Weakly struggling against him, I said, “Really. I feel fine.” Ronan forced me onto the couch. “We’re going to discuss your habit of lying later.” He lowered to his haunches in front of me and brushed a piece of vomit-covered hair from my sweaty face. “Right now, you’re going to let Kirill treat you.” “I don’t want to do this,” I breathed frantically. “Can we do it tomorrow?” The look he gave me said, No. He nodded at Kirill to continue before saying to him, “Sdelay vse pravilno s pervogo raza.” Kirill swallowed thickly. I didn’t need to know what Ronan said to know he’d just threatened him. I tensed and closed my eyes tight, but the sharp pinch of the needle in the top of my hand didn’t send my blood pressure diving like I expected. Maybe it was already too low. Or maybe being captive in this house changed my body’s perception of what I should fear. It wasn’t a needle or blood. Somehow, it wasn’t even D’yavol on his haunches in front of me. I opened my eyes to see the IV was in, the bag set up. A cool fluid shot through my blood, up my arm. My tired, half-lidded gaze met Ronan’s, and the moment stretched through time and space as my body fought the poison within. But holding this man’s stare was like looking into a well that granted immortality. It shimmered, beckoning me to jump into its dark depths, and obliterated the fear inside I might never make it back out. “Am I going to die?” The soft words escaped me. His gaze darkened. “Nyet.” One should never trust a monster, but as something heavy filled my chest, I believed him. If anyone understood death, it was this man with eyes as black as coal. That is, unless an unsuspecting victim got too close and saw they sparkled like tanzanite. I let my head drop against the back of the couch. He still had puke on his hand, having wiped some of it on his pants, yet he looked put together, too composed to be real. The sight reminded me of his previous words. “I swam.” A memory resurfaced, of my papa teaching me to swim off a yacht in the Atlantic after he strapped so many flotation devices to me I would be carried away like a balloon in a strong wind. A nostalgic smile touched my lips as I asked, “How did you learn to swim?”