Chapter Four
~ Nicolai ~
Mishka’s scent was driving me wild. A century of practiced control was crumbling under the simple act of standing beside this young man at my kitchen sink.
With each brush of our fingers in the soapy water, my bear stirred more insistently beneath my skin, demanding I claim what it had already decided was mine.
I fought to maintain my composure, but the heat radiating from his slender body was a siren call I was finding increasingly impossible to ignore.
I deliberately reached for the same plate he was washing, allowing my fingers to slide against his wrist. His pulse jumped beneath my touch, his heartbeat accelerating to a rhythm that sang to my heightened senses.
"Sorry," I murmured, not sorry at all.
"It's fine," Mishka replied, his voice slightly breathless.
He didn't pull away.
That small victory emboldened me. I let my hand linger a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing, noting the faint flush that crept up his neck. My bear growled approvingly inside me.
Mine. Protect. Claim.
The kitchen felt impossibly small with both of us in it, though it was designed to accommodate several staff during my rare entertaining events.
The soft overhead lighting cast a warm glow across Mishka's fair skin, highlighting the delicate curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. I found myself fixated on that spot, imagining how it would feel beneath my lips, how he would taste.
These thoughts were dangerous. I had lived too long, maintained too much control to lose myself over unexpected attraction.
And yet...
"You missed a spot," I said, my voice rougher than intended as I reached around him to point at a bowl he'd just set aside.
The movement brought my chest against his back, my arms effectively caging him against the sink. He stiffened momentarily, then relaxed, leaning back slightly into my space.
The subtle shift was nearly my undoing.
I inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent—something electric and clean, mixed with the soap and warm water. My bear roared its approval, clawing at my insides with a ferocity I hadn't experienced in decades.
"Did I?" Mishka asked, turning his head slightly. His cheek nearly brushed my chin, his voice carrying a hint of challenge that made my blood run hotter.
I didn't answer immediately. Couldn't. My focus had narrowed to the mere inches separating his body from mine, to the way his breathing had accelerated, matching my own labored rhythm.
"Here," I finally managed, reaching past him to grasp the dish towel.
The movement pressed us together more fully—my broad chest against his slender back, my hips against his. Even through layers of clothing, the contact was electrifying.
Mishka's breath caught audibly and I felt rather than saw the subtle arch of his spine that pushed him more firmly against me.
God, this boy was going to be the death of me.
I stayed there a moment longer than necessary, indulging in our proximity before reluctantly pulling back with the towel in hand.
The loss of contact was almost painful.
As I stepped away, I noticed the overhead lights flicker subtly. Then again, more pronounced this time. I glanced at Mishka, seeing his eyes widen slightly.
"Sorry," he whispered. "That happens sometimes when I'm... distracted."
The admission sent heat pooling low in my stomach. I was affecting him as strongly as he was affecting me—his electronic abilities responding to his heightened emotions.
I deliberately brushed against him again as I reached to dry a glass, my forearm sliding along his. This time the lights dimmed noticeably before brightening again. Mishka's knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the sink.
"Does that happen often?" I asked, my voice dropping to a register I reserved for more intimate conversations.
He swallowed visibly. "Only when my emotions are... intense."
My bear preened at the confession, smug that we could evoke such a response. I set down the dried plate and moved closer again, this time letting my fingers trace deliberately up his wrist to his forearm. The touch was light but purposeful.
The refrigerator hummed louder in response, the digital display flickering rapidly.
"And how intense are your emotions right now?" I murmured, my lips close to his ear.
Mishka's hands trembled as he reached for another glass. "I'm sure you can guess."
The admission please me, that hint of a smile growing slightly. I slid my hand from Mishka’s jaw to cup the back of his neck, warm and steady.
"I affect you," I stated, not a question but a confirmation.
Mishka whispered, "Yes."
The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor with a crash that momentarily broke the spell between us.
Mishka jerked away from me, cursing under his breath. "I'll get it," he said, already kneeling to collect the larger pieces.
My protective instincts flared instantly. "Don't," I commanded, moving quickly to his side. "You'll cut yourself."
He ignored me, reaching for a jagged shard. "I'm not helpless. I can clean up my own mess."
The stubborn independence would have been admirable if it weren't so frustrating. I knelt beside him, grasping his wrist to stop him. "There are brooms for this. And I have staff who—"
"I don't need your staff to clean up after me," he interrupted, trying to pull his wrist from my grip.
The defiance ignited something primal in me. My bear, already prowling restlessly beneath the surface of my control, surged forward with a possessive fury that overwhelmed my rational mind.
In one fluid movement, I pulled Mishka to his feet and backed him against the kitchen island. His eyes widened in surprise as my hands gripped his hips, lifting him slightly so our faces were level. The marble edge must have been cold against his back, but he didn't flinch.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
His scent enveloped me, intoxicating and electric. My pulse thundered in my ears as I pressed my body against his, pinning him to the island. One of my hands moved to his lower back while the other tangled in his hair, tilting his face up to mine.
Our faces were mere inches apart, his breath warm against my lips. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, hear the frantic beating of his heart that matched my own. The overhead lights flickered wildly, responding to his surging emotions.
"I've been fighting this all night," I growled, my voice rough with need that had been building since I first found him under my desk. My bear was dangerously close to the surface now, demanding I take what it had already claimed as ours.
Mishka's green eyes darkened, pupils dilating as they dropped to my lips. His slender body trembled against mine, but not with fear, with want.
I expected hesitation, perhaps even rejection. What I didn't expect was for Mishka to grab my face between his hands and crash his lips against mine with hunger that matched my own.
The boldness stunned me momentarily before my bear roared in triumph, spurring me to respond with a century of pent-up desire.
His lips were soft yet demanding against mine, a contradiction that perfectly embodied everything about this surprising young man who had invaded my territory and, apparently, my self-control.
His slender fingers tangled in my hair, tugging with just enough force to send a shiver down my spine. I growled against his mouth, my large hands instinctively tightening on his hips. The marble island pressed into his back as I leaned into him, eliminating any space between our bodies.
When his tongue darted out to trace the seam of my lips, I nearly lost what little remained of my composure. I opened to him, deepening the kiss with a ferocity that should have frightened him. Instead, he moaned—a sound so erotic it made my bear howl with satisfaction.
Mine. Mine. MINE.
I slid one hand from his hip to the small of his back, pulling him impossibly closer while my other hand moved up to cradle the back of his head. The contrast between my massive palm and his delicate neck was striking—a reminder of how easily I could hurt him if I lost control.
Yet even as that thought crossed my mind, Mishka bit down on my lower lip, his teeth grazing with just enough pressure to send white-hot desire coursing through me. He wasn't afraid of my strength. If anything, he seemed to revel in it.
"You're playing with fire, little one," I murmured against his lips, my accent thickening as it always did when my emotions ran high.
His response was to kiss me harder, his lithe body arching into mine with unmistakable intent. I felt his hardness press against me, matching my own arousal. The lights above us flickered frantically, mirroring the erratic pulse of my heart.
Mishka's hands moved from my hair to the front of my shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons before apparently deciding they were too much trouble. With surprising strength, he ripped the shirt open, sending buttons scattering across the kitchen floor.
The unexpected aggression sent a surge of lust through me so powerful I nearly shifted right there. My bear clawed at my insides, demanding I claim this bold creature who dared to challenge me even in this.
"Impatient," I growled, sliding my hands down to cup his ass, lifting him effortlessly onto the marble island. The height was perfect, bringing his face level with mine.
"You have no idea," he quipped breathlessly, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of my chest and stomach. His fingers traced the contours of my muscles with appreciation that bordered on reverence.
I chuckled darkly at his impertinence, even as I tugged at the hem of his shirt. Unlike him, I had enough restraint not to tear the fabric. I pulled it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside before returning my hands to his body.