Page 96 of The Darkness is Calling

“Stay, Katya...”

My God…

He destroys my soul with the way he whispers these words, as if he is begging me.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he stayed at that club instead of coming to me. How many times would I live through situations like this if I chose to stay with him? Too many. And I don’t want the life I saw my mother have. So often she cried, worried, when my father had a meeting that could end tragically, or with pain when she suspected he was with another woman.

All because she could not trust him.

Just as I feel I can no longer trust the man standing in front of me.

“Not with you, Artem,” I say with pain in my voice, shaking my head, fresh tears filling my eyes that can barely look at him anymore.

His face hardens, and this time, I tiredly pick up my bags from the floor and walk past him.

He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t even move, but I hear some sounds slipping through his lips, spoken with dangerous calm.

“Ten. Nine...”

I walk away and ignore him. I have no idea what countdown he is doing, because I hurry toward Oksana’s car, where she is still behind the wheel.

Around her are three large black Land Rover Sports, identical to the one Dimitri drives every time.

Beside one of them, Yaroslav and Sasha are waiting, but their eyes immediately fix on me. The latter is smoking, his face serious, just like the man beside him.

For one second, I think it would be polite to go to them and say goodbye, but Artem’s countdown still echoes in my head, making my heart beat faster. I have less than ten seconds to get into the car, so I only greet the two of them with a discreet nod.

I open the back door, throw my bags inside, and after slamming it shut, turn to get into the front seat beside Oksana.

Except I collide with a lean body.

“Zero,” he whispers as one hand grips the back of my neck and the other circles my waist.

And he kisses me.

No.

He doesn’t kiss me.

He devours me.

He steals the air from my chest and commands me to submit through the tongue that conquers every resistance I try to raise.

I can’t fight him, even if I want to. I shove my palms against his chest, and when my fist lands, it draws a pained grunt from him.

It does ‘t make him stop.

He presses my back against the car, pinning me with his powerful body.

I am soft.

And broken.

Maybe I am weak, but through the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes, I surrender and let him kiss me. Maybe I no longer touch him with my hands and no longer have the energy to hit him, but he feels it too, the absence of the passion that was there before.

I am numb.

And crying.