4. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
T he Fae prince studied the half-dead boy with those winter-blue eyes, his expression detached as always. The boy didn’t stir.
“Just pick him up, Caspian,” I barked. “We don’t have time for this.”
“We’ll make time.” Caspian’s jaw set in that stubborn line. “Something doesn’t add up.”
Instead of lifting the boy, he crouched and pressed a hand to his chest. Groping. His eyes went wide, and he jerked back like he’d been shocked.
“Shit—that’s a real breast!” He scrambled backward. “He’s not a boy. She’s a fucking girl!”
“No shit.” I crossed my arms. “Now get your hand back under that rag and confirm. Check both, while you’re at it. Protocol. We don’t bring unknowns into base on guesswork.”
“Why do I have to do everything?” Caspian straightened, backing away further.
“Because you’re the Casanova.” I arched a brow. “ You’ve had your hands on more breasts than anyone here.”
“That’s exactly why I want you to do it.” Caspian didn’t look remotely offended by the name-calling. If anything, he seemed pleased. “You’re up, vamp. No bias that way.”
I turned to Aelindor, hoping for backup, or at least a decision.
The Fae’s expression remained cool as fresh snow. “That’s not in my scope.”
He wasn’t going to do it. Beneath him, apparently.
I shook my head in disgust at both of them. Fine. I’d get my hands dirty. Do it quick and move on before we got swarmed by cannibals or worse.
I squatted by the boy and slipped my hand under the rug-shirt.
My fingers met resistance immediately—a chest binding, wound tight enough to restrict breathing. I blinked, flexed my fingers, worked them beneath the rough fabric, between the binding and skin.
My mind went completely blank.
A warm swell of flesh met my palm. Unmistakably female.
“Soft skin,” I reported, keeping my voice clinical and detached.
“The breast is full and perky. Definitely female.” I moved my hand to the other side, just to be thorough and professional about this.
“Same as the other one. Soft, well-formed.” My thumb brushed over the nipple.
It contracted at the touch. “Large and responsive. Confirmed on both sides . ” Something in my chest seized. “We’re done. ”
The girl sat up.
Bolt upright. Faster than someone half-dead had any right to move.
She stared at me. Fear and rage flashed in eyes that were somewhere between midnight black and the darkest blue, like the color of the sky right before a storm broke.
All three of us froze. Something about her burned so bright it dazed us, caught us in her gravity.
In that moment, she was the most beautiful thing I’d seen.
Cracked, bloody lips. Skin blotched and burned. Face filthy with war paint and dried blood. None of it mattered. There was a fierceness to her, a wild quality that made my dead heart stutter.
Before I could assure her that I meant no harm, that this was a misunderstanding, she swung.
Fast. Strong.
Her fist connected with my nose. The crack was audible. She was near death, starved and dehydrated, yet the punch carried real power, the kind born from muscle memory and desperation.
My hand slid from her clothes as I rocked back on my heels.
“Red-eyed monster.” Her voice came low and raspy. “Fucking touch me again, and I’ll turn you into a toad.”
I opened my mouth to protest, to explain, but her eyes rolled back. Her hands went limp. Her head dropped backward like a rag doll.
She was about to crack her skull on a sharp rock. Unfortunate, after she’d survived this long .
I reached for her.
Caspian beat me to it with his shifter speed. He slammed his boot down over the rock.
“I gotcha.”
Her head landed on his shin.
“Fuck. It’s not my fault.” I wiped the blood from my lips. The taste of my own blood was bitter compared to the scent of hers. “She fucking broke my nose.”
Caspian laughed so hard a tear escaped his eye. “You should know better than to grope an unconscious woman.” He gasped for air, still chuckling. “Did your vamp mother never teach you manners?”
“I wasn’t—” I glared at him. My nose was already healing, the cartilage shifting with a sharp sting. “You asked me to conduct an examination.”
Pointless. I shook my head.
“I can’t believe she still had that kind of strength.”
“She’s a girl.” He looked at the crumpled figure on his shin, suspicious eagerness sparkling in his green eyes. “It changes everything, doesn’t it?”
“We’ll see.” Aelindor’s expression had cooled to its usual detachment, as if he could erase his stunned reaction through sheer will. But I’d seen it. The shock in those ancient eyes. Nothing rattled the Fae heir. Usually. “It might change nothing, whether she’s a girl or a boy.”
“But the prophecy said both.” I touched my nose gingerly. It was already straightening. “ ‘He walks in shadow, she in flame.’ And this girl came disguised as a boy.”
“We can’t assume she’s the one,” Aelindor said dismissively, but a brightness flickered through his winter-blue eyes. The look he got when puzzle pieces started falling into place. “Let’s move. Who carries her now?”
“I will.” I moved toward the girl. She’d punched me. We were even.
Caspian moved like lightning. In half a second, he had her cradled in his arms—bridal style, held carefully against his chest. The contrast to his previous rough treatment was almost comical.
“She’s my charge.” He strode after the Fae heir with renewed energy. Now that the boy had turned out to be a pretty girl, his steps were lighter, swifter, and eager. “She’s clearly not safe with you, Nikolai.”
“Why the fuck would you say that?” I glared at the back of his head, resisting the urge to knock him down. I didn’t like him carrying her.
“She called you a red-eyed pervert.” He didn’t bother looking back.
His voice dripped smugness. “That was her first impression of you. Hard to recover from that. And earlier, you promised to bite her. I won’t let that happen.
Not under my watch. Soon as she wakes up, I’ll tell her exactly what you are.
Vampire. Prince or not. And I’ll make sure she knows she’s under my protection. ”
“She didn’t call me a pervert,” I growled.
And I wished, with a burning sense of regret, that the girl had woken up when Caspian’s fucking hand was on her breast instead of mine. Just my luck. That wolf always had better luck with women.
“The girl intended to pass as a boy,” Aelindor observed, breaking into my bitter thoughts.
We lined up in a column—the Fae heir in the lead, steps sure and silent. Caspian and the girl in the middle. Me at the rear, watching our backs.
“You mean we shouldn’t blow her cover?” Intrigue laced Caspian’s voice.
“The girl might have a good reason for the deception,” Aelindor said, his tone measured.
“And we gentlemen should respect a lady’s wish.” I saw where this was going and backed him immediately.
“But what about Drakken?” Caspian asked.
“What about him?” I countered, though I knew.
“Should we keep secrets from him? We’re in an alliance.” Caspian’s hesitation bled through. Vampires handled guilt differently—we never let it touch us. “What about honor?”
“Honor is perspective.” I snorted. “Has the dragon shared all his secrets with you? With us? He hoards his own like fucking gold.”
Caspian’s steps faltered for half a second before he resumed pace, adjusting the girl’s weight. “Drakken is our brother in arms. But he’s an asshole. Thinks he’s our alpha.”
The dragon’s arrogance had no bounds. He wore his superiority like armor.
“Except to Aelindor,” I said.
Rivalry was a constant among the three younger heirs. We competed for dominance, recognition, and respect.
I dropped my sneer and called ahead. “What’s your stand, Aelindor?”
“Whatever you two decide.” Aelindor sounded almost amused. “Besides, as you said—respect the lady’s wish.”
He’d been like a big brother to the dragon since the dark days.
After Drakken watched his father’s beheading in the public square and found himself next in line for execution, Aelindor had risked everything and lost a lot of his men to pull the young dragon from the executioner’s block.
Despite their bond, Aelindor played no favorites.
He ruled with fairness and ancient wisdom, never tolerating any of us stepping out of line.
“I say we don’t volunteer the information.” I made the call. “Let the broody dragon figure it out himself. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else anyway. Good test of his observation skills.”
“Then you’ll need to start calling her ‘he’ instead of ‘she.’” Definite amusement threaded Aelindor’s voice now. He hadn’t looked this entertained in a long time. “One slip, and Drakken will know.”
Our elite team waited by three Jeep Wranglers powered by spellworks. Relief flickered across their faces as we approached, but no one relaxed. Hands stayed on weapons. Eyes scanned the horizon.
An hour to reach the nearest post. Then the magic-powered bullet train would take us back to base.
“Call it in,” I ordered Marco, my senior vampire officer. “Secure room.”
Marco pressed the radio button. The light flashed green.
Static shifted to a tentative connection.
The Q-bomb had obliterated every satellite—debris in orbit, ash in the atmosphere.
Phones and radios worked only within local range now, even powered by the strongest spells.
Modern electricity, mortal engines, were relics. Magic batteries drained fast.
“It’s Mercy Killer from Team Wraith.” Marco’s voice was crisp, efficient. “Do you copy?”
Instead of an operator’s voice, Drakken’s deep, grating voice came through the speaker, impatient and demanding. “This is Storm Breaker. You got the one?”
Marco looked at me.
I took the radio.
“Blood Reaper here.” I let the taunt slide through my voice. “Desperation isn’t attractive, dragon.”
The growl that came back was mean.
“We’re coming in. Get a healer standing by. We have an injured…boy.”
I cut the radio before he could growl again or demand answers.
I watched Caspian lay the tall girl carefully in the backseat. She’d be a thorn in my side. I could feel it, and I didn’t mind at all.