29. NIKOLAI #2
After placing her dishes in the sink, she walked past me toward the living room.
Then suddenly, she pivoted and bolted straight for the patio doors.
Fuck.
I heard the click of the lock. The slide of the door opening along its frame.
Then torrential wind and rain.
It was forty degrees Fahrenheit outside, give or take, the worst sort of nasty weather.
I turned and watched as she stepped out barefoot into the storm.
No fucking way.
She wasn’t actually trying to—
But then I remembered how athletic she was—aerialist, gymnast, dancer.
The way she moved on the pole—strong, lithe, balanced.
Every instinct in me shifted.
Cold reason gave way to the heat of a darker impulse.
A predator’s thrall.
She was running.
And my blood ignited with a need—
To chase.
To catch.
To claim.
I was on my feet in an instant, a curse ripping from my throat as I barreled after her.
“Lyla!”
The wind howled as I raced through the opening and into the downpour. Rain lashed across my face, soaking through my pants in seconds. At this elevation, the wind was punishing—violent and unrelenting.
She was already halfway to the trellis.
“Don’t you fucking dare—”
She jumped for it, catching one of the iron rungs just above the rosevine-covered lattice. The structure, covered in brutal thorns and dead vines, swayed precariously under her weight.
I lunged.
My arms clamped around her waist. She screamed and twisted, clawing at me and kicking her legs ferociously as I yanked her down. Her elbow cracked against my chin. Pain exploded across my jaw.
“Stop!” I barked, gripping her tighter. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
But she kept thrashing around like a wildcat. One of her feet slipped, landing hard on my thigh.
Goddamn, she was strong. So fucking fierce.
“Let go of me!” she shrieked.
Her eyes were wide in desperation, her wet hair a tangled mess across her face. Her body writhed in my arms like she’d rather die than let me keep her.
Then she slipped free.
“Shit!”
She bolted again—this time toward the far end of the terrace.
I followed, rain streaming down my chest and back.
My heart hammered, and my bare feet went sliding across slick stone.
She hit the edge of the wall at a dead run, placed her hands onto the parapet, and hoisted herself up like a gymnast mounting a beam.
I stopped cold.
Rain pelted her. She was soaked through—nipples hard, the curves of her breasts outlined in perfect detail beneath the thin cotton shirt that clung to her. Her sleep shorts were soaked and hugged her hips. Her bare legs trembled as she adjusted her balance on the narrow ledge.
Wind tore through her hair, sending damp strands whipping in every direction.
She turned toward me slowly—eyes wide and wild, chest heaving.
And for one savage second, I forgot everything but my hunger for her.
She wasn’t just beautiful.
She was a fucking Valkyrie. A goddess. A queen.
I wanted to drop to my knees right then and there. Bow before her. Swear my loyalty to whatever realm she came from.
My little lamb had become a force of nature.
And I would die trying to save her.
Thunder cracked overhead.
She flinched but didn’t move.
“Lyla…” I said her name in a calm voice barely louder than the rain, trying not to spook her as I stepped closer. “Get down.”
For a few seconds, she stared at me defiantly, and then she turned her body toward the trellis—toward the dividing wall, the only possible path to the neighboring terrace.
She started to inch along the ledge. One foot. Then the other. Arms out. Her feet were slick on the stone as the wind battered against her, threatening her balance.
One wrong step and she’d fall.
And this time, I wouldn’t be able to catch her.
“Come on, Lyla!” I shouted over the wind, moving closer to her. “Stop! Come back! You’re safe with me!”
Her head jerked around. “Safe?” she screamed. “That’s a joke! I’m not safe as your prisoner! Or worse, being shipped off!” A gust of wind hit her, and she scrambled to rebalance. “I think I’ll take my chances. Anything to get away from you,” she said into the wind.
She focused on the dividing wall and slowly worked her way toward the section separating my terrace from the neighbor’s. Twelve inches was the only thing between her and certain death.
I cursed and vaulted onto the parapet.
She was nearly there. Just a few more steps, and she’d reach the four-foot expanse separating the patios. She’d have a concrete wall on one side and nothing on the other. Nothing to grasp. One slip, one wrong move, and she’d be gone. Splattered below. Nothing but blood and guts on the sidewalk.
I took a step toward her. “Don’t do this,” I said. “I’ll come to you—just stay still.”
She took another step away from me.
Then her foot slipped.
I lunged.
She screamed as her body dropped.
I caught her.
My right hand locked around her forearm, my left catching the edge of the trellis. Her life hung by my strength alone as she dangled thirty-two stories above the street.
Rain hammered down. Wind lashed across the patio.
She looked up at me, frozen and unmoving, utter terror written across her face.
“Swing your foot up to the edge,” I ordered. “It’s no different from what you do when you perform.”
Something shifted in her expression. The fear didn’t completely vanish, but determination mostly took its place.
“Pull yourself up!” I bellowed.
She gritted her teeth and summoned her strength. Her abs flexed as she lifted herself up, and her body arched as she dragged one leg upward, levering herself onto the edge.
I hauled her up, then jumped down from the ledge, still holding tight to her arm. When I was certain we were both out of immediate danger, I released the trellis.
One of her legs had landed on the parapet; the other was dangling in empty space. I reached forward, grabbed her by the crotch, and dragged her fully onto the ledge—until her body was pressed against my chest.
Her breaths came in sharp, heavy gasps.
The heat of her crotch seared into my palm, even through cold rain-soaked fabric.
Fuck.
Her eyes shot to mine as realization dawned. She froze. Her breath caught. Her eyes were feral as rain streaked down her cheeks.
Her T-shirt clung to her skin. The swell of her breasts, her taut nipples, and the muscles of her abs were on full display as her thighs lay spread open.
I had a death grip on her cunt and her arm.
I didn’t let go because I didn’t want to.
She was soaked, shivering, and furious—but she was still the most gorgeous fucking creature I’d ever laid eyes on.
I bent down and took her mouth.
No hesitation.
No gentleness.
My lips crashed against hers, rough and hungry. I’d been dying to taste her again since the night in the alley.
Her mouth parted for me, and I seized the opening.
My tongue plunged past her lips, tangling with hers. I tasted the rain between us, the faint sweetness of strawberries and syrup still clinging to her. I groaned into her mouth, devouring her as I finally lost the war with myself.
And she kissed me back.
God, did she kiss me back.
She met me head-on, her tongue stroking mine, her lips caressing mine as though she didn’t care if she drowned. She clutched my arms tightly, anchoring herself to me. She moaned, and I swallowed the sound whole.
After the most searing, fuck-me-and-end-me kiss I’d ever had, I released her arm, dragged my hand up, and fisted her rain-slicked hair, jerking her head back so I could devour her further.
My other hand stayed buried between her thighs, gripping the heat of her cunt through those soaked little shorts.
Her body arched against my hand, pure temptation wrapped in wet cotton.
She tasted like heaven.
I kissed her like a man starved—like I would never get another chance—like I meant to ruin her for anyone else.
Because I did.
Another soft moan hit the back of my throat.
That was it. My undoing.
I growled, my cock growing rock-hard, my hand tightening in her hair.
And then—she stopped.
She yanked her mouth away, gasping, eyes wide with panic.
Before I could speak, she twisted, broke free from my grip, and jumped down from the parapet.
But I was already moving.
Because she didn’t get to run from me. Not now.
Not after that.
I caught her by the waist and yanked her off the ground.
“You wanna run from me?” I snarled, throwing her over my shoulder like a rag doll as her legs flailed. “Then you’d better be ready for what happens when I catch you.”
She kicked and screamed and raged against my back, nails digging into my flesh, fists hammering my back.
Ignoring her protests, I stormed back inside, not caring that I tracked rainwater through the living room all the way to the guest suite.
I threw her onto the bed, face-first. Her wet hair was splayed out across her back.
I knocked her thighs apart with my knee and pinned her.
My hips crushed against her ass. I shoved her arms up and pulled her wrists together above her head, locking them there with one hand.
She writhed, but I didn’t move.
My cock was a steel rod between us as the storm raged inside me.
I needed to find some way to convince her that she’d rather fuck me than fight me.
She wriggled and struggled beneath me in wild frustration.
Kicking. Cursing. Fighting me with everything she had left in her rain-soaked, trembling body.
And it made me want to fucking explode before I could even pull my dick out.
“You think you can just dominate me?” she screamed, squirming under my grip as I continued to wrestle with her. “You think you can control me? Use your creepy hacker shit to turn me into some weak little submissive, too scared to tell you to go fuck yourself?”
Then she bucked hard—grinding her hips against me, trying to throw me off.
I snarled and held her tighter.
“I’m not yours,” she hissed, her breaths coming hard and fast. “I’m a strong, badass woman who isn’t about to fall for your egotistical bullshit. Whatever it is you do—whoever the hell you are—you don’t own me.”