Chapter 7 - Bardil
Nikita trudges toward the bedroom with her head hanging and her eyes averted. She's much quieter than I've ever witnessed her. No sass. No fierceness.
I assume her experience out there in the wilderness has been a bit of a reality slap. An encounter with a bear is the last thing she probably expected.
You aren't supposed to climb trees when a bear is around. They're brilliant climbers. But there was no way we were outrunning it, and I figured between the axe and the difficulty it would have had reaching us through the knot of branches, it was the best bet at the time.
Lucky for us, it paid off.
At first, all I cared about was keeping her safe.
But as we got closer to the cabin, my protective nature faded, and anger replaced it.
I've never felt panic like that before. When I saw her out there with the bear watching her, I thought for sure she was in deep trouble. Why the hell can't she fucking listen to me?
While Nikita is in the shower, I take a quick shower too. Lunch is leftover pizza, so it'll be quick to heat up.
I slip into fresh clothes, opting for the comfort of my black sweatpants and a black hoodie.
Outside, the storm is getting stronger. Rain is beginning to fall, and the thunder is louder than before.
Moving around the cabin, I secure all the windows and double-check the doors.
I doubt Nikita will be trying to get out in a hurry again, but I don't want rain getting in.
And the wind is going to get stronger later in the night.
Nikita walks into the living room with her mouth pulled tight and her arms folded across her chest. She's wearing a white tracksuit. Looking cute as hell, but like she's about to be feisty toward me.
Before she gets the chance, I step forward and snarl, "Do you know how irresponsible that was? I told you not to go out there. I warned you over and over again how dangerous it was, and you couldn't fucking listen!"
Her eyes flare wide. "Don't speak to me like that!" she snaps back at me.
"Are you kidding me? You almost died. Do you know who will be blamed if you die? Me. They'll accuse me of killing you when, in actual fact, you were just being a stupid girl who can't listen to basic instructions!"
"What do you care if I'm hurt or not! You probably planned to kill me in the end anyway! Why do you think I was rather willing to face the wilderness than stay in here with you?" Her voice is shaky, and she stomps her foot to emphasize her point.
I don't want her harmed. I never did.
Yes, I kidnapped her. But it was never my intention to hurt her. She's an innocent player in her brother's games. She isn't responsible for any of it. I just needed her to get at them. It's not in my nature to put innocent people in danger.
"You're so naive, you know nothing, Nikita," I huff.
"And you're a controlling bully who doesn't care about anyone but himself," she retorts.
"I care about a lot of things. I'm not the monster they make me out to be!" My voice is defensive. My jaw clenched tightly with emotion.
"Whatever. You're so self-centered you've fooled yourself," she scoffs.
"What the hell is your problem! Right now, you're the one being nasty!"
Nikita clenches her fists and scrunches her nose in anger. "I hate being locked away. I hate being cooped up and kept like a prisoner. I'm going crazy in here. You're just like my brothers, not letting me do anything or live my own life."
The comparison to her brothers has my hair standing up on the back of my neck.
"I'm nothing like your brothers, princess. Don't you ever compare me to them," I snarl darkly. My anger surges, making me want to lash out harder.
Nikita shakes her head, also angry, flooded with adrenaline. Her eyes are bluer than I've ever seen them when she looks up at me.
In her expression, I can see her usual fire. Her usual attitude. But this time it's masking something else that makes me pause.
Fear.
She almost got killed by a bear. She has every right to be terrified.
My heart aches, and my defenses drop slightly.
I sigh and push my hand through my hair, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
"Are you ok, though?" I ask quietly.
"Ha!" she scoffs. "Don't even bother asking!"
Yes, she's still terrified about what happened in the woods.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out how to help her.
Walking over to the bar, I pop the cap off a bottle of single malt whisky.
I pour her a glass and throw two ice blocks in.
But when I return to her and try to hand it to her, she looks at me with wary suspicion.
"Drink… " I huff, pushing it into her hand. "It'll help you calm your nerves."
"No," she says, pushing it back into my hands. "I don't trust you. You're clearly angry I tried to escape, and you probably poisoned that."
"Why in the world would I poison you after I just saved your life?" I groan.
She's impossible.
"Maybe you didn't save my life. Maybe the bear scared you as much as it did me, and you just saved your own life.
And maybe now you're tired of dealing with me, and it's easier to just poison me and dump me out in the woods where no one will ever find me," she's speaking fast, emotions surging through her.
"Dammit, Nikita." I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip. Making it very blatant and keeping my eyes locked with hers. "I wouldn't poison a whole damn bottle of whisky. That would be a waste. This is oak-smoked and a really good year."
She bites at her lip, eyeing me closely. When I don't keel over and die, she takes the glass from me and immediately drinks it all.
I chuckle, taking the glass with nothing but ice blocks left in it. "Another?" I ask.
She nods.
This time I pour two glasses and sit on the sofa with her.
We're quiet, our legs touching and heat spreading between us.
Our eyes are forward, on the high windows, watching the rain streak in long rivers down the glass.
Outside, the storm is raging and beautiful. The rain is so thick I can barely make out the tree line. When lightning snaps through the sky, she jumps, and I instinctively put my arm around her. But as soon as I realize what I've done, I pull it back.
"It's incredible, isn't it. The forces of nature."
"It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like this before."
"The storms out here get really heavy. I was once trapped here for a month.
The roads were washed away, and I had to make my food stores last much longer than I'd planned," I say, remembering how alone it felt to be out here.
I don't tell her that it was just after I ran away from my brother's decisions. It was now, recently.
"It must have been pretty lonely?" she asks, turning to look at me with her eyes bright and the soft glimmer of whisky shining in them.
I glance at her glass and see she's practically finished the second one, and I top it up higher than the first. It was more than a double shot of whisky. I thought she would nurse it slowly.
I guess her nerves were more frayed than I thought. Well, at least this will help.
I take a long sip of my drink, draining it.
"Can I fill that up for you?" I ask, holding my hand out to take her glass again.
"Sure," she says, smiling. She wiggles up on the sofa, kneeling with her elbows resting on the back of it as she watches me. "What made you buy a cabin in the woods? Was it because of your hobby?" she asks with mischief in her voice.
"My hobby?" I say, confused.
"Yep, the one where you kidnap girls and make them stay with you," she grins.
"I don't… this isn't a hobby. I don't do this regularly," I scoff, laughing and shaking my head.
Nikita shrugs, turning as I head back to the sofa. She flops back onto it and takes the glass from me.
"Do you know what I like doing?" she asks, as though I might.
"I have no idea. Are you going to tell me?"
"I like surfing. Yep. I know. I don't look like a surfer. I got told I was too skinny. Not enough muscle, but I have quite a bit of core strength, you know. People just underestimate me."
She's suddenly chatty and giggling, and I realize the whisky has relaxed her a lot more than I expected it to.
"My brothers aren't surfers. I don't understand why. I mean, we live in Miami for crying out loud. It's the best place to be a surfer. The ocean is right here on our doorstep."
I don't particularly want to talk about her brothers. But I should. I should let her talk as much as she likes about her family because, with her mind softened like it is, she might slip up and give me some of their secrets. Something that will help me in the future.
"If your brothers don't surf, what do they do?" I ask, getting comfortable again.
Nikita rolls her eyes and laughs happily. "They work. It's all they ever do. Actually, Diomid is more fun since he met Angel. Thank goodness. She managed to get him to focus on other things besides work. Work. Work. Are you one of those guys?"
"One of what guys?" I ask, turning to face her more.
She sighs, pulling her mouth to one side and looking wistfully around.
"The ones who don't live life. Who only work. Like it's all that matters."
I'm about to answer her when she giggles, and her cheeks turn rosy red.
"Never mind." She scrunches her nose.
"You don't want to know the answer?" I ask.
"No, I already worked it out," she says dramatically, her words slurring at the edges as she sips at her third whiskey.
"And what is it that you worked out, little rabbit?" I muse.
She gestures around the cabin, a little off balance. Then grins at me.
"This place. Chopping wood all sexy and stuff. And being out here in the woods… "
I clear my throat, realizing she's a lot more affected by the alcohol than I thought she was. She's a serious lightweight. And maybe her adrenaline after the bear encounter has made it even worse. Sexy wood chopping? I chuckle to myself.
"What's so funny?" she demands.
"Nothing, carry on… what were you saying?"
"The woods and stuff. Basically, you wouldn't come out here if you were obsessed with work. I mean, I'm surprised you would even get signal in a place like this. You're a wild man," she declares boldly, eyeing me up and down.
"A wild man?" I laugh loudly.
"Oh yes, all dangerous and the muscles and the dangerous eyes and the… oh!" she exclaims, jumping when thunder booms through the cabin.
She giggles and presses her hand over her mouth.
She's too fucking cute.
But that hardly matters. What matters now is that she's too drunk.
At first, I thought I could manipulate information out of her, but now all I'd be doing is taking advantage of her.
It wouldn't even be close to fair, and she'd hate me for it.
Not that I care if she hates me, but I do care if she makes my life more difficult while I'm still stuck living with her.
"I think I should heat up that pizza," I say, standing up.
"Ooh, yes. Pizza!" she exclaims, jumping up and skipping after me to the kitchen. "Did you eat all the pepperoni slices? I want a pepperoni slice," she says.
She lifts herself up onto the kitchen counter, swinging her legs happily while she watches me.
The pepperoni pizza was the more popular one for both of us, and there's only one slice left.
I think she needs more than one slice of pizza to soak up the alcohol in her bloodstream, so I scratch around in the fridge to find the rest of the pepperoni slices.
I place them across the leftover slices from the second pizza. It had shredded chicken on it, but now it has pepperoni as well.
"Oh, that's really sweet of you," she says, scrunching her nose as she looks at me in surprise.
"No, uh, it's not sweet… " I stammer, not wanting her to think I've gone soft. "I want pepperoni too. That's all," I say quickly.
"Ok, sure. Mmhmm." She grins, nodding with exaggeration.
The microwave pings, and I pull out the first plate of pizza sliced and hand it to her.
She takes one, immediately taking a giant bite out of it. Then, she waves her hand over the other pieces and, through a mouth full of pizza, she demands I have one too.
"I'll wait for the other plate to heat up," I say, shaking my head.
She rolls her eyes and pushes the plate toward me again, still swinging her legs.
I take a piece because it's easier than arguing.
This makes her happy.
She chats between bites while we stay in the kitchen having our leftover dinner.
She's relaxed and playful and teasing me.
When the pizza is done, I hand her a cloth to wipe her hands.
"Thank you," she smiles. Nikita tries to slide off the counter and almost loses her balance. She's giggling again.
I groan, realizing she's still pretty drunk and the best thing for her is to go to bed.
"Come on, I think you need to lie down," I say, wrapping my arm around my waist to hold her steady. She leans into me and looks up at me with wide, curious eyes.
"You're so nice," she mutters.
"Yes, sure," I huff.
When she struggles to walk a straight line, I lift her in my arms and carry her to bed.
I'm determined not to be nice, despite wanting to help her. I really can't have her seeing me as weak. If she even remembers any of this. But just in case she does, I have to treat her with coldness even though I'm literally busy tucking her into her bed.
She makes sweet little moans as she snuggles her face against the pillow and closes her eyes.
"The rain sounds so pretty," she whispers when I pull the blanket up over her shoulders.
"I know, it's one of my favorite sounds in the world."
"And the ocean," she adds, sleepily.
For a while, I stand next to her bed staring at her. She's breathing softly, already asleep.
I can't figure this girl out.
She's not like anyone I've met before.
I'm not sure how to explain it, but there's something about her that draws me to her.
Sighing, I shove my hand through my hair and shake my head. The whisky must have gone to my head too.