Arranged By The Bravta King

13

Maria

I race to the far end of the terrace and grab hold of a tower. Gripping a gargoyle, I hoist myself up and balance on the rampart, not daring to look down.

"I won't marry you!" I shout as I climb higher. The harsh wind whips my dress around me, and trembling, I refuse to climb down. "I'll jump! I swear!"

"No, you won't," Mikhail says, a flicker of concern crossing his face before he masks it with a scowl. "Don't be stupid."

"Please," I shout, fighting to keep myself from sobbing. "Just let me go."

Mikhail's expression tightens as if struggling to hold onto his sanity. "No," he says evenly as he walks toward me. The wind caresses his hair, and those piercing eyes stare hard as if his gaze is all he needs to make me obey his wishes.

His suit jacket is gone, and his dress shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his belly button, revealing rippling bands of muscles across his chest and abs. Tattoos decorate the harsh landscape of his body, and his sharp features are accentuated by the soft light pouring out from behind him.

In any other circumstances, I'd say he looks like an angel sent from heaven.

But right now, he looks like the devil rising from hell.

My heart hammers in my chest as I edge away. I dare to spare a single glance down into the darkness below me. There's nowhere to go. The strong wind feels like it will snatch me away as I teeter on the edge.

"I won't do it," I shout. "I won't! Stay back!"

"Maria," Mikhail says, his rich voice caressing each syllable and letter of my voice like a lover tracing the curves of his beloved. "Step down now."

Another set of footsteps join his, and the man he called Rurik earlier emerges from the cupola above us, hurrying down a short ladder of steel steps. They're going to circle around me as best they can and drag me back. But Mikhail holds up a hand, and Rurik stops in his tracks.

"I won't say it again." Mikhail's voice doesn't rise, but I can feel the simmering anger just under the surface.

"No!" I answer with outrage. "I'd rather?—"

The words die in my throat when a sudden strong gust of wind catches me off guard. My foot slips on the rough patch of concrete molding. Panic surges through me as my balance teeters. I reach desperately for anything, but my fingers only grip air as I fall backward.

The wind tears at my hair and dress. My heart pounds in my ears and all I can think of is that this is it.

This is how I die.

"Maria!"

My thoughts are shattered by his voice again, closer this time, and I feel a sudden, vise-like grip around my wrist. Mikhail latches onto me and holds me suspended in midair. His eyes are wide, and a panoply of emotions flutters across them as I cling to him for dear life.

"Mikhail!" I plead. The carved edges of the ledge dig into my arm, leaving scratches behind, and I struggle to raise my other arm as my body dangles precariously in the wind.

Sweat beads on his forehead, and I see his handsome jaw clenching with effort as he holds onto my wrist. Our eyes lock again as I raise my other hand and try to hold onto anything but find nothing.

"Mikhail," I whisper, my voice wavers. "Please."

The man he called Rurik appears and starts to reach, but Mikhail holds up his free hand to stop him even as the wind whips around us.

As if in slow motion, Rurik's stoic face gazes down at me. He takes a step back and disappears from view. I look at Mikhail, and whatever emotions were in his eyes before are suddenly gone. His eyes light up in the low light like that of a cat playing with its food, and slowly, a knowing smile curls up on his lips again.

Panic claws at my insides, and I know in an instant what he's about to do.

"Mikhail!" I scream at him, begging as tears stream down my face. "Pull me up! Please!"

"Remind me again what you were about to say?" he asks me coldly. "That you'd rather ..."

"I didn't mean it!" I shriek. "Please pull me up! Please! Please!"

"Say it!" His voice is smooth as silk. Low, soft, and dangerous.

My vision is clouded by tears, and I can't stop myself from sobbing now as I kick against the air. This can't be how it ends. It just can't be!

"Say it," he repeats himself. "I won't ask again."

The wind howls around us, and I force myself to blink away my tears. Staring back into his handsome face, I try to memorize every little detail so that I have something beautiful to cling to before my end. I take my final quivering breath and try to keep my voice even as I yell back at him.

"That I'd rather die!"

The cruel smile on his face curls up further until it becomes a sneer. "As you wish."

He lets go of my wrist, and time stops as empty air cocoons me. My limp body plummets toward the darkness below. I am swallowed by the sensation of falling. A thousand airy knives slashing at my skin. I shriek in terror, but the sound is devoured by the roar of the wind.

My hands flap wildly with the fluttering material of my dress, and my heart pounds in my chest, beating out the final seconds of my life as I brace myself for the impact that will shatter my bones and extinguish my life.

The million lights of New York City rise rapidly at me. I struggle to take another breath as I tumble in the air.

And that's the last thing I feel before my vision fades to black.