Page 41 of Niko's Printsessa

"What," she asks.

"You’re so beautiful.”

She blushes and outlines the tattoo on my left chest as the water washes away my shampoo. “What does this one mean?”

It’s a dagger with an ornate V carved in the handle. The sharp tip appears to be piercing my skin with red black blood dripping from it, but the blade is cracked in the center.

“It means I’ll always be victorious and protect the ones I love. Even if it breaks me in the process.”

“That’s really beautiful. Poetic. I sense a theme with the V. Victory Ranch and Niko means victory.”

“Correct,Printsessa.”

She frowns at me.

“Why don’t you like me calling you Printsessa?”

She runs her finger along another tattoo. “It infers I’m perfect, and I could never live up to the title.”

She's perfect for me.

She runs her fingers over my tattoos, causing all the blood to rush to my groin.

“What does this one mean?”

It’s a champagne flute in the center of my chest. A piece of crumpled paper lies in the bottom of the liquid bubbles and a lit match looks like it’s falling into the glass. The stem of the flute is the face of a clock, the time showing five minutes past midnight.

In Russia, we wash down our wishes with a New Year’sChampagne toast. After the first beat of the countdown, you must write your wish on a small piece of paper, light it on fire, letting the ashes fall into your champagne and drink it all before the clock chimes the twelfth beat, ensuring your dreams will come true. Our Sokolov toast is always the same,burn to ash.

Then, when the clock strikes midnight, we kiss someone we love and chant another Sokolov toast,to family and future.

“It’s my one wish that will never come true. I was too late.”

“Your mother?”

I nod, swallowing my emotions.

I turn her so I can wash her backside, and I admire my bite marks on her shoulder. My hands trail down her spine to her ass, and I play with her round globes as she moans her approval.

I’m about to sink my teeth into her neck, like a vampire, but her voice hints at fear, “Why do you think someone is threatening me?”

“I don’t knowPrintsessa.” My brain clicks. “Burn to ash.”

“What?”

The email, the first threat said,Leo zaplatit, a printsessa sgorit dotla.”

“Leo will pay, and the princess will burn to ashes.”

“And then black roses were left at the entrance of the distillery. The card readszhech' printsessu.

“Burn the princess. So why a bomb? The fucker didn’t know what he was doing. I could watch some stupid YouTube videos and do better than him. It doesn’t line up. If he wanted to send a message he should’ve started a fire, although I’m glad he didn’t.”

I repeat, “Burn the princess to ash.”

“Burn to ashes. Burn to ash?”

“It must mean something.”

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