Again with the nose wrinkle. This time, Miles kind of looked like he’d just sniffed sour milk as his gaze moved over Nikolai. Nikolai kept his expression carefully blank, but there was a slight curl to his upper lip that could only be called a sneer of derision as he regarded Miles in return.
And suddenly Violet had a lot more empathy for her client, Mrs. Richards. The testosterone in the room was so thick you could practically slice it, plate it, and serve it with coffee. It was entirely possible that one or both of these guys was going to whip out his dick and pee on her at any moment to mark her as his territory.
Miles was the first to make a move. He stepped forward and stuck his hand out in Nikolai’s direction, a challenging glint in his eyes. “Pleased to meet you.”
There was nothing sincere in his words, and the look in his eyes made Violet nervous. Surely Miles wouldn’t try the old finger-crushing handshake that men so enjoyed on Nikolai, would he? Violet cringed at the thought.
Nikolai stared at Miles’s hand for a moment before taking it. When he did, she saw Miles’s grip tighten to the point that his face actually showed the strain. Yep, Violet thought. Definitely the finger-crushing dude handshake.
Nikolai leaned forward ever so slightly, bared his teeth in a feral mockery of a smile, and muttered a greeting, but the growly tone of his voice made the pleasant words ring out like a threat. The corded muscles in his forearms flexed and pulled as Nikolai tightened his grip on Miles’s hand.
Since it was entirely possible for a dhampyre to crush a normal human’s bones with one well-executed squeeze, Violet knew Nikolai had probably backed the handshake off to less than half strength. But even that was enough to make Miles’s face go white and a bead of sweat to break out on his upper lip.
Violet aimed a sharp glare at Nikolai until he let go of Miles’s hand. The shrug and subtle smirk he offered her in return was completely unrepentant.
Ugh. Men.
Another moment of tense male staredown ensued, until Miles finally visually dismissed Nikolai and turned his attention back to Violet. He took hold of her shoulders and fixed her with a look so intense she was startled. She’d never seen Miles do intense.
“Violet,” Miles said, “I think you should come stay with me until this is all over. I live in a gated community just outside of town. Crime rates are 47% higher outside of gated communities, as I’m sure you know.”
No, she hadn’t known that. Nor had she ever really cared. She was starting to see Lexa’s point about all the stats Miles spewed. It really was kind of annoying. How had she not noticed that before?
He added, “I would be honored to protect you, my dear.”
This time Nikolai’s snort wasn’t so subtle. “Violet stays here. She stays with me.”
And while she agreed with Nikolai’s statement, the note of possession behind his words didn’t sit well with her inner feminist. She narrowed her eyes on him. “Well, actually, Violet goes wherever she wants, since she is in charge of herself and her own destiny.”
Miles shot Nikolai a quick look of smug triumph that Violet squashed by adding, “But Nikolai is right, Miles. I’m choosing to stay in my own home, and I choose to keep Nikolai in charge of my protection and Harper in charge of my case. But I really do thank you for your concern. It’s very—” Over the top? Strangely confident for an actuary? Clingy? Super freakin’ weird? “—flattering.”
The frown he gave her reminded her of the look her mother used to give her when she was five and got caught with her hand in the Oreo jar. “Violet, dear, being safe isn’t about…” he trailed off, giving Nikolai the sour-milk-sniffing look again, “…brawn. You don’t always need a big, strong Neanderthal to protect you. Brains are even more important.”
Wow, she thought, score another point for Lexa. Miles could definitely be a condescending jerk. He’d only uttered a few sentences, and in that short time, he’d managed to insult both her intelligence and Nikolai’s.
Violet’s “big, strong Neanderthal” shot her look that all but begged her to let him toss Miles out on his condescending ass. She grudgingly respected his restraint. He easily could’ve Hulk-ed out and acted like the muscle-bound thug Miles clearly thought he was. But so far, he’d maintained his composure, even if it was a somewhat tense composure.
In contrast, Miles looked on the verge of having an aneurysm. His usually pasty complexion had taken on a ruddy glow, and his posture was so rigid Violet wondered if he was trying to appear taller than he actually was.
Violet almost didn’t blame him for that. Standing next to a guy who looked like Nikolai couldn’t be easy for a guy who looked like Miles. To Miles, Nikolai—who probably had six inches on him in height and at least 20 pounds more lean muscle on his frame—probably looked like every bully who’d ever stuffed him into a locker in middle school.
Violet could relate. She’d certainly taken her fair share of bullying from the pretty people when she was the glasses-and-headgear-wearing president of the AV club in the ninth grade.
Yeah. Good times.
But just because she could relate to Miles’s situation didn’t mean she was going to tolerate his possessive behavior. She just had way too much going on in her world at the moment to deal with babying a delicate male ego. It was time to end this…whatever it was that she’d been having with Miles. Time to turn Mr. Right Now into Mr. Yeah, Not So Much.
Just not in front of Nikolai.
“I really do appreciate your concern, Miles,” she said in what Lucas had always referred to as her talking-to-a-deranged-lunatic voice. “I’m comfortable and safe where I am, though.” Carefully ignoring the fact that he was now so clearly vexed his skin was purple—Jesus, that couldn’t be healthy, could it?—Violet asked, “Are we still on for drinks at Clary’s tonight?”
Clary’s Pub was the perfect place to dump someone. It wasn’t too loud, but there was enough noise that no one would overhear if their conversation got heated in any way. And the ambiance was in no way intimate, which was exactly what she needed to put her relationship with Miles out of its misery.
“Yes, of course,” Miles bit off.
After a too-wet and all kinds of awkward near-miss kiss (she managed to turn her mouth away just in the nick of time, thank God), Miles was on his way.
When he was gone, she closed the door, leaned her back against it, shut her eyes, and let out a sigh of relief. After tonight, she’d have one less source of stress in her life. Maybe she’d just give up on men after all. Lately they all just seemed to be more trouble than they were worth.
That’s when her nipples went on high alert and she realized Nikolai had leaned against the door right next to her. His hand brushed hers and an annoying zing of electricity shot up her arm.
Ugh. Apparently her body just wasn’t going to get onboard with her penis embargo anytime soon.
Stupid self-destructive body.
“So,” he said, that deep voice and accent once again playing merry hell with her pulse and concentration, “we’re going for drinks tonight?”
Violet blinked up at him. She’d totally forgotten that for the time being, anywhere she went, Nikolai went.
Which meant she was going to break up with Miles in front of Nikolai after all. He’d probably think her decision to end things with Miles had something to do with him, too.
And as he stood next to her, looking all tall, dark, and dangerous, turning her on and irritating her in equal measure, (Did anyone really have the right to be so damned sexy? It was gratuitous, really) she couldn’t help but wonder if Nikolai would be right to think her breakup with Miles meant she was interested in dating him again.
Fuuuccckkk.
Tipping her gaze heavenward, she wondered what she’d done lately to piss Him off.
“I’m sure He has bigger concerns than your love life, kotehok,” Nikolai answered with a smirk.
She closed her eyes again. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…
balls.”
He chuckled in a low, rough rumble that could only be described as panty-dropping.
It was going to be a long night. Again.
Chapter Nine
Nikolai had been waterboarded once as part of his Sentry reprogramming. It was the closest he’d ever come to breaking, to offering them whatever they wanted—to kill whomever they wanted him to kill—just to end the torture, the crippling, lung-seizing pain.
But right now? He’d almost rather be waterboarded than sit in this pub and watch the woman he wanted more than his next breath date another man.
There were so many things that were just wrong about this situation. First of all, there was the dress Violet had chosen for her night out.
It shouldn’t have bothered him. The length was fine (just below the knee), and the neckline wasn’t too low (it hit just below her collarbone), but it clung to her curves like it’d been designed just for her body (or with the sole purpose of driving him crazy). The fact that she’d put it on for anyone other than him made him want to punch something.
Preferably Miles’s smug face.
Nikolai suppressed a growl at the thought of his conversation with the pretentious little prick earlier.
Miles was the other thing that was wrong with this situation. What was someone like Violet—smart, beautiful, kind, unassuming—doing with such a miserable excuse for a human being? At Violet’s house, it’d been all he could do to keep from running the fucker’s head through the wall. Fear of damaging Violet’s home was pretty much all that had stopped him from doing just that.
“You know, instead of sitting here growling and brooding, you could just go over there and tell her how you feel,” Harper said mildly.
And that was yet another problem with this evening. The company he’d been forced to keep.
Somehow, Harper had managed to find out that Violet had a date Nikolai would be forced to attend, and she thought it would be a “total hoot” (her words) to show up at the same bar and observe. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d brought nearly her entire entourage along for the ride.
So far there was nothing…hoot-y about it.
Not. Any. Of. It.
Without taking his eyes off Violet, he said as dryly as he could manage, “I should go over there and tell her I’d like to string her date up from the rafters by his own entrails?”
Harper waited a beat before replying, “You might want to massage the verbiage on that a bit.”
Beside her, Benny snickered and pantomimed a massage with his hands. Harper chuckled before bumping knuckles with him.
Nikolai held in a put-upon sigh as Seven said, “Maybe you should say it exactly like that. I don’t like this guy. Scaring him off would be doing Violet a favor.”
Nikolai glanced over at her, eyes narrowed. “Why? Do you know something about him?”
“No. It’s just a feeling.”
From his position standing behind Harper, arms crossed over his chest, Riddick added, “I don’t like him, either, but his history’s clean. He has no ties to the paranormal world. The chances of him being her stalker are next to nothing. And we know the guy who broke into her apartment was a vamp. This guy’s about as mundane as he can get.”
“There’s still something about him that doesn’t sit right with me,” Seven insisted. “I’m going to talk to Lucas when he gets home tonight. Maybe the police can come up with something on him that we couldn’t.”
Riddick shrugged. “It’s possible. I just don’t see this guy as the violent or dangerous type, though. He’s too soft looking.”
Nikolai agreed. He still hated the guy. The mere fact that he’d been able to convince Violet to ever go out with him in the first place was reason enough for Nikolai to hate Miles. Then he saw Miles reach out across the table and cover Violet’s hand with his own.
And that was the most powerful reason of all for Nikolai to hate Miles. He was allowed to touch her.
“You’re growling again, Comrade,” Harper sing-songed. He turned his growl on her, but she merely laughed and added, “Don’t be so snarly. There’s nothing to be jealous about. She’s totally breaking up with him right now.”
His gaze shot to Harper’s. “How do you know this?”
“Body language. See how she’s leaning away from him, talking calmly? And see how he’s leaning in, looking more and more desperate with every word she says?”
He shifted his eyes back to Violet and saw her subtly slide her hand out from under Miles’s and scoot her chair back ever so slightly. She was distancing herself from him physically, which made Nikolai want to disembowel Miles a little bit less. But only a little bit.
“And,” Harper added, “the guy’s a complete twatwaffle. There’s no way someone like Violet would keep going out with a turd like him. He was most likely just a wedding date to her. And now that she’s going with you, she doesn’t need him anymore.”
Nikolai didn’t really have anything to contribute to that sentiment. He had no earthly idea what a twatwaffle was. His English was perfect, but some American colloquialisms were damn near impossible for foreigners like him to discern. And Harper was positively brimming with American colloquialisms.
“She’s totally into you anyway, dude,” Benny added. “I don’t know what you’re freaking out about. Whenever you aren’t looking at her, she’s looking at you.”
Nikolai glanced back at Violet, only to see her immediately glance away. She had been looking at him!
Very interesting.
But even if she was attracted to him physically, how could she ever forgive him for everything he’d done to her? How could she ever trust him with her heart, as she agreed to trust him with her body for this assignment?
Harper laid a hand on his bicep. “Violet has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. She’ll forgive you.”
He’d be the luckiest bastard who ever lived if Harper was right.
Benny snorted. “Shit yeah, she will. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I’ve gotten Angela to forgive me for. What you did to Vi is tame in comparison, I guarantee you that.”
He had no idea who Angela was, but something told Nikolai that asking Benny any questions on this particular topic would be ill-advised, so he kept his mouth shut.
Benny, however, had no such compunction.
“The whole midget porn thing, for example,” Benny went on. “That was huge. And it took a lot of groveling on my part, but eventually, Angela was willing to pretend the whole thing never happened. All’s well that ends well, you know?”
Harper opened her mouth, but snapped it shut when Riddick put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and he shook his head. “I beg you,” Riddick said, a pained expression on his face. “If you love me even just a little bit, don’t ask.”
Harper sighed in defeat and looked back over at Benny. Nikolai could tell she was dying to ask more questions, but instead, she opted to say, “Pretty sure the term you want to use these days is ‘little people,’ Benny.”
Benny sniffed. “Pfffttt. I can never keep that PC bullshit straight. Swear to God it changes every damn day. You can’t say nothin’ no more without offending some special little snowflake, you know?”
Violet stood up and starting moving toward the ladies’ room. Thank you, Jesus. Nikolai now had an excuse to get the hell out of Benny and Harper’s conversation.
He kept his eyes on Violet, but his peripheral vision was solid enough that he saw Miles throw his napkin to the table in a fit of temper and storm out the door.
Good riddance, he thought. One reason for Violet to push Nikolai away was now out of the picture. Now he only had about, oh, maybe a thousand or so others to overcome.
“You’re so screwed, Aleyev,” he muttered.
Behind him, Benny cackled and piped up with, “Yeah, and not even in the fun way!”
Chapter Ten
Violet was on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown.
Her conversation with Miles was so
draining she could barely hold her head up anymore. Leaning heavily on the sink in the ladies’ room, she sucked in a few deep breaths and blotted some shiny spots on her forehead with a tissue.
Miles had argued with her so much about breaking up that she’d actually broken a sweat while she debated it with him. What the hell was the world coming to when the classic “it’s not you, it’s me” speech didn’t send a member of the opposite sex running for the door?
But the arguing and Miles’s assertions that they were soulmates and would eventually end up together (after all, did she know that 58% of second-chance romances ended in happy marriages?) weren’t what bothered Violet most. When Miles had asked her if her decision to break up with him was because of Nikolai, she’d opened her mouth to say it didn’t, and…nothing came out.
Violet had no doubt she would’ve eventually broken up with Miles. They mostly got along fine, sure, but there weren’t any sparks. No zing. She would’ve needed some zing sooner or later.
But as Nikolai sat there, two tables away, looking at her with more intensity and zing than Miles would ever be capable of, Violet couldn’t lie and say the break-up’s timing didn’t have at least a little something to do with Nikolai.
And didn’t that just make her a hundred different kinds of fool?
She was starting to feel like she was being ripped apart, caught in the middle of a war between her body, her heart, and her brain. Her body, of course, wanted her to jump Nikolai at the first opportunity and bend him to her will. (Or let him bend her to his will, preferably right over the edge of her bed.)
Her heart was only slightly more cautious than her body. Her brain, her last line of defense, knew that getting involved with Nikolai again was a dangerous proposition at best.
All her life she’d led with her head and protected her heart. Until she met Nikolai, that is. And where did trusting her heart get her? Kidnapped and tied to a chair, that’s where.
Violet took a deep breath and checked herself out in the mirror. Overly bright eyes stared back at her. Her cheeks were flushed, too. Chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. She was either seconds away from a panic attack, or in the throes of rampant sexual frustration. At this point it was hard to determine which.
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