EIGHT
ARSENY
Niko tightens his grip on the steering wheel as we pull into the row of concrete housing units beside the barracks. One window on the second floor glows yellow against the grey evening.
We get out, and I grab Cassie’s last bag from the back without being asked.
Cassie answers the door with Vladimir on her hip, hair pulled back, and dark circles still under her eyes.
She looks smaller than she did last week.
When she sees Niko, her shoulders sag in relief so sharp it hurts to witness.
“There you are,” she says. He crosses the distance in three strides and presses his forehead to hers, murmuring something so soft I don’t catch it. Vladimir squeaks between them, and Cassie smiles at me, tired but still genuine.
“Arseny,” she says. “You’re staying?”
“Just helping,” I answer, which is the truth. I help, I carry, I lift, I assemble furniture, I make tea that Cassie doesn’t drink, I bounce Vladimir until he quiets, and when he falls asleep against my chest, Cassie’s eyes fill. “Thank you,” she whispers, and I nod.
We finish faster than expected. Niko insists on checking the locks twice and Cassie kisses him like she’s memorising him while I make my way to the door. When we leave, she’s standing in the doorway watching until the door clicks shut.
Back in the car, Niko exhales hard. “She’ll be better here,” he says.
“She will,” I agree. He glances at me sideways and studies my face like he’s weighing up options. Then he starts the engine and drives us back.
“You need to pack a bag,” he says as we pull in.
“What?”
He doesn’t look at me. “I’m not explaining. Pack a bag.”
“Where are we going?”
“You will see.”
I snort. “You’ve been spending too much time with me.”
He finally looks over, his mouth quirking.
“This is definitely your fault.” We stop at the barracks just long enough for me to grab a bag.
I don’t pack carefully. I throw in clothes, a toothbrush, and the basics.
I assume this is some half-thought scheme that will end in vodka and a lecture.
When I get back in the car, Niko pulls away immediately.
The drive stretches, the trees thicken, the road narrows, and the snow deepens. I watch the dark slide past, the unease coils low in my gut. “Are you kidnapping me?” I ask eventually.
“Yes,” Niko says. “For your own good.”
I huff. “That sounds ominous.” When we stop, it’s quiet. Too quiet. There’s just snow, trees, and my cabin crouched among them, the windows glowing warm against the dark. “What is this?” I ask slowly.
Niko kills the engine. “We’re going hunting, get out.” I step out of the car, and the cold hits me hard enough to clear my head. The cabin looks... lived in.
Smoke curls from the chimney, and light spills from the windows. I turn to look at Niko. “You’ve already been here?”
“I have,” he says, opening the boot and grabbing my bag.
“Go, I’ll bring the bags.” I hesitate; something feels off, my instincts are screaming trap, but another pull overrides it.
Something familiar and magnetic. I walk up the steps; my footsteps crunch loudly in the silence as I reach for the door.
I push the door open, step inside, and there he is...
Caiden.
He’s standing at the small counter by the stove, his sleeves rolled up, his hair a mess, and he’s stirring something that smells like garlic and butter.
Impossible.
There’s music playing quietly. It’s Western and soft; he’s wearing civilian clothes, comfortable ones. For a moment, my brain refuses to cooperate, and I stand there stock still.
Then he turns and sees me, and the spoon clatters to the counter.
“Privet, krasivyy.” Hello, beautiful, he says.
The sound of his voice detonates something in me.
Shock gives way to heat so fast it steals my breath.
He crosses the room in three steps, and I’m moving too.
My hands grab him, his hands grab me, and we crash together.
His mouth slams into mine, and it’s not careful or restrained.
It’s relief, hunger, and disbelief all at once.
My hands slide into his hair, tugging, and he groans like the sound’s been trapped in him for months.
Then the door opens.
“Wow,” Niko says cheerfully. “Didn’t even make it past hello.” We both freeze as Niko strolls in, kicks the door shut, and drops my bag inside with a heavy thud. “Dinner smells good,” he adds. “I assume this is the part where I leave before you traumatise me.”
“You’re early,” Caiden says, clearing his throat.
Niko grins. “I’m always early when it’s this entertaining.”
“You set me up,” I say, glaring at him.
“Yes,” he says, unrepentant. “You’re welcome.” He claps Caiden on the shoulder. “Feed him. He’s feral when he’s hungry. I’ll see you both on Monday.” Then he’s gone again, his footsteps crunching away into the snow, leaving silence in his wake.
“I was worried he’d stay longer.” Caiden laughs, breathless.
I turn back to him and take his face in my hands. “You planned this.”
“Maybe.”
“You roped my brother into it.”
“Might have.”
“You let me think this was hunting.”
He shrugs. “Technically, not wrong — I caught what I came for.” I kiss him again, slower this time. “Eat,” he says quietly, breaking the kiss. “Then you can do whatever you want to me.”
I snort. “You’re testing your luck.” He plates the food, and I watch him move around, the small domestic motions — the way he reaches for salt, and the way he wipes the edge of the plate like he cares whether it looks right.
It makes something twist in me; it’s a tightness that has nothing to do with hunger.
He sets my plate down, then his, then sits, and I take one bite to prove I’m cooperative. It tastes good, really good.
“Well?” he asks, watching my face.
I chew slowly. “You’re not completely useless.” He huffs a laugh and looks down at his plate, but I see the relief and the way he relaxes a fraction, as if he’s been waiting for approval.
I reach out and drag my fingers along his arm. “Eat,” he reminds me, his voice strained.
“I am eating,” I say, and then I lean forward quickly and kiss his neck, making Caiden’s breath catch, then I sit back, taking another bite as if nothing happened.
“Are you going to do that the whole time?” he asks, eyes narrowing at me.
“Yes,” I say simply. He mutters something under his breath in English that sounds like a prayer and a threat at the same time.
I keep eating while my foot slides along his shin beneath the table, while my fingers occasionally brush his knee, and while I lean close enough to breathe him in and then retreat again.
I finish my plate, and he finishes his, but faster, like he’s trying to get through the last obstacle. When we’re done, I pick up the plates and slide out of the chair, walking behind him to drop them into the sink, close enough that my body brushes his back.
His back straightens immediately.
I turn and rest my hands on his shoulders, my thumbs pressing in lightly at the base of his neck. His skin is warm, solid, and very real. “You came back.”
He nods once, still facing forward. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I add, because I need him to understand what that means.
His hands flatten on the table, and he exhales. “I know,” he agrees. “I did it anyway.” I lean down and press my mouth to the side of his neck, just below the ear.
The small kiss makes him shiver.
“Ari...” he whispers. I straighten up and move around him until I’m in front of him, standing between his knees. He looks up at me like I’m something dangerous and holy, and I want to bite him just for that.
I hook my fingers under his chin, and his eyes lock onto mine. “Detka,” I say softly. “Tell me why.”
He swallows, then his eyes flick away for a second, like he’s searching for an answer that won’t make him sound vulnerable. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, looking back at me.
“Say it properly,” I tell him, keeping my face blank and my voice controlled.
“I came back for you.” I drop my hand from his chin and step back a pace, processing his words and what they mean.
Caiden stands slowly, as if he’s approaching a scared animal. “I love you. My future is you. That’s my decision, as if there was ever going to be another.” He doesn’t reach for me; he waits. I take a step back into him myself, because I refuse to let him think I’m afraid.
And I kiss him.
His hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer.
His mouth opens under mine like he’s starving and has been for months.
He presses forward, and I feel the hard line of him against my stomach, and my entire body wakes up instantly.
We stumble toward the bed because we’re not walking; we’re colliding.
Caiden’s fingers grip my shirt, and I break the kiss only long enough to drag air into my lungs. “I’m going to ruin you,” I tell him.
“You already have,” he whispers, and I push him backwards onto the bed. He goes willingly, eyes wide, mouth swollen, hair a mess. I climb over him, bracing my hands on either side of his head, and kiss him again.
My body presses him down into the sheets; my cock is already hard and aching against his thigh.
He arches up, grinding against me, and I groan into his mouth.
My hips roll against him instinctively. “Fuck, you’re desperate,” I murmur against his lips, my free hand sliding under his shirt, my fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. “Missed my cock that much?”
His breath hitches, his nails digging into my shoulders. “Shut up and fuck me already.”
I chuckle; my teeth graze his bottom lip before I pull back just enough to see his face. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen from my kiss, and his eyes — fuck, his eyes are begging. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you,” I promise, my voice a low rumble. “And I’m going to savour every second.”