He shook his head. “Just through here, then up one more flight.”
Kate didn’t fight him on the change of topic, and followed him out of the den. A central staircase came down to a wide foyer, flanked on the far side by a set of ornate doors with medieval Cyrillic characters in gold leaf forming an arch over the top.
Mikhail continued up the steps, but Kate hung back at the bottom, admiring the incredible painting all around the doors. “What’s this room?” she asked, drawn to inspect the artwork more closely. When he didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder.
He stood in the middle of the steps staring at her. “It is the Hall of the Grand Princes.”
“Oh,” Kate said, stepping back from the wall. She didn’t know exactly what that was, but by the room’s name and the tone of Mikhail’s voice, she knew it was important. An image sprang to mind, of Nikolai—King Nikolai, apparently—standing on a dais wearing a rich robe and gold crown. She didn’t know whether to be amused or awed by the thought. “It’s very beautiful.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
This time, when he turned, she followed him up the stairs. At the top, the decor changed yet again. Arched doorways, exposed buttresses in the ornate foyer, a tarnished but still striking cut-glass chandelier all framed lush carpets, vibrant wall tapestries and thick, heavy curtains covering the windows. Antiques sat chockablock to one another, and portraiture and other framed art vied for space on the crowded walls. The color scheme was rich and masculine—deep reds and dark blues, and appealed to her very much.
After several turns down a twisting hallway, Mikhail stopped outside a door. “This is one of the sixteen bedrooms in the house.” He turned the brass knob and pushed into the dark, crossing the room to turn on a lamp next to a wide sleigh bed. “There’s a bathroom through that door. I hope this will serve.”
“It’s great. Thank you.” Her words were a complete understatement—the room was stunning, with wallpaper that gave her the impression of sitting amidst a great garden. But now that they were here, she didn’t really want to be alone. Not as if she could ask him to keep her company, though.
He scratched his jaw and said, “I will try to find you some clothing.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Okay, then.” He left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Kate released a long breath. This was the most surreal night of her life. Or, wait, the most surreal two nights, she guessed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she poked around the large space, finally making her way to one of the windows. It took a minute to dig through the layer upon layer of heavy velvet curtains to finally get to the glass. Her efforts were rewarded with a ledge so wide she could sit on it.
Half sitting, she gazed out at the winter night, snow falling in a silent blanket on the dense forest. There was no view, really, but that didn’t keep it from being beautiful, peaceful. She sighed.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been resting there, when a knock sounded at the door. Wading through the miles of fabric made her laugh, and she was still grinning when she found Mikhail standing in the hallway with a thick stack of clothing in his hands.
“This is all going to be too big on you, so I brought several things for you to choose from.”
Kate reached out for the pile.
Mikhail gaped. “Your arm.” The tattered ends of her sleeve hung loose, revealing the smooth, unbroken surface of her skin. “He healed you?”
Heat exploded over Kate’s face. She pulled the pile from his arms and hugged it against her chest. “I’m sure something will work. Thank you, Mikhail.”
He stood there at loose ends, eyes wide, clearly wanting something else but not saying what it was.
She gestured at the clothes. “Well, thanks again.”
His shoulders sagged. “Katherine?”
The hair rose on her arms and neck. “Yes?”
“Thank you for saving him. He’s been my best friend for over five hundred years. I would’ve…well, we all would’ve been lost without him.”
Five hundred years? The idea of it made her light-headed. She shook off the sensation. “Anyone would’ve—”
“No. What you did was special, and I stand indebted to you.”
She watched him retreat down the hallway, looking every bit the warrior he was.
Kate turned again to the empty room, her hands trembling. Ridiculously, part of her felt so comfortable here, as if she belonged, and already felt the heartache of leaving them, of never seeing any of them again.
Never seeing Nikolai again.
Chapter Nine
Nikolai bumped fists with Leo and gave him a shove. “Good match.”
He chuckled. “You weren’t half bad, for an old man.”
The king barked out a laugh, the fighting having beaten some of the raging frustration out of him. “Says the two-hundred-and-twelve-year-old vampire.”
He flashed Nikolai a grin.
“Thanks for sparring, Leo,” he called as he reached the door.
“Yeah. Hey, my lord?” Twisting his shirt in his hands, Leo looked to the floor. “I didn’t mean to, but I hurt her. I knocked her to the ground too roughly, and she hit her head.”
Stomach clenching, heart pounding, Nikolai didn’t need to ask which “her” he was referring to. “Why are you telling me this?”
Leo lifted his gaze, met Nikolai’s head-on. “She really fought for you. Even got off a shot before I could disarm her. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, except for mated—” He clamped his mouth shut. “Just thought you should know.”
Nikolai turned and wrenched the door open.
“Nikolai?”
Red flags waving in his mind, he froze but didn’t look back.
“I see the way you look at her. They would want you to be happy.”
He bolted from the room. No way he was having that conversation. Didn’t matter that Leo had been Kyril’s best friend—the two had been thick as goddamn thieves. Didn’t matter that he meant well. It only mattered that he got the hell out of there, away from that wary look on Leo’s face. Away from his encouragements that he go after something he could never have.
Down the hall, up two staircases, through the meandering turns of the main floor. He knew the house like the inside of his own mind, and could’ve navigated it blindfolded, which was good since all he could see was that look on Katherine’s face. As if he’d slapped her.
Well, hadn’t he? No doubt the coldness in his words and actions had stung just as much.
He pressed his hand into the ache that settled under the bare skin of his chest.
Nikolai turned the corner into the wing that housed his private quarters, a series of rooms that formed a virtual apartment. His brothers’ rooms had been in this part of Vasilievskoe, too, and their deaths had left the Vasilyev wing particularly still and quiet except for his own movements. Which was just fine by him.
Except…
Nearby, the plumbing whined. Someone was running the water. He backtracked and turned down an adjacent hallway. Light shined from under the door of the lone guest room in this part of the manor.
He was going to kill Mikhail.
Before he even thought to do it, he found himself standing in front of that door. Her door.
Oh, what the hell was he doing?
He should apologize. Rationale squarely in place, he rapped his knuckles against the heavy panel of wood. Again. No answer. “Katherine?”
He knocked his head against the door. Deep need rose within him, to lay eyes on her and reassure himself she was okay. She’d been attacked, bitten, kidnapped and imprisoned. Not goddamn likely she was okay. And that wasn’t even considering what had happened between them, which had been phenomenal until he acted like a son of a bitch. The urge to see her made it hard to breathe.
He pushed through the door and called her name again. Two things struck him simultaneously: soft splashes of water from the direction of the open bathroom door and a stack of clothes on her
bed.
Inside the room, her sweet-blooded scent infused the air and reawakened his cock, reminding him of his unsated arousal from before. Each breath pulled more of her into him, until he ached to penetrate her in return, in any way she’d allow. In every way she’d allow. Prickles on the skin of his right palm made him fist his hand.
His breath coming faster, shallower, Nikolai stepped over her discarded clothing to the bed and quickly flipped through the pile of fabric—robe, T-shirt, sweatshirt, sweatpants. All Mikhail’s.
An image flashed into his mind. Katherine, wearing Mikhail’s shirt and sweatpants, so big on her she had to roll them at the waist and ankles. Katherine, wearing Mikhail’s clothes.
Another. Male’s. Clothes.
Nearly blind with a possessiveness he had no right to feel, Nikolai grabbed all the clothes and stalked out of the room. Bursting through the door to his apartment, he chucked everything in the general direction of the nearest trash can. He whipped his robe off the back of his closet door and ripped a few articles of clothing from a drawer. He wasn’t even aware he’d returned to the guest room until her scent invaded his brain.
Nikolai glanced up, and found himself looking into Katherine’s startled pale blue eyes.
* * *
“What are you doing?” Kate asked as she clutched the plush white towel tighter against her breasts. Her heart took off at a sprint as she drank him in. He radiated a dark energy that wrapped around her and resurrected that maddening ache in her left hand. Maybe something wasn’t fully healed after all.
“I brought you clothes,” he nearly growled.
Kate glanced to the empty bed and pointed with the hand not holding the towel closed. “I had clothes.”
Light flashed through the sapphire and his jaw ticked. “Those didn’t work.”
Staring at him, trying to make sense of his completely confusing pronouncements, Kate couldn’t help but notice the prominent bulge filling up the front of his workout gear. Good God. She hadn’t finished toweling dry, but there was really no arguing that the slick wetness suddenly between her legs was from the bath. She shook her head. “How can clothes not work? Mikhail just brought them for me.”
He growled. Literally growled. She blinked and found him standing right in front of her, the ball of wadded-up clothing the only thing separating them. She gasped, breathing in the mouthwatering scent of his male spice, and stepped back. Nikolai followed, kept pace with her as she retreated until she was trapped between him and the bed. “His clothes don’t work. His clothes will never work.”
Damn it, her left hand tingled as if it had fallen asleep. She shook it, and Nikolai’s eyes tracked the movement. His tongue rubbed against the tip of a fang. Kate swallowed as she watched the sinuous movement of his pink tongue. She clenched her thighs, a tormenting throb blooming deep in her pussy.
“What do you want?” When he didn’t answer, she braced herself and looked him in the eye.
“I want…” He turned on his heel and crossed to the door.
Brilliant, white-hot anger pounded through her veins. Every muscle strung tight, she leaned back against the bed. Not a chance in hell she was chasing after him, not again. No matter how much her body screamed for him to stay, for him to crawl on top of her and claim her as his.
No way.
In the silence between them, a tinny click sounded out. Despite herself, Kate glanced through the hanging threads of her damp hair to see him standing at the door. He dropped his hand from the lock. Ancient Cyrillic letters spelled out two male names across his mountainous shoulders.
He tossed the clothes he’d been carrying to the floor. With leonine grace, he walked back to her, his eyes boring into hers. Her body screamed in victory, more of that tantalizing moisture gathering on the sensitive lips of her pussy. She narrowed her eyes at him and arched a brow.
In front of her again, he stroked his knuckles over the hand holding the towel. Once, twice. Her nervous system sprang to life and set her to trembling. He dragged his gaze from their hands to her eyes. “I want you, Kate. I shouldn’t, because my head’s a freaking mess. And I don’t deserve you, after what I did to you before. But none of that changes the fact that I can think of nothing besides the idea of having just one perfect night. With you.”
Kate shook her head. “You don’t want me.”
Dark blue light flashed in a wave behind his eyes. “I do want you. I ache for you.” He pushed his hips into her thigh, grinding his cock against her.
Kate couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs to clear her head. “That’s not what you said,” she whispered, almost gasping from the muscle spasm that rocked through her core.
He tilted his head and frowned. “You heard me?”
“Kinda hard not to.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. I was pissed at myself. Not at you. You, Katherine, you deserve only the best. And that’s not me.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He licked his lips, flashing the tips of his fangs again. “Because, God help me, I am driven to distraction by the very thought of you.” He cupped her face and caressed his thumb over her cheekbone. “By your beauty, by the fire in those lovely pale eyes.” Stepping in closer, he bought them into contact from ankle to breast. “I am humbled by your compassion, proud beyond measure of your courage.” He leaned his face into hers so that his breath tickled her lips. “I want you on my skin, in my mouth.” He feathered his fingers down her bare arm, sending her into a shiver. “I want to see you naked, explore you with my hands, part your knees and bury myself in you. I want to hear you scream my name as I stroke deep and hard inside you. That’s what I want.”
Nikolai’s unbridled honesty struck her like a match. A flame roared up inside Kate, melting the reserve she’d built up after what happened earlier, making her body crave his so intensely she hurt. Tentatively, a part of her afraid he’d change his mind again, she reached out and weaved her fingers into his silky blond hair, where his braid should be. “But you’re the king.”
He leaned into her touch. “I’m just a male, like any male.”
It was such a lie. No man had ever turned the blood in her veins into flowing lava. No man had ever made her ache. No man had ever made her feel this…alive. It was all so overwhelming—she just had no experience feeling the things she felt, wanting the things she wanted. And he should know.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ve never done this before, Nikolai.” As her cheeks heated, she watched her fingers drag through his hair. Oh, he was so beautiful.
He tilted his head to force her to look at him. “Done what?” A range of expressions played out across his face. “You mean…” His eyes went wide. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”
Chapter Ten
Heart triple-timing in his chest, Nikolai soaked in the beautiful flush on Katherine’s cheeks and waited for her answer. What had he ever done to find someone like her? Someone so beautiful, so strong, so damn perfect in every way, for him.
She nodded, her eyes flickering to his and away again.
And Nikolai’s thinking brain went offline.
Triumphant euphoria flooded into every cell. He locked his hands around her neck and pulled her in for a kiss so deep, so intense, it drove everything else from his mind. His tongue explored her mouth, his hands massaged her neck and tugged her hair. Needing to be closer, to drive away every molecule of air separating them, he pushed between her legs and ground himself against her mound. Kate cried out and threw her head back.
“Oh, God, angel,” he rasped. Her body was like a feast spread out before a starving man. His lips fell to her throat, kissing, sucking, drawing the heated flavor of her skin onto his tongue. He laved long strokes against the throbbing pulse of her jugular, reveling in the drag of his fangs against her tender flesh. “I want you so damn much.”
He scooped his hands under her thighs and lifted her atop the high bed. She wrapped her legs around his hips and her
heels dug into his ass. He rocked his cock against her pussy, fascinated as the towel parted and rode up, inch by tantalizing inch.
Light fingertips fell on his chest and traced down the center of him, making his stomach muscles flinch and clench. At the waistband of his pants, she stopped. Nikolai nearly groaned in need, but he didn’t want to push her. He wanted her to want him in return, so he had to let her go at her own pace.
His brain refused to let him think through everything that her still being a virgin could mean.
After the briefest hesitation, Kate’s hand slid between them and gripped his cock over the thick cotton. That time, Nikolai couldn’t restrain the groan the incredible contact drew out of him. “Christ, how you make me feel…”