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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 his 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.”

“Really? Okay, thanks.” She slid off the counter and wobbled a bit. He caught her around the waist, steadying her with his muscled body. Elena leaned into him a little longer than was prudent, but he exuded such warmth and safety that she was drawn to him like a moth fluttering toward his flame.

“This way.” He released her, and she followed him on steadier legs as they climbed the stairs. There were four bedrooms in the house, two of which faced the sea. One of them had a bed that directly faced the ocean. The blue walls and the gray carpeted floors worked well with the private balcony, which offered her a place to stay alone when she needed it. “Can I have this one?”

“It’s yours. I will retrieve your suitcase.”

“Oh—you don’t—need to—” She spun around, but he was already gone. She slid the clear glass balcony door open and walked over to the lounge chair that faced the water and lay down on it. The dark-blue waves crashed upon the shore in a white froth. Lines of dark-green-and-black seaweed wavered and rippled on the surface. It hypnotized Elena, and before she could help it, she was slipping into sleep. It was a deep, dreamless, restorative sleep without nightmares.

It was well into the early evening when she woke. Without the sun burning overhead, the cold sea air had chilled her, but a warm blanket was wrapped around her body. Dimitri must have done that. She blinked and stared at the sky. The sun was a red ball dipping halfway below the horizon. She’d slept most of the day away. Elena climbed off the chair and walked into the bedroom. Her suitcase rested on the luggage rack, and a handwritten note was propped on top of it.

Elena,

Please shower if you wish and come down when you’re ready.

I will have dinner for you.

Dimitri

She placed the note on the bed and dug through her suitcase until she found her toiletry kit. There was a massive bathroom connected to her bedroom. After she tested the door, she locked herself in and stripped out of her clothes.

She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder at her back in the mirror. A pattern of knotted flesh formed dozens of crisscrossed scars on her back.

This would be with her forever, Vadym’s mark of ownership. No matter how much she healed, it would always be there to remind her that she had once been broken. Elena’s lips trembled, and she bit her bottom lip as she turned away from the sight in the mirror. No. Vadym couldn’t find her here. She was safe in America. She had

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