Page 156 of Golden Eagle

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Sasha had lived in New York long enough that it had lost some of its initial ability to stun him. He still loved it, still appreciated it – it was his city, after all this time here, and he found all its sharp points, and dull brick, and noxious overlay of scents glorious – but showing it to Val reignited the old wonder.

They did all the tourist stops. Walked through the Park and Val spent a long moment stroking the nose of a mounted police officer’s bay gelding while Mia looked on with such sadness that Sasha felt compelled to glance away. They ate hot dogs and soft pretzels for lunch out of a vendor cart. Went down to the Battery and stared off across the choppy water while Mia wondered aloud how many bodies had been thrown in over the years. Val was fascinated by what little Mia and Sasha could tell him of the mafia. They stood in the center of Times Square and spun in slow circles in the twilight, as the world’s news and ads flashed overhead in near-epileptic bursts of color and strobing light.

The air was cold, their breath pluming in thick vapor trails, and Sasha turned up the collar of his coat, realization crashing over him: he hadn’t talked to Nikita all day. Not since he’d left the apartment this morning.

He came to a halt on the sidewalk, panic closing around his throat like a fist. Chill bumps prickled all down his back.

“What is it, dear?” Val asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Sasha leaned into the touch a moment before he caught himself, and went still. Away from Nikita all day, and seeking comfort from another vampire…

No.No, that wasn’t the case at all. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Val was his friend, whom he cared about deeply, and there was nothing wrong with spending the day showing him around the city. He didn’t have any romantic feelings for him; he wasn’t…God, he wasn’tcheating.

But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without talking to Nik. Without seeing him. Without leaning their shoulders together, or reminding Nik to eat, or suggesting something fun that Nikita would grumble about, but eventually do, always do, because he liked to see Sasha happy.

“Sasha,” Val prompted gently.

He took a steadying breath. “Nothing, just…” He felt self-conscious, suddenly, unsure how to put it into words.

But Val knew. Of course he did. “You’re not normally apart for very long, are you?”

“No.” Sasha risked a sideways glance, and found that Val was watching him not with judgement, but with understanding. “Is that pathetic?”

“No, darling. What say we go find him?”

The pressure in his throat eased. Then he startled all over again. “He’s probably already at work. We have shifts tonight.”

“Work?” Val asked in the same delighted, curious tone he’d used earlier when he said,Gangsters?

“You guys have jobs?” Mia asked, sounding surprised.

“At a club. I bartend and Nik bounces. Oh crap, I need to change.” He glanced down at his clothes, frowning, judging. “Or, well, maybe it’s alright.” He’d forgotten he’d worn work clothes. His heart was pounding; he was actuallynervous.

He pushed a hand through his hair, which he’d taken down earlier, and when he glanced up, Val was smiling like he could read his mind. Sasha flushed, but all Val said was, “Well, I for one have always wanted to see a nightclub somewhere besides television. Lead the way.”

“You’re going to be a club person, aren’t you?” Mia said with a mock-theatrical groan.

“I have no idea,” Val said, too innocently.

Sasha led them to the Whistle, pedestrian traffic growing thicker around them on the sidewalk. People getting off work, getting dolled up, going out for a night of drinks and laughter and forgetting all the ways the day had insulted them.

Sasha’s pulse kept ticking up, notch by notch, so that when they finally reached the club – as the sun winked out of sight between buildings, and the sky turned indigo velvet overhead – it was galloping along as if he’d run here. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous to see Nikita. He thought it might have been last century, in Moscow, and shame flared hot and awful in his belly.

A line had already formed behind the purple velvet rope and its golden stanchions. Young people in tight, glittering, low-cut finery, jewelry flashing on wrists, throats, and earlobes.

Nikita was working the door tonight. Sasha picked up his scent twenty paces away, and the familiar notes of it were like a soothing hand down the back of his neck, scratching at his nape. He was still nervous, though; still worried that he’d find his mate scowling and surly. His heart still pounded.

He hastened his step, breaking away from Val and Mia, jogging the last bit of distance.

“Hey, no cutting,” someone who already sounded halfway to drunk called from the line as he went past.

“I work here!” Sasha called over his shoulder, and kept going.

Nikita would have scented him, too, before he even came into view. So it wasn’t surprise on his face when Sasha pulled up in front of him. It wasn’t anger or impatience, either.

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