Page 14 of Claimed
“You do realize that I might have to ask you to remain behind, except when we are on PR stints in Alaçati proper. The Turkish Secretary of Ministry and Culture has agreed to meet us and?—”
“Oh, him,” Nicki said, wrinkling her nose. “I was hoping he’d gotten run over by a bus since last year’s windsurfing competition.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very diplomatic of me. I promise I won’t talk out of turn in Alaçati.”
“You know him? Hasan Omir?”
“Well enough. He’s kind of a pig, you ask me. Not too surprising, given his position and the kind of power he wields, and the fact that he was dealing with an international clientele of women in bathing suits. But yeah.”
Stefan frowned. “He’ll be our primary contact in Alaçati. The ministry has taken a heightened focus on tourism in the area. Will that pose any difficulty?”
“On the contrary,” she said. “He’s a fan—or he was. I met him last year at the competition. It’s sponsored by the PWA. Professional Windsurfers Association,” she explained as he quirked a brow at her. “That makes it a big deal, and there’s something around ten thousand competitors there every year, not to mention spectators and tourists. So Omir was on hand, and because I both competed and put up stringer reports for various windsurfing and extreme sports blogs, he was all over me. I don’t expect much has changed.”
He didn’t like the sound of that at all, but the secretary was a problem for another day. “We’ll be arriving at our initial destination at night, a small island off the coast of Alaçati. Does your camera work for nighttime photography?”
“According to Kristos, it totally does. But he’s never tested it, and I’ve found it’s not always ideal to try out new tech in unfamiliar waters. I’m not sure how much attention we’ll want to draw to ourselves, especially if people are expecting the videos to go live mere hours after I take them.”
“You don’t seem like you’re one to avoid the limelight.”
“The limelight, no. The light from crackling electrical fires—that’s a little more worth missing out on.”
“We’ll have the men test it first. They’re usually game for a light show.”
She shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Stefan’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and Nicki pushed her seat back. “I need to catch up on my feeds, actually. Is one of the sitting rooms okay, or would you prefer me to stay in my cabin?”
The request was made completely without artifice, and Stefan experienced a surge of possessiveness, a need to not let Nicki out of his sight, or out of his reach. To see if she wouldbend in his hands, or break, or simply melt like burnished mercury, too quick and ephemeral for him to hold.
“A moment,” he said.
Nicki stopped in place as he checked his phone. Cyril. They hadn’t been gone but an hour and already he was getting tagged from the palace. But he didn’t have to respond immediately to the chief advisor. Cyril could wait. For these few moments, he could imagine that there was no op that might open the door to an international incident or the crushing private loss of a family lived all over again.
He could simply imagine he was on a private yacht with a woman who confounded him at every turn, yet who he wanted…needed to touch again.
He stood and Nicki waited for him to reach her.
Looking down at her, his need to respond to Cyril faded further into the background. “I confess,” he murmured. “I’d very much like to continue our conversation from the beach yesterday.”
She wrinkled a brow at him. “That wasn’t so much a conversation. Conversations generally requirewords.”
He paused, waiting for her to catch on. “Perhaps you could show me.”
Nicki’s smile grew wider as realization dawned. “Is this one of those things that will move the mission forward?” she asked, her clear blue eyes warming with interest.
“It’s a simple request.” He kept his words bland. “If you find you’re unable to complete it?—”
“Oh no.” Nicki continued grinning as she placed her hands on his chest, bracing herself against him as she lifted to her toes. The pressure was warm, and far more welcome than he’d expected. “Far be it from me to take issue with a command order. Especially from a demigod.”
She brushed her soft lips against his once, twice, exploring his mouth with hers as he bent his head nearer, allowing her to move at her own pace, touching, tasting—searching. He felt more than heard her heart rate kick up, but it did so with a quickening rush as Nicki exhaled softly before following her breath with her lips and kissing him again.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her tight. He suddenly wanted more. Far more. As much as Nicki would give him, in fact, right here, right?—
His phone buzzed again.
“You know, you should probably get that,” Nicki murmured against his lips. “There could have been a bomb that went off or something in the capital city, forcing us to go back.”
“Oûros has an entire security force to attend to such matters.”
“Yeah, well, maybe the queen wants a particular souvenir from Alaçati. You’d hate to not get her the right snow globe.”