NIKOLAICLAUDE’S BODY WAS like ice beneath my hands, his skin pale, his limbs limp. His bare feet shuffled against the carpeted hallway, and I cursed under my breath as I shrugged off my shirt and pulled it over his trembling frame—enough to cover his bits."Come on," I muttered, gripping his waist as I practically carried him down the corridor.We reached the door, and I swiped the key card. The lock beeped, the door clicked open, and I pushed us inside. Claude stumbled, collapsing onto the bed with a groan, his face twisting in discomfort as his hands clawed at his thighs. He shifted restlessly, his head slipping under the shirt, his fingers curling around his cock as he let out another broken moan.I crossed the room, grabbed his face, and forced his eyes open. They were glazed and dilated, his lips parted as his tongue darted out to wet them."You were drugged," I said, my tone flat, though anger burned hot in my chest.He groaned, his hand shooting out to grip the back of my neck
CLAUDE THREE DAYS. Three fucking days. My heat had taken hold of me, and Nikolai had been my anchor through every second of it. The heat, the sweat, the insatiable need—he had taken it all, consumed it, and matched me at every turn. A choked moan escaped my lips, and Nikolai swallowed it, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as his fingers worked my entrance with practiced precision. My hand shot out, gripping his ass, pulling him closer as if I could drag every inch of him into me. “Fuck,” I gasped, my head tilting back as his mouth found my jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked, hard enough to leave a mark. He pulled back slightly, his lips swollen, his dark eyes hooded with lust as he looked down at me. The way he sprawled beside me, his body glistening with sweat, his cock rigid and pressed against my thigh, was enough to make my breath hitch. “You good?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, but his fingers never stopped their teasing. “Yes,” I w
NIKOLAICLAUDE WAS SPRAWLED across the bed, limbs slack, lips slightly parted. He’d passed out after three days of pure hedonism, and I couldn’t blame him. Even my stamina had its limits. “Claude,” I murmured, brushing my knuckles over his jaw before giving his shoulder a nudge. He groaned, stirring sluggishly before his eyes cracked open—those haunting eyes, slit and feral before they softened into something resembling humanity. Even now, I hadn’t decided if I hated or loved how those eyes unsettled me. But I had bigger concerns. “Who did this to you?” My voice was low, deceptively calm. He blinked up at me, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nikolai,” he rasped, pulling me closer, his arms wrapping around my neck. Instinct took over, my hands finding the heat of his skin, the press of his back beneath my palms as I dragged him against me. I kissed the sharp edge of his jaw, my teeth grazing his skin hard enough to leave a mark—a warning for
CLAUDEThe bathroom was still warm, steam curling up toward the ceiling as I wiped the fog from the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, neck and jaw covered in hickeys and bruises that ran down to my collarbone. I leaned in closer, my fingers brushing over one of the darker marks, and something tightened in my chest. They’d fade in a day or two—I knew that—but the idea of them disappearing made my throat dry. The towel around my waist was still damp as I turned away from the mirror and stepped out of the bathroom. The bedroom felt colder without Nikolai in it, the bed still rumpled, his scent faintly clinging to the sheets. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the shower, but the stillness was nerve wracking. I’d just pulled on a fresh shirt when the door beeped, and Nikolai walked in. The smell hit me first. Food. My stomach growled, but beneath that was something sharper, something that made me freeze mid-step. Blood.And something else. Him. Antonio. The bag in Nik
CLAUDEOur time was up. It was as simple as that. The words didn’t make it any easier. No. What I wanted, what I had always wanted, was Nikolai. Even though we barely knew each other. Even though we were on opposite sides of the world, with lives that could never truly align.My fingers gripped my bag tighter, my pulse picking up as I felt Nikolai beside me. I didn’t dare look at him—not yet. “The money’s been wired to your account,” he said, his voice low, sending a shiver down my spine. The heat of his breath brushed my neck, even as the sharp sting of the ocean wind battered us both.The account he spoke of wasn’t mine. The money wasn’t even going to me. It was going to the real Tate, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.The deck was alive with people, eager to get off the ship, to escape to wherever they were going. But me? I wanted more time. A little more of this, whatever it was.Nikolai’s voice cut through the buzz, low and amused. “What’s going through t
NIKOLAIIt didn’t take a genius to figure out I’d been kidnapped. This wasn’t some random terrorist attack. No, this was planned, deliberate. My head throbbed, a sharp ache that pulsed behind my eyes as I forced myself upright. The room was dark, the only light coming from the weak flicker of a bulb above. It wasn’t enough to see much, but it was enough to hear—to feel. Someone was here with me.The groan came low and ragged, dragging my attention to the far side of the room. My chest tightened. Claude had been with me during the shootout, shielding me when he shouldn’t have. But that didn’t mean the figure slumped in the shadows was him.“Claude?” My voice was rough, edged with suspicion.The unmistakable groan of pain answered that question, and I scrambled toward the voice. My hands found him—his body slack against the floor—and I turned him onto his back. “Fuck, Claude.” The words fell from my lips as my gaze dropped to the stain spreading across his shirtI crawled toward him, my
CLAUDEFuck.That was the first thing that ripped through my head as I came to, groaning like I’d been hit by a freight train. My eyes blinked open, unfocused, until I caught sight of him—Nikolai.His lap was my goddamn pillow, his hands steady on my shoulders. And those eyes—sharp and steady—locked on mine before his lips twitched into that lazy, lopsided smile of his.“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he murmured, like I’d just woken up from a nap instead of—I groaned, trying to shift, but my body felt heavy, like my limbs didn’t belong to me. “Where are we?” My words came out rough, my throat raw.When I tried to sit up, Nikolai’s hands pressed me back down. “Don’t,” he said, his tone low. “You got shot, Claude. Pretty fucking badly, I might add.”I looked down. My chest was bare, bandages wrapped tightly around my torso, blood seeping through faintly. Not silver, though. I’d heal. A couple of days, tops.“And,” Nikolai continued, like he was delivering a punchline, a chuc
NIKOLAII WANTED TO put a bullet through her skull. The thought burned bright, searing through every rational part of me.But it was Claude’s unsteady steps that dragged my attention. He limped back towards me, his movements sluggish, and I was on my feet before I could think twice.“Christ,” I muttered, catching him as he stumbled. I pulled him flush against me, feeling the weight of his exhaustion in the way his body sagged.Guiding him to the wall, I eased him down until he was sitting. His skin was pale, his breathing uneven.“You’re pushing too hard, Claude.” My voice came out low, softer than I intended, and I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “You need to rest.”He didn’t argue, his head leaning back against the wall, his expression tight with pain. My eyes dropped to his stomach, fabric of the bandage darkened with dried blood, and let out a low breath of relief. Thank Christ they weren’t bleeding anymore.“That girl,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “she was with Antonio, wasn’t
CLAUDEI didn’t know how long I sat there, my hands throbbing from pain, every muscle pulling too tight. The room felt like it was impossibly small, the silence felt like it was enough to crush me. I stared at the door, willing it to open—willing Nikolai to come back. Just give me a chance to explain. Let me speak. Let me fix this. But when the door finally creaked open hours later, it wasn’t Nikolai.It was them.Men dressed in black stepped inside, their presence making my throat tight. Guns sat heavy at their hips, as casual as the smirks they wore.“I don’t understand why the boss gives a prisoner a good room,” one sneered, his accent thick as he crossed his arms and looked me over like I was something beneath his boot. “I don’t even get a good room, and this American gets one?”A short laugh came from another as he stepped closer, crouching in front of me and began to undo the chains. “Maybe his hole is that good.” His grin like it was some kind of hidden joke.My stomach churne
CLAUDEMY HEAD THROBBED like it had been cracked open, the kind of ache that made it hard to think straight. Every nerve in my body was screaming, and the drip-drip-drip of water somewhere close only made it worse, each echo hitting like a hammer. My back ached where something cold and sharp pressed into it, scraping against bone, and no matter how I shifted, I couldn't find relief.And my wrists—fuck. The sting of metal biting into my skin was enough to remind me I wasn’t going anywhere.I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. They felt heavy, like I’d been drugged. Voices buzzed around me, tangled and overlapping, but I couldn’t make out the words.“Ya slyshal, on byl s bossom na tom korable. Dumayesh, on gey?” “Zatkní svoy gryóbanyy rot. On prosypáetsya.”Then one sentence broke through, clear despite the heavy accent.“Go tell boss that he’s awake.”Boss.My pulse jumped. Even through the haze, I knew exactly who that meant.I forced my eyes open, but darkness greeted m
CLAUDEMy fingers wrapped around the lock, the silver biting into my skin the second I touched it. I slammed it to the side with everything I had, ignoring the burn that tore through my hands.The lock broke with a snap, and I stumbled back, panting hard, my chest heaving as pain radiated up my arms. My palms throbbed, raw from the contact, but I didn’t care.I shoved the door open, the hinges groaning under the weight, and Nikolai was already on his feet. His brows pulled together, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he looked at me, like he couldn’t decide what had just happened.“What the hell…” he muttered, his voice low and rough, and I couldn’t miss the way his whole body tensed, like he was bracing for a fight.I couldn’t help it. A grin broke across my face. “We’re free,” I rasped, the words leaving me on a shaky exhale. My heart was slamming so hard it felt like it was trying to break free too. His eyes snapped to mine, and for the briefest second, they softened. But it was
CLAUDE SOMETHING WAS WRONG. I’d felt it the moment he was shoved back into the cell. The way he looked at me—sharp, cutting, like I was a problem he didn’t want to solve. And that kiss... It wasn’t affection. It was a punishment, cold and bruising, before he pushed me away as though the taste of me was bitter.How long had it been since he’d spoken to me? Minutes? Hours? Each minute dragged as he refused to answer my calls, refused to acknowledge me with anything other than that deadly glare.My lips had healed, but I still felt the phantom sting of that kiss. Still felt the ache like an open wound every time I dared glance at him. His rage wasn’t subtle—it rolled off him like waves.I watched him now, my eyes tracing every line of his tense frame. But Nikolai didn’t move. His gaze stayed fixed on the door, pointedly avoiding me even though I knew he could feel my stare.The sound of the door slamming open ripped my focus away. My head snapped toward it and I was surprised. They didn
NIKOLAI"HOW MANY FUCKING times do I have to tell you—I didn’t take your shit. This is pathetic,” I bit out, wincing as pain flared through my side. Another punch landed, sharp and painful, but I barely flinched.My glare snapped to the brute in front of me, my mind already calculating. Ways to slice him open. Methods to break him apart. He’d regret every goddamn hit the moment I got free—or when my people found me, whichever came first.The bastard sighed, dragging a hand over his shaved head like he was the one dealing with a headache. He started pacing again, heavy boots echoing off the grimy walls, and I stared at him from under my lashes, biting back the urge to spit in his face.“It isn’t about the crystals, is it?” I laughed low, shaking my head. “There’s something else.”The truth was simple: if someone had stolen from me—even a pen—I wouldn’t waste my time. They’d be dead before they could even apologize. No explanations, no second chances. A bullet, point-blank. End of story
CLAUDEI COULDN’T SETTLE.Not since I woke up to find the bed empty. Not since Nikolai had been ripped away from me. The pain in my leg was the least of my worries now, because the world felt wrong without him. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning, my heart hammering in my chest as I thought about the worst.What if he was gone?The thought tightened my throat, my pulse spiking with panic.What if I never saw him again?I couldn’t breathe at the thought.Then, the door creaked open. Footsteps, heavy and uneven. My senses were flooded with blood before I saw him. The metallic tang hit my nose like a punch, and there he was—Nikolai, shoved inside, collapsing before I could think. I lunged, catching him just before his body hit the ground. The door slammed shut behind him, the loud noise ringing in my ears.“Nikolai,” I whispered, guiding him to the wall, my arm hooked under his, my palm pressing against the heat of his ribs.He groaned, sinking down until he was seated, head lolling back agai
NIKOLAII WANTED TO put a bullet through her skull. The thought burned bright, searing through every rational part of me.But it was Claude’s unsteady steps that dragged my attention. He limped back towards me, his movements sluggish, and I was on my feet before I could think twice.“Christ,” I muttered, catching him as he stumbled. I pulled him flush against me, feeling the weight of his exhaustion in the way his body sagged.Guiding him to the wall, I eased him down until he was sitting. His skin was pale, his breathing uneven.“You’re pushing too hard, Claude.” My voice came out low, softer than I intended, and I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “You need to rest.”He didn’t argue, his head leaning back against the wall, his expression tight with pain. My eyes dropped to his stomach, fabric of the bandage darkened with dried blood, and let out a low breath of relief. Thank Christ they weren’t bleeding anymore.“That girl,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “she was with Antonio, wasn’t
CLAUDEFuck.That was the first thing that ripped through my head as I came to, groaning like I’d been hit by a freight train. My eyes blinked open, unfocused, until I caught sight of him—Nikolai.His lap was my goddamn pillow, his hands steady on my shoulders. And those eyes—sharp and steady—locked on mine before his lips twitched into that lazy, lopsided smile of his.“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he murmured, like I’d just woken up from a nap instead of—I groaned, trying to shift, but my body felt heavy, like my limbs didn’t belong to me. “Where are we?” My words came out rough, my throat raw.When I tried to sit up, Nikolai’s hands pressed me back down. “Don’t,” he said, his tone low. “You got shot, Claude. Pretty fucking badly, I might add.”I looked down. My chest was bare, bandages wrapped tightly around my torso, blood seeping through faintly. Not silver, though. I’d heal. A couple of days, tops.“And,” Nikolai continued, like he was delivering a punchline, a chuc
NIKOLAIIt didn’t take a genius to figure out I’d been kidnapped. This wasn’t some random terrorist attack. No, this was planned, deliberate. My head throbbed, a sharp ache that pulsed behind my eyes as I forced myself upright. The room was dark, the only light coming from the weak flicker of a bulb above. It wasn’t enough to see much, but it was enough to hear—to feel. Someone was here with me.The groan came low and ragged, dragging my attention to the far side of the room. My chest tightened. Claude had been with me during the shootout, shielding me when he shouldn’t have. But that didn’t mean the figure slumped in the shadows was him.“Claude?” My voice was rough, edged with suspicion.The unmistakable groan of pain answered that question, and I scrambled toward the voice. My hands found him—his body slack against the floor—and I turned him onto his back. “Fuck, Claude.” The words fell from my lips as my gaze dropped to the stain spreading across his shirtI crawled toward him, my