Chapter 23
Aspen
I n my usual pajamas, Nikolai’s shirt and sweatpants, I partake in some much needed self-care. My hair is washed, dried, stretched, pinned up, and I’m perched on the couch with my nearly emptied glass of red wine talking to Mikhail on speakerphone.
“I can’t believe it’s taken Domin this long to kiss Lesya,” he says, his chomping on popcorn bleeding through the speaker.
“I know, right! I almost feel bad for Lesya. His consistent hot and cold behavior would send me comatose.”
We’re watching the season finale of Stuck in the Crossfire . We’re about to find out if the war-stricken veteran is going to acknowledge that he’s madly in love with the nurse that saved him.
When will I admit that I’m falling for Nikolai?
We had a rocky start, yet Nikolai has always been committed to me. That hard exterior of his cracks at every hint of my discomfort, and my illness has made him even more rigid.
I like it though.
No one has ever taken care of me like this before. Not my parents, siblings, family, no one. He makes me feel like I can rely on him.
I want to rely on him.
Just fall , he said .
I want to but will he catch me once he finds the demons I hide behind my smile, our kisses?
The consulate sent me the obsidian chain-link bracelet and forefinger band that I ordered. It’s a clear statement. Message sent, message received. I’ve worn it daily since then. It has a tracker and emergency communicator embedded in the black diamonds.
If Nikolai knew what I wore every day, would it shatter his trust? Could he forgive my betrayal?
“What are your plans for the summer?” I ask Mikhail, slightly jealous because I know he’s going to be in New Orleans causing good chaos. Once Nikolai handles this Yakuza situation, maybe he’ll let me join the festivities.
“I’m preparing for base camp in the next few months.”
Oh that’s right. It’s something the wolves do every ten years to stay sharp and build trust amongst the packs.
“I can’t believe it’s that time already. It must have slipped my mind since I was focusing on touring and now my new living arrangements.”
He laughs at that. We haven’t talked in great detail since he and I have never created a code language. He gets the gist of it though.
“Yep and I have to pair up with messy Jasir. I’m not used to not having my partner watching my six.”
“To your nine?”
We cackle at our inside joke. It’s how we sleep at base camp together— my head to his toes and vice versa.
It started out when we were paired at ten years old for the drills in his pack.
Well we weren’t really paired, they allowed me to be his partner because I created such a fuss.
I wanted to be included in everything my best friend was in.
Even basecamp. Even though I’m not a werewolf.
Anyway, pairs had to always share a bed.
Head to toe was our rule and we still do it today with our big ages.
Our call is interrupted when the elevator chimes.
I glance at my phone to see the time. It’s only eight thirty, it’s too early for Nikolai to be home.
The front lock retracts and Sergei storms through the door.
His short platinum hair is sleekly styled back and he’s in a black tailored suit.
He looks like a knockoff brand of Nikolai but with red flecks in his, shady-as-hell, silver eyes.
I rise from the couch quickly.
“Mikhail, I have to go. My watchdog is here.” I disconnect the call before he can reply back.
“Get dressed,” he grunts out, standing like he commands the room, like he commands me.
“Why?”
I size him up. He stands before me rigid, tension radiating off him. The air between us grows cold and hostile. He wants my submission. If he thinks I’ll yield to him, he’s out of his rabid ass mind.
“We’re leaving.”
“Where?”
If he’s not going to give complete sentences, I’m not providing complete questions.
“The club.”
Now he stands completely over me, smelling of blood and vodka. He glares down at me, willing me to be intimidated.
I’m not .
I fold my arms across my chest. “And why would I go there, with you of all people?”
“Why wouldn’t you be at your husband’s club opening?” He widens his stance, smiling, showing that he dropped his fangs. It’s menacing.
Is this a showdown?
“It’s not safe for me right now.”
The Yakuzas are still at large, that’s why Nikolai wanted me home tonight. Nikolai said his father and uncle are working with Isaak to find out who ordered our assassinations.
Sergei places his hands in his front pockets, nonchalantly. “Or is it because he doesn’t want his girlfriend and his wife in the same place, at the same time? Or do you not care what your husband does when you’re not around?”
My eyes lower to slits and his grin widens. He thinks he checkmated me.
I match his stance. “And why would I care?”
“Are you two not in love?” he says mockingly.
I snort.
Love? Is he serious right now? Me in love with the sadist? I’m fond of him, yes. But love? Hell no.
Am I falling for him? Maybe just a little.
Ok. Fine, a lot.
“So, you wouldn’t get jealous if you saw the two of them getting cozy in his office then?” he teases.
He pulls out his phone, taps on the screen before showing me an image. It’s a picture of Quinn in another hot pink call girl outfit, saying something in Nikolai’s ear .
My lungs squeeze, making it hard to perform the act of breathing. I refuse to allow my facial expression to show Sergei how much I’m struggling to keep my composure.
“I’ll get dressed. But first understand this.” I jab my finger into his chest. “I’m not going out of jealousy but to show both of them I will not be made a fool.”
He grunts.
Great, we’re back to our regular programming.
After spending about an hour getting ready, I check myself out in the bathroom mirror. My outfit resembles tactical gear, my hair is pulled into a fierce high ponytail, and my makeup is smoky.
My look is all armor disguised as seduction.
Nikolai and his escort will know before tonight ends, I am not the one or the motherfucking two. I’m not a woman to be fucked with.
My heels click loudly, defiantly against the dark marble floors as I make my way to the living room. “Let’s go.” I order.
“Here, I was instructed to give you your anti-thrallers.”
There’s a blue pill in a small plastic bag in the palm of his hand.
Anti-thrallers are pink and Nikolai gave me a dose last week. Taking the pills from Sergei, I open the small bag and sniff. Nightshade. Ice rushes through my veins. This is the deadliest flower in the world, that if consumed, it slows your heart but it’s certain death.
Sergei has always been distant to me. Yes he’s a man of very few words and glares at me when he doesn’t think I’m looking but I thought maybe he didn’t care too much for me. I never took it as he wanted me dead.
Now I’m actively retracing all of our interactions. Whenever he chauffeured me, his beady eyes were always shifting, appearing to look out for potential threats. But maybe he was the threat himself.
Being the most dangerous person in the room means being the one no one can read.
Therefore, they can’t predict what you will do next.
The key is nonchalant arrogance. Keep them guessing while you’re ten steps ahead of them.
That’s one of my mom’s many lessons. Seems like today is a good day to apply it.
Forcing my hand to not shake, I shove the bag back into his pale palm. “I’m good. I’ve already taken one last week. Thanks though.”
I head to the private elevators, keeping my breathing even, as I pretend my heartbeat isn’t drumming hard in my ears. I can’t afford to let Sergei suspect that I suspect him of anything.
We stand side by side as the elevator car descends. The silence isn’t killing me, but my mind going a million miles per second is. Why is Sergei trying to kill me? What will he gain by eliminating me?
Is he the one that hired the Yakuza?
The elevator chimes when we hit the garage floor and Mr. Suspicious ushers me to the back of the SUV. I don’t hesitate, I act completely normal. I get in the backseat and settle in. Once he closes my door, I immediately pull the door handle, opening the door to make sure the child lock isn’t on.
It’s not.
Ok. So, he wasn’t going to kill me on the way to the club. He wants me to arrive alive there. So, when did he plan for me to drop dead then? In front of Nikolai?
This bastard is sick.
“What did you forget?” he says, curtly .
“I thought about going back to grab a clutch but never mind.” I lie. He buys it and gets in, taking us to the streets.
When we pull up to the red carpet, it’s closer to ten o’clock and there are hundreds of people lining up around the block.
The bass from the club thuds in the SUV before the car door is flooded with bright flashes of lights.
The energy is already high, and I haven’t stepped out of the car yet.
Sergei gets out and ushers me in, covering me from photographers and reporters, as if he cares about my safety and privacy.
Despite his murderous plot, I’m in awe. The club is huge with multiple levels, and all levels are packed with people. It smells like sweat, desire and complete sin.
Sergei grabs my hand and he uses his body to shield me as he navigates us through the melding bodies glued to other sweaty bodies. The music is loud, the bass thumps under my feet. The air is hot and heavy, and the staff are everywhere with drinks on trays.
When I look up, I see them.
Quinn is all over Nikolai and although he looks annoyed, he makes no effort to remove her grimy hands off him. My vision turns red. I jerk away from Sergei’s grip and make my way towards them on my own.
Lessons will be learned, for both of them today.
If they want to be with each other, that’s fine but leave me the fuck out of their twisted web of lies and fucking deceit.
A hand grips my arm. I spin around so fast. “Sergei, I’m warning you—”
“I’m sorry, are you thee Aspen Martin?” A tall man with a Russian accent asks. His eyes are warm, full of shock and awe. He has large headphones draped around his neck but even his brilliant smile can’t cool the blazing fire within me.
Trying to dial back my fiery anger, I ask with a hard plastic smile. “Who wants to know?”