36. Luna
Nik places his hands on either side of my waist as I climb the stairs to the apartment.
“I’m okay, Nik,” I say, though I appreciate his concern.
A thrill runs through my body when he grips even tighter, and I turn a bright smile in his direction. Reaching around me, he opens the door. With the windows open, a cross breeze rustles my hair, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Okay. You go take a shower. I’m cooking dinner.” Nik jumps into the kitchen and starts pulling items out of the fridge. I stare at him, a wave of gratitude invading my chest, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
I book it straight to the bathroom. As the shower warms, I strip out of my clothes and stand in front of the mirror, sighing at the bandage on my head. Thankfully the gauze is easy to remove, and soon I’m staring at several stitches in my head, grateful my hair covers the majority of them.
Steam starts to rise from the shower, and I step in, the warmth instantly seeping deep into my muscles. Hot water envelops my body, and the tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders melts away. I wash the dirt and salt out of my hair and scrub skin until it’s raw and I can no longer feel Mr. Rose’s every touch.
Tears fall as I move the loofah over my chest, a long scab from his knife reminding me of his promised pain. It’s all too much; I fall to the shower floor and let the water wash away my shame. My stomach twists with every memory, and I hang my head, finding solace in the steady fall of water around me.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the shower goes cold. Stepping out, I towel off, then pull on a pair of leggings and one of Nik’s shirts. I bring the fabric to my nose, breathing in Nik. Safe. I’m safe.
After brushing out my hair and applying some lip balm to my chapped lips, I leave the bathroom. Immediately I stop in my tracks, shocked by the new piece of furniture near the window.
It’s a tall white corner bookshelf with five shelves on each side. And it’s half full of books already. Stunned into paralysis, I stand there as the sting behind my eyes returns. Once I manage to move again, I pad over.
My fingertips graze each book as I scan the shelves. Thrillers and cozy mysteries line them, and I take my time pulling books off one at a time to flip through the pages. I crack open the spines, smelling the books and finding joy in an otherwise depraved couple of days.
A figurine on the top shelf captures my attention.
A raccoon.
Grabbing the little guy, an envelope falls to the floor. I open it to find a rather large gift card to New York’s largest bookstore.
Fill the rest of these shelves, Moonbeam.
-Nik
My hands shake as I bring the figurine out of the bedroom with me. Leaning against the fridge, I watch Nik as he glides around the kitchen, flipping pans and tossing a salad.
He does a double-take when he sees me, and a smile breaks out across his face. I focus on his twitching dimple when he smirks at the racoon in my hand.
“Thought it’d be better than the real thing.” He winks at me, and I melt to goo. I downright ogle him as he finishes the meal and pours us some red wine. He pulls out an island stool, and I’m so discombobulated I can’t even remember if they’ve been in this apartment the whole time or not. His fingers brush my neck as I sit, and I shiver at the contact, heart hammering.
When I see the plate of food, my mouth waters. Spaghetti carbonara and a salad. He made my favorite meal.
“I’m sure it’s not as good made by a Russian, but I tried.” He blushes, and I stare, confused. Nik blushing is … not a thing.
I load a forkful, twirling the long noodles and grabbing a few pieces of bacon and chicken. A moan escapes me when I take a bite. I elbow my neighbor. “It’s delicious, Nik,” I say around my mouthful of food. “False modesty doesn’t suit you.”
He lets out a delightful laugh. “I’ll make it every night if you make that sound each time.”
I pinch my lips together, ears going hot with embarrassment. I try not to laugh, but a small chuckle pops out of my mouth. Nik bites his bottom lip and then shoves an abnormally large amount of pasta into his mouth, washing it down with several gulps of wine.
We finish eating, and when I try to help clean, Nik picks me up and hauls me over to the couch.
“Sit and relax.” He brings me a book that I pretend to read while he does the dishes and packs up the extra food. Truth is, I can’t seem to equate Nik cooking and cleaning with the Bratva man he is. In fact, him being home longer than a few hours to sleep is new territory.
I fiddle with the pages in the book, sneaking peeks at Nik and savoring this moment—this domestic picture of him in the kitchen. He turns to me, and I snap my eyes away, still not registering any words on the page.
“How’s the book?”
“Umm, good,” I say, smiling at him.
“Uh-huh. Didn’t think you’d find that book so riveting.” He winks at me, then plunges his hands back into the soapy water. I close the book, reading the nonfiction title.
A Guide for Keeping a Raccoon as a Pet.
I snort and toss it on the coffee table, cringing at myself for being so obvious.
Nik joins me on the couch when cleanup is finished, and we spend an hour watching random game shows, but I can’t focus. The tension between us is burning, and when his leg grazes mine in those gray sweatpants, I nearly come out of my skin. Library memories wash over me and caress my desire, fanning it. Gosh, what is wrong with me?
I need a distraction.
“Have you spoken with Luka or my father about what you’re going to do about EV?”
And, instantly, I’ve doused the joyful mood and cut the tension into pieces.
Nik stiffens next to me. I’ve come to the conclusion that they all knew about EV before I ever got involved—could even be the reason for the alliance. Now I want to know: what are they going to do about them?
“No. Kieran had to go back to Boston, but he has a man on the inside. We’re hoping to get some information soon in order to make our move.” Nik converses about it so easily, but I’m on edge, my muscles twitching. I frown, wishing there was something I could do to help.
“Kieran. Is that the Irish man?”
“Yeah. That was his yacht and some of his men. Luka and I grew up visiting him and his father. He’s the leader of the Irish Mob in Boston.”
I grit my teeth. “There were pictures in the room where I was held.”
Nik grabs the remote and clicks off the television, sitting up and inching closer to me. “You said something about pictures on the water.”
“Yeah. After Mr. Rose?—”
“Wait. He told you his name?”
“Yes.” I start at the beginning, telling Nik everything. The phone call from my sister, and making a deal with Mr. Rose to let her go and have him take me instead. Nik’s fists are clenched the entire time I talk. I go into detail about how I woke up in the container and tried to find a way off the ship before I was taken to a room. I explain some of thehallucinations, and EV’s agenda for me since their demands had failed to be met.
“I was dragged to his room where—” I blink away tears and decide to skip past that part. “I saw file folders. Photos of you, Luka, and a ton of Kieran. I didn’t know his name at the time, but after seeing his green eyes and hair—that was him.”
Nik listens and takes a few notes to pass along, and by the time I wrap up, I’m exhausted and ready to go to bed.
“Thank you, Nik. For dinner and the books.”
He smiles. “Sure thing, Luna.”
As I brush my teeth, I mull over his words. It’s not a sure thing. Because this isn’t really Nik, is it? He doesn’t do relationships, so why is he acting like an actual … husband. Is it because of the contract? Obligation?
When I come out of the bathroom, my eyes go wide. Nik is standing next to the bed. The covers are pulled back, and he’s changed into his gym shorts and a t-shirt. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Going to bed. What are you doing?”
I look around, desperate to know if this is a joke. “Going to bed.”
“Well, look at that. We’re both going to bed.”
I’ve never once gone to bed with Nik. Ever. I’m always in bed before him.
We stand there, staring at one another.
“Nik, I don’t want you to feel obligated?—”
“Luna, get in the bed.”
I open and close my mouth several times before I realize I have no words. I brush past Nik, his hand grazing my thigh as I climb onto the bed and crawl over to my side.
Nik gets in next and turns out the light. Both of us lie facing the ceiling. Just when I think he’s settled, his hand grazes my pinkie. Two of his fingers hook around mine, and I feel his pulse thumping where we’re connected.
After a few moments, I reluctantly let go and curl over onto my side, staring at the new shadow the bookshelf makes in the room.
An arm wraps around my waist, and Nik yanks me against him, nestling our bodies together.
“Nik, I?—”
“Go to sleep, Luna.”
And in the safety of his arms, I do.
“Stop! No, I said no!” I yell, but the man’s hands don’t stop. They pop open the button of my jeans as I thrash beneath him. I scream, but a knife comes to my throat, dragging along my neck muscles and down to my chest.
“Please …” I quiver, looking up at the masked face. He reaches down to grip me, squeezing so hard I screech in pain.
When he grabs for my jeans, I push away and fall into water. Salt burns my lungs as I’m dragged down below the surface. I fight for a breath but can’t inhale air.
Hands wrench my ankles and tether me to the bottom of the sea. I jerk against their hold to try and free myself, and laughter rings all around me. I’m going to die. I tell myself not to take a breath, to fight, but I can’t. My lungs are burning, on fire with the need for air.
A yank to my hair and my head snaps back as a needle is jammed into my neck. I open my mouth taking in a gulp of water …
“Luna! Luna.”
I kick and scream while arms wrap around me. My legs are tangled in something. I scream again.
“Wake up, Luna, it’s only a nightmare.”
Nik’s voice brings me the rest of the way out of my dream, and I pant out an apology. Tears stream down my face as I grab for him. Tightening his arms around me, he plasters his chest to my back, cradling my body close to his. My eyes frantically scan the room, refamiliarizing myself with my surroundings and trying to shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare.
“Are you okay?” Nik asks, and I nod. I try to pull him even closer, squeezing his arms wrapped around me.
“I hate it,” I whisper. “Feeling so weak.”
“You’re not weak, Luna.”
“But I am. I couldn’t fight him. If you hadn’t arrived when you did—” I shudder at the inevitable had Mr. Rose not been interrupted.
I need to claim something back.
“Will you teach me?” I turn, coming face to face with him. His eyes caress over me, lingering a bit longer on my exposed neck. “I can’t be weak, Nik. I need to learn something that’ll give me a chance next time.”
He grasps my hand, kissing the tip of my middle finger, and a fluttery sensation claws at my stomach.
“I’ll teach you anything you want, Luna.” His eyes bore into mine and the inner voice that usually tells my heart not to tumble is silent.
“When can we start?”