And maybe I had.
Chapter 16
Nikolai
I leaned back against the counter, letting the silence stretch between us as her words echoed in my head.
Boyfriend.
It shouldn’t have rattled me. I’d stood toe-to-toe with men twice my size, taken hits that left bruises for weeks, watched blood drip down the side of my face and still skated on. But that word—soft, simple, absurdly domestic—landed heavier than any punch I’d ever taken.
It didn’t fit. Not with the armor I’d built around myself. Not with the name they’d given me—Reaper. Not with the cold, disciplined life I’d perfected to keep the world at arm’s length. And yet… when Mina said it, it didn’t sound like a label. It sounded like belonging.
I ran a hand over my jaw, exhaling slowly. How the hell had she done this? Less than a week ago, she was a complication—a consequence of a bet I never should’ve made. Now? Now she was curled into the center of everything I didn’t know how to name.
The kitchen still smelled like her—vanilla shampoo, sugar, something floral and faintly wild. Her mug sat abandoned on the counter, lipstick smudged against the rim. My hoodie swallowed her whole when she wore it, sleeves trailing past her fingertips, and I liked that. Liked knowing something of mine wrapped around her skin.
She had this way of looking at me like she saw straight through the shields, like I wasn’t just some blunt instrument built for scoring goals and breaking teeth. And it scared the hell out of me how badly I wanted her to keep looking. To stay.
Mina had tangled herself into the threads of my life faster than I could unravel them. And the truth was, I didn’t want to. Not anymore.
So maybe I wasn’t a boyfriend. Not in the traditional sense.
But I was hers. God help me—I was already hers.
She looked so small in my hoodie, like the fabric had claimed her the same way I wanted to. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, her shoulders swallowed up in soft cotton that still held the shape of me. A flicker of something dark and protective sparked low in my chest when my eyes landed on the mark I’d left on her neck. Mine. The thought wasn’t rational, but it was real—and it burned through me like fire in my bloodstream.
She sat on the counter, legs swinging lightly, her expression caught somewhere between relaxed and curious. And that was the thing about her—she didn’t even have to try. Just sitting there, wearing my clothes, she managed to unmake me without saying a word.
I stepped closer. Her eyes lifted to meet mine, wide and steady, a glint of challenge hiding behind the softness. That spark—the one that got under my skin from the start—flared to life again. I leaned in until our breaths tangled, my hands braced on either side of her on the counter.
“Hey,” I said, voice low.
Her lips parted. “Hey.”
That was all it took.
I kissed her slowly at first, a test and a claim all in one. Her fingers curled against my chest, grounding us both. She tasted like something I couldn’t name—warm and sweet, like safety wrapped in fire. My hands found her legs, trailing along the bare skin where the hem of the hoodie stopped. The heat that coiled in my gut threatened to unravel everything I’d worked to hold back.
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, she leaned into me like she belonged there. And maybe… maybe she did.
I pulled back only slightly, needing air but not distance. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining, and she looked at me like I was both the chaos and the calm she wanted to run toward.
“You’re trouble,” I murmured, brushing a thumb along her thigh.
She grinned, that spark dancing behind her lashes. “Maybe you like trouble.”
I didn’t answer.
I just knew she was right.
I knelt before her, the cool tile beneath my knees grounding me as everything else narrowed to just her. Mina—flushed, breath catching, her eyes wide as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening—looked down at me with a mix of curiosity and heat that stole the air from my lungs.
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her ankle, slow and reverent. Her skin was warm beneath my lips, soft in a way that made my chest ache. “Mina,” I murmured, her name barely a breath, as if speaking it too loud might shatter the moment.
Her leg shifted slightly, not away, but closer. She didn’t say a word, but the invitation was there—in the way her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter, in the slight hitch of her breath as I trailed another kiss higher, just below her knee.
