As if he needed one. Vik wasn’t himself, I knew that. But he was still a scary motherfucker with a gun, and it was the most screwed up thing ever that I was less worried about him now than I was when he retreated to his bedroom and shut the door.
More screwed up than me admitting that eating orange segments from his fingers while he pretty much sat on my dick made me think about blowing him.
And I couldn’tstopthinking about it.
Movement beyond me caught his attention, breaking the spell my messy confession had cast on us. Thecurse. Viktor stepped in front of me again and it took everything I had not to yank him back. “Where are we going now?”
He glanced over his shoulder but kept the answer to himself, leading me across the street to the busy strip of clubs and bars.
It was early. The clubs were closed. But the bars were already kicking, and he ducked into one that made me want to bleach my eardrums. Garage music. Was he taking the fucking piss?
I trailed him inside, my gaze a laser beam offuck offas I surveyed every exit the way Folk had trained me a thousand years ago. Every face, mindful of Viktor’s warning about damsels and tourists. And there were hundreds of the fuckers packed into the bar, all bopping along to Craig David or some other shite I didn’t care to know.
Was this revenge for the blowjob thoughts? If it was, I’d changed my mind. I didn’t want to suck his dick. I wanted to bite it off and spit it in the sea.
“You do not have to look at everyone like you wish they were dead.”
Vik’s voice was low in my ear. While I’d been drifting down cock lane, he’d made it all the way to the far end of the bar and turned to face me again, his back protected by solid wood unless the barman decided to shank him.
We were inches apart. But it was enough that someone stepped between us, and I moved so fast the air blurred. So fuckingfast, the English lad gobbing off at his mate didn’t even notice me lifting him clean off the floor and moving him along a few steps.
Already drinking, Viktor saw it all. He smirked over the rim of his glass and I wanted to throw the posh tumbler against the wall.
And him…but that was something different. “Don’t fucking laugh at me.”
“I am not laughing.”
He drained the glass and dropped it on the bar.
I swiped it and took a sniff.
Vodka.
And it was barely eight pm. Fuck my life, it was going to be a long night. But if I’d remembered anything about the time I’d spent with Viktorbefore,it was that this beautiful bastard had hollow legs. That he could smash a bottle of voddie for afternoon tea and still gangster the fuck out of the night.
Hours passed. I stopped counting at three. He drank a lot of vodka while I nursed the same beer bottle and nothing fucking changed.
Not him.
Not me.
Not the clusterfuck of an existence we’d wound up in. “How do you know it’s not poisoned?”
Vik swirled his glass. “It is a new bottle and I can see it from here. Besides, I have not been to this bar in many months.”
“Cos it’s shit?”
His lips twitched. “Because I do not frequent establishments in any particular order. That would be unwise, don’t you think?”
I thought a lot of things. Mainly to do with the way the low light hit his hair and how his slate grey T-shirt clung to his shoulders. We’d been sharing meals for a few days now and he already looked less like a puff of wind could blow him over.
Stop thinking about blowing.
Fuckidy-fuck.
I scanned the bar, trying to stay on point, but with Vik stashed in the corner and my view of the place unchanged, I felt pretty safe.
That means you’re not.
