Page 6 of Ruthless Royalty

I hear a whistle behind me and I know it’s because they’ve seen the dragon tattoo taking up my entire back. Its wings span my back, shoulder to shoulder, and its tail goes right around my waist.

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” I hear an unknown voice speak and know it’s Nikolai’s friend. “That’s your new sister? Do you mind if I?—“

“Fuck off, Mihai. I’m supposed to be looking out for her, according to my father. So no, you’re not touching her,” Nikolai says in a bored tone and I try to tune them out, but then I hear his footsteps coming up behind me. He walks up next to the treadmill I’m on, but I don’t look at him.

“So, why have you decided to become Wonder Woman?” he asks in that drawl of his, and I roll my eyes.

“Since I learned that I’ll be attending a school with different versions of you, and figured I like being alive,” I say and chance a look at him. Oh, he’s not smirking this time around.

“You’ve decided to go? That’s interesting,” he says, leaning back against the treadmill next to mine and crossing his arms. “What changed your mind? Realizing you’ll be seeing me every day?”

“Oh, please, that would have sent me running the other way,” I say, and his friend bursts out laughing. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m doing this for me, and I’d rather not die because people know who my step-dad is. Self preservation is a hell of a thing.”

I turn off the treadmill and grab my water bottle, not looking at him but knowing he’s staring me down. When I eventually do look up, I see he is indeed staring at me again.

“Hmm,” he says, then he looks at his friend and grins.

“What?” I ask, annoyed now.

Nikolai shrugs. “I’ve decided to help you now that I know you’re not some air-head using my father,” he says, stepping back. “Can you fight?”

I blanch and look at him, knowing he’s expecting me to be baited by the fact that he thought I was an air-head. But I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.

“Yes, I can fight. Why?—“

Before I can finish that sentence, he aims a punch toward my head and I immediately dodge it. I jump from the treadmill and get into a fighting stance without even thinking about it.

“What the fuck?” I cry out, and he walks toward me, rolling up his shirtsleeves. His signet ring is now accompanied by another one on his pinky finger. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping you. You want to survive Willow Bridge, correct?” he asks and I nod. “Then I’ll help you. I’m supposed to be looking out for you anyway, seeing as I am older, and no member of this family will be pushed around. You’re practically fucking royalty now, so show me what you’ve got, Chiara.”

I try and fail to not look surprised at his use of my real name. He seems genuine about his offer, and I am no longer getting a cocky, slimy feeling from him. So, against my better judgment, I attack him.

I lunge forward with a swift jab, aiming for his side, but Nikolai easily sidesteps, his chuckle grating against my nerves. He’s smirking, that annoyingly confident grin that tells me he thinks he’s already won.

“Too slow, little sister. You need to anticipate movements, not just react to them.”

I grit my teeth, circling him, watching for an opening. “I was just testing the waters. Watch closely; you might learn something.”

Nikolai raises an eyebrow, feinting to the left before swinging a leg out in a low sweep. I jump back, narrowly avoiding the move.

“Good reflexes,” he nods, ‘but jumping back won’t always save you. Sometimes, you have to be aggressive—move into the attack.”

“Like this?” I feint a step backward, then charge, using mymomentum to throw a series of punches. He blocks each one, but I can tell he’s impressed.

“Left open,” he comments, a smirk playing on his lips as he easily deflects my attempt at a hook punch. “You telegraph your moves, Chiara. It’s like you’re announcing your plans to me.”

I spin out of his grip, panting slightly. “Maybe I’m just luring you into a false sense of security,” I say, trying a different tactic—quick, successive kicks aimed at keeping him on the defensive.

Nikolai deflects my kicks, his movements fluid, almost casual. “Cute idea, but in a real fight, surprises work better.”

I nod, absorbing his advice despite myself. As we reset, he taps his chin mockingly.

“Hit me here, come on. Imagine it’s the face of someone who wants to take something you’re not willing to give, not your dearly beloved stepbrother.”

I roll my eyes and launch forward, fueled by irritation and the challenge in his tone, my fist aiming straight for his chin. At the last moment, he blocks, his arm shooting up in a blur of motion.

“Better,” he admits, and I almost preen at the rare compliment. “But you’re still hesitating. If you’re going to make a move, commit to it. Half-measures won’t get you anywhere but six feet under.”

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