Page 51 of Savage Reign

He takes a sip of his drink. “So many stupid choices. Who would flirt with a creepy stranger on the phone like that?”

“It’s a horror movie. People do stupid things. That’s the point.”

The harsh angles of his face seem softer in the glow of the TV. I let my gaze linger for a moment too long, and suddenly, his head turns, his deep, blue eyes meeting mine.

“You’re staring,” he says.

I flush and look back at the screen. “You’re very into this movie for someone who called it stupid five minutes ago. You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe.” He settles back into the couch. “So are you.”

“Maybe,” I parrot him.

If I'm honest, I am enjoying this—sitting here with him, not just the movie—more than I expected. Watching his reactions is more fun than the film. And being in someone else’s company, even if he is my captor, helps with the loneliness.

His hand shifts and comes to rest lightly on my leg, his warmth seeping through the fabric of my sweatpants. It catches me off guard, and for a second, I freeze.

I glance at him, unsure what to say.

“What?” he asks, his attention still fixed on the TV. “It’s a scary movie. I’m scared.”

“Right.” I let out a quiet snort, shaking my head. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

He keeps his hand where it is, and to my surprise, it feels... comforting. Maybe, just for tonight, I can wave the white flag between us.

Movement stirs me from sleep. I feel warmth around me—strong, steady warmth—and blink slowly, realizing the movie is over and I’m now in his arms.

“Seriously?” I murmur, my eyes still half-closed. “What is it with you and carrying me around like a sack of potatoes? Is this some weird fetish—like your love of stripping?”

He makes an amused noise. “Less scary than waking you up.”

“Are you scared of me?”

“Terrified,” he says dryly as he crosses the short distance to the bed.

I let my head loll against his shoulder, too comfortable to protest. “You should be. I’m a force to be reckoned with.

“I have no doubt,” he mutters, lowering me onto the bed with surprising care. He pulls the blanket over me. This moment should feel weird, but it doesn’t. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to hating him.

“Did you like the movie?” I don’t know why I care, but I do. Probably because I feel like he sacrificed his night to spend it with me.

“Other than the idiotic choices every character made and the absurd amount of screaming, I found it… acceptable. Maybe even better than acceptable.”

I prop myself up on one elbow, giving him a look. “Better than acceptable? High praise coming from you.”

He shrugs, his expression as serious as if we were discussing an international arms deal. “It had its moments. The commentary on horror clichés was clever. And the killer’s reveal? Predictable, but it worked.”

“You’re seriously analyzingScream?” I huff. “You know it’s only a slasher movie, right?” When he lifts a shoulder, I say, “Next time, we’ll do a deep dive intoCluelessand its commentary on society.”

“Clue-what? No idea what you’re talking about.”

“God, you’re impossible.” I flop back onto the pillow, but I’m smiling.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

NIKOLAI

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