“Debts?”
He looks away. “It was too good to be true. It couldn’t last.” He twitches under my hand. “I don’t deserve such things. This monster that I am…”
“No.” My hand tightens into a fist. “You aren’t a monster. Neither of us is. We have the tools, the power to be monsters … but we don’t have to use them that way.”
“I never wanted to be more. I felt trapped in this fate, until the first day I saw you and knew just who I had hurt by not caring. By helping them hunt you down.”
I flinch. I thought I was prepared for that truth, but hearing it hang in the open air gives it a sharpness it doesn’t deserve. “We have all done unforgivable things. You had no choice,” I tell him.
“We always have a choice, Yul. Some may cost us more, far more than we can pay, but we can choose. After I met you, I swore I’d stop obeying them blindly, but I couldn’t undo what I’d done…” He sighs. The spark of hope and the blackness of regret is in that sigh. “How can you ever forgive me?”
My lips find his, and it’s like kissing the sea. He is salty, cool without chilling me, and fresh as a clean summer breeze. Our mouths snag together, two currents flowing as one, and all the music in his head goes spilling into mine, the thoughts and emotions for which there are no words.
His hands dig deeper into my hair. He is gold-domed Russian Orthodox chapels on the shore and birch forests awash with green. I’m pulling myself onto him, and a new song emerges in the rise and fall of our lungs, in his lips reaching for mine.
“Yulia.” He jerks forward beneath me as if he’s been startled from sleep. “Yulia.”
I kiss the smooth tip of his nose. “Valentin?”
“I don’t deserve your affection—”
I slide off of him, but can’t keep my hand from running the length of his arm as I try to catch my breath. My blouse is tangled up in my sweater, and the pleat of my skirt won’t lay flat. I don’t care. Snow is falling outside, but in here I could melt away, just a puddle of craving for the music inside Valentin.
Valentin crosses his legs funny. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I like him so much I pretend not to know why he’s covering himself the way he is.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell him. “I wanted … I mean, I started it—”
“No. You don’t understand.” He takes off his glasses; the lenses have fogged. “I’m letting myself be a tool for Rostov and his monsters, and I don’t know how to break free.”
Free. The word shatters against me, too painful to contemplate. I tuck flyaway hairs behind my ear. “Valya. Please.” His shortened name is so rich on my tongue. I want to say it again and again. “I understand why you’ve done these things, but I don’t want you in my dreams anymore, all right? I want the thoughts that we share to be given freely.”
His eyes squeeze shut; his thoughts hum like a radiator. “You know what Rostov is capable of. I can’t simply tell him no.”
One, two bullets in my skin. “I know.” I lower my head. “But you said you had an idea.”
He loads the Beatles record onto the plate and starts it over, ratcheting the volume up. “Focus on the music,” he shouts at me. “Try not to think too much about the words I’m saying.”
I nod, and scoot closer to him. I stop myself short of reaching for his hand.
His lips tingle against my ear. “If we work together, I know we can escape. I’ve been testing the guards, getting them to do little things under my command—I’m sure I can distract them. And you can learn the Metro tunnel guards’ patrol route…”
“The tunnel? There’s no way. They’ll be expecting it. And what about that, that thing working with Rostov?” I ask.
Valentin leans closer. His breath is so warm on my sizzling neck. It’s all I can do not to reach for him—but no. This is too important. “I’m still working on that part. But I know we can do it. Think about it, Yulia. If you’re willing to work with me…”
“I’m willing,” I say. My heart beats with the Beatles. I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand.
Valentin draws a sharp inhale, like he’s catching one last scent of me, then stands. “We’ve been gone too long as it is. Please, do your best not to think of this.” His fingers trace a piano chord on my arm. “We have to suppress it. I know you’ve suppressed thoughts before.”
I shudder. Just knowing that bad thoughts lie deep under my skin makes me queasy. “I’ll do my best.”
“Especially around Sergei,” he says. “I’m afraid that if he found out, he might—”
“Tell Rostov. Right. They do seem to get on well.” I stroke the back of his hand. “I’ll keep our plan safe.”
“Our plan.” Valentin looks at me sideways with his cheeks burned scarlet. “… Yes. Don’t let Sergei know about that, either.”
CHAPTER 30