Page 157 of Golden Eagle

It wasn’t…anything. A perfectly smooth, perfectly neutral expression. It was his work face, the one he wore when he checked IDs and waved patrons inside the club – but it wasn’t one he normally turned on Sasha.

“Hi.” Sasha deflated a little.

“Hi.” Nikita blinked, and for a moment, quickly, something like sadness flickered across his face. But then it was perfectly composed again. “Did you have a good time?”

Sasha strained to hear disdain, anger, even mockery in his voice, but there was none. Not a shred of emotion.

His chest ached. “It was fine. Val had a good time.”

“Good.” Nikita’s gaze shifted to the side, so he was looking over Sasha’s shoulder – at Val and Mia, no doubt. It returned. “Are you here for your shift?”

“Yes. I didn’t change. You think this is alright?” He opened his jacket to show his black shirt and ripped jeans.

Earned a nod. “You look fine.”

Nikita would never be the sort of person given to public displays of affection, and PDA at work would always be off-limits. That wasn’t something Sasha needed, anyway. Because, ordinarily, Nikita would have found some small way to send affection through the air between them; a smile, tiny and subtle, or a roll of his eyes, or a quick brush of fingers against Sasha’s arm. Even something as simple as a tangible lessening of his tension; Sasha always loved when he could tell that his presence alone had soothed some of Nik’s ever-present anxiety.

And that had been when they were still just…friends…if what they’d been had ever been as simple as friendship. Now – lovers, mates – Sasha wanted that bit of reassurance. That connection, no matter how quiet and subtle.

It wasn’t there, though. Nikita had strapped every bit of emotion down so tightly that nothing showed through. No glimmer of stray feeling.

Sasha had spent the walk over worried about disapproval – and it turned out that this absence ofanythingwas so much worse.

~*~

Nikita had called themcodependentbefore, half-joking, but it turned out they were, and it wasn’t funny at all.

Around four o’clock, Nikita found himself on the verge of calling Will and demanding to be of some help just to avoid being alone with his obsessive thoughts about Sasha, and his no-doubtdelightfulafternoon with Val. He’d berated himself, plopped down on the couch, and just…stewed. Selfish, stupid, self-sabotaging.

Sasha loved him. Had waited for him, though he certainly didn’t deserve that kind of honor. Had been his constant companion, his nursemaid, his unfailing, closest companion. He’d become his world, and his love wasn’t a thing that could ever be doubted.

But Valerian was beautiful. Was glib, charming; flirtatious and alluring. He wasn’t surly, and grumpy, and, in general, a joyless companion.

He wasn’t Nikita. That difference hadn’t ever felt as weaponized as it did now.

Sasha went inside, though every inch of Nikita was screaming to reach out and touch him. Like the urge he’d felt to take his hand last night, but stronger, more territorial.Wait, he wanted to say.I’m not angry, I love you, I’m scared, he’s better than me, isn’t he?Frightening, frantic wonderings he left unsaid.

He turned his head, watched Sasha slip through the black club door, his gut churning, head swimming. He hadn’t eaten enough today. Hadn’t fed last night, when he should have, when they’d gone to sleep back-to-back.

“Hello,” a pleasant voice said behind him.

He gritted his teeth, and steeled himself before he turned to face Val.

The prince’s mate stood beside him, touching, her hand on his arm, that same look of suppressed panic on her face that she’d worn last night at the bar. Nikita had only seen her twice now, but he wanted to say,Does she make any other faces?A cruel thought, one he choked back, and managed instead to say, “Hello.” Cool, dismissive. Uninterested.

Val’s smile widened from blandly pleasant to delighted – the bastard. “Will it ease your mind if I swear that I’ve done nothing untoward today?”

Nikita ground his molars, and didn’t answer.

Mia frowned, her hand tightening a fraction on Val’s arm in silent censure.

Val chuckled, his gaze going to the line of people waiting – a line that was now looking at him, some with admiration, curiosity, fascination – and a few with scowls.

“Dude, no cutting,” one guy called.

“I assume,” Val said turning back, “that you have the power to get us inside?” His brows lifted hopefully.

Nikita could say no. A small realization. He did have the power in this situation, and, the bad part: he wanted to flex it. Just because he could; just to push back against this prince who thought he could waltz into their lives and get them all revolving around him.

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