Page 140 of Stolen Faith

Fuck.

Eric watched the door close behind Nikolett and cursed himself. He needed to deal with this thing with her and Hande and Crimea.

Instead, he’d…

Eric pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sank down onto the side of the hotel room bed. He had to go after her.

As the Fleet Admiral, he needed to talk to her.

As Eric, he wanted to kiss her.

He was making a mess of this. He was hurting her, hurting both of them, but he didn’t know how to stop. Being near her made him want things he couldn’t have anymore. Brought up urges he hadn’t indulged in years.

Eric pushed to his feet and stood, prepared to go after his Nikki.

Nikolett. He meant Nikolett, not his Nikki. Admiral Nikolett Varda. He wasn’t here as Eric; he was here as Fleet Admiral, and he’d come to talk to the admiral of Hungary.

Eric started toward the door but it opened before he got there.

Regina, the captain of the Spartan Guard—his bodyguards/keepers—burst into the room.

“I know,” he said before she could berate him. “I know, and I’m going to talk to her, this time not in a bedroom.”

But Regina was shaking her head, apparently not here to berate him about his…relationship…with Nikolett. “Fleet Admiral, we have a problem.”

“I know.” Eric gestured around the room, indicating that he was here, in Eastern Europe, to try to deal with the current crisis.

“Not a territory war over Crimea. A different problem.”

“Sure, why wouldn’t we have another new problem?” Eric wanted to hit something. If he could just get time and space, maybe he could—

“Not a new problem. An old problem.”

That was enough to yank Eric’s attention off Nikolett. Nikki and the memory of how she’d looked fifteen minutes ago when he’d had her pinned to the wall.

He focused on Regina. “What is it?” he demanded.

Regina’s expression was grim. “The Spaniard is back.”

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