heart still raced. Her hands were braced against the counter and I was glad for it. I focused solely on her bloody nose, nothing else. Nothing else.

I forced myself to desire nothing. I wanted nothing but power and revenge. Power and revenge. Power and revenge. I would only think of those two things. Not about the curve of her lips. Not about the steady rise and fall of her chest. Not about the fact that I was standing between her legs. Not even as her name repeated over and over in my thoughts.

It was finished; her pale face was completely devoid of red now. As I looked down at her, I had to regain my breath a bit. When she looked like this—too-light eyes like stars and hair practically glowing—I almost felt as if I shouldn't be watching. She was like an angel, a deity, and deep down, I knew I didn't deserve to touch her with my dirty hands.

This was going against everything I'd learned, the opposite of the bloodlust I used to keep myself at the top. I taught myself how to stay distant, to retain that separation between myself and others. It was a rule I'd lived by for as long as I could remember. My father told me that relying on someone else—wanting anything but power —was weakness. Fear was weakness. Caring was weakness.

But I had no weaknesses. So I leaned down and brought my mouth down to hers.

I kissed her hard, rough. I didn't know how to be soft or gentle, even when it came to Delphinium. I doubted I ever would.

She didn't seem to mind, having been waiting for me to initiate this. I didn't want to think too far into that. Then again, I couldn't think straight about anything at the moment. The only thing in my mind was her soft mouth, the feel of her smooth skin under my fingertips.

The bare front of her body molded to fit against mine as her spine arched beneath my touch. White hair tangled between my fingers. I'd never hungered for anything so deeply in my life. Suddenly, I was ravenous for something I hadn't thought I needed.

Last time was a mistake that I should not have given into, despite my efforts to forget it. This time...this time was different. I didn't want this, but desire came as a kick to the stomach. I needed to stop thinking of her in this way, to stop remembering how she tasted, to stop wondering what it would be like to give in completely.

Never before in my life had I ever wanted anyone. Not like this. Hungrily. Desperately.

I hated that I was allowing myself to do it now. I also hated that it had taken me this long.

As my fingers dug into her silky hair, I kept thinking about how I shouldn't be touching her. If I kept this up, I might forget everything, even my own name. If anything could tame me from the beast I'd become, it was this.

I couldn't seem to convince myself to stay away this time, not as her tongue glided against mine. Her hands slid down from my face to my body and I stupidly allowed it. My mind turned to a foggy stupor when she touched me like this, especially as her hands slipped under my uniform shirt. All I knew was that I could do this for the rest of my life if I wasn't careful.

Her skin felt too warm, too soft under my cold hands. I'd never touched anyone like this before. I could feel the small bones in her neck as I pulled her closer to me out of some primal need. It was a reminder of how delicate she could be, how I needed to be careful. Careful.

I'd snapped a man's neck with my bare hands once. It seemed wrong to be touching her with the same hands that committed such a deed, but she clearly didn't care. I supposed this was a bit like a violence of its own kind: dangerous and risky, like stepping out too far on ice that might break.

For once, I didn't give a shit.

As she threw her head back, I bent to bring my mouth to her throat and her fingers slid into my already-disheveled hair. Under my lips, her pulse still hammered. Had I truly done this to her?

Holding someone so vulnerable and helpless before me was nothing new. I was used to forcing feeling on people—but only loss and harrowing fear. This was both alike to those things and wildly different...something else entirely.

Once more, Delphinium murmured my name. Something in the sound of it made me drag her mouth to mine again.

After a moment, we broke apart, still panting. I could feel her warm breath against my parted mouth. She struggled to regain control over herself, as did I.

"I didn't think we'd have enough time, not for any of this," she admitted in a near-whisper. "And maybe we don't make it out of this alive. But this was enough."

My eyes snapped open. My senses finally returned and I knew she was going to tell me things I didn't want to hear—things she shouldn't be telling me.

"You want to know something I never thought I'd say?" There was a flash of teeth as she gave me a small smile. "I knew that I was in love with you from the moment Hundsen captured us and spilled the secrets about your past. Because even if you had killed your father for power, even if you really were the monster you make everyone believe you are, I still would have come back to you. I always will."

Something struck me as I stared down at her, something so deep and powerful it nearly hurt. I had never felt anything remotely like it before, and now I felt sick with it.

Wanting to do anything to rid me of that feeling, I looked into her eyes and said the first thing that came into my mind. "That doesn't make any sense."

Her smile turned a bit melancholic. "I know. That's the beauty of it. This isn't meant for people like us. And yet it exists."

I wanted to back away, but couldn't seem to take a step out. Why was I rooted to my spot? I doubted my heart had pounded this fast in my entire life.

None of what she said was logical. It didn't make sense that she kept coming back, it didn't make sense that I wasn't already long gone.

"Why?" It was accusing, and out of my mouth before I could stop it. My judgement was still clouded by the memory of her lips on mine, it seemed. I wasn't even quite sure what I was asking.

"I'm not exactly sure. It took me ages to even accept it," she said, apparently understanding my question better than I did. Tucking her hair behind her shoulder, she gazed off into the distance for a moment, searching for an answer.

"No one understands," she said at last, eyes still rooted somewhere to my right. "No one tries to understand. But you don't even have to try."

That was it, that was the answer I bizarrely, desperately needed. Now I didn't need to hear anymore—

"You know what?" She asked, holding my gaze again. "When all this started, I was a shell of who I used to be. I was horrified by what I'd become and my world was so dark and—and you made me feel again."

I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all; there was no doubt she was the only one in the world who would say something that brash. I'd spent a lifetime creating enough violence and strife that no one would say such things to me. And for all nineteen years of my life, I liked it.

Delphinium continued watching me through darkened eyes, testing for my reaction. For all the time I'd known her, I hadn't let myself think anything of her other then what she could offer me, hadn't even let myself look at her for too long for fear of what would come of it.

But now I did, breaking that final rule I had for myself. My gaze roved her slender arms, corded with thin muscle, her white hands that had wielded so many weapons. The long, dangling legs that had brought her through every battle we'd fought. She was power and weakness. Heaven and hell. Paradise and battleground.

"I don't know what you're thinking." She cocked her head to the side. "I don't know what you feel. But how can you deny this?"

That, at last, snapped me from the near-reverie I was in. Finally, I stepped back as if I just now realized what I was doing. Her warmth seeped from my freezing system.

I should not have let myself get close enough for this. Cleaning and bandaging her wounds had been repayment. Everything else...should not have happened. A mistake.

How can you deny this? I nearly scoffed and told myself I didn't know what she was talking about.

Even as my skin burned where she'd touched me, as I suspected it would for the rest of the night.