22. Nikolai
Fyodor’s Rules #27 - Hone your intuition and trust your instincts in uncertain situations.
The last few days had been stressful. It wasn’t the first time we had a stranger stay in our space. Pasha had an almost constant string of people coming in and out of the penthouse, and we were all used to walking into the kitchen and seeing someone new—usually we were just happy if they had clothes on. They never stayed longer than it took to eat a meal before they were gone. But this was different, Yana wasn’t a stranger. And yet, she was at the same time.
I had been doing my best to keep my distance. But whenever I was in the penthouse, no matter which room she was in, I could smell her. Jasmine and sea salt. It was like she was haunting me. My fangs had been itching for days, and my brothers had been paying the price. Pasha seemed happy I was feeding more, but Pasha got happy over the weirdest things, so I wasn’t dwelling on his feelings too much.
Alexei was agitated, and I was having trouble identifying exactly what was bothering him. None of us were overly happy, which would probably surprise some people. We had Yana back, the missing piece to our puzzle, but this somehow felt worse than if she had still been dead. She clearly didn’t trust us. I had seen on the cameras that she had held a knife to Lukas’ throat, even though he hadn’t told us, and Pasha hadn’t shown me the footage. I rarely liked to step on Pasha’s toes when it came to the tech, but he had been keeping things from us. There was tension growing in the air, and I wasn’t sure when it was going to boil over. All I could do was try to minimize the damage when it did.
Knocking on Pasha’s door, I let myself in when he called; I was fairly certain he didn’t have a visitor. I hadn’t been able to smell anyone, but it was hard to smell anything over the jasmine and sea salt that was now a constant in our home. But it wasn’t only my sense of smell I was relying on; Pasha had entertained no one since the day Alexei had caught Yana.
Something else I wasn’t commenting on.
I stepped into the room, unsurprised that the lights were off. Pasha had better night vision than even me, and could find his way around in complete darkness. The bed clearly hadn’t been slept in, with the sheets remaining meticulously folded in place. I took a moment to look up and admired the elaborate mural on the ceiling, a nebula so realistic it felt like you could reach up and touch it. Splashes of orange, blue, and purple suspended against a void filled with the occasional points of light.
Pasha may not have been an actual fallen star, but looking up into this sky, I was sure he felt like he was.
The noise of a clearing throat shook me out of my daydream. “If you want to stare at my ceiling, feel free to lie down on the bed. You haven’t been getting enough sleep, not that you ever do. I’m not using it, and the sheets are fresh.”
Pasha’s voice lacked a little of its usual smoothness. Whatever he was looking at on the screens must have been bothering him more than he wanted to let on in his relaxed posture.
I passed the bed, but not without a wistful look. I wasn’t sure why, but Pasha’s bed was the most comfortable one I had ever laid on. He insisted that he had ordered all of us the same mattress, but I had slept on Lukas’ as well, and it was as hard as a stone. Pasha’s had just the right amount of softness to it, but you didn’t feel like you were going to sink too deeply into it. It was like sleeping on a very supportive cloud.
Pasha kept a stool next to his desk. I am sure it had a myriad of uses in his bedroom antics, but we also used it when he needed to show us something on his computer. Honestly, it was best just not to think too much about what this poor stool must have seen. Unbuttoning my jacket as I took a seat, I didn’t look at the screens. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the rubbish that littered the desk, at odds with the otherwise meticulously tidy bedroom.
“When was the last time you ate something that didn’t come out of a foil packet? Or drink something that didn’t have the word energy in it?” Hearing his scoff, I shook my head. “I suppose I don’t want to ask when you last opened the curtains in here, either?” Now that earned me a look of confusion, and I just sighed and grabbed the wastebasket, sweeping the food wrappers inside in one move.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in here. I thought you were supposed to be helping Lukas with Yana? It doesn’t seem like he is succeeding in encouraging her to talk, and you are the best at that sort of thing. It is almost at the point I am worried that I will actually have to turn her over to Alexei.”
That got his attention, and he sat up straighter in the ridiculous gaming chair he insisted was good for his spine. “I know what Alexei does is important, but you can’t seriously be considering it. What if it really is Yana? She already wants to kill us. She’s going to be actively trying to murder us if you hand her over to him again.”
That got an eyebrow raise out of me. “If I do, she won’t be doing anything but bleeding, and hopefully talking, Pasha.”
The way his nose wrinkled told me he wasn’t convinced. The truth was, I didn’t want to do it, but I would if pushed.
I was pretty sure that she was Yana, but pretty sure wasn’t enough. It was the little things she did—the way she moved and brief expressions that evoked teenage memories—they felt like things that couldn’t be faked. But she still wasn’t talking, not about what had happened a decade ago. Lukas was getting frustrated, but every time I brought up Alexei, he shut down the conversation immediately, saying he would get it done. We were going to have to decide, and sooner was always better than later.
With his desk a little tidier, I finally turned my attention to Pasha’s screens. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing in here, just that it’s important. I hope you aren’t hiding, Pash. I know you feel guilty about the whole mind control thing, but Sirens are insidious like that.” The guilty look clouding his face told me I was right, even if it was only part of why he was locked away. It had been something Pasha always struggled with, he took things so personally. He felt like we looked down on him for not being as violent as the rest of us, but we didn’t, and we acknowledged that the skills he brought to the table were often more useful. Fyodor had always taught us we needed to work together, to rely on each other’s strengths. But it was a lesson that Pasha had always struggled with.
“If Yana is here now, then she must have been somewhere for the last decade, right? And if she’s alive, then we have been lied to and Fyodor is probably still out there, too. Also, if the Bratva were lying to us about this, then what else were they lying to us about? I know Fyodor always told us we couldn’t trust anyone except each other, but the Bratva were his family. He must have trusted them.”
It was something I had been considering, too. I felt like I was going mad, and I tried not to rethink and second-guess every interaction I had ever had with a member of the Bratva. How often had they lied to us? What was their endgame? Were they just using us as pawns? Was someone seeking vengeance and if so, for what? Things had gone on for a long time, and they couldn’t have predicted what was going to happen. There weren’t any oracles in the Bratva, at least as far as I was aware. In fact, I only knew of one in the entire state, and she refused to talk to anyone with criminal ties, a decision she was more than willing to reinforce with violence if necessary. It was a shame, really, because we could have used her help right now.
“I don’t think they would have been hiding anywhere near here. Are you sure this is the best use of your time?” The last thing I needed right now was for Pasha to fall down a rabbit hole. But given the condescending look he was throwing me, he didn’t agree with my assessment.
“I know you’re a vampire, but you’re not actually centuries old, are you? You know the internet is everywhere, right? There should be some sign of them, and I want to locate Fyodor. What if he’s being held prisoner? What if they are using him to force Yana to come after us?”
His jab about my age was unnecessary, and he knew it. When it came to technology, I would be the first to admit that I wasn’t as adept as him. I could use a computer, and I knew how to use my phone, but Pasha’s knowledge blew mine out of the water. If I didn’t know better, I would think he could talk to the damn things, whispering sweet code to them and getting them to spill all their secrets.
“Do you really think anyone could keep Fyodor captive?” It might have been a long time since I had seen him, and nostalgia may have granted me rose-tinted glasses, but Fyodor had always seemed an unstoppable force. It was partially why his death had shocked us all so much. I couldn’t have imagined anything taking him down. It’s why I had made the others immediately pack their stuff and clear out of the house, as anyone who killed Fyodor would have had no trouble killing the rest of us, even if we outnumbered them.
“I just need to find some sign of them. Maybe if I can show it to her, she’ll crack and realize that she doesn’t need to lie to us anymore. I just don’t know how to get her to talk to us otherwise, Niko. We need some kind of leverage with her, or she won’t tell us what happened. She just keeps biting back that ‘we should know’ every time I try to bring it up with her.”
Yana’s tone could definitely bite when she wanted it to, and I had heard her acidic timbre several times in the last few days when Pasha or Lukas tried to push her beyond where she was comfortable.
“Maybe I should try talking to her.” I ignored the sharp look Pasha gave me, I was just as capable of being charming as he was. Maybe I wasn’t supernaturally gifted, but I did well enough at keeping us out of trouble and running a very successful hotel.
“She might respond to someone reasonable. Negotiation could help us where charm and patience have been failing, there must be something she wants aside from our death. I am sure I can get us the information we want from her, and maybe it will build a little trust if she sees we’re willing to compromise with her.”
It would mean being up close in a room with her, but I could control myself. I had spent a long time working on my self-control, and I would not allow it to unravel now, not when we were on the cusp of danger. My brothers needed me to be sharper than ever to help keep them safe. Pasha was staring at me like he knew what I was thinking, his keyboard balanced precariously on his knees, and yet somehow, he still typed away.
“If I didn’t know you had fed from me twice in the last two days, I would think you were hungry, dragostea meu.” He was always so observant. I shook my head, standing up.
“I have taken a lot from you already, and I couldn’t take more.” It was like this every time. I knew Pasha was willing—hell, he even enjoyed when I fed on him—but there was something that festered inside me that whispered to me I was poisoning, damning, and using them.
Not something; the Wurdulac. Such a wonderful lineage.
I was pulled from my sarcastic contemplation by Pasha’s hard grip on my chin, pulling me to look into his eyes.
“I’ll heal. You know with my pact magic I’ll be fine. It doesn’t matter how much you take from me, so long as my heart is still beating afterwards. Besides, would you rather try feeding on Alexei right now when I am here and willing?”
That was a little unfair. He didn’t mind when I fed on him, but he wasn’t a masochist like Pasha was. With Alexei, it was always a struggle for dominance. There were times I enjoyed that much more than the easy prey Pasha presented, but right now, I was likely to lose control, and I didn’t need to be carrying that sort of guilt. It was better to just sate the craving.
Pasha tried to guide me to his bed—such a fucking brat—he had a habit of getting his way without you realizing it. A charming smile, a wink, and he would have you eating out of the palm of his hand, but two could play that game.
Gripping him by the back of the neck, I spun us in an easy turn and gracefully seated myself in Pasha’s chair. It was a little lower to the ground than I liked, but then again there was a little over half-a-foot in height difference between the two of us. Now that I was seated, I was looking up at him, which was a pleasant change of pace.
I kept my hand on the back of his neck as I pulled him closer, urging him to sit on my lap, his legs pinned between mine. He balanced on my right thigh, already looking like he was plotting a way to turn this to his advantage. He could plot all he liked; I was stronger, and right now, he was going to behave. When he opened his mouth to speak, I flexed my fingers and squeezed the sides of his throat in warning.
“You thought you could just bat your pretty lashes at me, and I would tumble into your bed, did you? What if I wanted to be wooed, Pash?” There was a smirk on my face as I spoke, which echoed on his own pouty lips.
“I could woo you . . .”
His words were mumbled, and a little sarcastic, but I let him have them as I leaned in, trailing kisses down the delicate skin of his throat. My fingers withdrew, resting on the back of his neck as a warning to behave, knowing he needed the reminder. The other slid down to rest on his thigh, a teasing touch that already had him bucking his hips slightly, trying to entice my hand to rise to where his cock was pressing against the zipper of his trousers.
“Feeling needy, Pash? I bet this is the longest you’ve gone without sex in quite a while.” I had dropped my voice to a whisper, letting the words dance over his skin. “Are you worried about what she’ll think, seeing you and your parade of people?”
He was shaking his head, but I knew he was lying. Pasha had never been ashamed of his sex life, and none of us believed he had a reason to be, but there was something about having Yana in the house again that had him changing his ways. Or maybe he was getting laid outside the hotel. I had seen him leave and come back a couple of times.
“You shake your head. Does that mean you’re not needy?” I let my fangs graze against his skin, grinning at the soft, desperate little sounds he made. My hand slid a little higher on his thigh. A reward for those sounds; I loved them. Looking at his face, I could see him biting his lip. His dark glazed eyes staring down at where my hand was resting, like he could will it to move higher with his mind.
“Maybe if you want something, ask for it.” I nipped lightly at his pulse point, having to hide my smirk as he jumped. His hands were gripping my jacket hard enough to crease it. He was almost trembling, so I took pity on him, my fingers sliding up his zipper before grabbing the tab and pulling it back down. The groan of relief he gave me was glorious, and I wanted more.
Deciding to let the lust and pleasure build in his veins a little more before I fed, I reached into his trousers and let his cock free. My palm ran up and down his Jacob’s ladder, counting each piercing as it ran over my skin. Each slide of the metal against my flesh was accompanied by a moan or gasp, resulting in a symphony of sounds and I was his conductor. Adding the graze of my fangs, or the swirl of my tongue against his throat, and it changed the pitch of the sounds coming from him.
Pasha was an elegant, beautiful instrument to play.
“Please Niko, please don’t tease me.” His voice had taken on that breathy quality that accompanied desire. As if all the oxygen was being burned from his body, and he was having to force the words out.
I thought about drawing this out, keeping him away from his computer for a while. It could be a useful distraction from what was looming over both of us. But I couldn’t, not that I didn’t want to take the time to escape reality with him. It often felt like there were things that kept getting in the way, not just between Pasha and me, but between all of us. We used to be much closer than we were now. But I didn’t have to wonder what had changed, she had just walked back into our life, bringing her absence into stark contrast.
I needed to focus, to get her on our side quickly or get her out of here. And that meant talking to her, which I couldn’t do if I was hungry.
I knew the rhythms that Pasha liked. And with my hand firmly wrapped around his cock, it took little to have him panting, rocking his hips, and begging. He was still gripping my jacket with one hand, his other hand now tangled in my hair, as though he could force me to give in to what he wanted. I was tempted to make him beg just for the audacity, but that scenario was something to be saved for a later date.
My fingers reached just slightly upward from the back of his neck, carding into his hair. It was so easy to tug his head back sharply and expose every inch of his lovely throat. As my fangs pierced his flesh, the blood welled into my mouth, and our erotic groans melded together into a singular, sinful sound.
Fuck—I really should feed more often than I did. Every time felt so damn good. The rush, the taste of everything Pasha was feeling as it ran over my tongue. Every emotion had its own taste, and I knew him well enough to pick them out even when they were swirled together.
My hand didn’t stop stroking his cock, keeping pace with the rocking of his hips until his back arched and he spilled all over my hand. I let him make a mess of the both of us, knowing we were going to have to change our clothes, anyway. There were very few clean ways to feed from someone’s vein. Not that I had ever practiced much.
Bringing my hand up, I pulled my fangs free of his skin as gently as I could. He lifted his head and watched with wide eyes as I licked my hand clean, the two unique tastes of Pash blending on my tongue.
“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot.” The hoarse words were barely out of his mouth before he had pulled me into a blood-stained kiss. His tongue didn’t seek entrance to my mouth, it forced its way in, greedily lapping at the taste I had been savoring.
Hopefully, this would be enough to take the edge off so I could get through a civil conversation with Yana.