Chapter 41 Chapter 41
Chapter 41
Nikolai’s POV
The chopper vibrated under us like a living thing, rotors slicing through the night air with that steady, mechanical throb. I watched her across the narrow cabin, this little spitfire with her blood-smeared palm and those diamonds clutched like they could buy her freedom.
Nina.
Her name rolled through my mind, sharp and uninvited. She sat there, knees pressed tight, bare feet twitching against the leather floor as if she might bolt at any second. Her eyes locked on mine, wide and defiant, that pulse jumping in her throat like a trapped bird.
I had tracked her for hours, silent on the bike, letting the city blur into streaks of neon and shadow. She thought she had escaped. Amusing, really. The way she darted through alleys, haggled with that pathetic receptionist, swung her helmet like some street fighter.
I had seen it all from the edges, helmet hiding my face, amusement curling low in my gut. She fought like a cornered animal, all claws and desperation, but there was fire in it. Not the cold calculation I was used to in our world, but something raw, unpolished. It pulled at me, this girl who owed us everything and still spat in our faces.
Now here she was, yapping again. Her voice cut through the engine hum, small but insistent. “At least you shouldn’t have beaten that old man. He was the only one who was nice to me. We have to go back, make sure he’s okay. Or I’ll jump out of this chopper, I swear.”
I almost laughed. Jump out. As if the doors weren’t sealed, as if gravity would bend for her threats. Her lips moved fast, words tumbling out in that breathless rush, her chest rising and falling with each one.
She pouted, actually pouted, like a child demanding sweets. But she was no child. The way her body shifted, pressing back into the seat, the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone from the night’s chaos. It stirred something in me, a heat I had ignored for too long.
Her yapping grated, yes, poking at the silence I preferred, but it was more than irritation. It was temptation. Every word she spat challenged me, dared me to respond. And I rarely spoke. Words were weapons, best saved for precision. But with her, silence felt insufficient.
She kept going, undeterred by my stare. “You think you can just drag me back like some prize? That old man didn’t deserve it. He helped me when no one else would. If he’s hurt because of you, I won’t forgive.”
Her eyes flashed, golden flecks catching the dim cabin lights. She leaned forward slightly, as if proximity could make her point sharper. The air between us thickened, scented with her faint rain-damp skin and the metallic tang of blood from her hand.
Amusement twisted deeper into something hotter. She underestimated us, underestimated me. I had let her run, watched from afar as she played her little game of independence. The fashion house cameras caught her slip out; my phone buzzed with the alert before she even hit the street.
Dante had laughed over the line, Enzo grumbled about the waste of time, but I volunteered. Silent as always. Riding through Italy’s underbelly, tracking her scent like a wolf. And now, her defiance in this confined space, it pulled at the edges of my control. Her lips parted for another barrage, and that was it. The yapping had to stop.
My hand moved before thought caught up. Fingers caught her chin, warm skin under my grip, soft but unyielding. I tilted her face up, forcing those wide eyes to meet mine fully. Her breath hitched, a tiny sound that sent a jolt through me. Then I closed the distance. My mouth claimed hers.
It was not gentle. I did not do gentle. My lips pressed hard, demanding entry, tasting the salt of her surprise and the faint bitterness of adrenaline still lingering on her tongue. She froze for a split second, body rigid, but then her lips parted under the pressure, a soft yield that ignited fire in my veins.
I deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping in to explore the heat of her mouth, the velvet slide against hers. She tasted like rebellion, like rain-soaked streets and stolen diamonds, a mix of sweet defiance and sharp edges. My hand slid from her chin to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her damp hair, gripping just enough to hold her in place. Strands twisted around my knuckles, cool and silky, pulling a low growl from my throat.
Her body responded despite herself. A tremor ran through her, chest pressing closer as if drawn by invisible strings.
I felt the rapid thud of her heartbeat against mine, erratic where mine stayed steady, controlled. My free hand braced on the seat beside her hip, not touching but caging her in, leather creaking under my weight. The kiss turned raw, teeth grazing her lower lip in a light bite that drew a gasp from her.
I savored it, the way her breath mingled with mine, hot and uneven. Her hands came up, one still fisted around those diamonds, pressing against my chest—not pushing away, but clutching, nails digging through my jacket into skin. Pain sparked, mingling with pleasure, urging me on.
I angled my head, sealing us tighter, tongue dueling with hers in a rhythm that mirrored the chopper’s vibrations. Heat built fast, coiling low in my gut, her scent enveloping me—faint soap, sweat, and something uniquely her, wild and untamed. My thumb traced the line of her jaw, feeling the flutter of her pulse there, racing like prey under a predator’s touch. She arched slightly, a subconscious surrender, her body molding to the kiss even as her mind probably screamed resistance. I took more, lips bruising in their insistence, exploring every curve and crease, committing the feel of her to memory. The world narrowed to this: the wet slide of mouths, the shared breaths growing ragged, the electric tension humming between us.
She made a small sound, half moan, half protest, vibrating against my lips. It fueled me. I pulled her closer, hand tightening in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the column of her throat. My mouth trailed there for a moment, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, tasting the salt of her sweat. She shuddered, fingers flexing against my chest, diamonds pressing hard enough to leave imprints. The kiss returned to her lips, fiercer now, a clash of wills where I dominated but she fought back with every flick of her tongue. Raw hunger surged, the kind I rarely allowed, but with her, it felt inevitable. Like she had been poking at this beast all night, and now it was unleashed.
The cabin lights cast golden highlights on her flushed skin, her cheeks blooming pink under the intensity. Her eyelashes fluttered against my cheek, soft as whispers, contrasting the hard grip I maintained. Time stretched, the kiss a vortex of sensation: heat, pressure, taste, sound. Her breaths came in pants now, matching mine, the air between us charged and thick. I could feel the quiver in her thighs where our legs brushed, the subtle shift of her hips as if seeking more contact. It was intoxicating, this power over her, the way she melted even while resisting. Amusement lingered at the edges of my mind—she had yapped her way into this, and now silence reigned, broken only by the wet sounds of our mouths and the distant rotor hum.
But then, a voice pierced the haze.
“Eww.”
Isabela’s disgusted drawl cut through, laced with venom and boredom.
Nina jerked back instantly, body drawing away like she had been burned. Her cheeks flamed crimson, eyes darting everywhere— to the window streaked with night lights, to the floor where her bare feet curled, to Isabela’s smirking face—anywhere but at me.