Chapter 5
Aspen
L ight assaults me instantly, blinding me, disorienting me. I fight to open my lids but the throbbing in my head is piercing.
I gingerly rub my temples. “Ouch,” I rasp out, lightly running my fingers across the cuts on the side of my face. My throat is dry and scratchy like I’ve been stranded in the Sierras with no water or spit to swallow for days on end.
Squinting my eyes, I realize I’m not in my bed. Most shockingly, I’m not in my Scandic Resort’s bed. While battling to remember what happened last night, I assess my new environment. I let my eyes roam, taking in the space.
The room is ridiculously large with a vaulted ceiling that looks like a skeletal ribcage carved from the exposed wood beams. There’s a fireplace taking over one wall, it’s tall, wide and lit, warming up the room.
It’s structured with the same pale stone that covers all the walls.
Heavy charcoal velvet curtains frame the bay windows overlooking the forest covered in snow.
It smells of pine and the sound of wood crackling fills the room. It looks and feels enchanted. Safe.
Suddenly, last night’s events flood my memory.
There was a man .
He— he kidnapped me.
The realization hits me right in the chest and my hand flies to my mouth.
“Roman?” I croak.
Where is he? There was blood, so much blood around him. Is he alive? Is he here too—
“Who the fuck is Roman?” An unfamiliar male voice asks. It’s deep and heavy, alarming.
I spring out of bed, reaching for my lipstick in my back pocket. It’s not there.
“I wouldn’t move so fast.” The strangers holds a hand out towards me in a stop motion. “I don’t know what happened to you last night, but I can tell it was serious.”
My vision is still a bit blurry. Maybe it’s from the blinding headache, or me feeling dizzy from moving too fast. But I can make out the figure sitting in a chair beside the bed.
He’s broad. Judging by the length of his legs, he’s tall. I can make out platinum hair pulled back in a low ponytail. If people’s aura could be described as a color, his would be black. It’s smoky, menacing, lethal and a blaring danger sign.
“Lie back down.” His voice is all command, like he is both the law and its order.
“Who are you?” I snap. Being ordered around has never gone well with me. Danger or not, I yield to no one.
“Nikolai.” Squinting, I can see that he tilts his head. He leans forward with smooth ease. “Who’s Roman?”
“Where am I?” I try to scan more of the room, there’s nothing of reference to say where I am .
“Moscow.” He stands, walking towards me, slow and deliberate. “And you’re avoiding answering me.” He stops a foot away, placing his hands in his sweatpants pockets.
Assessing the ground from the window, I would guess that I’m on the second floor. Worst case, third.
“How did I get here?” I take slow steps backwards towards the window. My vision is slowly becoming clearer now. Taking another glance at the window, I see that I’m actually on the fourth floor.
Ok. Actually, this is the worst case scenario.
Turning, I finally see him, properly this time.
He towers over me at six-six, maybe six-seven.
He has long platinum hair with whisks of it fanning his shoulders, some of it spilling out his ponytail.
His beard is full and trimmed, he has broad shoulders, with a frame that looks like he’s cut from steel itself.
There’re intricate tattoos above his ears, around his neck and hands.
With his hair pulled back, I see his sharp cheekbones and his ear piercings.
His eyes— they’re the most striking pool of silver I have ever seen. There’re small black flecks in them. Like the shadow forger who took me.
“My father. I’ve answered your questions. Answer me. Who is he?” There’s ice in his tone, I feel its coldness done my spine.
He must be after my brother. This must be SRU related. This has to be the reason why Roman showed up at my concert.
If this man thinks he can capture me and force me to tell him anything about Roman, he has another thing coming.
I don’t waver when I sprint towards the window and jump.
“What— ”
I don’t hear the rest of what he said when I cover my face, and glass explodes around me. The ground is meeting me quick and fast. The cold air slices my face, but I stay loose. Twisting mid-air, I bend my knees and elbows, preparing for impact. I’m three feet away from kissing the snow—
Strong, smoking tendril wraps around my waist, yanking me to a halt.
I twist to look up, and I see Nikolai with his loose hair fanning across his forehead, peering down at me, his shadows flowing from him. He bites his lower lip, there’s amusement in his eyes.
Shit.
Ok, this won’t be an easy escape.
Think Aspen.
He slowly pulls me up and I feel the cold chill of Russia’s winter between my bare toes. Once I’m at the windowsill, he pulls me back inside the room.
“This is the first time I’ve seen a woman jump out a window just to leave me.” A smirk flirts on his lips. He thinks this is funny.
Hot white rage bubbles under my skin. “Let me go,” I grit out, fighting the shadows he’s using as my restraints.
“That would be hard since you’re going to be my wife.”
Grinning, he pulls me in so close to him I’m forced to drag in his scent— lavender, coffee and gunmetal.
I look him dead in the eye, meaning every word when I say, “I would rather see your throat sliced open than to marry you.”
He gives me an artificial pout.
“Too bad. Marry me or die. Those are your only options.” There’s a glint in his eyes. He finds my captivity hilarious .
I wrestle against the shadow restraints more, there’s no give. He has me firmly in place.
Circling me, he says, “I don’t know you, so I don’t really care if you live or die.”
“Then why are you doing this?” I yell, frustrated that I can’t fucking move with these things shackling me in place. I promise, when I figure out how to get out of these, I’m going to fucking kill him.
“Fortunately for you, I need you in order to claim my rightful seat as Pakhan.”
Pakhan. He’s the Pakhan’s heir? Great, my luck in men hasn’t improved since the cartel leader and the siren prince.
I shiver at the memories of my misfortunes.
My eyes trail him as he continues to circle me like prey. “You getting that seat has what to do with me?”
“My father chose you to be my bride. You marry me, I get the reigns of my kingdom, and you live. If you don’t marry me, well.” He let the words linger in the air.
Great. So, he’s a drama king.
I eye him with weariness. “What do I have to do?”
“Agree.” King Nikolai here rolls his shoulder with an air of arrogance and carelessness.
Think Aspen.
If I agree, I live to see another day. If I disagree… well, I don’t need to expand my imagination on what his shadows can do. I’ve already seen what my mom’s shadows can do. Obliterates and pulverizes.
I need to be careful, play his game and find Roman and have him drift us out of here. Glaring at him, every fiber of my being screams to refuse, to kill him before I ever submit.
Nostrils flaring, I say, “I agree.” The words feel like wet sand on my tongue. And he knows it too by the way his lips curl up a bit.
“Good,” he says, satisfaction dripping in his voice. “Now, who the fuck is Roman?”