Page 37 of Tarnished Queen

When he pulls away, I chase his mouth instinctively. My chest is heaving, my body wanting him more than I want breath.

Nikolai presses his forehead to mine and smiles. “The reality is that you are fuckingmine.”

I shove him away and move past him. The room feels too small. There’s not enough air.

Plus, my pulse is thundering between my legs, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if I’m left alone with him.

I step into the hallway. Nikolai doesn’t try to stop me. He just calls out, “You can’t run from me, Belle Dowan. I will always find you.”

12

BELLE

My nightgown barely covers the tops of my thighs, and I know my nipples are clearly visible through the material, but I can’t turn around and go back to my room. Not when Nikolai is in there.

And like he said, I can’t run. First, because of the aforementioned nightgown situation. But also because Elise is here now. She’s exhausted and scared. I can’t wake her up and charge out into the night again. Not without a solid plan.

For better or worse, I have to stay here.

“Fuck,” I groan. “I’m already saying my vows.”

I hesitate outside of Nikolai’s office and then the library doors. I haven’t explored much of the house, but I can’t go in either room. No matter how comforting it would be to curl up in a leather chair with a book so I can lose myself in a world that doesn’t exist.

I know the only thing I’d be thinking about is how Nikolai pressed me against the shelves. The way his strong body felt between my thighs. That is the last thing I need to be dwelling on.

Especially because I’m already thinking about it. A lot.

I groan again, stamping my foot like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Why can he unravel me with one kiss like that? It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

Sure, I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean them. Because I did. I really did.

Sex with Nikolai is so different than it’s ever been with anyone else. Hell, even standing next to Nikolai is different. Even now, I can feel him in the house. I could probably guess how far apart we are down to the inch right now. My body is tuned to his, whether I like it or not.

And when he’s exploring me and finding new places inside of me to stroke and tease, it feels like the part of me that has spent my life searching for a home goes quiet. Because what is home if not feeling safe and content in the arms of the person you—

“No.”

I shake my head, refusing to let my thoughts go there.

In an attempt to escape the pull of him, I walk to the opposite end of the house and into the kitchen. But as soon as I walk through the door, I realize I’m not alone.

“Whoa!” I yelp and partially hide my half-naked body behind the door. “Sorry, I didn’t know—”

Then I make eye contact with the blond man from the hospital. The one who drove Nikolai and me back to the house.

“You,” I say, eyes narrowed.

He’s leaning against a barstool, his back straight. I don’t see anything in front of him. No phone, no book. Was he just sitting in the dark and staring at a wall?

He turns to me and his blank expression pulls down into a scowl. “Belle.”

Whoever he is, he doesn’t like me. I’d say the feeling is very mutual.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Who are you?”

The man stands up from where he was sitting at the island, but doesn’t make any move to respond.

“You’re Greek, right? I remember you saying something about that earlier.”

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