SEVENTEEN
Nik only stares down at the bar, anguish in his strong features. Viktor, somehow a real monster regardless of whether or not the moon is full, is applauded for his atrocious behavior while Nik is treated like some pariah in his own family. I thought I had issues with my parents. Knowing what I do now, I’m not quite sure I could even begin to compare all of the gripes I have about my childhood to Nik’s upbringing.
“So, does that mean Viktor will be the next alpha?” I ask, taking another sip of water.
He shakes his head. “No. As the firstborn I am next in line to lead the Vostik pack. Once my father is deemed unfit, I will take his place. Granted no one tries to challenge me for that right.”
I remember the cold glare in his brother’s eyes. How he looked at Nik as a rival and not his own flesh, blood, and well, fur and claws. No, Viktor was studying him like he was an obstacle. The same way he peered at the man Nik roughed up the other night. Not his brother, just something in his way. Questions seem to form a picket line in my head, fighting for the chance to have their voices heard.
“Would Viktor challenge you?” I ask bluntly.
Nik smirks, though there isn’t happiness in his smile. It’s closer to remorse. “He hasn’t yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. We have been pitted against each other since he was born. Constantly fighting for my father’s approval. And when Viktor was able to transform two full cycles ahead of me … well, let’s just say he looked at Viktor a little differently from then on. The youngest wolf to ever shift. A prodigy.”
Something tells me those final words are not his own, but his fathers. There’s pain in his eyes. Pain and a heavy burden gnawing away at him. If he did challenge Nik for his birthright, what would Nik have to do? Fight him? Kill him? The thought of the brothers clashing is a terrifying one. Nik practically doubled in size when he changed, and I can only imagine how big and savage Viktor might become under a full moon. How in the hell do you fight off something like that?
“So, you weren’t bitten? If your brother and father are also—” I pause and bite down on my lips. I’ve seen the way he says ‘monster,’ and how the two-syllable word seemingly stabs at him like a silver crucifix. He still looks at me, ready to be called every form of monstrosity in the book. I won’t though. No one so gentle, so intent on my safety, could ever be in a late-night creature feature. Not even if he turns into something else I can’t explain. “You were born this way,” I say, leaving no hint of insult in my voice.
Nik takes a deep breath and nods. “Yes. My family has been cursed for generations.”
“How many … generations?” I murmur.
He sighs and caps the bottle of bourbon. “My great-grandfather was the first.”
“The first?” Is he telling me what I think he is? His bloodline, the Vostik family, were the very first things that went bump in the night? The first monsters under a child’s bed? The very real myth of something supernatural in this world? No. He can’t mean that. They must’ve been the first pack in Russia. The continent. Surely he couldn’t mean—
“Werewolf,” he says, his tone stiff and unwavering. “We were the first of our kind.”
I swallow the remaining water harshly, trying to keep it all in despite the surprise dribble spilling down my chin. If they were the first, how many more of them are there?
“My great-grandfather was known to be ruthless and cunning with his business venture, the only thing keeping bread on the table.” Nik points to the vodka bottle with his last name etched on the label. “And when a deal with another merchant went sour, he and his bloodline were cursed by those he wronged. Ancient magic. This penance would make the rest of the world see him for what he truly was under the full moon.”
“A monster,” I say before I can stop myself, my voice withering.
He nods and returns to the bourbon to its rightful place on the shelf. “Father said it was Grandad’s relentlessness both during and after a full moon that gave our family strength. Honor.” A scoff leaves his lips, and Nik holds himself against the bar, ready to smash the entire thing to scrap wood if I had to guess. “Viktor was his name. Viktor Vostik, the first werewolf. The first stain on my family’s heritage.” He shakes his head and begrudgingly glances in my direction. “And I have no doubt my brother will bring the same damnation to my family as he did.”
Damnation? How could Viktor possibly make it worse? He could fight Nikolai for the role of alpha, sure, but after that? What is he going to do? Slaughter entire cities? Start a war with humankind?
I bring my hand over the bar again and caress Nik’s arm. The touch ignites something terrible yet addicting as lightning strikes different parts of me. Every time I’m around Nik, every time our skin becomes one, a shock courses through me like a thunderbolt. There’s no warning, only the aftermath of this man, and me being the casualty ready to fall to my knees before him. God, I don’t know what it is that keeps me upright in this barstool. It’s not lust, and judging from the curse placed on his entire family, it isn’t holy. The seven deadly sins forgot an eighth, and that is Nikolai Vostik.
“So, he’s big?” I say, though scoff might be a better word.
Nik leans forward, taking my hands in his. “Bigger than any other in our pack.”
“And he might want to kill you.”
One side of his face lifts in a sadistic smirk. “Scatter each of my limbs across the city.”
“But you won’t let that happen.” I don’t know why I’m giving him this pep talk. I’m not sure he even needs it. He’s always so confident. So certain of the outcome like the world is a game of chess and he’s already three moves ahead. I can’t stop myself, though, and continue to spit out the first thoughts coming to mind. “And why is that?”
Nik grins fully, his eyes fixed on me. “I do not fear my brother, Natalia.”
A deep breath capsizes my lungs as he leans closer. Close enough to feel his steady breaths waft the hair away from my face.
“You. You are the only thing that makes me nervous,” he says and glances down at our intertwined fingers.
Nervous? I make him nervous? Please explain how I, the woman ashamed of how she looks sitting down, could possibly make the gorgeous creature across the bar nervous in any facet. I stare at him, waiting for some kind of an explanation.
“But as much as I would love to spend all night talking about the failures of my family,” Nik says with a smirk, “it’s time to get you home.”
I nod despite the longing to do nothing else than sit here and ask all the questions buzzing in my head like hornets. He winds around the bar and helps me off the stool, keeping my hand tightly in his.
“Tonight was not what I expected,” I say, toying with the silver chain dangling around my throat.
“Me answering your questions or what happened before?” he says, leading me to the doors of Volk.
“Both.” Blush creeps to my cheeks at the thought of his mouth tasting every part of me. The way his tongue circled my clit and forced pleasure-filled ripples throughout my body. Fuck. He attacked me with the precision of a surgeon, and a soft caress so different from the animal he keeps hidden from the world.
“I had a nice time too,” he says, his voice rough.
Dimitri, still standing guard at the doors, straightens his posture when the cool night air greets us. I’m not sure how much he heard, but if he does know what happened inside, I can’t tell in the slightest. His face is set to its regular stern and brooding expression.
“Bye, Dimitri,” I say, and wave as we pass.
He nods in our direction. “Miss Nat.”
When we reach the sidewalk, Nik stops, glancing down both ends of the unusually vacant streets.
“Are you waiting for Yuri to pull the car around?” I ask.
“No,” he says and hands me the helmet from the handlebar of his motorcycle. “I’m keeping you all to myself.”
*
After another thrilling ride through the busy LA downtown, we arrive at my apartment complex, brick exterior rich with decay. Embarrassment rears its ugly head, and although I’d love nothing else than for him to walk me to my front door, I can’t bear the thought of him second-guessing his interest in me because of the slums I call home. His interest in whatever the hell this is. Sure, he turns into a wolf, but he doesn’t live in a bottom-end apartment where the AC barely works and mold builds in the ceiling every rainy winter. Somehow, his monthly flaw is severely outdone by my laundry list of shortcomings.
“Thank you for the ride,” I say awkwardly, ready to put as much distance between us as I can. “On the bike …” I blurt, mortification wrapping around me “… not your face.”
Oh, god. What in the actual fuck is wrong with me?
Yes, Nik, thank you for burying your chiseled jaw between my thighs. Five out of five stars. Would ride again. I think I’m going to throw up, and the bile churning in my stomach only proves I might be right.
He peers at me curiously and cocks a brow.
“I mean, that was great too.” For fuck’s sake, Natalie. Stop talking. Shut the hell up! “I had a great time. Good night.” I turn for the door, each of my limbs rich with humiliation. I changed my mind. Him seeing where I live is the least embarrassing thing that happened tonight.
“I’ll see you to your door,” Nik says, lifting himself from the motorcycle and following close behind me.
“Okay,” I mutter begrudgingly.
We maneuver our way to the fourteenth floor, dodging forgotten trash and my neighbor’s screaming matches the entire way. When we get to my front door, he waits for me to open it. I do, hesitantly, and creak the door open enough to slip through without him seeing inside. Love what you’ve done with the place. Are each of the walls a different color because you like color or the complex ran out of paint? Shame builds in my gut. I’d sooner let him cut open my stomach and see my insides than the small area I call home.
Before I can squeeze myself into the loft, Nik grabs me by my waist, pulling me into him. Warmth floods through my immovable body. He kisses me, his mouth openly attacking mine somehow harder than at his bar. The peeling wallpaper in the hallway blurs and disappears as my eyes close. Bliss smooths over the part of me nagging to rush inward. Bliss and the overwhelming buckle in each knee. When our lips part he only stares at me, his bright expression growing dark. Nothing can prepare me for what he asks next.
“If I leave this place. This city,” he says and tightens his grip around me.
I stay silent for a moment, fixed on his piercing golden eyes. Leave? Why would he leave? Abandon a successful club when half of the city is desperate to get in? It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.
“If I leave LA …” he says finally. “Will you come with me?”