He pressed his face into my neck, making a dark rumble of satisfaction. “So you are learning something after all.” As the adrenaline faded, it left me sensitive, exposed, ashamed. I didn’t want to be the kind of person who hurt others just because they hurt me. Something inside of me hated the idea of hurting him more than anything, even though nobody deserved it more. Inked fingers may be holding my wrists captive, but they’d also saved and avenged me. Guilt inflated in my chest like a balloon, and suddenly, all I could see was a little boy in a car sinking to the bottom of the Moskva at his own mother’s hands. I wondered if it was how Ronan got the scar on his bottom lip. The fact I could be the person to add another mark made me feel sick. The pressure forced an apology up my throat, but when I opened my mouth, he skimmed his lips across mine, saying harshly, “Nyet.” We only inhaled each other’s exhales for a second. A heaviness invaded my chest, pulling me into dark waters alongside him, where I’d sink, and he’d swim. My only question was: Would he grab my hand, or let me drown? I wasn’t sure I cared anymore. I kissed the cut I’d made on his bottom lip. The action flooded the room with my silent apology, eliciting a noise in his throat that reeked of displeasure, but the feeling swelling inside compelled me to continue. I dragged my lips to kiss the comer of his mouth, then the thin scar, which I softly drew my tongue across. With a rough sound, he gripped my chin and angled my head back so I met his eyes. “I thought you had reservations about kissing me.” The Bible dug into my spine. I was sure there never was a clearer sign to resist sin than literal scripture burning one’s back, but the idea didn’t stop me from looking the devil in the eye and saying two words that would lead me straight to the gates of hell. “T lied.” Two heartbeats passed, his gaze a dark, stormy night that charged the air with electricity. “That’s a bad habit.” “Mm,” was all I could manage, my entire body vibrating beneath the surface.