Chapter 41 – NIKOLAI
NIKOLAI
The shower's scalding enough to strip paint, but I don't turn down the heat.
Steam billows around me, thick enough to choke on, and I let it.
Let the water pound against my shoulders until my skin's red and raw, until maybe it'll wash away the other alpha's honeyed scent on my skin because I'm not ready for the world to know about what happened last night.
The feel of Raven trembling beneath me, the sound of Cosima's breathless commands, the way they both looked at me like I was something other than the monster I know I am.
Fuck.
I press my forehead against the tile, watching the water spiral down the drain. But the memories don't wash away as easily.
Raven's tight heat around my cock. The way he gasped my name. The way Cosima watched us with those violet eyes, pupils blown wide with lust and something that looked dangerously close to affection.
I should regret fucking him, even if it was for her.
Should be planning how to pretend it never happened, how to rebuild the walls between us that I've spent years reinforcing.
But standing here in the steam and silence, all I can think about is how fucking right it felt.
How the three of us fit together like pieces of a puzzle I didn't even know was incomplete.
Dangerous fucking thoughts.
Especially now that she knows I love her. I thought it was obvious enough, with me following her across the wastelands like a lovesick junkyard dog, but apparently my omega is as stubborn as any of us.
She didn't say it back. Of course she didn't. I didn't expect she would last night, or that she ever will.
Even if she did love me, I don't think she's the type to say it.
To let herself be that vulnerable with anyone, let alone an alpha, and gods know she doesn't have reason to, but it doesn't matter.
She doesn't have to love me. She just needs to exist, and the only way I can make sure of that is to take this step toward freeing her from her father's control.
The fact that she trusts me enough for that means more than those three little words anyway.
I turn off the water, the sudden silence almost louder than the spray. Grab a towel—silk, because of course it is, this pretentious fucking palace doesn't do anything halfway—and dry off roughly. I reach instinctively for the sink only to find empty space where something familiar should be.
Fuck.
My glass eye.
I took it out last night before we fell asleep and left it in its case inside the dresser drawer. But I forgot to bring it with me to the shower.
And now I'm standing here with my empty eye socket on full display.
The scarring around it is worse than the rest of my face.
Puckered and angry, the kind of damage that makes people flinch when they see it.
My eyelids look fucked without the glass eye supporting them, drooping and empty, the tissue in the socket a wet pink.
I've spent years perfecting the art of not giving a shit what people think, but Cosima. ..
I don't want her to see this.
Not yet. Maybe never.
I grab the towel, drying my face roughly while keeping my bone-white hair strategically positioned over the left side. It's longer than I usually keep it—haven't had time for a proper cut in weeks—and it falls just right to hide the worst of the damage.
Karma's a bitch. Here I am, giving Geo shit about his eyepatch, and now I'm doing the same fucking thing.
When I step back into the bedroom, Cosima's awake. Of course she is. She's curled up in a nest of silk sheets like some kind of fairy tale princess. Her silver hair's spread across the pillow, catching the morning light filtering through the gauzy curtains.
She's beautiful.
Fucking devastating, actually.
And she's got that look on her face.
The one that says she's up to something.
Shit.
From the next room, I hear Geo's distinctive snoring. The bastard sounds like a chainsaw trying to mate with a garbage disposal. At least that answers one question—he made it through the night without killing Azarel or getting himself and Knight killed.
I’m starting to get attached to that overgrown fucker.
Not Geo.
"Morning," I say warily, trying to keep my head turned so she can't see my fucked up eye. Or lack of an eye.
She's propped up on the pillows, silk sheets pooled around her waist, wearing nothing but one of Raven's shirts that she’s swimming in even with the generous swell of her breasts and lush curves.
Her hair's a mess of silver tangles, and there are still faint red spots on her neck from where Raven got a little enthusiastic last night.
She looks like sin wrapped in innocence.
And she's smiling.
Not the sharp, cutting smile she uses as a weapon. This one's different. Playful. Almost... mischievous.
"What are you doing?" I ask, suspicion crawling up my spine.
"Nothing," she says, far too innocently.
My eyes narrow. "Cosima."
"What?" She blinks at me, all wide-eyed and guileless, and I know I'm fucked. "I'm just lying here. Minding my own business."
"Bullshit." I take a step closer, trying to read her. Figure out what game she's playing. "You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're about to cause an international incident. Again."
She laughs, the sound bright and genuine, and it does something to my insides that I don't want to examine. "You're paranoid, Niko."
My heart stutters at the nickname.
"I'm realistic," I counter, recovering, moving toward the dresser where I left my eye. "There's a difference."
I keep my hair positioned carefully as I reach for the small wooden box inside the drawer, already planning how to slip the prosthetic in without her noticing. Open the lid, and—
Empty.
The box is fucking empty.
Ice floods my veins. I stare at the velvet interior where my eye should be, my brain refusing to process what I'm seeing. Then, slowly, I turn to look at Cosima.
She's examining her pointed nails with affected casualness, but I can see the smile tugging at her lips.
"What the hell did you do with it?"
She looks up, blinking innocently. "With what?"
"My eye, Cosima." I take a step toward the bed. "Where is it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she says, but her smile widens.
A growl builds in my chest but I'm finding it hard to be half as annoyed as I should be. "Cosima."
"Nikolai," she mimics my tone perfectly.
We stare each other down for a long moment. She's enjoying this. The little psycho is actually enjoying torturing me.
"Give it back," I grit out through my teeth, holding my hand out. "Now."
"I would," she says, settling back against the pillows, "but I genuinely don't know where it is."
The lie is so blatant I almost laugh. Almost. "You're a terrible liar."
"Am I?" She tilts her head, studying me. "Or am I just choosing not to tell you the truth? There's a difference."
Touché, you manipulative little imp.
"Fine," I snap, crossing my arms. "What do you want?"
Her smile turns wicked. "I'll tell you where it is. But you have to play a game first."
"A game." I repeat the words flatly, already regretting this entire conversation.
"Mmhm." She nods, looking far too pleased with herself. "I'll tell you if you're getting warmer or colder as you look for it."
I stare at her, trying to decide if she's serious. The expression on her face says she absolutely is.
This is insane. A complete waste of time when we've got an exam to get to, when there are about a thousand more important things we should be doing.
But she's looking at me with those violet eyes, and there's something in them I haven't seen before. Something light.
Like she's actually having fun.
Not performing, not surviving, not fighting. Just... enjoying herself.
I sigh.
"You're enjoying this," I accuse.
"Immensely," she confirms, not even trying to hide it.
I sigh loudly. "Fine. But when I find it, there are going to be consequences."
"Ooh," she purrs, wiggling slightly. "I'm terrified."
Fuck it.
I start with the obvious places. The nightstand. "Warmer or colder?"
"Cold," she says, examining her nails again.
The dresser. "Now?"
"Freezing."
I check the bathroom, the closet, under the bed. Each time, she declares me colder, her amusement growing with every failed attempt.
"This is fucking ridiculous," I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair as I survey the room.
"You're the one who agreed to play," she points out.
Fair enough.
I move back toward the center of the room, and she perks up slightly. "Warmer."
Interesting.
I take a step toward the bed. "Warmer?"
"Warmer," she confirms, and there's a hitch in her voice now.
Another step. "Now?"
"Getting hot," she murmurs, and the way she says it makes my cock twitch despite the absurdity of this situation.
I'm at the foot of the bed now, and she's watching me with those half-lidded eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
"Warmer still?" I ask, though I'm starting to have a suspicion about where this is going.
"So warm," she breathes.
I climb onto the bed, crawling toward her, and her smile turns absolutely feral.
"Hotter," she says as I get closer. "Hotter. Burning up."
I stop when I'm hovering over her, my hands braced on either side of her head, my hair still falling down over my missing eye. She's flushed, pupils blown wide, and I can scent her arousal mixing with the lingering scent of sex from last night. Maybe she can’t see beneath my hair after all.
"Are you fucking serious?" I ask, realization dawning.
She just smirks, letting her thighs fall open in invitation. "You're so hot, Nikolai."
I stare at her, torn between disbelief and grudging admiration as what she did fully sets in.
"You hid my fucking eye inside your pussy."
"Did I?" She blinks up at me innocently. "I guess you'll have to check to be sure."
"You're insane."