Lion of Midnight Page 12

  “I bet that’s beautiful. Maybe, one day, I’ll be here for that.”

  “Stay.”

  The one word resonated through her soul. Turning her head, Cleo glanced at him. Those brown eyes of his watched her in a straightforward manner.

  “What?” Cleo wasn’t sure she heard him right.

  “Stay.”

  Yep. I heard him right. “And what am I going to do here?”

  Lowering his head to hers, Nik brushed his lips across hers. “Whatever you want.”

  “And, what, blink up money to survive on?”

  “I’ll take care of you, Cleo.”

  “That’s a lovely offer, but no.”

  “Why do you refuse?”

  Turning fully so they were face to face, Cleo touched his cheek. “One, you are so sweet. Two, I’m not that kind of woman. And, three, I barely know you. That’s not done.”

  “It was in my day,” he mumbled.

  “Your day?”

  Nik shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Why would you offer that?” she asked, totally curious.

  His gaze warmed her completely as he sat her down on a bench. Knee to knee, Cleo sat mesmerized by him.

  “I want you happy.”

  “This is a vacation I never could have dreamed of. I am happy.”

  “It could be like this forever. Let me take care of you.”

  Her heart thudded, echoing in her ears.

  “I should be leery of you for all of this attention. You are some kind of man, Nikolas Andreyevich. I’m not sure why you are giving it to me. There must be a thousand women who would love for you to take care of them.”

  “Some kind? No.” His hand cupped her face before he continued. “What I am, snežinka, is your man.”

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she leaned forward to kiss him.

  Nik watched Cleo as she talked with a couple who were out walking their two Borzois in the park. She gave both dogs equal attention as she carried on the conversation. He couldn’t stomach the thought of being without her. And comments like he’d made about his time had to be avoided.

  I don’t think she’s ready to find out how old I truly am. He noticed her hand as she rubbed one dog’s head.

  We need to talk, Nikolas Andreyevich.

  The sultry feminine voice filled his head. Immediately, protectiveness rose up within him. Freya may be the goddess of love, but she could still be a bitch.

  Now, Nikolas Andreyevich.

  And Cleo?

  I have no intention of harming her. Now! I’m at the bench to your left.

  Nik glanced back to Cleo and walked over to the bench where Freya sat, holding a small, fluffy dog. “Yes, milady?” He dipped his head in a show of respect. Freya idly stroked the dog in her lap. Shifting with impatience, Nik sighed when she glanced up at him.

  “You remember what I said to you at your home?” she questioned in a cool, husky tone.

  “Yes, milady.”

  “He’s around here, as well.” She blinked her long lashes. “Loki will do something. Will. You know I believe in love, one of the reasons I bestowed the gift I did upon you.”

  “And I am eternally grateful for that, milady.”

  A smile filled her face, and Nik was taken aback by how truly beautiful she was. “I like you, Nikolas Andreyevich. For a mortal, you are one of the best.” She stood and placed the pooch on the ground. “I will do what I can to help with Loki, but be wary.”

  “Good day, milady.”

  She tugged on the leash, and the dog ignored her. “Come, Loki!” Freya winked at him. “Damn dog is useless.”

  Nik smothered a laugh. Goddess or not, he liked Freya. Turning his head, he saw Cleo looking at him, indecision alive in her eyes. Cocking his head to the side, he smiled at her. His heart lightened when she returned it. He moved back to her side, keeping his eyes on hers. She never said a word to him about who he had been speaking with. He had mixed feelings about that.

  “Where to now?” he questioned as the wind picked up.

  “You choose,” she commented. “I’m good with whatever.”

  “Do you not have any curiosity on who I was talking to?”

  “The woman?” Cleo shrugged. “No. Had you wanted me to know, you would’ve introduced me.” She walked away from him to the bench he had sat upon with Freya.

  He clenched his jaw. Nik headed toward her slowly, gobbling up the sight she presented. Today, his beauty wore blue jeans, hiking boots and an arch Tennessee sweatshirt. Upon her head sat a navy dirty mesh cap with an Orange Power T, and her shiny hair spilled from the back in a ponytail. Cleo’s smooth, unblemished skin was flushed from the cold, and as he examined her, she stretched her runner’s legs out before her, hands shoved in her coat pockets.

  Cleo tipped her head back, her eyes closed as the winter sun shone through the leafless tree limbs to settle upon her face. Standing by her knees, Nik placed a gloved hand on either side of her shoulders along the back part of the bench.

  “Should I be concerned you aren’t jealous?”

  His heart skipped a beat when she lifted her thick sooty lashes to gaze at him from beneath the brim of her ball cap.

  “Decide where we’re going, yet?”

  Nik had to give her credit for the ease in which she segued a new subject onto the table. He lowered his head closer until it touched her cap.

  “How about somewhere indoors so that I can peel off these clothes drizzle warm chocolate, honey, or caramel over your skin and lick it off.” He smiled when she whimpered and shifted against the seat.

  “Sounds messy,” she joked lightly.

  “I’ll make sure to clean you thoroughly after.”

  Her soft chuckle washed over him, banishing the cold. Cleo pushed him in the shoulder. “You’re a whole lotta temptation rolled up in a hella good-looking package, Nikolas Andreyevich.”

  “Sweeter words have yet to be spoken,” he teased. “Unless you're going to say yes.”

  “As tempting as the offer is, I think I’d like to just walk for a bit. We can do the other, later.”

  Turning his head, Nik brushed their lips together. “Come, snežinka. Saint Petersburg awaits. I can’t say no to you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “No!” he thundered.

  Cleo arched a brow and muttered sarcastically, “So much for not being able to tell me no.”

  His gaze hardened. “When it’s reasonable, that’s different.”

  “Reasonable? I’m not a kid who needs supervision, here.” Cleo fought the urge to stomp her feet.

  Nik crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Damn! He truly is an imposing man. His clenched jaw added to the grim set of his face. His body wrapped by near indecently tight jeans and a chest-molding tee made wetness slam into her pussy, despite the seriousness of his stance and expression.

  “What do you call going out at night?” he bit off.

  “I call it experiencing St. Petersburg’s nightlife.” Cleo raked her gaze over him, determined to ignore the hotness he not only portrayed but also dripped.

  “Forget it.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You seem to think I am asking for permission. Let me clear up the miniscule misconception on your part. I’m not.”

  Cleo spun around and jogged up the stairs to grab her purse. When her fingers clenched around it, she hesitated for a brief moment. She was leaving in less than a week. This was her last night in this city for, tomorrow, they headed back to Moscow for the concert. There were other ways she’d love to spend her remaining time with Nik as opposed to fighting.

  A ripple of awareness skated across her skin. He’s behind me. Slowly, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Cleo faced him. Nik’s masculine face was more composed, yet the anger still snapped with brown fire in his eyes. Hands shoved into the front pockets of her jeans, he rocked back on the heels of his Nubuck boots. She held his gaze and waited for him to speak.

  He didn’t. Instead, he tore
his eyes away, spun around and headed back down the stairs. Cleo flinched when the slam of the door reverberated through the suite and her. A myriad of emotions poured through her. Taking a deep breath, Cleo made sure she had everything needed and went to wait for her taxi in the lobby. There was no sign of Nik as she walked, and she stifled her disappointment.

  He has a point, her brain admonished.

  I know that, but he ordered like he had a right to. Her subconscious remained mockingly silent.

  As she pulled the cab door shut, Cleo’s phone rang. “Hello?” she answered after giving her destination to the driver.

  “May I speak to Ms. Laurens, please?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Ms. Laurens, my name is Doctor Richard Dubonsky. I’m head of the Russian History department in Cheyenne.”

  Her heart pounded loudly, and she missed the rest of what he said. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

  “Well, I realize you may be wondering how I got your name. I was dining with some colleagues, and one was Dr. Baldaev whom I am sure you know.”

  She did. Cleo had sent him a letter to see about working for him. “Yes. I know him through correspondence.” Her curiosity shot through the roof.

  “To make a long story short, I got your information from him in hopes of convincing you to come to me instead. Our program, while small for the moment, is rapidly growing. I’ve seen your grades and heard about your quick mind. I would love to fly you out here for a face to face, and hopefully, we can convince you to forget California and come here.”

  Cleo was speechless.

  “Ms. Laurens?”

  “Um, yes, sorry. I would love to come out there.” Why limit myself?

  “Wonderful. I know you’ll love it here. What dates work for you?”

  “It would have to be at least a week from now. I’m…not home, right now. Perhaps ten days from today? That would be fine.”

  “Excellent. I’ll set up a round-trip ticket. What’s your address?”

  Worrying her lower lip, Cleo hesitated before giving it.

  “I look forward to meeting you in person, Ms. Laurens. Have a great day.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Dubonsky. You, as well.”

  Cleo closed her phone with a smile. Paying the driver, she got out and headed across the distance toward the large gathering in the park. This was a night performance of a play. Standing heaters surrounded the set up, and it truly wasn’t bad temperature-wise. Paying, Cleo slipped into a seat in the back.

  Glancing at her watch, she realized there was some time before it began. She opened up her phone and called the States.

  “Hey there!” Kenya’s voice answered on the second ring. “Happy New Year.”

  “Hey, yourself. How are you feeling? And same to you.”

  “I’m good. You? Are you okay?”

  Cleo smiled. “I’m great. Look, I just got a call from a professor who wants me to come to his university for an interview. Since I don’t have an address at the moment, I had him send confirmation to you. Is that okay?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Great. I won’t keep you, but I wanted to give you a head’s up on the envelope.”

  “No problem. We’ll catch up when you get here. Can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed you too, Kenya.” Crossing her ankles, Cleo added, “When you talk to that hunk of a man of yours, tell him I want to be wowed at the concert.”

  “You’re going to one?”

  “Yes. The one night show in Moscow. I can’t wait.”

  “I’ll tell him. Be safe, my friend.”

  “Bye, Kenya. You too. See you soon.”

  “Bye, Cleo.”

  The call ended as a man took the seat beside her. Closing her phone, Cleo smiled briefly at him then turned her attention to the play. It was based off of a work by Pushkin. Although, she didn’t understand the words, it was easy to follow the gist of the play. The man beside her laughed along with everyone else, but Cleo wasn’t sure he truly paid any attention, as his gaze meandered about. Standing with everyone else at the conclusion, Cleo clapped. The man beside her mimicked her actions. Before she could become too nervous, he waved to some people and walked off to meet them.

  Damn Nik for making me feel so paranoid.

  Hands in pockets, Cleo turned and began walking along the path to get to the area where taxis waited. The night was cloudy, and the flakes had begun to fall at the end of the play. Groups and couples moved in the same direction she did, faster, and soon, she was alone. She strolled along easily, slowing her steps as she walked over a small wooden bridge.

  No need to sprain my ankle.

  Even still, her boot heel slid across the wood, and her balance wavered. Strong hands were there, helping her to not make a fool of herself.

  “Be careful.” The murmured words reached her ear as she was set her back on her feet. The moment she regained them, his hands immediately released her. Turning her head, she found herself facing the man who’d been beside her at the play. “Are you okay?” he questioned in accented English.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  His head inclined at her slightly. “My pleasure.” He gave another smile and skated past her, heading on.

  Wow. She smiled to herself as he strode away from her. There are a lot of good-looking men here in Russia. Putting her hands back in her pockets, Cleo walked on. Two steps from the other side, a gasp left her as she was shoved from behind. She went down hard, her ankle twisting and pain lanced up from where she tried to break her fall.

  “Chornye!”

  The word spit down upon her with intense hatred she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Rolling, Cleo winced as she put weight on her wrist. Fire shot through her and not in a good way. A man stood there. Even in the spotty light, Cleo could see the revulsion and abhorrence in his hard gaze. She didn’t recognize him.

  “What the—?”

  “Chornye! Why do you foul my land?”

  Cleo blinked away the stars swirling before her eyes. Scrambling back as fast as she could, she strove for emotional control. The man would have been handsome if not for the ugly sneer upon his face.

  “I don’t know you,” she babbled.

  “You will when I finish with you,” he vowed in a low tone.

  She stopped moving and faced him. Scared though she was, Cleo knew she had one chance, and he needed to get closer for her to strike out with her leg. Her heart pounded hard in her ears, and her chest tightened, but Cleo would be damned before she showed him that.

  The unmistakable sound of a switchblade being freed filled the night, and Cleo searched again for anyone. Damn park is like deserted. Where the hell is everyone?

  Her attacker took a step toward her when a low roar broke the night. A battle cry would be the best way to describe it. There was a blur of motion, and a man leapt over one rail, crashing himself along with her would-be assailant through the other one to the small gully below which the bridge spanned.

  Shit!

  Getting to her feet as fast as her injuries would allow, Cleo hobbled to part of the railing that still remained and looked down at the men. Her savior was making short work of the other man. A moment of moonlight through the clouds shone down on them and highlighted the anger-infused face of her guardian angel.

  “Nik!” she gasped.

  Nik repeatedly slammed the man’s head into the frozen ground. The desire to see his life bleeding out held such great appeal. He’d followed Cleo. Allowed her to go do what she wished, but remained near. The play wasn’t anything he’d wanted to attend and he had some business to do. However, that had gotten tossed to the side as he thought of her there alone. A growl had formed when the man who’d been next to her touched her. Nik forced himself to remain calm, especially since the man immediately released her and moved on.

  The other man, however, he hadn’t seen until it was almost too late. When he’d heard the low guttural racial slur fill the air, he’d begun to run to
Cleo. She was on the ground yet he could see the pain and fear in her eyes. His rage boiled over when he saw the knife.

  Jerking to his feet, Nik lifted the man by his coat before closing a gloved hand around his windpipe. In Russian, he growled, “Your life is forfeit. You not only cast a slur upon her, but you dared to touch my woman.”

  “Nik?” Cleo’s voice reached him.

  Defiance flared in the attacker’s gaze. “Will you kill me with her watching?”

  “Yes,” Nik answered immediately.

  The defiance faded, and fear took over. “No,” he gasped.

  “Nik, stop,” Cleo said.

  His nostrils flared. Grabbing the hand that still held the knife, Nik pulled the man closer yet. “He hurt you,” Nik said in English.

  “I’ll live.”

  Turning his head, he watched Cleo hobble toward him. Instantly, a new wave of anger swarmed over him.

  “Let him go, Nik,” Cleo implored.

  “He deserves to die. Nothing more,” he ground out, putting his attention back upon the vile being he longed to choke the life out of.

  “Murder isn’t the answer.”

  Grinding his jaw, Nik glared at the man who lingered close to unconsciousness. “She wants me to spare your worthless life. I don’t think you deserve it. You aren’t fit to lick the dirt from her shoes. That woman is such a gentle soul,” he uttered in Russian as he edged the knife farther into his belly.

  “Nik, please. Let him go.”

  “Too bad I’m not,” he admitted then dropped the man. Immediately, her assailant crumbled boneless to the ground, gasping. Spinning on a booted heel, in two steps, Nik had scooped her up into his arms.

  “Nik,” she began.

  “Be quiet, Cleo. Please. I’m trying to control myself here.”

  Her lithe body tensed briefly before a tremor overtook her, and she sank into him.

  I almost lost her. He battled with his feelings as he slid into a waiting taxi. Nik spent the entire ride back to the hotel with Cleo in his lap. She kept her face burrowed in his chest, and occasional shudders swept her frame. His emotions were close to the breaking point, and it scared him.