Chapter Five #2
"You had something to do with that didn't you?
" I say in a furious whisper. "Jesus Christ, you've been off on a little arson spree and you're mauling me, pretending to be my knight in Armani armor?
Just- stop- get off me!" I slap at his shoulder again, successfully pushing him away this time. Well, he lets me.
"Be careful about throwing accusations around," he says mildly, but there's a tone of steel underneath it. I'm heaving for air, trying to catch my breath and he's still close enough that the rise and fall of my chest is rubbing my breasts against his t-shirt.
To my horror, I can feel my nipples harden.
Nikandr's body is warm, like a blast furnace, radiating menace.
Why did I think this man was cold? Even his eyes are burning as his enormous hand reaches up to close around my throat.
He watches his fingers stroke idly over my galloping pulse, his calloused fingertip against my carotid artery.
His hand is light, not squeezing yet but it's a grip.
Out on the quiet street I hear a low voice, I can tell by the musical Haitian note that it's probably Nadege.
I push Nikandr deeper into the shadows she runs by, I can see another one of the runners tonight just behind her, and crunch above us as someone slides down the same metal roof.
Nikandr looks at them with a frown and then back to me.
I should slap his hand away from my throat.
I should punch him in his pretty face.
Instead, I open my mouth and sneer, "Sorry, you're going to have to find someone else to choke out. It's not my kink."
He gives me a smile, and it's unsettling.
Maybe because I don't see many smiles from him.
This one, though, looks avid. Hungry. Maybe his little arson spree has got his blood moving in the same way my night runs do.
His fingers tighten just slightly; I choke back a noise.
Not a whimper because I would kill myself before I let that come out.
But… something, and he hears it. Unfortunately.
His grin widens as he leans in, running the tip of his nose down the side of my face, and I draw in a breath so fast that I cough.
"You smell like fear and adrenaline," he murmurs, his thumb stroking my pulse again.
"That's because some giant freak just attacked me," I snap.
His chest moves in a silent chuckle and goddamnit my nipples are hard again.
His mouth is so close. His breath is vodka and wintergreen.
I can see that his eyes aren’t hazel, the way I thought.
They’re actually a dark green, like the forest, showered with golden flecks.
He's close enough that I breathe him in, and he breathes me out.
My heart skips a beat or two, making me dizzy.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips and I want to do the same thing to him.
Does his mouth taste like wintergreen and vodka, too?
A car pulls up to the curb. It's a Maserati SUV. Of course, this guy has a Maserati.
Nikandr steps back, expressionless again. "I'll give you a ride home."
"Yeah, no. I don't take rides from strangers and I'm meeting up with someone."
His face hardens slightly at that and his arm slips around my waist, bodily lifting me off my feet.
High enough, in fact, that my swinging running shoes are somewhere around his shin, and I'm tempted to kick him again.
Hauling me over to the car, he scoops his arm under my knees, putting me on the seat as lightly as if he was tossing a duffel bag.
I'm sturdy. I am not delicate. I'm not somebody you throw around the way this asshole is manhandling me. Like it didn't take the slightest bit of exertion.
The route back to the hotel runs a few blocks from the conflagration. As I'm texting Niko to let him know I'm safe but I can't make the meetup, I can hear the drone of fire sirens and the thunderous boom of something falling, a wall, likely or the roof caving in.
"You must be very proud," I say sourly.
The firelight plays across the face of a gorgeous woman in the front seat. She's turned to look at me, and she's smiling, as if she approves. She has thick black hair and pale blue eyes. Very Russian. Extremely hot.
"Hey, I'm Caroline," I offer my hand and she takes it in a death grip.
"Vasilisa," she replies with a smile. She's reeking of that same chemical and smoke smell.
"Busy evening for the Sovietnik's group, or is this a regular Thursday night for you folks?" I ask.
Her black gaze darts to an irritable-looking Nikandr and back to me. "Well, we must all have our hobbies."
"Fair enough," I shrug.
There's a thud from behind us, in the cargo compartment, then another, hard enough to feel in my back. I arch a brow at Nikandr and he shrugs, texting someone.
Another thud and something muffled that could be a voice.
"What the hell is that?" I ask Nikandr.
"We hit a deer," he says, never taking his gaze from his phone. "It's injured. We're taking it to the vet."
I look at Vasilisa, who is at least willing to meet my eyes. "You… hit a deer. In Manhattan. A deer."
She's going with the whole Mona Lisa enigmatic smile, so I look at the window, ignoring their unfortunate cargo. Whoever's back there, they most likely deserve it.
I sigh in relief as the Maserati pulls up to the front of the hotel. "Goodnight, thanks for the attempted mugging, Sovietnik. Lovely to meet you, Vasilisa. Feel free to drop by the hotel bar for a drink. Don't bring your boss."
"Goodnight, Caroline Basha," she says. She bursts into laughter as Nikandr gives a low growl. I wave goodbye as Reginald the doorman escorts me inside with a polite expression of confusion.