Lion of Midnight Read online

  “No!” Nik thundered. “Don’t listen to her.” Spinning Cleo so she faced him, Nik shook his head. “Don’t, Cleo. Get out.”

  She took one of his hands, brought it to her mouth, and kissed the palm. Then squeezed it. “I can’t Nik. Trust me. Believe in yourself. You can beat him.”

  I can’t risk it.

  Glancing past her to Loki, Nik watched him hold up a hand, and before his eyes, his sword appeared in it. Palm up, Loki released it, and as if plucked out of the air itself, it floated across the space between them. Nik stared at Blood Drinker. Loki had relieved him of it the day he’d traded his life for Cleo’s freedom. With his right hand, he grabbed the hilt and sighed as the familiar weight sank into him.

  Cleo tightened her hold, and he felt something sharp in his palm. She let go and stepped back. Staring into his hand he saw a blue stone. Without looking closer, he knew it was the one from her necklace. The one that would make his sword complete, again.

  Turning the hilt, he replaced the piece as Loki blabbed on. The sapphire shimmered and became whole. With one look at Cleo, whose expression was full of her belief in him, he hefted the sword and beckoned Loki.

  The god attacked with a vengeance. Metal clanged. Muscles bulged. Nik sweated and bled even more. But, for the first time since Cleo had been sent away to her time, the desire to win raced to the surface. He had to win. Whatever reason she had for coming back didn’t matter. He had to ensure she was not Loki’s toy.

  Cleo is mine! his mind roared as he pressed harder, driving Loki back. He swore when the god pulled out another weapon, a short sword. A well-placed kick sent his own sword flying out of his hand. Immediately, Nik jumped back. Someone behind him pushed hard, and he stumbled forward. He saw Loki’s arm and predetermined his next move, so Nik dropped and rolled. When he regained his feet, a low, keening cry left him.

  Cleo stood where he’d been. The short sword in Loki’s hand dripped with blood. Hands pressed to her belly, unsuccessfully containing the red liquid, Cleo fell to her knees. The crowd fell silent.

  “Noooo!” he cried as pain flooded him. Scrambling over and catching her as she toppled over, he gazed down at her. He cradled the back of her head in one hand. “Cleo,” he said, using his other hand to cover hers and the mortal wound. “No. You can’t leave me. Damn you, woman, why’d you do this! I had it.” Tears welled up as her warm, sticky blood ran over his fingers, coating his skin and staining it.

  “I need you, Nikolas Andreyevich. I always did. I know I didn’t tell you sooner, and I’m sorry.”

  “Cleo. Hang in there. Damn you, don’t you leave me, Cleo,” he commanded. “Please don’t leave me.”

  “I love you, Nik.”

  “I love you, too, snežinka. Stay with me.” He knew it didn’t matter. He knew she was dying, but if he could will life back into her, Nik would try.

  Her sepia eyes fluttered. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  “I don’t want to live without you.”

  “Nik, it’s okay. You’re free, now. Free.”

  “You did this so I’d be free?” he choked out.

  “Of course.” The response was so honest and pure. “I need you to be free, Nik.” One tear rolled from each eye. “It’s okay,” she said softly as her breath left her. Then, her chest remained still.

  “Cleo.” He shook her. “Cleo.” It came out a strangled cry.

  Her sightless eyes peered up at him. Through him. Beyond him.

  Nik shook. Laying her down on the ground, he closed her eyes and turned his head to Loki, who still waited. Pushing to his feet, Nik stalked toward him, grabbing his sword with the hand covered by Cleo’s blood. Emitting his battle cry, Nik attacked without a single shred of mercy. All of his anger and all his rage were poured into each swing, every thrust and strike.

  His blood boiled, and he refused to relent on his attack. He faked a strike then hit with a different angle. Blood began to stream from the wound, and both of them hesitated.

  “I shouldn’t be bleeding,” Loki said in shock and confusion.

  The scenery changed, and Nik found he and Loki were back in the meadow he’d fought him in before. No others. No Cleo.

  “What the hell is going on?” Nik roared in anger.

  Two figures materialized from the air and walked toward them. A man and a woman. Freya, he recognized.

  “What are you doing here?” Loki demanded, still trying to stop the blood flowing from his arm. “And, why am I bleeding?”

  The man chuckled and looked between the Nik and Loki. “Let me answer that.” He waved his hand, and Nik lost his sword, only for it to reappear in the air before the tall, bearded barbarian god. “It means, Loki, this man can kill you.”

  Nik smiled ferally at that announcement. “Wonderful. Give me back my sword, so I can do just that.”

  “Why do you think I took it from you before I said anything?” the man asked.

  Nik didn’t want to talk; he wanted to fight until he couldn’t think straight, and, then, maybe the image of Cleo lying dead would leave him. “Cleo,” he uttered on a tortured sigh.

  “How is it this mortal has the ability to kill me?” Loki asked.

  “So cocky, Loki. How did you get the name Trickster if you are so stupid? You gave it to him. Had you read the writing, you would have known.”

  Trust me. Cleo’s word came back to him. Had she figured it out? A tiny seed of hope was planted.

  “What writing? I read what’s on the blade, and that in no way would give him the power to kill me.”

  “There was more than that. Way more. Merotic script. Shall I read it to you?” The unknown god didn’t wait for a response, just began to that very thing. “There were words behind each of the six blue stones. Put together it reads, ‘Love is the immortal guardian of the Lion of Midnight.’”

  Nik found himself held captive by the man’s intense gaze. The brown eyes held a slight bit of respect in them.

  “The pommel has a message.” With a flick of his hand, the air filled with golden marks, lining up in some order. Then, they changed to words Nik could read. He did so as the man continued to speak. Nik read the message.

  God’s kill.

  Lion’s kill.

  Mortals die.

  Love is infinite.

  For the Lion to return to full strength

  He needs the ultimate sacrifice.

  What was once shattered will be healed by this selfless act.

  Darkness must fall before day can begin anew.

  Love defeats all.

  Nik thought about the words, but then, the man said something else. “The hilt says, ‘Bleed the snowflake ~ save the lion.’ So, you see, Loki. You bled the snowflake. I suggest you leave before I return this sword to him.”

  Nik howled in anger when his nemesis vanished. “Not fair! He took my salvation. If I can’t kill him, then kill me.”

  Freya stepped forward, only to be stopped. The powerful man looked at him. “Do you know who I am?”

  “No.” And I don’t care.

  “I am Svetoid.”

  Nik looked at the god he used to worship. He bowed his head slightly.

  Lips turned up in a smile. “Here is your sword, Nikolas Andreyevich. Now, you have two choices.”

  αβ

  Nik walked along the path. The wind ruffled his hair. Closing his eyes briefly, he abruptly changed direction. He moved faster until he reached the building he sought. Until he arrived to the door he wanted, he never slowed. With a trembling hand, he turned the knob. It was open. Entering in silence, he closed the door behind him before progressing on. He could feel the tension in his shoulders. In the doorway, he hesitated as his fists clenched. Then, he moved in, and his breath left him in a rush.

  In morning’s early light, he saw Cleo lying there on the bed.

  “Cleo,” he murmured, hurrying to her side and sinking on the mattress. She didn’t move. Cupping her cheek, he pressed a kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, her eyes slowly o
pened, going from unfocused to focused. They lingered on his face before a tender smile lifted her full lips.

  “It worked, then?” she asked gently.

  “It worked.” Nik slipped his arms around her and gathered her close to him, pressing every inch he could to her. “Half of me wants to beat you for even trying that,” he growled.

  “I love you, Nikolas,” she said in response.

  Lips to her temple, he whispered, “I love you, too, woman. And, I swear, you ever do anything so foolish again, and I’ll—”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Nik,” she interrupted.

  Nik did. He made slow love to her mouth while laying them back on the bed. His blood burned for her.

  “My love, my salvation,” he muttered in Russian. “I love you more than my next breath.”

  “I feel the same about you, Nik,” Cleo said in words the same decibel as his, her hands slipping under his shirt and along his back.

  What? Drawing back, he lost himself in her eyes. “When did you learn Russian?”

  “I asked for some help.” Her gaze sparkled.

  “Freya?”

  Cleo nodded. “Is it truly over, Nik?”

  “Yes. Loki won’t bother us anymore. Your sacrifice made it possible.” He frowned. “Did you even think it may not work?”

  “Freya said it would set you free, and that’s all that mattered to me.”

  “Don’t you know it’s my job to protect you?”

  Her short nails dug into his back, and he answered with a low growl. Lowering his blond head to her dark one, Nik made love to her, and for the rest of the day, they barely left each other’s sight, much less the bed. That night, as they lay, limbs intertwined, slumbering, Nik woke to a feather-like touch in his mind.

  Goodbye, mortal.

  Nik opened his eyes and saw Freya standing there. Her gaze was kind, as was the look on her face.

  Goodbye, goddess. Thank you for allowing me to find a love like Marcus and Kit have.

  She smiled and disappeared. In his hand, he felt the cool metal of a necklace warming against his skin. In the muted light, he held it up and smiled. Closing his eyes, Nik finally slept. Content in the knowledge the woman in his arms was his for the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  Eighteen months later

  Cleo smiled as she lifted the tray up higher to avoid the running children. Setting it down safely on the picnic table already teeming with food, she touched Kit on the shoulder and was rewarded with a large grin.

  “Chaos reigns,” Kit said happily.

  “Ain’t it great.” Cleo rubbernecked over the people there. All her friends and family. Including the family she’d grown apart from during her marriage to David. They were having a party at her and Nik’s place. He’d bought land adjacent to his brother and built them a home. With a sigh, she sighted down to the wedding ring on her hand. A warm feeling washed over her, and she pulled her gaze from the diamond and sapphire wedding set to spot the ever-attentive eyes of her husband upon her.

  Husband. After David, she’d really never believed she would wed, again. But Nikolas Andreyevich changed all of that. He meant the world to her.

  Nik winked at her before holding Kenya’s daughter, Kamden Zyanya Strong, closer to him and putting his attention back on the men he stood with. Cleo smiled before heading back in to get more food. On her heels followed her two dogs. Borzoi. One male, extremely pale cream, who looked white and whose name was Monarch. And his sister, elegant and refined, black with white trim. Her name was Pantera.

  Alone except for her dogs in the spacious kitchen, she smiled as her hand drifted to the necklace she wore, and she touched the pendant. It was a silver rectangle within which sat a standing male lion. He had one paw outstretched touching a delicate snowflake. All along the edge of the rectangle, she felt the etching and smiled. It was Meroitic script, and the words brought her comfort. A snowflake for the Lion of Midnight.

  “Everything okay, snežinka?” Nik’s timbre purred in her ear while his hands settled along her hips.

  Leaning back into him, Cleo sighed. “Da. Just got lost in thought.”

  “Good thoughts?” He kissed the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  “Of course. I was thinking of the necklace, Freya, and everything that’s happened.”

  Nik enfolded her into his embrace. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “And I you.”

  He turned her so they were face to face, and Cleo saw the furrow between his eyes. She reached up to smooth it away, and he caught her hand, kissing her fingertips.

  “Snežinka, what’s wrong?” He tilted his head, the sun gleaming off his blond hair. “And, don’t tell me nothing. I can feel your sadness.”

  “I’m just going to miss everyone.”

  “Are we going somewhere?” he asked, tucking some hair behind her ear.

  Cleo smiled. She loved how Nik was. It was always them together. Not that he would stop her from traveling alone, or not go without her, he just liked to assume they would be together. So did she.

  “I hope so.”

  “Was there somewhere else you wished to go for a while? Italy? Brazil?”

  “Russia.”

  “Russia?”

  Sliding her arms around his neck, she nodded. “Yes. I’ve been okayed to teach over there for at least a year in Novgorod.” She watched his expression.

  “Of course we can go, snežinka. Why didn’t you say anything before? And why now?”

  “I wanted to make sure they agreed first. And now, because,” she dropped her hands and grabbed his, “I think our firstborn should be born in his father’s homeland.” Cleo placed their joined hands over her womb.

  “Cleo,” he gasped, looking between her face and where their hands lay. “A baby?”

  “A baby.”

  Her legs trembled when he dropped to his knees and placed his hands on either side of her belly. His strong fingers caressed her gently, and he looked up at her. Cleo felt tears prick the backs of her eyes when she witnessed them in his.

  With a single motion, Nik rose tall and moved his hands to cradle her face. His thumbs skimmed her lips before his mouth covered hers. Cleo whimpered as he stroked her, creating a burning fire within her. When her body sank into his and her toes had long since curled, he withdrew just until she could lose herself into his eyes.

  “You have made me the happiest man in the world, snežinka. Thank you for giving me a child.”

  “I love you, Nikolas Andreyevich.”

  “And, I love you, Cleopatra Andreyevich. Come, let’s go share the news with our family and friends.”

  Even as their guests offered cheers and congratulations, Cleo had eyes for only one man. A man who had made her believe in love, again. A man who she knew would sacrifice it all for her. And, for whom, she’d do the same.

  He’d been born of a different time and survived to be with her. Like he told her, she was one of a kind. Unique. A snowflake. They were right, she was…

  A Snowflake for the Lion of Midnight.

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