There is my proof. Sarai has the blood of a killer; there’s no mistaking it anymore. I know I didn’t make her that way. Life did that, not me. But I know I’m the one who ultimately pulled the shroud from her eyes to make her see it.

“It’s only a matter of time before a hit is ordered on him too,” I say.

I take off my jacket and tie, draping them over the back of a chair.

“We should’ve done it when we had the chance,” she says.

Breaking apart the buttons of my dress shirt, I glance over at her sitting there, staring off at the wall, and I wonder in what way she’s imagining she’s killing Hamburg. It’s bloody. It’s vengeful. I’m sure of it.

I lay my shirt over the chair with my jacket and walk toward her, stepping out of my shoes on the way.

“If we did it tonight,” I say, sitting down on the end of the bed beside her, “we wouldn’t have made it out of there alive. It wasn’t part of the mission. Every mission must be planned precisely. Stray from any part of it and you triple your chances of exposing yourself or getting yourself killed.”

We sit in stillness, both looking out ahead, both married to our thoughts. I wonder if hers are about me. I can’t help but for mine to be about her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Sarai

I never want Victor to leave me. I couldn’t bear the thought of it before, but now…now things are so much different. Our souls have become intimate, whether he wants to admit it to himself or not. We are one in the same and I don’t want to imagine being on my own without him. Ever.

“Sarai, I’m sorry for what I did.”

I look over. I know what he means, but I’m not sure yet what to say in return.

“I hope you believe me when I say I got nothing out of it. It was merely for show. I hope you understand that.”

I do believe him. I know I couldn’t look a normal person in the eye and tell them what happened without them thinking I’ve lost my mind, or that I’ve succumbed to Stockholm syndrome. But Victor could’ve had his way with me many times over. He could’ve raped me. He could’ve given in to me the few times I’ve shown an attraction to him. But he never did and he always pushed me away. Up until a few nights ago when I slipped into his bed. He didn’t push me away then, but I know deep down that he was more attuned to the rage I was feeling in that moment than even I was.

Without looking at him, I ask in a quiet voice, “If he hadn’t of put in the access code to the room sooner…would you have fucked me?”

I notice him glance over but I don’t meet his eyes.

“No,” he answers in a quiet voice to match mine. He sighs. “Sarai, I couldn’t force him to open the room. He might’ve punched in a panic code and alerted the guards in the house, or—”

I look at him finally, locking my eyes with his. “But would you have wanted to?”

He becomes quiet. I watch the struggle shift in his face.

“Not there,” he says. “Not like that.”

I lift my dress over my head and drop it on the floor.

“Will you now?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, but I’ve learned by now that the only way to get what I want from him is not to relent.

I get up from the bed and move to stand in-between his legs. Both of his hands move up my thighs slowly and he tucks his fingers behind the elastic of my panties. His lips touch my belly, the tip of his tongue grazing the skin between my ribs so softly it raises chills all over my body. I run my fingers through his hair as he slides my panties over my hips and down my legs.

Then I straddle his lap.

I kiss him softly and whisper once more, “Will you, Victor Faust? If that is your name.” I nudge the side of his face with my chin.

“Only under one condition,” he whispers hotly onto my mouth.

“What condition?”

He kisses my lips slowly.

“That I’m the one in control this time.”

I part my mouth near his, teasing him with a kiss that I want him to take from me, my fingertips gently enclosed around his jaw. He gazes into my eyes for a moment, reading my thoughts. And then both of his arms wrap possessively around my body, crushing me against him. His kiss is ravenous, his strong fingers digging into the skin of my back and I can feel the hardness of his cock so distinctly through the fabric of his pants that it makes me tremble. My lips part and my whole body shudders just feeling him there, wanting him inside of me more than I think I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

He spears one hand within the back of my hair, forcing my head back and exposing my neck to him. He kisses my throat upward in a perfectly straight line until he finds my mouth again and takes my bottom lip into his teeth.

I feel two of his fingers slip into me below.

I gasp, my head still forced backward in his grasp, and I thrust my hips gently against his fingers.

“I want you inside of me,” I say breathily.

I can’t fucking take it anymore.

With my lips on his, our warm tongues tangled, I fumble the button on his pants and then slide the zipper down.

He flips me over onto the bed, crawling on top of me and never breaks the kiss while stripping off his pants with one hand. And when I feel the warmth of his naked body, I wrap my legs around him, crushing him with my thighs, pushing myself toward him so I can feel the swell of his cock against my wetness. His mouth searches my neck and my chest until his teeth find my nipples and he bites them just hard enough to make me whimper.

“This goes against everything that I am, Sarai,” he says and then kisses me.

“No, it doesn’t,” I whisper and kiss him back. “It’s you becoming more of who you really are.”

And then he slides his cock inside of me slowly. I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. My legs tremble and my body shudders with tiny tremors that explode and infiltrate my insides. I gasp and shove my hips forward to force him deeper.

I never imagined that sex could feel like this, that the way my body is reacting to him could ever feel like this.

He raises his body from mine, still on his knees between my legs and he grabs my thighs tight in his hands, pulling me toward him. He fucks me slowly at first, so slowly that it drives me mad. With each thrust he pushes deeper until my thighs are trembling and I can’t hold them steady around his body anymore. The back of my head arches against the pillow and I moan and gasp and dig my fingers into the flesh of his hips. He starts to fuck me harder and I grip the pillow above my head before pressing my hands against the headboard, forcing myself against him, feeling his cock swell inside of me.

He collapses over me again and I feel the wetness of his mouth on my breast. My throat. My lips. His chest heaves with rapid breath and I can feel his heart beating against mine. He begins to pace himself and while he fucks me slowly, his kiss deep and hot and hungry, he reaches one hand down between my legs and moves his fingers in a steady, persistent motion on my clit. I wind my fingers in his hair, gripping it so tight, moaning into his mouth, tasting his tongue.

So attuned with each other, we come together. He pulls out to finish, but doesn’t stop moving his fingers until my shuddering body finally eases and my trembling legs dissolve into mush on both sides of him.

He rests his sweating head across my breasts and I brush my fingers through his hair. We stay like this for the much of the night, in stillness and in thought.

And all I can think about is how I never want to leave this room with him.

~~~

I lay tangled in the sheets with Victor. The curtains on the window are fully opened and I gaze across the room at the bluish-black sky faintly illuminated by the city lights beneath it. Victor fell asleep sometime after he made love to me. Made love? I’m not sure I understand the true meaning of that phrase. I don’t think that this thing between us is love, or even lust. It’s something else, something powerful and unmistakable that neither of us have been able to ignore. But it doesn’t have a face. Or a name. Maybe he didn’t make love to me, but he didn’t fuck me either.