Page 6 of Claimed
She cleared her throat, going for casual. “You don’t suppose they found something new about Ari, do you? Maybe where his plane landed in Turkey?”
Predictably, all Stefan’s good cheer fell away from him like an avalanche. Prince Aristotle Andris had crashed his small plane a year earlier, somewhere over the Aegean Sea. The family had been in mourning ever since—until recent new evidence pointed them toward a coastal town in Turkey…a coastal town that Nicki, of all people, knew well. Alaçati, Turkey, was host to an international windsurfing competition, and she’d competed there the previous summer. It was a thin connection, and in truth she didn’t know how she could truly help—yet. But shewantedto help.
Needed to.
Stefan’s face shuttered. He had no interest in accepting her aid, he’d made that abundantly clear. “Then they would definitely not be coming for you.”
He rolled to his feet and held out a hand, which she ignored as she pulled herself to her feet as well, dusting off her legs. Somehow Stefan had managed to thrash around without marring a single hair on his head or dirtying his spandex with so much as a grain of sand. It almost made her want to push him down into the dune.
Instead, he turned smartly and began walking toward the approaching men, and Nicki squinted into the sun, then followed behind him. She knew the tall, slender man in the center, his face impassive as he stopped, allowing them to cometo him. Cyril Gerou was the royal family’s chief advisor, with ties to the military, communications, and probably every other arm of royal rule in the tiny country. He was a good man, she supposed, but he suffered from a perennial case of the grumpies, which Stefan seemed to catch whenever he was within ten feet of the guy. Like now.
“Sir.” Stefan nodded as Cyril bowed to Nicki. “Is anything wrong?”
Cyril shook his head. “We weren’t sending a search party out, I assure you. The men are about to go on maneuvers, and I decided to accompany them. When you were spotted, I thought it would be a good time to discuss developments. My apologies,” he turned to Nicki. “I didn’t know you were with the ambassador.”
Yeah, well, that’s because the ambassador was mashed up against my face.“No worries. I was leaving for a jog anyway when Stefan and I ran into each other. I can let you guys talk?”
“Where are you going?” Stefan’s words were too sharp, and she pivoted toward him, gratified to see the warring emotions flit across his face for a moment. He needed to get debriefed, or whatever the term was, but he also didn’t want her out of his sight. His sight or his arms—though maybe, for him, they were both the same thing.
That thought made her stand a little straighter. Had his kiss been something more than simple lust? Maybe some sort of weird move to control her or keep her in place? It was exactly the kind of high-handed move Stefan would enjoy, and irritation riffled through her.
She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “One of the hotels is setting up their kayaks and boogie boards. I’m going to go work on that. You guys have a good time.”
“Don’t leave the beach,” Stefan said, the words more an order than a suggestion.
“Sure thing,” Nicki waved.Not.“I’ll see you later.”
She stamped off through the sand, aware that Stefan was watching her. Her heart had quieted finally, and she breathed a sigh of relief for that. The true condition of her heart was a complete unknown, though she definitely had dizzy spells and migraines, which were problematic enough. She’d been prescribed beta-blockers for the migraines, and despite her disdain for pills she’d continued taking them, hoping they’d keep any worse heart issues at bay.
Which was silly, really. Beta=blockers wouldn’t fix her heart if what she really feared was true. Her brother and father had been diagnosed with familial hypertrophic cardiomyopathy…basically, their heart muscle was thick and inefficient, slowing down the flow of blood out of the heart. Her father had had a devastating heart attack five years earlier, and lived in fear of having another one. Her brother, once he’d been diagnosed, had lived in fear, too. Neither one of them had done anything active since.
Nicki had been tested…once. But she hadn’t gone back. She couldn’t live in constant fear. She wouldn’t.
Still, any time her heart skittered out of control she knew she was facing a potentially deadly risk, and she needed to watch that. Plus, there was no denying that whenever Stefan got close her heart definitely did kick up a few notches, and not in a comfortable way. He made her feel out of sorts, defensive and aggressive at once, and she wasn’t used to reacting to anyone that way, especially not a guy. Especially not a guy who people called “ambassador” with a straight face—let alone the whole demigod possibility. That wasn’t the kind of man Nicki had ever attracted.
And what was Stefan’s attraction to her about anyway? He had a way of seeming simultaneously interested and oppressive, and she thought more about that kiss. She hadn’t beenimagining his interest, had she? Again, was this all truly some weirdly obscure strategy to allow him to keep tabs on her?
Well, he could go spin in small circles if he thought she was going to put up with that. Regardless of what Emmaline and Kristos’s upcoming wedding plans were, Nicki would need to come up with an excuse to get out of Oûros. Otherwise, she was going to go crazy.
Four
If Nicki Clark didn’t leave the peaceful kingdom of Oûros soon, Stefan vowed silently, he was going to go crazy.
He watched her jog across the sand as if she owned the entire beach, his attention fractured between her sun-browned legs and Cyril’s preemptive throat clearing. “You’re doing yourself no favors by displaying your interest in her,” Cyril said, the words so blunt that Stefan swung his gaze back to him.
“My interest?” he scowled. “Since when do you care about any woman I speak to?”
“Since the queen has become fixated on the romantic lives of every one of the four young women presently under the royal roof. And don’t think she hasn’t noticed the way you and the American seek each other out. You would do well to be more circumspect if you don’t want to find yourself in Queen Catherine’s sights.”
“Seek each—” he glanced toward Nicki then back toward Cyril. “Cyril, half the time I’m trying to track her down, not meet up for a chat.”
“Half the time, yes,” Cyril gestured to the dune where Stefan had most assuredly found Nicki…and for more than a chat. “The queen has eyes in the back of her head when it comes to ferretingout presumed romantic entanglements. Because you have not been careful, and given the woman’s apparent connections in Alaçati, the queen is giving serious thought to assigning Miss Clark to you when you go to?—”
“No,” snapped Stefan, so sharply that Cyril frowned at him in surprise. It wasn’t his place to rebuke the chief advisor, but he didn’t care. Hermes had warned him about the queen’s pastime, and he hadn’t listened. Because of that, he might already be putting the American in danger.
Almost against his will, Stefan let his gaze return once more to where Nicki was haggling with a bodyboard vendor in front of one of the posh hotels along the beach. A small crowd had gathered around her, as small crowds tended to do. Again, not because she was classically beautiful…she was merely irresistible.
She was also a menace.