Chapter Nine
~ Nicolai ~
I shrugged out of my coat as the penthouse door closed behind me, my mind still tangled with the details from Yuri's security briefing. The meetings were becoming more frequent—and more concerning—as word of Mishka's abilities spread through certain circles.
I loosened my tie with a heavy sigh. Decads of building and maintaining my territory, and suddenly I found myself playing protector to a boy who could crash my entire empire with a touch. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar tension that came with these discussions. Yuri had been thorough, as always. Our enemy list was growing. O'Rourke's people had been spotted in three locations near our territory boundaries.
Two new hackers had been brought in, clearly trying to track electronic footprints. Even the agency director—a woman who typically operated through six layers of proxies—had made inquiries through less obscure channels.
They all wanted what I now possessed—a young man who could manipulate electronic systems with nothing but his thoughts and fingertips. An electronic manipulator. The rarest of rare talents in our world of supernatural oddities.
And none of them would touch him.
The thought came with a possessive growl that I didn't bother to suppress. My bear was closer to the surface these days, a fact Yuri had pointed out with raised eyebrows during our meeting.
Not in words, of course. Yuri knew better than to directly question my behavior. But the concern had been there, written in the slight furrow of his brow and the careful way he'd phrased his security recommendations.
I rounded the corner to the main living area and paused, taking in the sight before me. Mishka was sprawled across my leather sofa, one leg draped over the armrest, the other planted on the floor. His fingers danced across the screen of a tablet that he hastily set aside when he noticed my presence.
He didn't startle. He never startled. Even with my silent approach—a habit formed over decades of predatory existence—he always seemed to sense me before I made my presence known.
"Finding more ways to improve my security,malysh?" I asked, the Russian endearment slipping out before I could catch it.
Mishka's lips curved into that smirk that simultaneously irritated and enthralled me. "Maybe I'm just playing Candy Crush."
I snorted, crossing the room to pour myself a drink. "That would be a criminal waste of your talents. Like using bear claws to open tuna cans."
"I bet you do exactly that when nobody's around," he retorted, rolling to his side to watch me. "Big, scary crime boss sitting alone in his kitchen, shredding tuna cans with his claws while watching cooking shows."
The ridiculous image pulled an unexpected chuckle from me. "You have a vivid imagination."
"So I've been told." His eyes followed me as I sipped my whiskey, appraising me with an intensity that still caught me off guard. "How was your meeting with The Watchdog?"
I raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Yuri is concerned, as he should be."
"About me?"
"About everything." I studied him over the rim of my glass. "You've stirred up a hornet's nest,malysh."
"Not intentionally." He shrugged, the movement causing his oversized sweater—my oversized sweater, I realized—to slip off one pale shoulder.
My gaze lingered on the exposed skin, on the marks I'd left there the night before. Mine. The thought caught me off guard with its intensity, its certainty. It wasn't just protection I offered anymore, wasn't just shelter from those who hunted him.
Something fundamental had shifted between us, something that made my bear pace with agitation and satisfaction in equal measure.
"Intentional or not," I said, forcing my thoughts back to the matter at hand, "we have increased security protocols. You'll need to be more careful about your electronic... wanderings."
"You're no fun." He sighed dramatically, but I could see the understanding in his eyes. He knew the dangers better than most.
"Fun isn't what's kept me alive for over a century."
"No? What a shame." He stretched languidly before holding his arms out invitingly. "You should try it sometime."
I stared at the picture he made—young, beautiful, dangerous in ways most couldn't comprehend—and felt my focus dissolve. The security briefing, the threat assessments, the territorial considerations... all of it faded to background noise against the pounding of my heart.
What the hell was wrong with me? I was a century-old crime boss, a bear shifter who had faced down rivals and enemies without flinching. I'd built an empire on calculated decisions and ruthless follow-throughs. I didn't get distracted by pretty boys with clever tongues and dangerous abilities.
