Kayla
I wake up because Pavel’s no longer in the bed. I climb out in the darkness, reaching for the soft, fuzzy blanket he wraps me in after we play and pulling it around my shoulders. I look for his shoes and wallet—or some other sign that he’s left the room, but they are still here. I see three empty bottles from the mini-bar on the dresser.
I find Pavel leaning on the balcony with another tiny liquor bottle clutched in his hand.
“Master?”
“Malysh. I’m sorry I woke you.” He doesn’t move.
“No, you didn’t. I mean, I missed you in the bed.” I catch sight of his normally impassive face and catch a glimpse of a t*****e before he scrubs his hand across his neatly trimmed beard. “What’s wrong?”
“Come here.” He opens one arm, and I press myself against him. His addictive scent mingles with
