Nikolai: A Dark Light Novella (Dark Light #2.5) (10 page)

I squeeze tighter. “Twenty seconds, bitch.”

Her blue eyes flash with her own anger, but her shit-eating grin remains. “I bring news. News about your brother that you need to know.”

News? News about Dorian?

I drop her brusquely and turn back to the bar as she straightens her hair and clothing. “Fine. Talk.”

“I’m doing great, thank you for asking. No, no need to thank me for coming all this way to share secret information with you that could have me beheaded,” she says in her annoying singsong voice. 

“Ok, now that pleasantries are out of the way, talk. Or leave.” I down the glass in one gulp and pour another. I’m going to need a gallon to stomach my brother’s conniving, manipulating ex.

“Such a shame, Niko. You had so much potential.” She inspects her red painted nails, ignoring my command. “Now look at you. Nothing more than a pimp in an expensive suit.”

“Do you really have information, Aurora? Or have you finally realized that you can get paid for being such a dirty slut?” I look her up and down, grimacing in disgust. Even designer clothes and all the accoutrements couldn’t make her any less of a skank. “I don’t know though. Your pussy has been run through more times than the Mulholland Tunnel. I guess I can keep you around for the occasional gang bang or farm animal.”

She stalks toward me, wearing her usual sickly sweet smile, unfazed by my insults. Aurora only hears what she wants to hear, and in her mind, I’m probably professing my undying devotion. Crazy bitch.

“Oh, Little Skotos. You always did have a way with words.”

See? Bat shit crazy.

“Well, read these words. Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I give her my back, refusing to entertain her for one more second.

“Dorian has disappeared.”

I turn and narrow my eyes. “What?”

“He’s disappeared - he and his partner. Both of them AWOL from the Shadow. No one knows where either is and it’s come to the point to expect the worst.”

“He’s not dead, Aurora.” No. He can’t be.

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe he is either. But something is definitely wrong. What if he’s been seriously injured and is being held prisoner? What if he’s being tortured?”

Though her words are full of concern, her face, her eyes, tell a different tale. Aurora is as transparent as they come. She’s fake … phony. She doesn’t truly care about Dorian - she never did. She only cared about what his title could do for her. All Aurora saw was a crown.

“I’m worried,” she continues with mock compassion. “I think your father could at least find out if he’s been captured. They’d have to return him as a sign of diplomacy.”

“Maybe,” I shrug. “Why don’t you ask him? Seeing as you know him intimately and all. Or did he fuck and forget you just like everyone else in your miserable life?”

Rage paints her cheeks, yet Aurora’s guise is perfectly impassive. She’s not just any gold-digging whore; she’s a father-fucking, gold-digging whore. And because my father, the reigning king of the Dark, is just as disgusting, Dorian was forced to bear witness to the indiscretion.

“Oh? Cat caught your tongue?” I dig. “Or did blowing every Tom, Dick and Harry cause it to finally fall off?”

And I see it. The crack in her armor. That little flash of emotion that makes Aurora seem almost human.

Her hands shake at her sides as she steps toward me. “You know I couldn’t help that! You know I-”

“Oh my God!” Amelie huffs out as she swings open the door, dressed in her skimpy French Maid outfit. “I am so sick of those-”

“Who the fuck is this?” Aurora sneers, venom dripping from her bright white teeth. “Is this how the whores behave around here?”

Amelie looks at me for guidance, mouth agape and those amber eyes full of question. Fuck. Was I so hell-bent on slighting Aurora that I couldn’t even sense her approach?

“Aurora, this is Amelie, and she’s not a whore,” I explain with a flat voice. “Amelie, Aurora was just leaving.”

“Just leaving?” Aurora asks, cutting her eyes at me, then back to Amelie. “No. We still have business to discuss, so if you’ll excuse us..
.”

I can see Amelie’s hurt and anger brewing just under the surface, making her even easier to detect. I have to get Aurora out of here. If she even catches wind of Amelie’s unique touch of magic, she won’t hesitate to slaughter her. And killing another member of the Dark, especially an Orexis, is highly frowned upon.

“How about I meet you downstairs for a drink, Aurora?” I say in my most amenable voice. “Just let me have a word with Amelie and I’ll join you soon.”

Aurora’s skeptical eyes sweep between both Amelie and me before nodding. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I don’t like to wait.” Then she struts out the door without so much as a second glance.

“Wow,” Amelie remarks, closing the door behind her. “Who was that ray of sunshine?”

I exhale my relief that Amelie isn’t totally put off by me being here alone with Aurora. In three quick strides, I’m in front of her, letting the warmth of her soul heat the frigid space that Aurora has left behind.

“My brother’s psychotic ex-girlfriend. Quite the charmer, isn’t she?”

“The one that made him skip town? That ex-girlfriend?”

“One and the same.”

Amelie shakes her head. “Can’t say that I blame him.”

We both share a chuckle at Aurora’s expense when I see Amelie wince. That’s when I notice a small, purplish bruise at the corner of her mouth. “What happened?” I ask, moving in to inspect the slightly swollen spot.

“Speaking of Sunshine…you may want to put a muzzle on your blonde bitch,” she says rolling her eyes.

“What happened?” I ask more sternly.

Amelie shrugs it off. “It’s nothing, really. Just another day at Hooker High. Sunshine kept running her mouth about me getting special treatment and how I must be into some sick shit to have gotten your attention. I doubt she’ll be saying much of anything for a while. Sorry, but she’ll be off blowjob duty for at least a week,” she says with a wink.

“She hit you?” I snap, fury lighting my eyes.

“Did you not hear the part about me whooping her ass? It’s cool, Niko. I’ve had to deal with bigger bitches than her back home.”

I try to tame the feelings of frustration and helplessness as I gaze into Amelie’s eyes, searching for some sign that she’s really ok. Lifting a hand, I gently brush the contusion with my fingertips, eliciting a groan from her.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

Before I can pull my hand away, she covers it with hers. “No. No, it feels good, actually. You’re always so cold. Like my own personal ice pack,” she smiles.

I revel in the feeling of her lips against my fingers, the subtle burn almost nonexistent, though there is indescribable heat between us.

“I can help you, you know,” I say quietly, my hand still pressed to her luscious mouth. I don’t want to stop touching her. I can’t see myself touching anyone else for the rest of my days.

“How?” she whispers.

A blue haze falls over her face and reflects in her eyes as my fingers alight with iridescent, azure fire. She flinches at the initial cold before giggling against my hand. “It’s so … odd. Cold, but hot. And it’s tingly.”

“Yeah,” I reply, with a goofy grin. It’s the first time I’ve ever let myself be exposed like this with a human. “I guess it’s a testament to the Dark. We’re cold, callous, yet hot tempered and explosive when agitated.”

Amelie shakes her head, but still keeps her hand on mine, refusing to break contact. Warmth kindles and spreads all over my body. “Not all the Dark. Not you.”

We stare at each other in silence, soft smiles on both our lips, as I gently rub the bruise on Amelie’s face. “What are you doing to it?” she asks in wonder.

“Just accelerating blood flow in the area and numbing the pain for you.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

I shrug, only the taste of truth resting on my tongue. “I don’t ever want you to be in pain. Not even the slightest bit.”

Amelie’s cheeks burn with a rosy flush and she sucks her lower lip into her mouth, capturing it between her teeth. “So … you’re healing me?”

“I can’t heal,” I say shaking my head in regret. “Just simple science.”

“There’s nothing simple about this. I don’t even feel it anymore. You’re incredible, Niko.”

I realize that I have been studying her pink lips for longer than I should and lift my eyes to meet hers, only to find that she’s looking at my lips as well. Our eyes lock, both our mouths parting simultaneously to taste the air between us, tinged with longing and desire.

“Did I make you too numb?” I ask in a husky voice.

Amelie wiggles her mouth adorably and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Only inches lie between our mouths as I look into those peculiar eyes, wondering how I ever survived without feeling Amelie’s warmth and goodness. And how I ache to taste sunlight and wildflowers and brown sugar on my tongue.

“Because I really want you to feel this.”

Our mouths collide in a fevered blur of lips, tongues and hands. This isn’t one of the fairytale kisses you read about in storybooks. Not the pretty puckers in chick flicks. It’s raw passion combined with weeks of yearning and wanting. It’s going into unknown territory, terrified of what might be on the other side, but so fucking exciting to do so. It’s embracing taboo, tasting forbidden fruit, and relishing in its sweet, sweet nectar.

Kissing Amelie ignites fireworks in my belly and makes the cold deadness of my heart bloom with life. I didn’t know that lips could feel this soft. That a tongue could taste so delectable. That her delicate hands could feel so damn erotic as they slip through my hair, pulling my mouth closer. That’s why I hadn’t kissed anyone in decades. There was no need to be that intimate with anyone. No need to stage a charade when I knew sex was inevitable anyway.

But Amelie…
Fuck
.

I didn’t want to stop kissing her. I couldn’t imagine not having her taste on my tongue. The little sounds of ecstasy she made in her throat as I caressed her petite frame had me aching for more, yet this was enough. It was more than enough.

Feeling her soft curves so pliant under my eager fingertips, imagining how truly fragile she was, made me feel like I possessed a rare, precious jewel. I wanted to touch her all over. To mark her in places that no other man could see. To be the only man that would ever feel the softness of her skin.

Minutes, hours, eternity tick by as we stand enraptured in each other’s arms. She looks up at me, a coy smile on her now swollen lips.

“What’s that look for?” I ask, wearing the same expression.

“Nothing,” she grins, shaking her head. “Just thinking how that was so much better than my dreams.”

I exhale, desperately wishing I could stay in this moment with her. To remain oblivious to the killers, whoremongers and degenerates who lurk right outside our bedroom door.

“As much as I would love to stay here and play out all those dreams, I know Aurora is getting impatient. And when she’s impatient, she’s even more of an annoying trollop. I gotta go down and see what she wants. Then … then I’m all yours.”

Even as the words leave my lips, I can’t even believe I’m saying them. I’m good with words, but there’s usually some vulgar connotation attached to them.
Spread your legs. Look at me while I fuck you. Suck harder, deeper.
And my personal favorite:
Get up and get the fuck out.

But with Amelie, I couldn’t even say that stupid shit even if I wanted to. And that’s the thing - I don’t want to. Even thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach.

“Ok,” she smiles, looking up at me though long dark lashes. “I’ll just get cleaned up. Maybe run down to the kitchen and grab us some dinner?”

I press my lips against her forehead, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her hair. “That sounds perfect.” And miraculously, it does.

I make my way down to the parlor to find Varshaun and Aurora huddled in a hushed exchange while Nadia and a few of my men make small talk over drinks. Varshaun’s cunning, azure eyes gleam with mischief as he frowns at Aurora. She grazes his arm with familiarity, and moves in closer to whisper something in Dark tongue - something too fast for me to hear.

Feeling the heat of my glare, Varshaun jerks his head and brushes her hand from his forearm. “So nice of you to join us, Niko,” he smiles slyly. “Seems like you’ve been holed up in your suite for weeks. We hardly ever see you.”

“Oh?” Aurora retorts, her voice dripping with phoniness.

“Ah, Niko has a new toy. And if I were him, I’d play with her all the time too,” Nadia adds, sidling beside me. She hands me a fresh glass of my favorite bourbon before kissing my cheek, her bright blue eyes sparkling with affection. She loves me. Not as a lover, but as a friend. A sibling. For decades, Nadia has been an instrumental part of my team, caring for the girls I employ, and even enjoying them herself, on occasion.  

“Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t break this one!” Varshaun jibes with boisterous laughter.

I roll my eyes, hoping to thaw my annoyance and conjure the warmth that swept through me just minutes before. Even as they laugh and joke at my expense, all I can think about is Amelie. I want to feel that burn on my lips, stoke the fire with my eager hands. Kiss the sun and let its brilliance blind me until all I can do is bask in her gentle smile.

“Well, maybe Niko will let us all play with his new, little pet,” I hear Aurora suggest, turning to Varshaun. He shakes his head.

“Believe me, I’ve tried. But he’s not done having his fun just yet. I think we’ll wear him down soon enough,” he replies with a wink.

I’m just about to open my mouth to … shit. What would I say? How can I tell them to back the hell off without jeopardizing my stance as their ruthless, philandering prince? And without dispelling the rouse and revealing who I truly am and what I truly want?

I look around at the jovial faces, talking over crystal glasses of fine bourbon and wine. Outside of Aurora, these are the people I have spent everyday with for the last several decades with.
My so-called friends.
They don’t know me. None of them do. Not even Nadia who genuinely cares for me like her own family. Not even Varshaun who has been my wingman and right hand for longer than a human lifetime. We’ve fought together, killed together … hell, we’ve even fucked together. Still, he has no clue of the conflict boiling right beneath surface. He doesn’t know that I struggle with this…with what I am. He doesn’t know that most days, I dance with death only to feel some semblance of life. That my hunger for power is as deep and real as is my guilt and shame.