1. Skye #3
“I imagine you wouldn’t. But rest assured, there’s nothing innocent about that guy. Especially after all the shit that happened to Hannah and Arianna.”
I raised an eyebrow, not following. It’d been a rough few months for the twins. Hannah was still recovering from her secret drug addiction and kidnapping by organ traffickers. Thankfully, she was rescued, but she would forever live with a missing organ.
“ What do you mean ?” I signed.
He rolled his eyes, moving his crimson-stained hands. “Don’t you girls talk?”
“ We do, although it’s difficult to match the level of men’s yapping. ”
“You’re difficult.” His gaze traveled over my outfit. “And why in the fuck are you dressed like that? Every fucker you pass will get an eyeful.”
“ That’s their problem, not mine. You don’t see me ogling every man I find attractive .” Much to my dismay, there was only one man I found attractive. I pursed my lips in annoyance. At myself. At him. “ You’re getting distracted. Explain what I just saw downstairs. ”
He scoffed. “He’s part of the organ trafficking ring we’ve been surveilling. You should be thanking me for eliminating him, Skye.”
My mouth shaped into a silent O as I considered his words.
“Nothing to say now, is there?”
“ Why didn’t you just take him to D’Arc and spend the night chasing him with all your mask-wearing buddies? ” I inquired. “ Isn’t that what the legacies are all about ?”
“It might have escaped your notice, zayka , but we’re over a thousand miles away from Connecticut. Do you remember we flew to New Orleans for the Halloween weekend and are due back on campus on Monday?”
His expression was dripping in sarcasm and I bit my lip to keep from snapping at him over the nickname. Tell Nikola he couldn’t do something, and he’d push you even further.
“ It might have slipped your mind, mudak”—yes, I knew some Russian too, and this one meant idiot —“ but you can fly there. Should I remind you about your private jet? ”
“I prefer to take care of some things my own way.” He shook his head as if he found me ridiculous. “Am I free to take a shower, or would you rather someone find me covered in this mess?” He gestured down the length of his torso.
I waved my hand, dismissing him, and he disappeared into the bathroom.
With my adrenaline on a steady decline, I collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to remove my shoes.
A smoky cologne hung in the air, a scent I hadn’t noticed before, but now it clawed at my senses.
It was unmistakably Nikola—bold, spicy, with a warmth that wrapped around me like an unspoken promise.
It lingered in the air, far too tempting for my own good.
For as long as I’d known him, there had always been something appealing about Nikola.
Even as a boy who kept tugging on my pigtails.
He could be overbearingly annoying, but also thoughtful and protective.
He’d proven that so many times. Like that time we played laser tag as teenagers and he “killed” everyone who tried to shoot at me.
Or when we played that stupid escape room game.
It was meant for team building and working together, but the moment he noticed I was feeling sick, he solved all the puzzles and pretty much broke down the barriers so he could usher me outside for some fresh air.
That was just who Nikola was: simple but oh so complicated.
He hid himself underneath layers of erratic behavior and wild actions, but that persona was for the outsiders. Not for me. Never to me. I saw the real him.
My gaze trailed over the room, seeing it in a different light now. This place wasn’t lavish, but it still screamed of wealth and power. I turned on my side, propping my head in my hand, and wondered how many women Nikola had brought to this room.
Irrational frustration flared in the pit of my stomach, but I had no time to dwell because the door to the bathroom opened and Nikola leaned against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I scanned—greedily and wantonly—every one of his gorgeous abs.
None of the Nikolaev men were classically beautiful people, but it was in no way a shortcoming. Instead, they exuded a raw and animalistic power that any red-blooded woman could spot from miles away.
My hormones stirred to life just looking at Nikola.
He towered over me with his MMA build, his tattoos a testament to his deeds—both good and bad.
The ink was etched into his soul: a hand holding a knife dripping with blood, a fired gun, a set of hands over piano keys, a boy kissing a girl.
That latter tattoo melted my heart a little each time I gawked at it, remembering us as children.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His mouth moved, speaking the words, although he signed them too.
Every single member of the Nikolaev family had learned ASL for my benefit long before I could understand how much it would one day mean to me.
It was so natural at this stage that I rarely gave it any thought.
Lying here though, in his bed, in this mysterious room, my mind was going all sorts of places.
I licked my lips nervously and his pale blue eyes zeroed in on the movement.
“ Look, I ?—”
He raised his hand to cut me off. “Keep in mind, we’re cousins or some shit like that. And then there’s the fact that you’re definitely not my type. All innocent and pure…” He clicked his tongue. “You need to leave. I can’t have you… like that. In my bed.”
His eyes scanned me, and try as he might to hide it, I detected the desire in his expression. I rolled back over and stared at the ceiling to keep from saying anything else incriminating.
My hands moved deftly to form my next words.
“ We’re not blood cousins .” From the corner of my eye, I caught the jeans that now hung low on his hips, his bare chest still glistening from his shower.
Every cell in my body buzzed with this uncontrollable need to touch him.
Trace every single tattoo with my fingers. Or better yet, with my tongue.
He waved his arm, and I turned to look at him.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but eyes up here.” He rifled through a drawer and pulled out a black T-shirt, swiftly putting it on. “You’re family, quit gawking at me.”
I snickered. “ Again, we’re not actually related. ”
“But you agree that we are family.”
“ Yes. ” That would be impossible to dispute, because the Nikolaevs were and always would be my family. Just like Mama and Papa were. “ But family is defined by so much more than blood .”
He rolled his eyes. Fucking asshole. “Whatever you say, zayka .”
I slid off the bed and shrugged my shoulders, hiding my disappointment behind a blank mask. “ Well, I’m off to get laid. You go do whatever the hell you do .”
I took three steps toward the door before Nikola’s big hand shot out and hooked around my waist, whirling me around. I lost my balance, my palm landing on his wide chest, right above his heart that thrummed under my fingertips.
He released me and signed, “You are not getting laid.” His nostrils flared as he closed his eyes briefly, looking as though he was gathering his strength. Good . I was glad he felt something—anything. “I’m taking you home. And don’t try to resist me or?—”
I shoved him away and resumed my steps until I was lifted into the air, my body positioned so it was hanging over Nikola’s broad shoulder.
Well, I got what I came here for. He’d noticed me, one way or another.