Something primal flashed in Sevastyan’s eyes. “That will never happen.”

“Is that why you’re riding with me? To cock-block him?”

He simply answered, “Yes.”

My toes curled in my boots. “Why?”

“I know what Filip had planned for you today.” At my raised brows, he said, “He intended to seduce you.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because any man in his right mind would be planning the same.” He caught my gaze, held it. Was Sevastyan telling me that he was as well?

Was I back to being infatuated again?

I smoothed a curl from my flushed face. “Are you in your right mind?” Say yes, say yes—

Thunder rumbled.

As if waking from a daze, we both jerked our heads up. In these woods, we hadn’t been able to see an approaching storm.

“We’ll head back.”

No, no, I never wanted this ride to end! Sevastyan was acting all possessive and jealous and had actually been flirting with me—in his terse, enforcer way. I couldn’t get enough. What harm would a few more minutes do? “If it rains, we won’t melt.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than clouds draped over the treetops like a suffocating blanket. A drop hit my face, then another. The sky continued to darken.

When a chill wind started to gust, batting leaves against us, Sevastyan ordered me, “Stay close.” He started off, and I followed as he picked up speed, dodging around trees.

Lightning forked out above us, cold drizzle pinging my face. But this ride was exhilarating, made me feel so alive. I couldn’t remember the last time my heart had pounded like this.

Oh, yeah. In a maid’s closet fourteen days ago.

When lightning struck a tree not far in the distance, Alizay yanked against the bit, sidestepping. “Whoa, girl, easy. . . .” Exhilaration turned to apprehension.

Limbs raked my ponytail, pulling it from its fastening. Between the leaves and my whipping hair, I could barely see. Each bout of thunder grew closer. It sounded so much harsher than it did in Nebraska.

Sevastyan reined around and sped back for me. He seized my reins, forcing Alizay to trot alongside.

More lightning flashed overhead, and another bolt struck even closer. The drizzle turned to a freezing downpour with drops so big they thumped my head. The temperature felt like it was plummeting by the minute. Soon my breaths smoked through the curtain of rain.

Sevastyan narrowed his eyes in the direction of the stables. Then, as if making a command decision, he turned us in another direction.

Over the rumbling, I said, “The stables are the other way!”

“I’m getting you out of the lightning,” he called back, spurring his horse.

Onward we rode. In movies, getting caught in the rain with a hot guy was always sexy. I was freezing, certain I looked like a drenched cat, and terrified of being electrocuted. To add insult to injury, my riding pants were creeping up my ass by uncomfortable degrees.

Once we emerged from the edge of the woods, the rain was so thick that I could barely make out a house in the distance. As we neared, I saw it was about as large as the bungalow I’d shared with Jess. The rough-hewn style—exposed-beam walls and a wood-shingled roof—was completely different from every other structure I’d seen at Berezka.

To the side was an overhang for the horses. By the time we dismounted under the roof, my legs were so stiff that Sevastyan had to catch me. Steadying me on my feet, he barked, “Inside.”

Leaving him to take care of the horses, I entered the windowless interior. I removed my soaked gloves, rubbing my hands for warmth as I peered around me. The overcast light coming from the doorway illuminated a quaintly rustic room.

Realization dawned. This was a banya. A sauna house. I’d read all about them!

Russians took their saunas very seriously. There were rituals and social etiquette surrounding the banya. Creating the best mist—with the finest steam droplets—was considered an art.

The first room, the pre-bath, had pegs to hang clothes and a supply of towels, sheets, and liniments. Deeper inside was the steam room. Polished wood benches stretched along the walls. At one end of the room was a small blue pool. At the opposite end were a firebox and rock chamber.

A water bucket and ladle stood beside the rocks. Veniks—tied bunches of dried branches and leaves—hung from a nearby rack, like mini brooms. Wetted down, they were used to strike the skin to improve circulation.

For some reason, the firebox was already lit, spilling light across the area. The rocks radiated heat, making the air warm and humid. It smelled of cedar and vaguely of the birch veniks—like wintergreen, forest, and leather mixed together.

Realization dawned once more. I was going to be trapped in a banya with the most desirable man I’d ever imagined. A man I couldn’t have sex with—without risking permanence. A man I wasn’t even supposed to be fooling around with.

Though freezing, I whirled toward the exit, ready to brave the storm.

Sevastyan ducked through the doorway, rifle in hand. “Where do you think you’re going?” Once he shut the door behind him, I could scarcely hear the thunder outside the insulated sauna, even as it rumbled the ground and walls.

It was as if we were within a moist, firelit cocoon, separate from the world.

As he shook out his black hair, he propped his gun against the wall, then placed a bar over the door.

Why would he lock it? Between chattering teeth, I said, “We n-need to ride back. Or call for someone to p-pick us up.”