Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(71)

Bullshit. Not once in the time he’d known her had he ever got the feeling she’d lied to him.

Until now.

Maybe it was more avoidance than an outright falsehood, but it still stung. He’d given her everything. Knocked down barriers he’d never even considered dismantling for anyone else, and she couldn’t even give him this? He stood, tempted to prowl closer, cage her against the wall and demand answers. Instead, he fought it. He’d already told her he wanted her past and more than anything he wanted to earn it. To know she trusted him enough to give it. Still, if what she’d seen had shaken her this bad, he needed to know. “What did you see?”

She swallowed huge and her gaze slid to the screen behind him. “There was a word—Koschei.” Just uttering the term made her face blanch.

He turned, leaned into his desk and scrolled through the list. “Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

Having isolated the line she’d called out, he highlighted the text, pasted it off on a separate document and scowled back over his shoulder. “You look like the boogeyman just flashed a heinous set of nuts on my computer. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. What’s it mean?”

“It’s a figure from Slavic folklore. Koschei is...” She circled one hand and her gaze grew distant, as though scrambling for the right mix of words to convey her thoughts. “Deathless.” Her gaze sharpened and she locked stares with Knox. “He cannot be killed because his soul is kept separate from his body.”

Knox straightened. “So, it’s the folklore that shook you?”

Pain flashed behind her eyes, and for a second he thought she’d deflect with some bullshit excuse as she had minutes before. “No.”

Fuck distance. Fuck waiting and worrying and everything else that came in between it. He stalked to her and wrapped her up close. “Whatever it is, just tell me. I can’t fix what I don’t know.”

“You can’t fix this,” she whispered. Her attention slid to the screen then back to him. “Maybe it’s nothing. I hope it’s nothing. But you deserve the truth.”

Finally.

“Okay. Good.” He hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s shut down. We’ll get out of here early and just chill at your house.”

She pressed her hands against his chest and pulled back to meet his gaze. “No, you finish your work. We’ll do our normal routine and talk tonight. Okay?”

An uncomfortable prickle danced down the back of his neck. Whatever thoughts were moving through her nimble head, he had a pretty good idea he wouldn’t like them. Still, if she needed him to wait two more fucking hours, he’d give them to her. Then he’d make sure the demons from her past never darkened her thoughts again.





Chapter Twenty-Seven

A tear splattered on the back of Darya’s hand, the helpless tremor that shook her arms sending it careening to the mound of clothes in her open suitcase. Since the day she’d watched her mother walk away, she’d known the day would come when she’d have to make her own sacrifice. Had known she’d only upped her debt against the universe when Yefim and JJ had been delivered to aid her once more.

Today was the day to pay that price.

She dashed the back of her hand across each cheek and forced her legs to keep from crumbling. At most she had ten minutes to gather her wits and be ready for Knox. Probably less given the clipped delivery when he’d called demanding to know why she’d left before him.

Fear far more potent than the prospect of the days that lay ahead lanced straight through her, the mere thought of what her actions would do to further destroy his trust nearly crippling in their power. He’d never forgive her. Never. And how could she blame him? She’d not only broken her promise to him, but would give him a fresh new layer of emotional brick to hide his heart behind.

She crammed in the last of her most essential clothes and jerked the straps to cinch them down tight.

The door chunked open and her heart punched so hard it hurt.

“Darya?” An urgent call. One filled with worry as well as anger. His quick footsteps sounded through the living room.

A cold sweat broke out against her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t steady the ragged breaths chuffing out of her chest.

When he spoke again, his voice was as ragged as her own, the tone more of an accusation than a question. “What are you doing?” he said from behind her.

She forced herself to turn and nearly buckled at the stark vulnerability on his face. His attention wasn’t on her, but on the three suitcases waiting on the bed. “I have to go.” In that second, she’d have done anything to draw the words back. To rewind the last four weeks and take them slower. To savor every single second and not waste a moment on sleep. She’d thought she understood what JJ had meant about living, but now she understood. Really understood the meaning of loss.

“This has to do with what you saw in the log files.” It was a confirmation, not a question.

She nodded. “Yes.” She braced her hand on the open suitcase, needing something—anything to keep her upright and steady. “I checked the IP address. It’s from Russia.”

He inched cautiously into the room. “Sixty percent of our hack attacks come from Russia. That doesn’t mean anything.”