Page 47 of The Red Room
Nik rubs his thumb over my lips, silencing me and keeping my body still. “Don’t worry. We have time to enjoy each other. Let’s just hope they have soundproof walls in Italy, too.”
A blush skitters up my neck to my cheeks. That’s right.Italy.Tomorrow we’re going to Italy. I almost forgot after … Well, it’s not unusual for Nik to make me forget a lot of things, mostly my own train of thought. It’s a scary one, though. Terrifying, really. Jumping on a plane with him and fleeing the country? What am I going to tell my parents? More importantly, what am I going to say to Courtney?I’m moving away with Nikolai. Don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll call you!God, I can almost hear her yelling at me now. She’d be right too, of course. Just another reason why she’s the sister I never had, and certainly not the one I deserve.
“You’re in your own head again. I can almost hear the thoughts rattling around in there,” Nik says, eyeing me curiously.
I chew on my bottom lip, the same one he can’t seem to glance away from. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Courtney …”
Nik contemplates for a moment, his smirk shifting serious. “She’s your friend, right?”
“Mmhmm,” I say and nod.
“And she wants you happy?”
I nod again.
“Do I make you happy?” His voice lowers to a gravelly pitch. His eyes comb over every inch of me, but always end up back on my mouth, like the answer he’s desperate for will suddenly plop out.
I run my fingers through his long and dark hair, bringing my face closer to his. When his lips are a breath away and tremendous heat begins working up my sternum, I kiss him. His mouth opens enough for our tongues to slide against one another. I don’t know if a simple yes will justify how I feel. How this man has taken hold of my life like a fucking vortex, swirling me into this never-ending circle and bringing me back to him. Only him. But it’s all I can say. It’s all I can think. Yes, he makes me happy. Yes, I can’t imagine anyone else in the city, in the world giving me the same horrible pain in my stomach when he’s not there.
“Yes,” I say finally. My reply is short but sincere. “Yes, Nik. More than I have ever been.”
One side of his face tilts upward in a grin, flashing an even row of polished white teeth. “Then, she will understand. Go talk to her. I’ll take you both home after I track down a shirt.”
I drag my hands over the scars, following the way they railroad to the deep V near his hips. His skin is blistering to the touch, heating my outstretched fingers like an oven. Although I’m still riding the aftershock of one, maybe even two explosive orgasms, there’s this unabashed ache to enjoy him all night if I could. It’s as if all my willpower, any restraint I am capable of disappears the second I touch him, and when he touches me? God, I can’t remember my fucking name.
I pull my hand away and smirk at him, tallying up every feature I find desirable. I lose count after five. “See you downstairs.”
Opening the hatch, a blast of thunderous music and cheers breach in, awakening his silent loft with the chaos of Völk. While other nights might’ve been at a respectable five on the Richter scale, tonight, the noise has been wrenched to an earth shattering nine. Screams. Clapping. Chest pounding beats. It doesn’t just hurt to listen to but seemingly alters the blood flowing through my veins, sending vicious throbs throughout my entire body.
Taking the stairs proves more difficult than it has every other time, even the night I ran down them during the full moon. But it isn’t fear making me struggle. No, it’s the way my legs wobble with pure exhaustion. Fire ignites in each worn muscle, and when it becomes too damn unbearable, I hug the guard rail, clinging to it until solid ground is beneath my feet. The bar is somehow busier than before, and the stage itself has to be nearing max capacity. Dodging those carrying drinks to their groups, I find a small spot toward the end with leftover glasses and crinkled napkins. I glance from one person to the next, even standing on my tiptoes for a better look at the clubgoers shouting for drinks.
“Courtney?” I yell, or at least try to but my voice is nothing more than a whisper battling the noise. “Courtney!”
Only the people closest to me turn and look, and each time there’s an embarrassed or annoyed glare in my direction. I pay them no mind and focus on the dance floor. Between the lights and the sea of bodies moving to the music, it’s impossible to recognize anyone.
“Courtney?” I scream again to no avail, catching more annoyed glares. My voice dies less than a foot in front of me. It’s pointless tonight. I can barely hear my own thoughts.
The bartenders busy themselves amongst the crowd, pouring three if not four drinks at a time. One, two, five. There’s five of them tonight. It’s funny, they never look the people on the other end of the bar in the eye. They only nod, hand them a drink on a bloodred napkin, and move onto the next. One stands out, though. The manI knowhas seen Courtney before.
I walk carefully around the crowd to the other end, fighting my way through until he is within earshot. “Alek!” I shout and place my hand on the bar top.
He peers up at me for a small moment, then returns his attention to the cocktail he’s preparing. “Da,” he replies, his voice short and irritated.
Okay, Alek is still a prick. Good to know. “Have you seen my friend?”
Alek stabs a small plastic sword through the center of a cherry, adds it to the drink, and slams it in front of the woman next to me. Some splashes to the counter but he doesn’t bother wiping it away. “I am bartender. Not babysitter.”
Well, this is going better than I could’ve hoped. “Have you seen her or not?” I glare at him until he finally meets my gaze. He places his arms on each side of the ice well. We stare at one another until he ultimately glances downward. It might be defeat in his eyes, or he knows Nik can hear everything we’re saying right now. Like it or not, he’s going to fucking answer me.
“She left,” he says and starts the next drink. “Went with guy buying her vodka cranberries.”
I pull out my phone. No messages. No missed calls. She wouldn’t have left without saying something. Not Courtney. This is the first rule in her book.Never go with a potential partner without sharing your location.She didn’t, and the last text she sent was from this afternoon.
I stare at him curiously. “How long ago?”
Alek rolls his eyes and tilts the bottle, adding a shot of rum. “Vifteen minutes. Can I work? It’s busy if you haven’t noticed.” With that, he moves around the other bartenders, taking new orders from the people on the opposite end.
Something isn’t right. Dread settles low in my stomach, pushing all of my organs aside to make room for this newfound pain taking hold. She wouldn’t leave without saying something. She’s always texted me before she went home with a new guy as a safety precaution. And she always shares her location in case things go south. I don’t know any of the werewolves working in this club, but I do know Courtney, and while I can’t sense heartbeats like them … I know deep down, Alek is lying.