- Alexei Sokolov:
The world seemed to stop the moment Nikolai grabbed the back of my neck.
My heart raced, hammering so hard against my chest that I thought it might shatter.
Time slowed, and for a split second, I could only focus on him—his soft gaze, the determined set of his jaw, and the way his lips parted drawing me closer like a force of gravity.
Then, before I could process what was happening, he pulled me down toward him, closing the distance between us.
And he kissed me.
The instant our lips met, everything else disappeared.
The suffocating darkness of the room, the oppressive weight of the stone walls, the faint stench of rust and dampness—they all vanished, drowned out by the explosion of color behind my closed eyes.
It was as if the entire world had turned into a kaleidoscope of rainbows, vibrant and blinding, each hue throbbing with life and energy.
My body reacted instinctively, as though it had been waiting for this moment, for him, for an eternity.
The kiss was magical—no, it was beyond magic. It was like stepping into a realm where nothing else existed but him and me.
Every nerve in my body lit up like wildfire, every inch of me screaming to get closer, to feel more, to never let this end.
My lips moved against his, soft yet urgent, and the connection between us deepened with every second.
Without even thinking, I responded, wrapping my arms around his waist, my fingers pressing into the small of his back.
He felt warm, solid, real—a grounding force in a world that had spun wildly out of control.
I pulled him closer, needing him closer, and my hands tightened around him.
He fit perfectly against me, and the heat of his body against mine sent sparks coursing through me.
Without breaking the kiss, I shifted slightly, lifting him just enough so that he had to stand on his tiptoes.
The motion made him lean into me more, pressing his chest against mine, and I felt his breath hitch as our connection deepened.
His lips moved hungrily, passionately, and the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate as if we were trying to convey everything we couldn't put into words.
The room around us melted away.
I didn't care where we were or who was watching.
Nothing mattered but him—the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his hands clung to my shoulders as if I were the only thing keeping him steady.
His fingers trembled slightly, but his kiss was bold, confident, and consuming. It was everything.
And then the moment shattered—not between us, but from the sound that ripped through the room.
A guttural growl, deep and feral, cut through the haze of our kiss.
It was Damon.
His voice boomed with rage, reverberating against the stone walls like thunder. "You think you can just—" he snarled, his words a mix of fury and venom, a psychopathic smirk on his face that sent shivers down my back "—get away with this?!"
Fucking hell.
This guy is nuts.
I barely registered his words, still lost in the feel of Nikolai's lips on mine, but the chains that bound Damon clanged loudly as he thrashed against them.
The sound was sharp, jarring, and relentless, a violent symphony of his frustration and anger.
"I'll kill you!" Damon roared, his voice shaking with fury. "Do you hear me? I'll rip you apart with my bare hands for touching what's mine!"
Nikolai didn't flinch.
If anything, his lips pressed harder against mine, as if Damon's words were nothing but background noise to him.
My chest swelled with something between pride and defiance, and I kissed him back even harder, letting Damon's fury fuel me.
My hands roamed over Nikolai's back, pulling him impossibly closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like we might burn the world down together.
"Stop this!" Damon's voice cracked, desperation lacing his rage. "Stop kissing my mate. I will plug your eyes out."
Nikolai finally pulled back, his lips swollen and red, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.
His eyes met mine, and I saw something in them—something soft yet scared when he heard Damon saying something about eyes.
He didn't look away, didn't acknowledge Damon's words.
Instead, his fingers tightened on the back of my neck, grounding me in the moment.
But Damon wasn't done.
His growls grew louder, more feral, as he continued to yank against the chains.
His muscles bulged, his veins visible even from across the room, but it was useless.
No amount of brute strength could break dragon steel, and we both knew it. Still, he fought, his anger blinding him to the futility of his actions.
The chains groaned under the pressure, but they didn't give.
They didn't even bend. Damon was panting now, his breaths ragged and strained, yet he didn't stop. "You'll regret this," he snarled, his voice lower, darker, like a storm brewing, a smirk on his face. "I'll add your eyes to my eye collection. How about you tell him about it, my love?"
"You'll what?" I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended.
I held Nikolai's trembling body protectively, my arm still wrapped around his waist and turned to face Damon fully for the first time. "You can't even break those chains, Damon. Face it—you're powerless."
Damon's eyes blazed his expression a mask of pure hatred.
He bared his teeth, his lips curling into a snarl. "You think I won't break them?" he spat, his voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. "You think I'm not strong enough?"
"You're not," I said coldly, my voice steady, unwavering. "Only dragon shifters can break dragon steel. You know that as well as I do."
His growl deepened, a sound so primal it sent a shiver down my spine.
He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to accept that he was truly trapped, but the truth was undeniable.
The chains held firm, gleaming faintly in the dim light, unyielding against his rage.
Damon's chest heaved as he glared at me, his fury palpable, nearly suffocating.
But there was something else in his eyes now, something beneath the anger—a flicker of desperation, of helplessness.
It was brief, barely noticeable, but it was there.
And it only made me hold Nikolai tighter, pulling him closer against me as if to shield him from Damon's wrath.
Nikolai's hand slid up my chest, resting lightly over my heart.
His touch was calming, and grounding, and I looked down at him, meeting his gaze.
His lips curved into a soft, almost defiant smile, and my heart swelled.
"You won't get away with this," Damon hissed, his voice low and venomous. "I swear, you'll pay for this with your life. Both of you and your twin."
I didn't respond.
Words felt meaningless in the face of his rage. Instead, I bent down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Nikolai's forehead, ignoring the way Damon's growls filled the room once more.
Let him rage.
Let him thrash and snarl and promise vengeance.
None of it mattered. Nikolai was in my arms, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.
" Okay, Mr, psycho killer, I will take your husband with me for now and maybe later I'll play the role of the helpless victim with you." I laughed so loud, mocking him before gently dragging Nikolai with me.
While doing so, I could hear Damon trying again to free himself from that chain and screaming, growling, calling out Nikolai, threatening me, and also letting me know that he owned Nikolai.
I ignored him, leaving him alone with Dimitri because right now all that matters to me is to know if Nikolai meant that kiss or not.
In the quiet hum of the kitchen light,
I watched Nikolai shift, nerves taking flight.
His hands trembled as he brushed the air, Avoiding my eyes like I was not there.
He paced in circles, his gaze on the ground,
A fragile rhythm, a restless sound.
I smiled, though the tension was thick,
And gently reached for his hand, so quick.
"Hey, you okay?" I asked, soft and low,
But his voice wavered, uncertain, slow.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said with a glance,
Yet his feet shuffled like he might dance. "As long as he's chained, he can't hurt anyone.
And you're here, so I'll be fine."
He tried to smile, but his words fell thin,
His armor cracked, revealing within. "And… I'm sorry," he muttered, voice faint, "For kissing you…" his cheeks a blush's paint.
I held my breath, a smile still stayed, Hoping he'd mean it, though doubts cascaded.
"You kissed me to piss him off, didn't you?"
I said it lightly, but my hope withdrew.
"Yes!" he said, his voice sharp and quick,
As if the truth could be a verbal trick.
My chest caved in, a quiet despair,
The words were colder than the kitchen air. "Oh, okay," I murmured, my hand letting go, a hollow smile masking the blow.
I turned to leave, disappointment in tow,
My heart sank fast, a weightless woe. But then—a tug, a hand on mine,
And suddenly the air turned divine.
He pulled me close, his fingers tight, his eyes like embers in the dim light.
"I didn't," he breathed, his voice unsteady,
"I didn't kiss you just to piss him off."
His hand slid to my neck, his face near, and my world realigned, crystal clear.
The truth burned between us, fragile and bare, a silent confession that lingered in the air.