by Ashley Logan
"Always."
As the crowd respectfully gives us space to reconnect, we move into a different room. Nikolai snags the vodka and two glasses on our way past and we huddle in a corner, to catch up on all of the lies and truths of the time between us - what he'd been hoping to achieve; why he'd been so devastated to find me in his room that day; and why he'd been so reluctant to give in to his love for me.
His job.
"How many years were you under cover?"
"Too many," he replies, taking another sip of vodka. "As you can imagine, I ran into a few issues with the authorities throughout my criminal teens. I met a few decent men on those occasions. One in particular saw my situation and helped me to disappear. He supported my application into the police force and backed me when a federal recruiter came looking for me to fill the role it seemed I'd been born for - slipping back into the syndicate, stripping out the dead-weight, and marking up the major players. It took years. I've done things in the name of ultimate justice that I'll have to live with forever." Taking a large sip of vodka, he shakes his head.
"I'd almost given up feeling human when you twirled into my life and made me smile for the first time in... I don't even know how long," he says, resting his head against the wall as his eyes search my face. "You made me remember what it was to love. And to be loved."
His eyes become sad again and he took another drink. I do too.
"Even if they thought it wasn't real, it was real to me," he adds quietly, scrubbing his hand over his jaw. "I pissed them off by loving you, but I'd delivered what they wanted. What we wanted. We bought them all down, Natascha. All the way up the ladder to Johnson and his crew - you remember him, yes?"
Frowning, I lean in. "Garrett Johnson the music guy?"
"Yeah," Niko confirms with a small, yet satisfied smile. "He was stranded on the ship when I blew up his helicopter."
"I saw the explosion."
Smiling, he clinks his glass with mine, but when I don't drink, he frowns. Studying my face a moment, his eyes spark with recognition.
"You thought that's how I died. They tell you that?"
Nodding, I sip my vodka. Giving me a tight smile, he rubs his brow.
"They told me half of the girls in the lifeboat had been swept overboard, and that you'd managed to save three before you too were swept away yourself. Said they scanned the seas for days, but found no more survivors." Closing his eyes, he shakes his head slightly. "It sounded like something you'd do, so I believed them. They're good," he admits with a soft smile as he reaches up and brushes my face with his thumb. "I'm so fucking glad you're alive."
"Thank you. I am happy to see you living also."
His lips press together a moment as he searches my face, then he nods.
"This is a lot to deal with," he says, looking around the room. "Hard to believe, I know."
"How do you do that?" I ask, bringing his eyes back to me. "I never asked how you read minds, but even Serge says you are human lie detector, so I know I did not imagine this."
His eyes darken slightly and his lips curl a little, but it’s not a real smile.
"I learned very young that words couldn't be trusted. Also, my mother lost her ability to speak after our voyage and I had to become even more attuned to body language and behavior - skills that I developed over the years as I manipulated the criminals I hid amongst. It's not a nice story, but the skill is useful," he explains with less emotion than he'd started with. He fills his glass again.
"To mothers and fathers teaching us useful skills," I toast, holding my glass to his before finishing my drink and holding it out to be refilled.
"What skills did you learn?" Nikolai asks, topping up my glass.
"My mother showed me how to drink, and my father taught me lies could sound like truth. He made me think I am good at singing and playing poker," I answer with a laugh, and as I recall the last night we spent together, I lean in. "I know you were letting me win."
Color fills his cheeks and I know his mind has gone to the place mine can't seem to escape now that I'm in his presence. Scratching his jaw, he lifts one shoulder in the slightest of shrugs.
"I didn't want you to feel left out."
Feeling my own face warming, I swallow my mouthful carefully. "I felt very much included, so this was achieved."
Eyes darkening, his gaze lingers on my lips until he purposely looks away. Taking a long drink, he keeps his eyes elsewhere as he speaks to me.
"I have some confessions, Natascha."
"What kind of confessions?" I ask, wishing he'd look at me so I might have more of a clue.
Closing his eyes a moment, he inhales, holds it, and releases it slowly.
"Have you tried to contact your father since you arrived in America?" he asks smoothly, watching me over his glass as he drinks.
Squinting at him, I wonder why I'd thought he was about to tell me that he still loved me.
His actual question gives me exactly the opposite feelings than those I'd expected and I don't curb my distaste.
"No, I have not tried to contact that evil man! He sold me. He is the reason Lisandra is dead. Mama too, probably. He is the reason I can never be who I was. I hope he dies a slow and painful death for what he did to our family."
"He's dead."
The confirmation in his tone is flat and firm and his eyes hold mine with a sharp intensity that...
"Oh." The realization escapes my lips in that one tiny sound.
I take a sip of my vodka. And another.
Still his eyes bore into mine, making me see.
"Thank you," I whisper with a small nod of acknowledgment. "For... telling me," I add when his eyebrow twitches.
He nods too, and drinks half his glass of vodka before speaking again.
"They insisted I take a break before going back to my life. I chose to visit Estonia before returning to my mysterious city by the great waterfall - which you found, by the way."
"Yes." Brushing away a tickle from my cheek, I nod. "I figured it out. Even though I knew I might only find your ghost here, I wanted to imagine what it would have been like to be your queen in the city of queens. Your light in the city of lights."
"I-" Cutting himself off, he looks away and takes another drink. "What did you imagine?"
"It was too hard to imagine. Your ghost has been difficult to live with. I have kept you in my dreams instead, but is not the same as living it."
"No," he agrees, his eyes seeming to take all of me in at the same time as zeroing in on my face. "I know just what you mean."
"Do you...?" The question fades on his lips and he shakes his head.
"Ask," I prompt, wondering if it's related to another confession. The one I've been hoping for.
"Do you sing?" he asks quietly, keeping his eyes on me as he sips his drink.
I narrow my eyes at him again. "I am out of practice reading you Niko, but I am thinking this is not the question you were going to ask."
His lips firm into a line and his eyes sparkle.
"Natascha, you know me still," he says with an appreciative sigh. "It is the question I chose to ask instead, so perhaps you could humor me?"
Conceding with a nod, I hold up my glass and offer him a brave smile.
"I sing in the shower."
Grinning, he clinks his glass with mine and gives me a celebratory kiss, though both of us reel backwards the moment our lips touch.
"Sorry," he whispers through his fingers. "That was out of order. I didn't mean to just... I'm sorry. Natascha, I had no right. I..."
Shaking my head as I hold my trembling fingers to my own lips, I keep my eyes on him.
"Is okay," I whisper back, mostly telling myself as my insides go crazy in a confusing hot and cold kind of way.
"I should go." He gets to his feet in a rush.
"No!" Standing just as quickly, I hold the wall for support as I poke him in the chest. "You cannot come back into my life and then leave! This is not the Moskva-Liis! I do not have to s
tay here and wait for you to say things are okay."
His hand closes over mine, flattening it to his chest. Through his t-shirt I can feel his heart slamming against my hand. Raising my eyes to his, I inhale sharply as I see every twisted emotion reflected in his face.
"I'm glad you can sing in the shower. I'm sorry I kissed you like that. It was the wrong thing to do. The wrong way to do it. I forgot myself in... excitement?"
Shaking his head and patting my hand, he looks to the ceiling as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. Exhaling roughly, he tightens his grip over my hand.
"I love you with all of my heart Natascha, but I can't assume you feel the same. It was complicated... how we met. There's merit in what the shrinks say, and I'm not leaving for any reason other than to protect you from falling into the same damned pattern of behavior."
"You think I only loved you because you were nice to me in captivity?" I ask, looking at him sideways.
"How do you know you didn't?"
I shrug. "I don't know. It seems very logical to like someone who is nice to you when you are in a terrible situation. But I thought there was more to us than that. You did not steal me. You did not want me in there. I knew these things."
"But you still can't be sure," he says firmly. "We talked about it being different if we were in the real world. We wouldn't know unless we tried, but I'm afraid to ask if you will, because I'm the bad guy in this scenario and I can't ask without potentially instigating the same circumstances all over again, and perpetuating the problem."
"Niko stop using big words to say you do not mean to move fast with me! I am not a stranger to these things you think. I have been thinking them since I woke up in your tank top on the Moskva-Liis, when I had been imagining a different life with you when you smiled at me across the docks. You are making me more confused about whether any of it was real and that makes it hard for me to breathe."
Leaning into the wall more heavily, I tug my hand out from under his to give myself more support as I pull in air with difficulty.
"I maybe need the medicine the doctor wants me to take," I puff as Nikolai's arms come under mine to support me.
"Try this," he says softly, pulling up the earphones dangling over his collar and plugging them into my ears.
Pearl Jam's Betterman fills my ears and I close my eyes blocking everything else out. The song ends and The Smashing Pumpkins begin playing Disarm. My breathing evens out and I find myself leaning into his warm strength, swaying slightly. His arms come around me, shielding me from every bad thing in the world and we rock slowly back and forth as if we're alone.
It's no different to our relationship dynamic on the Moskva-Liis and I understand what it is that he's trying to tell me.
"We are very fucked up, yes?" I ask, making him jump, and then laugh as he pulls the music from my ears and looks around at the people staring at us.
"That was loud?" I whisper and he chuckles again as he nods.
"A little."
"Sorry," I tell the crowd, giving an apologetic wave. "I am sure you may have guessed that we are fucked up, but this is good for us to admit. Thank you. Happy day Violet and Serge! You are loving and good. Excuse us."
Grabbing Nikolai's hand, I pull him to the door, out of the apartment, and into the hall. He follows peaceably, but when I drop his hand and turn to face him, he takes a step back and folds his arms over his broad chest.
"Your chest is not as big Niko," I observe aloud.
"I don't have to be Pachenko now, so I don't work out the same way," he says, a faint blush rising in his cheeks as he looks at his feet.
"You are still a very large and handsome man."
He doesn't look up, but the color in his cheeks deepens.
"I know you are wanting to leave, and feeling bad about not having control, but I am very glad we are both alive, and I am wondering... Would you like to see me tomorrow? For what my friends call a date. You can pick me up at seven, because I would normally start work then, but my boss will want me to see you instead because it will make me happy."
Niko looks up. The corner of his mouth shifts and so does his eyebrow. I don't quite know what that combination means and need clarification.
"You like, and not like this idea?"
"I love it," he corrects me. "I'm just not sure I deserve it. I'm not good for you Natascha, but I don't want to stay away from the warmth you give me. It's very hard to be us, I think."
"We should maybe help each other," I suggest with a shrug as I hold out my hand. "Natalia Chenkov, but you may call me Natascha."
Taking my hand, he shakes it slowly.
"Chenkov?"
Shrugging again, I offer him a half-smile. "I knew this guy..."
Snorting, he shakes my hand a little more firmly. "Nikolai Rigby. You may call me whatever the hell you like, because I'll just be so damn happy that you're calling me, sweet, beautiful Natascha."
Taking my hand to his lips he squeezes it gently and backs off again.
"So... I should go. And... pick you up tomorrow at seven?"
I nod and he takes another step back before frowning and stepping closer.
"Where do I pick you up from?"
"I live over on Franklin - above a club called Beyond. You know it?"
There's definite recognition in his eyes as he stares at me.
"I've heard of it. Violet used to work there, right?"
I smile. "Yes. She still does sometimes. She is my very good friend and a very good dancer."
"You dance there?" he asks, his voice gruff.
"Yes. I am good at dancing; you remember."
His frown doesn't shift and I sigh.
"You are angry that I am dancing like Saskia, but I am not dancing like Saskia, so you should not worry. Is much better."
He doesn't seem convinced and I step towards the apartment door.
"You do not want to meet me tomorrow because you do not like my dancing?"
"I didn't say that," he says quickly, the furrows in his brow deepening. "I just- It's been a lot to take in - finding you alive after three years of thinking you were dead, and you thinking the same about me." His voice trails off and he looks up at me from under his lashes. "Do you still want me to come tomorrow?"
"Ah, yes." I smack him in the arm. "Is why I asked you in first place. Making specific point of extending invitation so I would be the one in power, and you can relax and feel you are not threatening me into this. Did I not understand?"
Smiling at me, he shakes his head. "You always understand perfectly Natascha. May I kiss your cheek before I leave?"
"No, you may not. You may kiss my lips, and hug me with your very nice arms, and then you must leave before I want to do more because, it has been three years since I have touched a man, or let a man touch me and I am fearing for your safety," I tease, walking him backwards until the wall holds him in place. Tugging on his shirt, I pull his beaming face down to meet mine.
Niko's vodka kisses taste even better than I remember. My dreams have never measured up. In all the times I've had to re-create this moment in my head, I'd not once correctly honored it with such intense clarity.
Moaning as I pull him closer, I relish the taste of his tongue as it seeks mine, and the initial softness of his loving kiss as it begins leaning into something much more primal.
Growling into my mouth, he collects me into his arms and switches our positions to thrust me against the wall instead, but just as quickly, he pulls back with a frustrated groan as he realizes what he's done.
"Don't stop," I whisper, leading him back to me by his hair. "I like this." I kiss him again. "You know I like this. You know me. We are not on Moskva-Liis and I am still liking this. Don't stop Niko."
His lips slam back into mine, his true hunger being unleashed. I lap it up, savoring every second of it as he makes me feel as though I'm his world. I run my fingers through his hair how he used to like it.
The tiger purrs.
"I have missed you so mu
ch Niko. Don't let me go."
The sound that escapes him is almost a whimper and his roaming hands pull me closer still. His face drops to my neck, inhaling, kissing and nipping.
"I don't ever want to let you go again."
"So don't. Take me home."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Walking was a terrible idea.
Had we caught a cab, we would've gotten home faster and been in my bed too soon for Nikolai to talk himself out of it.
Arriving outside Beyond, I'm just retrieving my keys to let us in when he steps back.
"I should leave you here," he says firmly. "We're moving too fast."
"Not fast enough Niko," I disagree. "In my mind you have already pleasured me several times and my actual body is so jealous it could die. You must move more quickly to make it feel better."
Grabbing him by the belt, I tug him inside and lock the door behind us.
"Do I need to make you my prisoner now?" I ask as I punch in the code for the stairwell up to the apartment. "I have locks and things. I can do this if it will make you feel more comfortable?"
Mumbling something, he shoves his hands deep into his pockets and as the door opens, he looks up the stairs.
"I have more vodka," I offer with a shrug as I begin climbing.
"Not sure I should have more," he mutters as he follows. "Seems I'm already too easily influenced."
Turning on the top step, I meet him eye to eye.
"This is what I am doing? Influencing you?"
"Every part of you influences me in more ways than I can express. Mainly you affect my heart and soul, but my dick is also impacted greatly. Too greatly. And the more I let you influence that, the less control my brain seems to want. It's pretty dangerous actually," he says, gripping onto the hand rail and viewing my living room to avoid meeting my eyes. "I think I should go. I didn't want things to go this far so quickly-"
"You lie."
Blushing, he nods. "Okay. That's fair. In my head, I've already taken you six ways to Sunday, but-"
"What does this mean? This six-"
"Nothing. Natascha, I love you. For three years I have thought of nothing else. I've carried music with me wherever I've been, just to survive. Apart from copious amount of vodka, it's the only thing that eases the pain and the guilt. It's my escape, Natascha - always has been. I just... You're alive," he says, as if it explains his actions perfectly. "I should honor you and make you feel safe, not crash into your life again expecting your love to be real when I know it was tainted from the beginning by that fucking ship."
