"An astute observation." I managed between chuckles, pulling him back down against me.
"I don't think I've heard you really laugh before," he mused, pressing his palm flat against my chest as if trying to feel the vibrations. "It's nice."
The simple statement shouldn't have affected me as much as it did. I'd been called many things in my long life—powerful, dangerous, ruthless—but "nice" had never been among them.
"Yuri's probably having an aneurysm right now," I said, changing the subject from the unfamiliar territory of personal compliments.
Mishka snorted. "Poor Watchdog. First I invade your territory, then I monopolize your time, now I'm broadcasting porn throughout your stronghold. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to eliminate me yet."
"He would never act without my orders." The statement came automatically, but I realized as I said it that I meant it as reassurance. I didn't want Mishka to fear Yuri or anyone in my organization. The need to ensure he felt safe was becoming a priority I hadn't anticipated.
"Besides," I added, "he's too practical. Your abilities are too valuable."
"Ah, good to know my usefulness outweighs my annoyance factor." There was no real hurt in his tone—just that dry humor that seemed to be his default.
"I'm sure the excellent health coverage is a perk of working for a crime syndicate, too," he continued, idly tracing patterns on my chest. "Does Yuri have one of those stress balls? He seems like he needs one… or ten."
I laughed again, softer this time. "I'll suggest it at our next meeting."
We lapsed into comfortable silence, our bodies cooling in the aftermath of our passion. I should have been getting up, checking in with security, reviewing the day's reports. Instead, I found myself perfectly content to lay there, Mishka's weight warm and solid against me.
My bear, normally so territorial and restless, felt settled in a way I couldn't remember experiencing before. There was a rightness to this moment that both satisfied and terrified me.
This wasn't just about protecting an asset anymore. It wasn't even about indulging a passing physical desire. Somewhere between offering Mishka sanctuary and this moment, something fundamental had changed.
I'd lived for over a century, had taken lovers of both genders, had experienced passion and even what I'd thought was love. None of it had prepared me for the ferocity of what I felt for this young man with his quick wit and dangerous abilities.
I was in dangerous territory. I, who prided myself on control and calculation, was being guided by something much more primal and unpredictable than reason.
My bear recognized it first—this wasn't just desire or possession. It was something deeper, something with far greater potential for both pleasure and pain.
I should have been concerned. I should have been planning how to regain my emotional distance, how to remember that Mishka was a temporary complication in my otherwise orderly existence.
Instead, with his warm weight against me and his breath steady against my skin, I found I didn't particularly care about the danger anymore.
Chapter Ten
~ Nicolai ~
I ran my fingers through Mishka's soft hair as he rested his head against my chest. The penthouse was quiet, just the sound of our breathing and the occasional car horn from the streets below.
These moments of peace had become precious to me in a way I hadn't experienced in decades. My bear rumbled contentedly within me, satisfied to have this fragile human so close, so protected within our domain.
"You're thinking too loudly," Mishka murmured against my chest, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my arm.
I chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. "After a century of life, thinking becomes a habit that's hard to break."
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, tilting his face up toward mine, those eyes that had captivated me from the first moment I saw him peering into mine.
"How unexpected you are," I admitted, brushing my thumb across his cheek. "How in over a hundred years, I never expected to feel—"
The door to my private quarters burst open with such force that the handle slammed into the wall. I was on my feet in an instant, positioning myself between the door and Mishka before the echo of the impact had faded.
Yuri stood in the doorway, his normally impassive face pale with urgency. In all our decades together, I had rarely seen such naked panic in his eyes.
"Police are here with a warrant—searching for a missing teenager," he announced, voice tight with urgency. "They're coming up now."
My bear roared to life inside me, claws scraping at my insides, demanding release. This was no legitimate police action—this was O'Rourke making his move.
