by Lauren Smith
“I should go.” She released his shoulders and looked away, but his green eyes kept drawing her focus back to them. She raised a hand to her kiss-swollen lips and almost smiled but had to shake herself to remember that this was dangerous to have gone this far.
He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
“Will you wait for me? I will close the club. Then we can go to dinner.” The earnest desire in his words made her hesitate. Could she stay near him and not lose her head again?
“Please, my little rose, do not make me beg.” He winked at her, and the harsh lines of his scarred face seemed to fade into boyish playfulness as he teased her.
“Eat? It’s after midnight!” she said, half laughing.
“An early breakfast then.”
She knew the logical thing to do was to thank him for the amazing evening and leave—but she couldn’t.
If I can keep control over my hormones, maybe I can learn more about him. That’s what a smart hunter would do, right?
She needed to know more about him, learn his weaknesses if she was going to figure out a safe way to inject him with the serum and call the Brotherhood to come and get him. It was incredibly important that they find out how close the dragons were to war with each other and Rurik was the key. He feathered another kiss over her lips, and the last ounce of her resistance crumbled.
“An early breakfast it is.” She grinned up at him foolishly. Maybe it was okay to play the bad girl and do something wild and reckless. Just once.
“Excellent. Come with me.” He led her to the back of the bar and sat her down on a stool, then waved over the bartender. “Victor, please keep this lovely woman company while I close up.”
The bartender spoke to Rurik in Russian, and Rurik responded with a chuckle and nodded. Victor handed Charlotte a fresh glass of wine. Rurik leaned in close and playfully tugged a lock of her hair before he walked through the club’s dwindling crowd and disappeared through the back door she’d spied earlier.
“My boss really likes you,” the bartender said. His accent was heavy, but his English was decent.
She took a deep sip of her wine. “You think so?”
The bartender chuckled. “He danced in a cage with you. He never does that with other girls.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure why that mattered, but God, it had been so hot, so fucking hot. She was wet just thinking about it. Clamping her thighs together, she tried not to think about what it said about her that a simple make out session had gotten to her like that. But then, there had been nothing simple about that make out.
She finished her wine and watched the club close down, the bouncers escorting the last of the partiers out and locking up. The lights dimmed, and the fog cleared from the floors. Only then did the back door open and Rurik come out. He still wore his black-and-red motorcycle jacket, but he held two helmets and came over to her.
“Ready?”
“We’re not taking a car?” she asked as she took one of the black helmets from him.
“I do not take my car to the club, I only have my motorcycle.” He held out a hand. She didn’t have to go with him—she could see it in his eyes—but there was a longing there, a need that matched her own. She took a deep breath and placed her hand in his.
The bartender handed Charlotte her purse, and she let Rurik lead her out onto the street. A sleek black motorcycle with dark green trim was parked on the curb. He stopped and turned to her.
“The helmet is for you.” He helped her put it on, then straddled the bike and started the engine. Rain began to fall around them, misting the streets that were still warm from traffic. Charlotte shivered, glad she’d brought a coat. She pulled it on and slid onto the back seat behind Rurik and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Hold on tight, little one. I’ll see you are dry and warm as soon as I can.” He patted her hands and then gunned the engine. The motorcycle shot forward as they sped into the brightly lit Moscow streets. Rain made the lights from the cars seem like foggy halos. She watched the world around her blur as Rurik guided his bike into the traffic. He was fearless, flawless, and sexy as hell. She never thought she’d have a thing for motorcycles, but tonight she totally did.
There was something magical about the way they had to work together, their bodies leaning in the same direction as he took sweeping curves for turns. She felt connected to him in a way she hadn’t expected. They were one being while they rode together, a single blur on the streets of Moscow. For the first time in her life she felt bonded to another person. A person who was a danger to humans, a person she had every intention of betraying when she used the serum on him and called in the Brotherhood for a containment team. Charlotte swallowed down the uncomfortable burn in her throat at just thinking about what had to be done. But not right now. Not yet.
Rurik finally stopped in front of an expensive-looking glass building and helped her off.
A young man in a valet’s uniform rushed out, and Rurik tossed him the keys before he took off his helmet. Charlotte removed her helmet, and the young man collected both hers and Rurik’s.
She gazed up at the bright lights of the beautiful glass exterior. It looked more like a high end apartment building. “This doesn’t look like a restaurant.”
“That’s because it isn’t. Nothing good is open this time of the morning. This is where I live.”
“Here?” She quelled the flutter of nerves at the thought of going up to his apartment and focused instead on the fact that the building was classy, refined, and didn’t match the gritty biker vibe Rurik put off. Yet this was exactly the opportunity she needed. He would feel safe at his own home and lower his guard.
He laughed and took her hand, the moment so natural that she didn’t pull away. “Of course. Did you think I would live somewhere else?”
Blushing, she shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. This building is beautiful.” She marveled at how well their hands fit together and how warm his palm was. They walked through the lobby and Rurik took her to a set of gold-painted elevator doors. Inside, he removed a black keycard from his wallet and swiped it through a scanner next to the buttons.
“I thought we were getting breakfast?” she asked.
“We are. In my apartment.” He thumbed the button for the tenth floor, and the elevator doors closed.
“But—” she started to object. She’d agreed to food, nothing else.
“Don’t tell me you are afraid? You are safe enough with me.” A mischievous twinkle in his eyes sent her pulse racing.
“I’m not afraid, but you changed things. You can’t do that.” She protested a little, letting him feel that he was the one who was safe, the one in charge. So far so good…
He curled an arm around her waist and tugged her close. “Of course I can. I’m the one in control.” She pressed her palms on his chest in an effort to either push him away or touch him. She wasn’t really sure.
“Rurik…”
He grinned. “I love it when you say my name.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “And you will say my name many times before the night is over.”
That should have scared her, but it didn’t. From the moment she’d met, she wasn’t afraid of the dragon side of him—she was more afraid of the man, of how much he affected her. Yet she wasn’t able to turn away. The pull between them, at least for her, was so strong that she stared at him, mesmerized, unable to speak. He didn’t seem to want to say anything either. He held her close, their bodies touching, their faces inches apart.
Would it be so bad to lean in for a kiss? Just one more? Her resistance wavered, and she was giving in—
Ding! The elevator doors slid open with a chime.
“This is my floor,” he announced, the words simple, yet she heard the offer in his voice, the choice of getting off with him or staying inside the safety of the elevator.
“For the record,” she began, blushing, “I do not go home with guys…like ever.” She bit her lip when he smiled at her.
&nb
sp; “Then I’m honored to be the first, little rose.” He towered over her and stole a quick, hard kiss. There was only one door in the hallway on the floor, and Rurik led her to it. He turned the knob without using a key or keycard.
“You don’t lock it?”
Rurik gave a shrug of one shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. I own the whole floor.”
As they stepped inside, Charlotte gaped. It was a huge set of rooms with high ceilings and modern furnishings. This place was a lot like a hotel, though a pricey one. There were glass chandeliers and dark leather couches. It was a mixture of various forms masculine luxury, right down to the blue diamond fireplace against the interior wall of the living room. The windows were floor to ceiling, giving the impression that she could take a leap out of the building and fly. Which was not a good thing. They got closer to the windows as he took her to the kitchen, and Charlotte’s breathing kicked up.
Rurik turned to face her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reading her panic.
“I have a thing about heights.” She nodded at the windows.
His dark chuckle momentarily distracted her from her fear. “Afraid of heights? Whatever will I do with you?” He winked and then picked up a slim black remote from the granite countertop of the kitchen, aiming it at the nearest windows. Black screens came down, turning the windows into walls. Charlotte relaxed, and her muscles, which had tensed, began to relax.
“Better?” Rurik asked.
“Much.”
“Have a seat. I’ll order some food.” He nodded to the table. She sat down, kicking off her heels. She rubbed her sore feet and watched him pull his cell phone out of his back pocket. He dialed a number and spoke rapidly, then hung up and turned to her.
“Food will be here soon. Would you like another drink?”
Why not? She was still feeling a bit buzzed from the club, and she didn’t want that relaxed feeling to go away just yet.
“Sure.” She pointed and flexed her toes and blushed when she realized he was watching her. “I’m not used to wearing heels.” In the lab, she’d always worn sneakers.
“I never understand how you females squeeze into those dresses or stand in those shoes, but I certainly won’t complain because the end result is…” He waved a hand at her body, his eyes heating with open appreciation.
She raised one brow, wondering if he’d finish that sentence. He didn’t, but the heat in his eyes assured her that he was more than pleased with how she looked. Rather than be embarrassed, she felt emboldened and sexy. Was this how a woman was supposed to feel around a man she liked? He made her feel beautiful and attractive, and she loved it.
“So, if you do not go home with men like this, why me?” Rurik poured a glass of wine for her and a glass of bourbon for himself. He watched her take a sip before he raised his own glass to his lips. Charlotte swallowed, unsure what to say. The truth was more complicated than she cared to admit.
Because you’re sexy as hell and I can’t think rationally around you? Because I want to know if you make love as dirty and sinfully as you kiss? Because I’m here to capture you and bring you to my brothers because you might be the key to stopping a dragon war?
None of those were safe answers, and she had to try to play it safe—at least enough to keep him from discovering her true purpose.
“I guess there’s something about the way you kiss,” she finally admitted.
He laughed, the sound dark and forbidden in the best possible way. He removed his leather jacket and tossed it on the counter. He walked over to the table, but didn’t sit. Instead, he cocked his hip and took another slow drink as he watched her. Charlotte fixated on his throat as he swallowed and how he licked his lips when he set the glass down. She missed those lips already, wanted them against her own, her skin, her…everything.
“What are you doing here in Russia? It’s a very long way from home, is it not?”
“It is.” She had practiced her story, knowing it was best to stay vague but at the same time keep as much truth as possible. “I’m a biochemist from Michigan. I came here for a vacation.” She smiled a little. In a way it was a vacation. A vacation from her controlling brothers.
“A biochemist?” He finished his bourbon and took a seat next to her at the table. “You don’t look like a biochemist.”
“Yeah. Everybody expects me to be constantly wearing the lab coat and glasses and be stuck in a lab.” And that’s exactly what she had been until Meg had called to consult her about the shift-repressing drug. She tried to turn the focus back on him. “So, you own a nightclub?”
“I do.” He reached across the table and stroked a fingertip along her arm as he spoke. “My older brother is a respectable businessman. My other brother, well, he’s a…” Rurik snorted as though whatever he was thinking was amusing.
“He’s a what?” she asked.
His green eyes burned into hers with mischief. “An international jewel thief.”
“What?” Her heart jolted. “A jewel thief?” Was he kidding? There hadn’t been anything in the files on that. All she knew of the brother Mikhail was that he’d lived in England for a few centuries and had recently gotten into a deadly fight with an English dragon. It was part of the reason the serum had come into the Brotherhood’s possession. But international jewel thief? Rurik had to be kidding…right? She started to pull away, but he curled his fingers around her arm, possessive but gentle.
“Afraid of me again? I never promised that I was a good man. My family, well, we are quite the opposite, especially me.” His words rolled along her skin, giving her goosebumps. They scared her, but not enough to make her run. She couldn’t let him know she knew what he really was. She had to pretend that she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Are you in the Mafia, the Russian Bratva or something?” Yeah, that sounded like a proper question to ask. No way that could get her in trouble. Sheesh.
The hard smile he flashed her sent a wave of heat through her. Apparently, I have a thing for really bad boys. It was not a comfort to learn this about herself, certainly not right now. No wonder her brothers kept a close eye on her.
“The Bratva? Those fools have nothing on my family.”
That was the truth. She’d spent the last few weeks reviewing everything she could about the Barinov family, and they had survived countless numbers of attempts by the Bratva to rub them out or marginalize their power. The smart ones quickly learned to leave the Barinovs alone. The dumb ones didn’t last very long.
I really shouldn’t be here doing this. But she had to prove that she wasn’t a helpless little girl anymore, and the best way to do that was by bringing them the one creature that scared even her brothers. More importantly, she would be bringing them the one creature that could stop a war between dragon clans and save innocent human lives.
“So you’re a Russian club-owning badass,” she said.
His lips twisted into a crooked grin. “Something like that.”
“Does that mean you’re dangerous?” She was teasing, but she also wanted to see if he would argue he wasn’t. He’d already admitted he wasn’t a good guy, but she was curious to see how far he’d open up about himself to a “mere mortal” who wasn’t supposed to know what he was.
“I—” The apartment door chimed.
Rurik growled to himself but left her to answer the door. A man in a wait staff uniform rolled in a cart with covered serving trays. He paid the man, who set the dishes on the table and promptly rolled the cart out.
“What kind of apartment building has room service?” she asked right before he lifted the lid to reveal two steaks with asparagus and mashed potatoes. She’d always loved a good steak.
“I own this building, and I like the convenience, so I had a skilled kitchen built in. My tenants are wealthy, and happily pay for room service when they want it. I hope this is all right. I assume it’s a more American fare?” He passed her a white napkin rolled over silverware.
“Yes, this is perfect, thank you,” she
said. “So, if you own the building, I take it the nightclub business pays well?”
“Well enough, but my family has always had money, and my oldest brother is quite good at investing.”
Now that made sense. The Brotherhood’s files on dragons indicated that they seemed to have a good source of wealth from collecting jewels over the centuries. They were obviously shrewd investors too. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he cut her off gently.
“Enough about me. I’m more curious about you.” Rurik took a bite of his steak before continuing. “Why visit Russia? Surely Russia in the middle of winter is not a good vacation spot. I could picture you on a tropical island in a teeny red bikini.” He winked.
Charlotte blushed. “I’m not really the bikini type.” Being curvy, she’d always felt too self-conscious to wear something so revealing. The tight-fitting dress she wore now was bad enough, but there was no way she would wear a bikini in public.
“Then why Russia?” he persisted.
Charlotte tried to share part of the truth. “I’ve always loved history, even though I didn’t get a degree in it. I wanted to see the Winter Palace while it snowed, but the forecast for the trip seems to indicate only rain, so I decided not to travel to Saint Petersburg.” She’d loved learning about the czars and the whole Anastasia mystery when she was younger.
Rurik’s rakish grin faded, and his eyes softened with shadows of sorrow.
“The Winter Palace is quite beautiful when it snows. We used to have the most wonderful winter balls there. Outside, the windows would glow with gold light, and you could hear music drifting across the ice and snow. In a world of white and heavy winter silence, the palace was brimming with colorful life.”
His gaze turned distant. He seemed to be seeing something past her, many years ago. He probably didn’t even realize the slip he’d made by admitting he’d been there, when the palace had hosted balls. Charlotte couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live as long they did. She wanted to ask him. She had so many questions about his life as a dragon, but she couldn’t reveal herself. Not yet. It might get her killed.