"But less likely to trigger security systems," Nicolai finished, his hand settling on the small of my back. "Yuri and Dima can approach from that direction while we take the main road."
His touch burned through my thin t-shirt like a brand. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the maps instead of the way my body responded to his proximity.
"She'll have electronic countermeasures," I pointed out, tapping a series of notations on the property plans we'd hacked from the security company's servers. "Motion sensors, cameras, probably signal jammers too."
"Can you handle them?" The question was purely professional, but the way his fingers traced small circles against my back was anything but.
I shot him a look over my shoulder. "Please. Remember who you're talking to."
His mouth curved in that slight, devastating smile. "How could I possibly forget?"
The air between us crackled with tension that had nothing to do with my electronic abilities. We'd been dancing around this—around us—for weeks now. Lingering touches, heated glances, moments of intimacy interrupted by the demands of our hunt for O'Rourke.
"We should finalize the team assignments," I said, not moving away as he stepped closer, his chest nearly touching my back. "Dima's group will need—"
"Dima knows what to do," Nicolai murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous rumble that sent heat pooling low in my belly. His hands settled on my hips, turning me to face him.
Professional boundaries: officially abandoned.
"We were discussing strategy," I reminded him, even as my hands betrayed me by reaching up to rest against his chest.
"We've been discussing strategy for three hours," he countered, one large hand sliding up my back to settle between my shoulder blades. "I think we've earned a break."
His other hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my lower lip in a touch so gentle it seemed impossible from those powerful hands—hands I'd seen break bones and end threats without hesitation.
"A break," I repeated, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "Is that what we're calling this now?"
Instead of answering, he leaned down, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that stole my breath.
My body responded instantly, arms sliding around his neck as I pressed against him, rising on my toes to better meet his kiss. His hand at my back tightened, drawing me impossiblycloser until I could feel every hard plane of his body against mine.
This wasn't our first kiss—that line had been crossed months ago, but each time felt like a new revelation, a discovery of how perfectly we fit together despite our differences.
His teeth grazed my lower lip, drawing a soft sound from me that I would have been embarrassed about in any other circumstance. His answering growl vibrated through his chest and into mine, the bear beneath his skin responding to my surrender.
The thought suddenly crystallized something I'd been avoiding for weeks. I pulled back slightly, my hands pressed against his chest to create the barest space between us.
"So," I said, fighting to steady my breathing, "are we going to talk about the mate thing or just keep pretending I didn't hear you say it when you thought I was dying?"
Nicolai went completely still, his body freezing against mine. For perhaps the first time since I'd known him, I saw genuine surprise flash across his features, followed quickly by something I'd rarely witnessed on his face—vulnerability.
"You heard that," he said, not a question but a statement filled with quiet wonder.
"I heard everything," I confirmed, maintaining eye contact despite the urge to look away from the raw emotion I saw there. "Every word you said while I was in the coma."
He took a small step back, though his hands remained on me, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to break contact completely. "I wasn't certain how much you remembered," he said carefully. "You never mentioned it."
"Neither did you."
His jaw tightened momentarily. "It wasn't the right time. You were recovering. Then we were hunting O'Rourke. There was always something more pressing."
"Excuses from the great Nicolai Aleksandrovich?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere. "The world must be ending."
He didn't smile. Instead, his expression grew more serious, more intense.
"The mate bond is... significant in shifter culture," he began, his voice taking on that formal tone he used when discussing something deeply important. "It's not merely a preference or a passing attraction. It's a recognition at the most primal level that someone completes you. The animal recognizes it first—a scent, an instinct that can't be ignored."
I remained silent, watching the struggle playing across his usually stoic features as he searched for words.
