Page 25 of Golden Eagle

He finally pulled back, and Sasha whined a protest, eyes opening. He wasn’t ready for the sight of Nik braced above him: the blown pupils, and the wet, soft mouth, and the way he looked absolutely ravenous. A hunger that was largely anguish, like a bruise that wanted to be pressed on.

“Sasha,” he said, voice in tatters. “Baby.”

His phone rang.

The familiar, innocuous iPhone chime froze the moment. They stared at one another, both fighting for breath, chests heaving.

The phone stopped.

And then rang again.

Nikita growled savagely, and rolled away, reaching for the nightstand.

Sasha dropped his forearm over his eyes and blew out a breath.Baby. The word echoed like the tolling of a bell in his head.

“What?” Nik snarled.

Sasha could hear Trina on the other end of the line, taken aback. “Good morning to you, too.”

He growled again, an awful, aggressive, open-mouthed sound.

Sasha rolled onto his side, and laid a hand on the small of his back.

The growl choked off, a low, unhappy rumble, but not as openly hostile. “What do you want?” he asked, half-civil.

A pause. Trina said, “Did you go by the morgue last night?”

Nikita panted a moment; reached with his free hand to push his hair off his forehead. “Yeah,” he said, and the growl finally died away completely.

“Lanny said he caught a familiar scent.”

“Yeah. Us, too. We should…” He sighed. “We should meet up.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Trina said, brisk and busy. “Diner in a half hour? I’ll call Jamie and Alexei.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

If she heard the defeated note in his voice, the one that had Sasha rubbing soothing little circles into his back, she didn’t let on. “Great. See you then.”

The call disconnected.

Nikita tossed the phone on the bed and they sat there a moment, just breathing. “We should go,” he said at last.

Sasha sat up. “Yeah.” He slid out of bed and was rounding the end of it, heading for the door–

When Nikita caught his hand, and tugged it gently. He glanced up, and met Nik’s regretful look.

“Later,” he said, firmly. “Later, Sasha. I promise.”

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He’d waited this long; he could definitely wait for later.

~*~

“Pass me the ketchup?” Lanny asked, holding out his hand.

Trina slid it along with a snort of disgust.

“Hey, half of America puts ketchup on their eggs.”

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