Chapter 6
Nikolai
The estate had settled into its usual isolation hours ago, every hallway dim and lifeless beneath the low glow of wall sconces while rainwater still clung to the windows overlooking the gardens.
Most nights I preferred the restraint of it.
The distance. Empty rooms never demanded pieces of me I had no interest in giving, and cold spaces made more sense to me than people ever had.
Tonight, there was a blonde woman asleep against my chest ruining every fucking defense I built over the years.
I looked down at Emerald where she rested against me, moonlight spilling across her skin while strands of pale hair tangled against the front of my black shirt from where she had cried herself empty in my arms. Her breathing had evened out slowly over the last hour, soft and steady now, the earlier shaking finally gone from her body after the conversation with Roman cracked something open inside her.
One of my hands remained spread across her back automatically, holding her close without thought while the other rested near her thigh against the grass. Warm and small. Trusting, however dangerous.
She had fallen asleep gradually, fighting it at first in the stubborn way she fought everything.
Every few minutes her eyes drifted closed before she forced herself awake again, fingers tightening weakly into my shirt like some exhausted part of her still remembered she should not trust the man holding her.
Then eventually the fight disappeared altogether.
Now she slept folded against me like she belonged there, cheek resting over my chest while cool night air moved softly through the gardens around us.
The estate lights reflected faintly across the pond nearby, rippling gold against black water while I sat completely still beneath the weight of something I did not know how to survive.
Emerald trusted too easily sometimes. Not out of stupidity like people assumed, but because despite everything done to her, she still carried softness inside her that the world had failed to rot away completely. I didn’t understand that kind of strength.
Most people became uglier after pain touched them long enough. Harder and sharper. Cruel in the places that mattered. They learned survival through distance because attachment eventually turned into weakness if you gave it enough time. I should know. Lucien spent years teaching me exactly that.
Women had shared my bed before. Plenty of them.
Expensive perfume soaked into dark sheets while strangers chased my attention for a few hours at a time because the name, Nikolai Voss, carried enough danger to make desire feel exciting.
I let them touch me when it suited my needs.
Let them distract me. Let them crawl into my lap while I searched for temporary relief from the violence constantly waiting inside my head. None of it ever meant anything.
Sex had always been physical for me. Controlled. A release rather than connection. Bodies pressed together because loneliness was easier to ignore afterward for a few hours before the emptiness returned by morning.
I never stayed. Never learned favorite songs or the way someone sounded when they laughed too hard. Never held anyone through tears. Never let myself care enough to notice the small things because caring gave people the ability to destroy you from the inside out.
Even Mira had been different than this. What existed there had been built from loyalty, history, and survival beneath Lucien’s shadow. Complicated. Familiar. Protective in ways neither of us fully understood. But never soft. Never this.
Emerald somehow slipped beneath every defense I had without me realizing it until she was already there, curled against my chest while something unfamiliar spread slowly through the coldest parts of me…peace.
The realization sat wrong beneath my ribs because I didn’t deserve peace. Men like me weren’t built for it. We destroyed soft things. We poisoned them. Lucien proved that long before I was old enough to understand what kind of monster he truly was .
Still…my thumb moved slowly against Emerald’s back before I could stop it, tracing absent circles through the fabric of her shirt while exhaustion dragged heavier through my own body than usual.
I barely slept anymore. Hadn’t for years.
Rest required vulnerability, and vulnerability got people killed faster than bullets ever did.
Yet sitting here with her wrapped around me, my body felt strangely calm instead of prepared for bloodshed.
What the fuck was happening to me?
A cool breeze brushed through the gardens again, carrying the scent of wet grass and rain soaked earth while I stared down at the woman sleeping against me wondering how she managed to wedge herself so deeply into spaces inside me I spent years locking shut.
Weeks ago, she was revenge. Roman Deveraux’s spoiled little sister dragged into my house because grief demanded collateral damage after Lucien died and the Voss empire started collapsing around me.
Now I knew the sound of her laugher without needing to look up.
I knew she stole fruit from the kitchen while pretending she wasn’t doing it and that she sang terribly while baking because embarrassment apparently meant nothing to her.
I knew she wandered the halls barefoot after midnight when she couldn’t sleep and that she smiled when she lied because she’d never fully learned how to hide emotion properly.
Emerald walked around carrying warmth and chaos and enough light to make the entire fucking place feel unfamiliar .
And me? That was the problem I avoided examining too closely. Somewhere between the arguments, the tension, and her crying herself apart in my arms tonight, Emerald stopped feeling temporary.
Carefully, I slid one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back before rising from the grass. She stirred immediately, soft lashes fluttering slightly while a sleepy sound escaped her throat that nearly did something catastrophic to my restraint.
“Easy,” I told her quietly.
Her head tucked closer against my chest automatically like instinct pulled her there before conscious thought caught up. Jesus Christ.
I started back toward the estate slowly, gravel crunching beneath my shoes while the massive property stood glowing softly ahead of us against the dark woods surrounding it.
Emerald barely woke during the walk inside.
Once or twice, she shifted faintly against me, fingers curling tighter into the front of my shirt like she needed reassurance I was still holding her.
Something about the movement hit far too hard. Nobody reached for me like that. Nobody held onto me without fear attached to it.
The hallways remained quiet as I carried her upstairs, low lighting casting gold across marble floors while my thoughts turned darker with every step. Because this right here was how weakness started. Not lust. Not violence. Those things were easy to control .
It started with moments like this. Quiet ones. The kind that slipped beneath your skin slowly enough you didn’t realize something had rooted itself there until it became impossible to remove without tearing yourself apart in the process.
I pushed open my bedroom door carefully before crossing toward the bed. Warmth soaked into the blankets and pillows, and every inch of the space she occupied. My sheets started soaking up her scent of her vanilla perfume.
I lowered her onto the mattress slowly, one hand supporting the back of her head while the other steadied against her waist. She should have let go then.
Instead, the second I started pulling away, her fingers wrapped suddenly around my wrist. Not fully awake.
Not aware enough for embarrassment or hesitation. Just instinct.
“Stay...”
The word barely rose above a whisper, rough with exhaustion and sleep. Everything inside me went still. Emerald’s eyes never opened completely. She just tightened her hold slightly before turning deeper into the pillow like she already expected me to leave. Because everyone leaves eventually.
A sharp ache curled low in my chest before I could bury it.
I should have walked away. Every rational thought inside my head screamed at me to put distance back between us before this became something I couldn’t control anymore.
She was already too close. Too trusted. Too fucking important in ways, I had no interest in naming .
My eyes dropped toward her hand wrapped around me. Small fingers against scarred skin. Trust against violence.
The cold inside me didn’t feel quite as endless as it once had. Instead of leaving, I pulled off my shoes, slid into the bed beside her, and let the woman I should’ve hated curl herself against my chest like she belonged there.
I slept harder that night than I had in years. No nightmares. No waking every hour already reaching for a weapon before my eyes fully opened. Just warmth.
When consciousness finally returned the next morning, sunlight spilled softly through the curtains while the unfamiliar weight against my chest pulled me awake slower than usual. Emerald.
She had somehow moved even closer during the night; one leg tangled loosely with mine beneath the blankets while her head rested directly over my heart. Blonde hair spread wildly across my chest and pillow, soft strands brushing my skin every time she breathed.
For several seconds I simply stared at the ceiling, confused by the absence of tension inside my body. No pressure. No instinct screaming danger. Just her. My gaze lowered slowly toward the woman asleep against me, and something tightened painfully beneath my ribs at the sight.
She looked peaceful. Not sarcastic. Not defensive. Not pretending she was fine when she wasn’t. Just soft breathing and sleep tangled against me like she trusted I’d still be here when she woke up .