Page 145 of Maksym

I put on low heels.

Professional, yes. Stable. Quiet on the floor. Shoes for walking into a room where powerful people waited for me to aid them in the defense of their beloved prince.

I could work with that.

A soft knock came at the outer door. Not the bathroom door. Not sudden. Not demanding.

“Maksym?” I called.

“Yes.”

One syllable. Of course.

“You can come in.”

The suite door opened and closed.

When I stepped from the dressing area, he was waiting near the hearth. I stopped.

That was not fair, though fairness had clearly never been one of his ambitions.

Maksym Kozlov in the early dusk looked no less dangerous than Maksym Kozlov at midnight. He wore a dark tailored suit that fit him with the kind of precision money could buy but only power could make seem incidental. The jacket lay clean across broad shoulders. The shirt beneath was crisp, open at the throat just enough to remind me of where my mouth had been.

A king. A weapon. My mate.

He did not sweep his gaze over me like a doctor checking damage. He did not ask whether I had slept, whether I hurt, whether I regretted anything, whether my mind had betrayed me in the night. He only crossed the room with that contained, deliberate grace and stopped in front of me.

“You look formidable,” he said.

Something in my chest opened.

“Good,” I said. “That was the goal.”

His mouth curved faintly. “Then you have succeeded.”

I studied him for one dangerous second. “You left a note.”

“I did.”

“Very restrained.”

“I am a restrained man.”

I let my gaze drop deliberately to his mouth, then back to his eyes. “Recent evidence complicates that assertion.”

The quiet that followed was not empty.

Heat moved through his expression, there and gone beneath discipline. He stepped closer, slowly enough that I could have moved away. I did not. His hand rose to my face, knuckles brushing my cheek with such gentleness that the contrast between that touch and the violence he carried in every line of his body almost undid me.

“Any objection to kissing counsel before battle?” he asked.

“My professional ethics are currently silent on the matter.”

“Convenient.”

“Deeply.”

He bent and kissed me.