16. Rusalka

16

RUSALKA

Idon’t mean to end up on the floor, but my knees won’t quite hold me after that orgasm. I lean against my desk and tuck Belladonna under my arm. She melts against me. It feels so damned right that I’m unprepared for the shame that rolls in like a tsunami.

Belladonna starts to shake. “I’m sorry.”

Once again, I have to forcibly remind myself that I can’t kill her entire family for putting these scars on her. Even if it were possible, were to feel good in the moment, it wouldn’t change the past. The scars they put on Belladonna have to heal on their own. But I’ll be damned before I let them get access to her in the future.

I keep my touch gentle as I stroke her shoulder. If she feels cornered, that’ll pull harder on all the things she’s trying to move past. “You should stay.”

She lifts her head. “What?”

I didn’t mean to offer, but I’m not about to walk it back. “Here. In this realm, in my territory. You should stay. Even after the seven years have expired.”

Her eyes go big. “That’s?.?.?.” She swallows hard. “That’s an option?”

“Yes. If you want it to be.” I press a light kiss to her forehead and rise, tugging her to her feet. “It’s your choice, Belladonna. It’s always been your choice. My people adore you.”

“They don’t know me. I’ve only been here a week.” She looks away and slips her hand from mine. “Eventually I’ll disappoint them.”

“None of that.” Maybe I should let her retreat, but I can’t quite manage to. I catch her chin lightly and turn her face back to mine. “We all disappoint people sometimes. It’s part of life. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve peace.”

“Peace.” Her gaze goes distant before refocusing on me with new intentness. “You’d let me stay.”

“Yes. Regardless of whether you decide to go through with a pregnancy. Regardless of anything. Bogdan will need to take an apprentice soon; he’s been putting it off for years, but he likes you. Or, if the gardens don’t interest you, there are many other options.”

She’s looking at me as if she’s never seen me before. “You really mean that. All of it.”

“Yes.” There’s no other answer. It’s the truth.

“What happens if we keep doing this?” She waves vaguely around us, where sex still hangs heavy in the air. “What happens if it goes badly? You won’t want to see me around. What if we do this, and we have a child, and then it doesn’t work out?”

Ah. I could tell her that I’ve never done this before. I’ve had lovers and partners, many of whom are still friends, but anytime the connection with one of those people threatened to distract me from my responsibilities, I ended things. The happiness I felt with them was too selfish to allow to continue. My people needed me, and they were worth any amount of heartbreak I experienced personally. It always hurt, but ultimately it was an easy choice to make.

It feels different with Belladonna. I’ve never felt the ground crumbling beneath my feet and experienced exhilaration instead of fear. I’ve never wanted to wrap up a lover and protect them from everything—including the sacrifices required to benefit the whole of my territory. Until now.

Admitting as much will panic her. It might even put pressure on this thing that isn’t even a thing, not quite. “I am leader of this territory, and I will continue to put the good of the territory before any personal feelings. I can’t imagine it becoming an issue, but if for some reason I couldn’t perform my duties fairly, I’d step down.” I take a deep breath, not prepared to deal with the surge of feelings that comes from the idea of a child of mine and Belladonna’s. “Obviously a child would complicate things, but that possible future is still far away. I don’t want to make decisions based on fear, little one. I want to make them with hope in my heart.”

“You can’t step down.” She stumbles back a step. “Not because of me.”

“I have no intention of it becoming an issue.” This conversation has already gotten too tangled. She’s only been here a week, and she already has me twisted up in knots. I don’t know how any of us will survive seven years, let alone longer. “Come on. I’ll see you to your bedroom.”

She’s silent up the stairs and down the hall, but as we reach her door, Belladonna digs in her heels. “You have to know how abnormal it is for things to be this easy, this good. Surely you can understand why it feels like a trap?”

Her words hurt, little cuts that make me bleed. I refuse to show it. It’s not her fault. “What is normal, Belladonna?”

She opens her mouth, but I press forward.

“Is it guilt and shame poured onto the shoulders of the young, a thousand instances of telling them that that they’re flawed and dirty and wrong?” I shake my head. “That’s not my normal. It never will be. I understand that this is a large change for you—for both of us—and it’s difficult to process, but what you feel over natural desires is not normal—if such a thing even exists.”

Her mouth works, and I almost leave without waiting for her to find her words. But that would be cruel and selfish in its own right. She slumps back against the door frame, then finally speaks. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” I take a breath and try to temper the sharpness of my tone. “Please.”

“It’s proper to apologize when one is wrong,” she says tartly, but the sass fades immediately. “How does your god feel about shame and guilt?”

I shrug. “I don’t have an easy answer for you, little one. Those emotions are part of life. It’s only when they take over and unbalance everything that it’s a problem. We don’t have a set of rules to follow. We use our instincts. Worship and faith look a little different for each individual.”

“I don’t understand that,” she whispers. “I’m trying to, but it’s so hard to unlearn things that were drilled into my head as fact for so long.”

“Give yourself grace. It’s only been a week.”

She shifts from foot to foot. “Rusalka?”

“Yes?”

Belladonna opens the door and steps into her room. “Would you like to come in?” She must see the polite refusal in my face, because she straightens her shoulders. “Would you like to come in and stay? The night. Naked, preferably. If you want to.”

I blink. Of all the things I anticipated her saying, this wasn’t on the list. I tentatively taste her emotions, half-sure that she’s using me to flog herself, but her shame is a dull undertone compared to her bright desire. Her feelings aren’t purely lust either. She?.?.?. cares.

She cares, and she’s reaching out in tentative faith. Even if I didn’t want her desperately, I wouldn’t refuse her this. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her gaze flicks to my shoulders as if she can still see the fire that appears when I lose control. “Will it burn me?”

“No. It’s not that kind of fire.” My fire can be a weapon in battle, but it takes conscious effort and it’s incredibly draining. In bed play, using it is as natural as breathing, same as the incubi’s shadows. An extension of self. I clear my throat. “You don’t have to sleep with me in order to stay here, little one. I’m not monster enough to require that. It’s the antithesis of everything we are.”

She smiles, sweet and a little pleased. “I know.” She steps back, and her hands go tentatively to the hem of her shirt. “I want you, Rusalka. I want you so desperately, it’s like a fever in my blood. Even when I’m up to my elbows in dirt in the garden, you’re all I can think about.”

I follow her into the room and shut the door, but I still hesitate to close the distance between us. Foolish, maybe, considering the orgasms I teased out of her just a short time ago, considering the fact that I can still scent myself on her lips. But then, I’ve been foolish when it comes to this woman from the moment we met. “I don’t want to inadvertently harm you by moving too fast.”

Her lower lip quivers, and she makes a visible effort to still it. “It’s because you care so much that I want this. Because you’re you. I had fun with Zhenya, Inna, and Danik, but they aren’t you. If I just wanted sex, I would find someone else, but that’s not what I want.”

The last of my resistance fades away. How could it do anything else when she’s standing before me, so fucking brave that it takes my breath away? “I care about you, too.”

“I know.” Belladonna smiles, and some of the tension fades away. “I know,” she repeats.

“If at any point, you change your mind, this stops with no negative consequences. Whether that’s tonight or three weeks or three years from now.” I reach out slowly and lace my fingers through hers. “Never doubt that you’re safe with me.”

“I know I am.” She laughs, the sound kind of tentative but true. “Rusalka, please take off your clothes.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “No, little one. If you want me in your bed, then we’re going to do this properly.”

“Is there a proper way to do it?”

I guide her through the room toward the bathroom. “If by ‘it,’ you’re referring to sex, then no, there’s no specific way that qualifies as proper. But we’re not talking about sex.”

“We’re . . . not?”

I nudge her onto the stool next to the bath and turn on the water. “No, dear heart. You said you want to take me to bed. That’s seduction.” That’s caring, with the potential for something deeper. Every interaction I’ve had with Belladonna reinforces the truth that she’s never been able to grasp the idea of sex as something free from shame, something that doesn’t have to be hurried and guilt-ridden. “We have all night, and I intend to use every minute to its fullest.”