little matching red clutch. “Nico, Kat, stand together. No, not like that. Put your arm around her. Like a prom picture.”
Funnily enough, I was pretty sure that neither Nico nor I had gone to prom. But as his strong arm stole around my waist, I fought the urge to melt against him. I ignored the fire that flamed up everywhere his body touched mine.
I swear, I was going to develop some kind of breathing condition if I didn’t stop losing control of that function every time I got near him.
“Say cheese!” Lemon called out. We cheesed.
“One more!” she said. I saw her expression. She knew exactly what this was doing to me. I curled my hands up into fists, narrowing my eyes at her. So after I killed her and got that shaman to resurrect her, I was going to convert her to whatever faith believed in reincarnation so that I could kill her once again. She had the audacity to laugh.
Rafe took Lemon’s phone and directed Dante and Lemon to stand together.
I looked up at Nico and he looked down at me. We stayed put, locked in each other’s arms. His eyes focused in on my lips, and I had to resist the overpowering urge to go up ever so slightly on tippy-toe to reach him.
You don’t want to kiss him, remember? How could you want something desperately, and then not want it just as much? I was too screwed up for my own good.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it and had to let go. But I didn’t go far.
Nico let out a large sigh and pushed some fallen strands of hair off his forehead, which drew my attention to his bright red scar. Without thinking, I reached up to touch it, and he let out a low hiss.
“Your poor forehead,” I said.
He lightly took my still-bandaged wrist, pressing a kiss to the bare flesh of my palm. I gasped as my skin sizzled. “Your poor wrist,” he said, before letting my arm go.
“Think the press will ask you about it?” I put my hands behind my back so that he wouldn’t see them shaking.
He didn’t seem to hear me, studying me intently. His gaze felt tangible, like he was still touching me even though we stood apart.
Which caused a nervous reaction inside me, and I babbled, “I guess I could just tell them that I hit you with my left hook and you were down for the count.”
“I think it would take more than a punch from you to knock me out.” Nico looked playful and insulted at the same time. “It would probably have to involve some kind of Taser gun or pepper spray.”
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The edges of the room went fuzzy, and I was back there. Back with him. With the acrid smell of pepper spray making my eyes water and my throat burn. My lungs constricted, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
I felt both of his hands on my shoulders, snapping me out of that memory. “What is it, Katerina? What did I say?”
“Nothing,” I reassured him. “I’m fine.” I was safe. Safe, safe, safe. His eyes were full of concern. I took a couple of big breaths and pasted on a fake smile. “Shouldn’t we be going?”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead put my hand on his arm. He gathered everyone together, and we went down in the lobby, waiting for the cars to pull up. The paparazzi’s cameras flashed through the big plate glass windows.
“Can’t we go out the back again?” I asked, pressing closer to Nico’s side.
“They’re unavoidable tonight, I’m afraid. We will want them to take our picture because of the press it will bring for the event and the charity.”
“Is it always like this for you?”
“Only when I go outside of Monterra. There we have anti-paparazzi laws. We want it to be a safe, comfortable place for anyone who chooses to travel there.”
I imagined it would certainly make his homeland more appealing to celebrities and royals who didn’t want their every move photographed. Which would trickle down to regular tourists, who would visit in hopes of catching a glimpse of famous people in the wild. I wondered why other countries didn’t
Funnily enough, I was pretty sure that neither Nico nor I had gone to prom. But as his strong arm stole around my waist, I fought the urge to melt against him. I ignored the fire that flamed up everywhere his body touched mine.
I swear, I was going to develop some kind of breathing condition if I didn’t stop losing control of that function every time I got near him.
“Say cheese!” Lemon called out. We cheesed.
“One more!” she said. I saw her expression. She knew exactly what this was doing to me. I curled my hands up into fists, narrowing my eyes at her. So after I killed her and got that shaman to resurrect her, I was going to convert her to whatever faith believed in reincarnation so that I could kill her once again. She had the audacity to laugh.
Rafe took Lemon’s phone and directed Dante and Lemon to stand together.
I looked up at Nico and he looked down at me. We stayed put, locked in each other’s arms. His eyes focused in on my lips, and I had to resist the overpowering urge to go up ever so slightly on tippy-toe to reach him.
You don’t want to kiss him, remember? How could you want something desperately, and then not want it just as much? I was too screwed up for my own good.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it and had to let go. But I didn’t go far.
Nico let out a large sigh and pushed some fallen strands of hair off his forehead, which drew my attention to his bright red scar. Without thinking, I reached up to touch it, and he let out a low hiss.
“Your poor forehead,” I said.
He lightly took my still-bandaged wrist, pressing a kiss to the bare flesh of my palm. I gasped as my skin sizzled. “Your poor wrist,” he said, before letting my arm go.
“Think the press will ask you about it?” I put my hands behind my back so that he wouldn’t see them shaking.
He didn’t seem to hear me, studying me intently. His gaze felt tangible, like he was still touching me even though we stood apart.
Which caused a nervous reaction inside me, and I babbled, “I guess I could just tell them that I hit you with my left hook and you were down for the count.”
“I think it would take more than a punch from you to knock me out.” Nico looked playful and insulted at the same time. “It would probably have to involve some kind of Taser gun or pepper spray.”
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The edges of the room went fuzzy, and I was back there. Back with him. With the acrid smell of pepper spray making my eyes water and my throat burn. My lungs constricted, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
I felt both of his hands on my shoulders, snapping me out of that memory. “What is it, Katerina? What did I say?”
“Nothing,” I reassured him. “I’m fine.” I was safe. Safe, safe, safe. His eyes were full of concern. I took a couple of big breaths and pasted on a fake smile. “Shouldn’t we be going?”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead put my hand on his arm. He gathered everyone together, and we went down in the lobby, waiting for the cars to pull up. The paparazzi’s cameras flashed through the big plate glass windows.
“Can’t we go out the back again?” I asked, pressing closer to Nico’s side.
“They’re unavoidable tonight, I’m afraid. We will want them to take our picture because of the press it will bring for the event and the charity.”
“Is it always like this for you?”
“Only when I go outside of Monterra. There we have anti-paparazzi laws. We want it to be a safe, comfortable place for anyone who chooses to travel there.”
I imagined it would certainly make his homeland more appealing to celebrities and royals who didn’t want their every move photographed. Which would trickle down to regular tourists, who would visit in hopes of catching a glimpse of famous people in the wild. I wondered why other countries didn’t
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