Page 104 of Victor's Lethal Desire
Victor squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "There isn't a world where I wouldn't come for you, Danika," he says, his voice steady. He turns his head briefly to glance at me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "If there's any doubt of that in that pretty head of yours, get rid of it."
The warmth that spreads through my chest is unfamiliar and terrifying. I don't know what to do with it, don't know how to sit with the weight of those words. So just continue holding his hand and letting myself believe, finally feel, like I am worth the trouble of being saved.
We drive in silence after that, the road smoothing out as we reach the coast. The sky is darkening, dusk settling over the sea. By the time we reach the airport, the horizon is a deep purple, the last streaks of orange fading into night.
Victor pulls up to a private hangar and stops in front of a nice, impossibly expensive-looking jet.
The stairs are already extended, waiting.
Victor comes around to my side and opens the door, offering his hand again. I take it, letting him help me out.
As we approach the stairs, Victor flags down a man in a uniform near the hangar entrance. "My bag," he says. "It should be at the front desk of the airport. Secure it and bring it here."
The man nods and hurries off.
I take the stairs slowly, gripping the railing as I climb. Each step sends a jolt of pain through my ribs, but I force myself to keep moving. When I reach the top, I step inside the plane and stop, taking it all in.
It's stunning.
The interior is all cream leather and polished wood, soft lighting casting a warm glow over everything. There are six large seats arranged in pairs, a small galley in the center, and through an open door at the back, I catch a glimpse of a full bedroom.
I sink into one of the seats, letting my head fall back against the cushion. My eyes drift shut, and for a moment, I let myself just breathe.
Victor's voice drifts from the front of the plane, low and authoritative as he speaks with the pilots. I don't catch the details and don't care to. All I want is to close my eyes and let the exhaustion pull me under.
About ten minutes later, footsteps approach. I crack my eyes open and see the man from earlier hauling Victor's bag up the stairs, the fabric torn and riddled with bullet holes. Victor thanks him, and the man disappears. The door seals with a heavy thunk, and Victor comes down the aisle, dropping into the seat next to me.
He looks battered. His shirt is torn and bloodstained, his hair disheveled, but somehow, impossibly, he's still handsome.
I turn to him and smile. "Are you kidnapping me now?"
Victor leans into my space, his elbow resting on the armrest between us, his voice smooth. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. We can fight about it if you want, but you are staying by my side from now on.”
The tension between us shifts, tightening into something heated and electric. I smirk, leaning back in my seat. "I suppose I'll have to allow it."
The engines roar to life, and the plane begins to taxi. I feel the subtle shift as we accelerate down the runway, the world outside blurring into motion. And then we're airborne, climbing into the night sky.
I glance over at Victor, arching an eyebrow. "I don't remember actually agreeing to go to Romania, you know."
Victor reaches out, his hand cupping my chin and tilting my face toward him. His eyes are dark, intent, as he leans in and kisses me. His lips are soft on mine.
When he pulls back, his voice is low. "No, I believe you said something about if we got out, you'd do a lot more to me."
I laugh. "Ah, yes," I say, shrugging. "Something like that. You were actually listening to me in all that chaos.”
Victor licks his lips, his gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before meeting my eyes again. "Darling, I'm captivated by you. Haven't I made that clear by now?" he asks, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. "Come with me."
He leads me into the private master suite at the back of the jet and locks the doors.
The click of the lock kicks up my heartbeat, not from fear, but from something darker, hotter.
31
DANIKA
"We land in two and a half hours," Victor says, turning to face me. His eyes are dark. He walks over to me, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me against him. "Which means I only have two and a half hours to wash the blood off you and show you exactly who you belong to."
The words settle over me like a brand, possessing me. The old me would push back, tell him I don't belong to anyone, but the truth is, I don't want to be that person with him. Not anymore.
