Page 58 of Marked By His Touch
My heart stumbles, and my breath hitches. I close my eyes and push away my wishful thinking.Don’t be naive, Ava.
Instead, I imagine Nikolai’s face, his cold, cruel smile. I’m ready to succumb to his will, to be claimed.
A cool, crisp air brushes against my skin, and I open my eyes. Standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the faint light from the hallway is
—Alexander.
Tears prickle behind my eyes, and then they flood over. I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. Is this another cruel dream?
His face is grim, his jaw clenched. He holds a gun, its sleek black barrel pointed in front of him. The gun’s metallic glint catches the light.
“Alexander,” I whisper. “You—you’re dead. I saw it. They shot you, killed you— I saw it.”
He takes a single step forward, his eyes meeting mine, a spark of recognition igniting in their depths. He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs me, pulls me close, and kisses me tenderly until I can’t breathe.
He pulls away and cups my face, “I’m not dead—yet—I told you I was coming to get you.”
“But—who was in the water at the docks—I saw him fall. It was you—”
“They shot Cole. I watched them from the warehouse before I snuck on the ship.”
Cole—it was Cole, of course. It was so dark that I couldn’t see his hair color, and they are both tall and built strong. How could I have been so wrong?
I lean into his kiss again while he unties the ropes around my feet and wrists. The rough fabric of the rope chafes against my skin as it falls away, leaving a burning sting in its wake. He looks at me, my battered body, the blood, the pain in my face, my features.
He kisses my bruised wrists slowly.
“I’ll teach them—” he grunts, the color rising in his cheeks. The anger inside him is a raging inferno. “No one—no one treats you like this.”
He kisses me again, a storm of emotion, relief, and desire. His lips are rough against mine, his tongue probing my mouth, seeking entry. His taste and strength are intoxicating. His hand brushes against my cheek, a touch that's warm and surprisingly gentle. Then, he cups my face, his fingers tracing the curve of my jawline. I stare into his blue eyes, their depths are like a glacial mountain lake.He’s here. He’s real.
“We gotta go,” he says, pulling back.
“How did you find me?” I whisper. I’m reeling, my mind struggling to grasp this sudden, unexpected turn of events. My body is buzzing, sizzling.
He looks at me. “Harvey,” he says. “You sent a message to Harvey before you entered Kitty’s Port Bar.”
My mind races, a flashback flooding my senses. I’m back in the car with Katerina and Zara, before we exited, my fingers trembling as I send a message to Harvey, every detail—Nikolai’sfull name, the location, my plans for tonight. I’d hoped, prayed, that it would be enough if something went wrong.
“Harvey is here?” I gasp.
Alexander nods, his gaze locked on mine, his expression intense. He shushes me, his fingers pressing against my lips. “We need to get out of here,” he says.
Suddenly, I also remember just sending Alexander a message saying, “I love you,” and nothing more—no names, no locations. I wanted to protect him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry I ran off. I should have listened to you.”
He nods, pulling me close. His body is like a comforting shield. I follow him, my steps light and quick.
I look back one last time at the cabin, the sterile white walls, and the cold lights.Alexander is here.
The ship’scorridors twist and turn, a maze of dark, narrow passages. I can smell stale smoke and polished wood. The rhythmic thrumming of the ship’s engines resonates through the floorboards.We have to get out of here.
“We need to make it to the bridge,” Alexander says, his voice tight. He grips the gun in his hand, his knuckles white, his gaze fixed on the dark passageway ahead. He moves with a grace and precision that belies his intense focus. His footsteps are silent on the polished wooden floor, every muscle coiled, ready for a fight. He’s a warrior.But so am I.
I follow close behind; my heart beats fast, in sync with the ship’s steady pulse. My injured wrist throbs with each step, but I push the pain aside, the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Harvey has secured the bridge,” he says, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “He’s waiting for us with his team—I hope.”
