Page 19 of The Red Room
He rears his head to me, the savagery in his eyes on full display. His chest expands with a stern breath, and he heaves out something feral. It’s as if all the animosity leaves him with that forceful grunt. This pent-up wrath he hides like his tattoos beneath long-sleeved shirts. I search for the gold in his eyes, praying a part of him is still there somewhere. But it’s not.There’s only blackness. Two deep pools of onyx reflecting the entire club and my horrified face.
His teeth bare. Saliva drips down each large incisor. Then, he takes a step toward me, gnashing his polished white teeth.
“Nik?” I gasp, terror draining the blood from my cheeks. He’s not the same man that danced with me in his loft, anymore. Whose kiss was so gentle and comforting. This person towering over me now is someone else. Nik … is something else.
The color returns to his eyes, and the snarl distorting his striking features subsides just enough to notice. Nik lets the man collapse to the floor with a heavy thud. His body twists in a way that one arm splays forward while the other is pinned behind his back. Both legs twitch uncontrollably. He isn’t moving. Christ, I’m not sure if he’s even breathing.
Fear ices every bone, every ligament, even the blood pumping through veins to solid stone. The person standing in front of me isn’t Nik. Not the Nik that told me about his life in Russia. Not the man so willing to share his horrible childhood. This guy … is different. Without warning, he hooks his arm into mine and guides me, no, forces me to the double doors of Club Völk.
“What are you doing?” I shout at him, struggling to keep up with his stride.
He doesn’t look at me, only straight ahead, his face as firm as granite. “This was a mistake, Natalia. I thought things could be different, but I was wrong.”
I try and pull away, but his grip tightens on my arm. “What are you talking about? Let go of me!”
He doesn’t until I’m outside of Völk, where the remaining bouncers work to keep the sidewalks clear. Onlookers watch from the street, whispering to each other. Some even record us on their fucking phones.
He stares at me, his features grave and unyielding. It isn’t until Nik’s mouth thins to a hard line that I know whatever tonight was is truly over. The dinner. The dance. The kiss, it was all for nothing. I was never meant to be in a club like Völk. To be withsomeonelike him.
“You are not safe around me. Around this place.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I fight to swallow the lump building in my throat. I want to say something. To scream at him, but I can’t. The words seemingly evaporate the moment they hit my chest and leave a tremendous ache in their place.
“Yuri will take you home.” He turns for the stairs and pauses. Despite the hesitation to say more, Nikolai Vostik does, and my entire world shatters.
“Don’t come back.”
EIGHT
The day of the full moon
“Tilt your heada little to the left,” I say, bringing the lens into focus. “Perfect.”Click, the shutter snaps to a close, and an image pops up on the lighted screen. The man is positioned behind his new fiancée, arms snaking around her torso and tied together at her stomach. Her, a beaming grin, and him a small, forced smirk. I’m sure he wants to be here as much as I do right now, but happy future wife, happy life. And for me, happy landlord means not being served an eviction notice.
Falling asleep last night was difficult. Kind of hard to do when your face is leaking fluids from every hole and your eyes are puffier than a boxer after a prize fight. Waking up and having the evening replay in my head was somehow worse.Don’t come back, Nik’s voice taunted me all morning. I’ve seen him six different times today so far, and every time I turn for a second glance, he’s gone. The bus stop. Each street I pass. The coffee shop off Fulton Avenue. He was there, I am sure of it. Yet, whenever I look again it’s like he wasn’t there at all. It’s as if every man in LA decided to wear a Nik mask and mockme, finding enjoyment in the horrible way my night came to a screeching halt. How an incredible date with him could blow up in my face so tremendously. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. And now, here I am, taking pictures of a happy couple embracing each other on a beach while the blue and orange horizon does little else than complement them.
I kneel and get a better angle, capturing the foamy waves making their final splash on the shore. “Now, you two look at each other,” I say, twisting the lens slightly. “John, shift your body forward. Sarah, roll your shoulders back and look at your future husband.” They do as I ask, staring in each other’s eyes.Click.“Good. Now bring your foreheads together.”Click.
Knees buried in the sand, I focus on their faces. Both grin wide now, and before I have enough time to zoom in, he kisses her.
Because you aren’t like them, I remember the way Nik said it, his glowing eyes peering into parts of my soul I didn’t know existed. The flames he created in my stomach, and how they spread throughout my body like wildfire. My chest tightens again at the thought, and I force back the tears burning my eyes worse than the salty sea air.Click.
Photography wasn’t some lifelong dream I had growing up as much as something I fell into at college. It was an elective course, and my professor, Mr. Aldrich, assured me I had a knack for capturing the moment. What he failed to mention was the termstarving artistand how cruel the industrytruly is. I’ve done freelance work for some smaller magazines, but mostly advertise myself on social media to supplement my income while I wait for the bigger jobs which are few and far between. I prefer the smaller shoots anyway. Something about taking pictures of hired models all day long with bodies to envy works wonders on my mental health.Here’s your four-hundred-dollars for the day, Natalie. Do you want me to put the check in your name or your therapist’s?
“Wonderful. I think I’ve got it,” I say and stand, brushing the sand from my jeans. “I’ll email them to you when they’re finished.”
The man, kissing his fiancée even more passionately now, flicks his wrists in acknowledgement. They’re still on the beach when I reach the bus stop at the far end of the lot, staring out into the dimming horizon overlooking the surf. The moon is stretching for its rightful place in the sky, a companion for the sun still fighting off sleep. It’s going to be full tonight. The largest one I’ve seen in a long time.
I pause, my hands still on the camera held firmly at my chest. There’s something else in the air besides the sea overwhelming the block with each crashing wave. It’s familiar. Enough to make me lift my head and peer from street corner to street corner under the safety of a metal awning.Cedar.The faintest hint of it, but it’s there, nonetheless. My eyes dart to everyone in view, hoping this wasn’t just another mirage my own mind created.It isn’t.No, his scent is real enough to taste it. Feel it, even. And as the evening bus veers up to the yellow-painted sidewalk, I swear I see a tall, dark shape watch me climb inside.
*
“That fucking asshole!” Courtney screams through the phone, and I rear it back to save my ears from her wrath. “And he just left you on the sidewalk?”
I purse my mouth to one side. “He had his driver take me home.” Swiping through the pictures on my laptop, I pause on the one of the couple kissing.Not my best work.But after some changes to the focus and contrast, I’m sure I’ll have another glowing review from happy clients.
“No, Natalie. He fucking left you outside,” she scoffs. “Him and Viktor are two peas in an asshole pod.”
While I want to believe her, I also think she couldn’t be more wrong. Sure, Nik gave me the most intense kiss I’ve ever had and immediately told me not to come around anymore, but it didn’t seem like he was doing it to fall in line with his asshole brother. It was like he was trying to save me from something.