Page 229 of Golden Eagle

Alexei grew paler and paler throughout the story, until there didn’t appear to be a drop of blood left in his face. The façade he’d been holding carefully in place finally cracked and sloughed off, and beneath, he was a scared boy again. “I’m not – it can’t – there’s no way–”

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” Val said. “But I thought it important to tell you.”

Alexei stared at him, gaze flicking back and forth. “Why?”

“Because if it turns out that Liam’s correct, and it is going to require the heirs of three empires to defeat Romulus – if it comes down to Vlad needing me, then I’m going to needyou. I’m going to ask you to join us.”

He stood, then, and walked away, leaving the boy who’d dubbed himself the Tsar of All the Russias dumbfounded.

~*~

When they were all sweaty, sore, and tired – Nikita was starting to see the flickers of black spots at the edges of his vision, signs of exhaustion and low blood sugar – they gave up all pretense of anything like poise and sat down on the hard gravel, cross-legged in a loose ring. And they formulated a plan.

Then came the part that left Nikita’s palms clammy.

By the time they all stood, and stretched, and complained of rumbling stomachs, a gray dawn was breaking over the rooftops, sharply cold; the air smelled of snow. Lanny was offering to treat anyone who wanted it to breakfast at his favorite diner. Annabel was yawning into Fulk’s shoulder.

Heart in his throat, Nikita said, “Val?”

And the prince must have heard something telling in Nik’s voice, because he froze at once in the process of zipping up his jacket, head swinging around, gaze finding Nikita’s. “Yes?” He sounded almost eager.

Gooseflesh broke out across Nikita’s whole body, unrelated to the cold. “Before you go…” Warmth beside him, pressing against him: Sasha, taking his hand, lacing their fingers. “I wondered if you could help us with something.”

Val studied them, gaze dipping down to their hands, to Sasha’s face, and then to Nik’s. Nikita knew the moment understanding clicked, the soft flash of wonder in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He turned to Mia. “Darling, will you go down with Fulk and Anna? I won’t be long.”

They earned some curious looks, and a concerned one from Trina.

Kolya seemed ready to linger, but Lanny clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Dude, you ever have waffles?”

Finally, they were alone.

“Shall we go inside?” Val asked, his voice very soft, his expression even softer.

Nik’s heart was racing. He nodded. “Yeah.” A croak through a dry throat.

“Nik,” Sasha said, whimpering a little; he could feel and hear Nik’s fluttering pulse, and smell his anxiety. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, baby. He’s going to show us something.”

But Sasha chewed his lip and looked thoroughly unconvinced.

All the way down through the building, Nikita reminded himself of the reasons not to do this – but those internal protests were faint, now. Once he’d decided on this course of action – once he’d stopped shying away from it and accepted it as something that, while strange to humans, was accepted and appreciated between immortals – the decision had clicked into place in his mind, a missing puzzle piece he hadn’t thought to long for until now. The idea of it still scared him – how easy it would be to become corrupted by this kind of power; how corruptible he’d always thought himself to be, when he looked at his shoddy human career as a killer. But there was one thing stronger than all his doubts and fears, all his anxiety and self-recrimination: his love for Sasha. That had never failed him, never flagged, not in all their seventy-seven years of knowing one another.

When they were inside the apartment, and the door was shut, Sasha took hold of the front of his jacket and towed him gently around so they faced one another, his own gaze hectic. “Nik, what’s going on?” His cheeks were pink from the cold outside, his lips chapped, his hair – the pieces escaped from his bun – wild from the wind. He was beautiful.

Nikita caught his chilled face in both hands and said, “It’s alright,” though his pulse was still flying. It was anticipation, now; worry that he’d get it wrong somehow.

Val unzipped his jacket and made himself at home in Nikita’s favorite chair, the one that faced the sofa. He glanced over, expectant, but not rushing.

“Nik.” Sasha’s gazed moved over his face; his breath hitched. “What are you? Why is Val…”

“Shh. I thought Val could help us…figure out how to perform a binding.”

Sasha stared at him, eyes widening, pupils shrinking down to pinpricks. Realization came slow – of course it would, because Nikita had been denying this for so long…But when it came, it hit him hard. His eyes filled with tears, and his face crumpled, and he threw his arms around Nikita’s neck, hugging him so hard Nik felt a vertebra pop.

“Really?” Sasha whispered. He was shaking.

Nikita cupped the back of his head. “Really.”

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