Page 174 of Golden Eagle

Because that was what Trina’s weird new life was missing: more British peerage.

“Right,” she said, flatly. “Hi.” She looked at Val. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, yes.” He made a face. “We’ve just escorted Nikita and Sasha back home. They’ve had…a bit of a shock, I’m afraid.”

~*~

Sasha locked the front door of their apartment as softly as possible. Now that Val and his wolves were gone, things were almost silent; a bubble of quiet he realized he was afraid to disturb. Kolya hadn’t said anything since the rooftop; he’d let Fulk and Sasha help him to his feet, and then settled into a doll-like state of total compliance, his expression blank, his scent oddly neutral under the smells of what Sasha was coming to realize were the normal smells of someone brought back from the dead.

Kolya stood now in the center of their living room, and Sasha looked at it through new eyes himself, wondering what Kolya must think of their ratty old comfortable furniture, their mismatched rugs, the splayed-out magazines on the coffee table, everything fromTV GuidetoVogue.

His back was to Nikita, who stood at the edge of the rug, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides, staring at the back of his old friend’s head. He hadn’t spoken, either.

Looking at him – aching for him – Sasha felt the sting of tears. He blinked them away, toed off his boots, and went silently to his mate’s side. He took Nikita’s hand in his – still cold, clammy, the palm sweaty from the anxiety coursing through him – and lifted his arm so he could fit himself beneath it. Tucked his head in under Nikita’s chin and put an arm around his waist; the kind of solid embrace that he knew was grounding and comforting. Scented his neck, where he smelled stressed, where his pulse fluttered like a small bird trapped beneath his skin.

After a moment, Nik let out a deep breath and scented him in return, nosing along the crown of Sasha’s head, breathing audibly through his mouth. His hand tightened on Sasha’s arm, and he held him back, clasped him tightly.

Kolya turned around and looked a them. Sasha wondered – briefly – if Nikita would try to push him away, distance them. Kolya had been Nik’s friend in a time when it hadn’t been allowed, or even safe, to admit to wanting another man.

But Nikita had nodded when Sasha called himmatebefore, on the roof, and if anything, his grip tightened, now. He laid his cheek down on the top of Sasha’s head, and, his voice a half-strangled croak, said, “What are you thinking?” It was a question for Kolya, honest, half-fearful.

Kolya stared at them a moment, unabashed, unself-conscious. It was so different from the sidelong, darted glances he’d taken before, back when Sasha had first met him. That sense of caution, the innate cunning, hadn’t returned to him yet – if it would at all. “You live here?” he asked. “Together?”

“Yes,” Sasha answered. “You can stay in our spare room.” His old bedroom; he didn’t care if he ever slept there again.

Kolya nodded, slowly. “I always thought…” A notch formed between his brows as he frowned. He glanced down at the floor, a moment, brought up a hand to drag through his hair, and push it back off his face. When he glanced at them again, Sasha was struck by the thought that he looked more himself. More aware, and even shy. “You always looked at him,” he said to Nikita. “More than you looked at anyone.”

Nikita sucked in a breath. “Did that bother you?” He’d aimed for casual, but his voice was all cracks and doubt.

“No,” Kolya said, right away, and Sasha felt some of Nik’s tension ease. He patted his hip. “I knew you loved him.”

Nikita’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Yeah.”

“You look the same. Both of you.”

“So do you,” Nikita said.

Kolya reached up to touch his own face, fingertip finding the silvery line of a scar. “Not really.” His gaze dropped again. “There’s…pieces missing.”

“They’ll come back,” Sasha said, because he wanted to believe it, badly. “That’s what Val said.”

Kolya shrugged with one shoulder.

This was all so strange. So impossible.

The wolf in him wanted to go to four-legs, herd Nikita onto the bed, and curl up on top of him, keep him safe and warm. He thought he’d settle for feeding him instead.

He tried to disengage, and Nikita’s grip tightened. “I’m going to make something to eat,” he said, offering Nik a smile when he turned a panicked look on him.

“I’m not hungry,” Nik said, automatically, gaze flicking back and forth across his face.Don’t leave me, his expression said. It was the most openly needy he’d ever been, and it broke Sasha’s heart.

He touched his face, cupped his clammy cheek and thumbed along the sharp bone. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “You should eat. Sit down.” Nik let himself be urged to the sofa and pushed gently down on it. Sasha kissed the top of his head before he turned to Kolya. “Are you hungry?”

Kolya looked like he didn’t understand the question.

“It’s okay, I’m cooking. Sit down.” He waited until Kolya had sank down to the edge of the recliner, and turned on the TV; found something mindless to provide soft background noise, and left the volume on low.

Alone in the kitchen, his pulse hammered in his temples, and he felt a sudden swell of nausea. Just stress, fear, confusion. His adrenaline was wearing off, and he had to be the solid one here, the one wo knew what to say and do.

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