Page 42 of Heritage of Fire

Two days pass. Nik attends meetings with Luka, and our interactions are far and few between. The time to explore the grounds and read my latest book is welcome. And, fortunately, the stress of determining how I fit into Nik’s life back at the warehouse is put on temporary hold.

Today I tried to call my sister, but it went to voicemail. She promptly texted a photo of her out with several friends, drinks raised in cheers. Shortly after that, my mother texted me, asking if Nik and I could meet one night for dinner next week. I wrote back saying I’d ask him about it. Which Iwon’t. He isn’t going to want to go to dinner with my parents; he can barely have dinner with me.

A knock on my bedroom door causes the book I’m holding to slip through my fingers and onto my face, and the bite of it stings my nose. I bolt upright in the bed. “Come in.”

Nik walks in. Basketball shorts hang low on his thick frame, and a gray t-shirt hugs his biceps.

I clear my throat. “Hey, everything okay?”

He smirks, casually leaning against the door frame. Crossing his ankles, he peers around my room. “Yeah. I’m going to workout, but I have the rest of the day off. Figured you might want to go to Moscow and play tourist.”

I slam my book shut. “Really?” My voice cracks, coming out in a high-pitched octave I never use, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, Moonbeam. I’ll be ready in about an hour. Let’s meet downstairs.” He pushes off the frame and pulls my door shut. Rolling over onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. Excitement rushes through my body at the prospect of a change of scenery. But more than that, the idea of spending the day with Nik—that sends something else zinging through me.

I’m almost salivating as I step onto the cobblestones in the Red Square, doing my best to take it all in. I’m itching to get closer to the buildings. It’s probably plain as day I haven’t traveled much.

I focus on weaving through everyone to get the best view. The colorful onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I gasp and turn toward the Kremlin, its walls towering over the square. Nik laughs at my side.

“I didn’t know an Italian could get so excited about Russian architecture.”

I grimace, even though I’m sure he meant it in jest. “I didn’t get to travel much.”

“I’m enjoying watching you, Luna.”

My heart gallops at his words.

“It’s fun to see it through someone else’s eyes. Most of the people I come here with have seen it a million times.”

I bite back a bitter smile. I’m pathetic. To think he actually meant something by those words. We aren’t sharing anything special.

And why would we be? A flurry of thoughts rattle inside my mind, like marbles in a jar, but only one stands out. I stare down at my shoes, shuffling my feet back and forth. I’m tired of this—always feeling like I’m not enough.

I shove my hands into my coat pockets and lift my face to the gray sky. Fast-moving clouds roll by, and a drop of rain falls onto my cheek. I sigh, inhaling a deep breath of the earthy aroma that always washes in before a rainstorm.

Another drop hits my nose, and Nik tugs on my elbow. I glance up at him. His hand lingers as he turns to look at me, a raindrop splashing his forehead and trickling down the side of his face. His brows knit together as he continues to watch me—like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out.

“We need to go,” he says finally.

Taking my hand, he pulls us through the other tourists. The sky darkens further, blocking out the last few rays of sunshine. A chill races along the back of my neck as the winds pick up speed. The sporadic pitter-patter of raindrops on nearby cars picks up frequency, until the sound transforms into a steady rhythmic downpour.

I shriek through a few small puddles as Nik continues to pull me through the streets back to the car. When it comes into view, we both dart to our respective sides and sling ourselves in.

A rich laugh fills the vehicle as Nik throws his head back. It’s infectious, and I smile at his free-spirited howl. He shakes his head, flinging dewy drops in every direction.

“Hey,” I yelp, holding up two hands to block his antics.

He stops, and reaches for his keys. “Nowthatwas a first. Can’t say I’ve been caught in the rain here before.”

He smirks, and I swallow, unease once again eating at me. Either he’s being genuine, or he saw my less than positive reaction back at Red Square.

I drag a hand through my hair, shaking the rain out as I comb. Figuring we’d be on the road already, I look at Nik. He raps his fingers against his knee energetically, as if the spontaneity of getting caught in the rain made him … happy.

“What do you think about grabbing some food on the way back?” He reaches over, fingers pausing before threading through my hair. He tucks a stray piece behind my ear. My mouth falls open. Does he even realize what he just did? “There are a few places I bet you’d like. We can make Luka jealous and get somepelmeni.”

I smile. I have no idea what that is.

But right now, in this precise moment, it could be anything and I’d want to get it with Nik.

---