I whisper. A smile lifts his lips. It’s not cruel or condescending. It’s not sadistic or cunning. It’s…triumphant. Happy, even. This is the first time I’ve ever seen this expression on Kirill’s face, and I don’t know why that makes me want to smile back. His free hand strokes my cheek, and I instinctively lean into his touch, then it lowers to my neck, and he wraps his fingers around it as he whispers in my ear,
