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“Masochist.”
“It was a great night,” I tell him with a longing sigh. “I had the main solo. Standing ovation when I finished. You’ve never seen people so excited for ballet before.”
He nods solemnly. “You deserve no less.”
For a change, his voice is devoid of sarcasm. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he actually means it.
I open my mouth to say something else, but before I can, I see his eyes sharpen imperceptibly. His movements are still confident and graceful, but his attention is fixed on a point above my head.
“Something wrong?”
“We’ve got eyes on us,” he says in a low growl.
I resist the urge to look back over my shoulder. “Ravil?”
“No. But almost as bad.”
I feel Kolya’s grip tighten around my body. He swings us smoothly off the dance floor, but he keeps his hand on the small of my back.
“Here we go, June,” Kolya warns me softly. “Put your game face on.”
32
JUNE
The man walking towards us is as tall as Kolya.
He’s wearing a white dinner jacket with black pants, a bejeweled watch, and enough confidence to carry off the mismatched look. His dark hair is pulled back into a tight, greasy ponytail and large diamond studs gleam like spotlights on both his ears.
Not Ravil. But someone important. Someone who thinks he’s important, at least.
Kolya pulls me closer against his body as the man approaches. I wonder if he realizes he’s doing it or if it’s just pure, primal, protective instinct.
“Kolya,” the man greets coolly, stopping a foot away from us. Much too close for comfort, in my opinion.
It’s Kolya who takes a step back, though I’m fairly certain it’s all for my benefit. The man smirks as though the gesture is an admission of fear, of weakness. I sense a nonverbal conversation flowing back and forth between the two of them that I can barely understand, like two people jabbering furiously in a language I don’t speak. A language of angles and intimidation. Implied threat. Sins and scars from the past flashed at the other like fangs.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Iakov,” Kolya replies.
The man—Iakov—grins so wide that I can’t help but notice his canines. They’re unusually sharp, as if he’s filed them into points. He also smells strange. A mixture of ash and incense that makes me want to retch. You know how some smells screamRun for the hills?Shit, blood, that kind of thing? This does the same. I want away from this man ASAP.
But Kolya’s hand on my hip will keep me safe. I don’t know much, but I know that.
“Now, that can’t be true,” Iakov tuts. “Surely you knew who was throwing this party.”
“Must have slipped my attention,” Kolya says with a shrug. “I don’t usually keep track of the hosts. I just show up.”
“How charitable of you.”
The man’s eyes slide curiously to me, and I shrink into Kolya’s side. His irises are an unsettling blue. Not bright and bold like Kolya’s. More like… translucent. Alien, almost.
“And who do we have here?” he purrs.
The condescension with which he asks the question rubs me the wrong way. I immediately regret cuddling up against Kolya like some wallflower. Men like him only respond to strength.
I pull myself up to full height and step out from under Kolya’s shadow. “I’m June,” I say, looking him right in the eye. “And who exactly are you?”
His smile is amused, and much more interested than he was a moment ago. “I’m Iakov. I—”
