Page 9 of Hunger & Harmony

“Niko.”

I blink.

“No formalities. Just call me Niko,” he says, and I nod in understanding.

“Okay, um . . .Are you looking for something . . .Niko?”

His hand comes up to his mouth and nose, like a physical block. I press my back against the windows. Am I imagining it, or does he think I stink? It’s been a long day, but I showered!

“Where’s Lorelai?”

“She took a call. Said she’d be back in fifteen.”

Right. I’m alone with him. Just me and the king of vampires on who knows what floor of this building. Still, I can’t muster any fear. More annoyance than anything.

Which doubles when he presses his hand over his mouth, acting as if I reek to the high heavens. I cross my arms. Does he always act this demeaning?

“I’ll let her know you were looking for her,” I say, not able to mask how badly I want him to leave.

Niko doesn’t move. He’s not quite looking at me, but he’s also not looking elsewhere.

I openly glance him over. Though he’s in the same outfit as earlier, his black linen shirt is more disheveled now. I bite my inner cheek, trying to stop myself from ogling his alabaster torso that’s even more exposed. Does he have to be so indecent? Is it vampire law to look so hot all the time?

When my eyes meet his again, not even the shadows of this room can dim them. His irises glow, the deep red from before now electric and bright.

And focused on me. His sole focus is me.

Tingles rush down my spine. He couldn’t be any further away in this room, yet I feel him. That doesn’t make sense. How could I know the way his hands mold against my hips? How his frigid skin burns against mine? How can I taste his lips with a single look?

I manage to take in a ragged breath as I rip my gaze away. Today’s exhaustion is getting to me. Why else would I be fantasizing about a man who called me a juice box?

A man who is still standing there.

“Well, if that’s everything . . .”

Heat rushes to my face, and I have to stop short to contain a low moan. He’s stone-still, and I can see that so clearly. So why do I feel his hands, his mouth, his body all over me? My senses are alert; the feeling of him is so vivid. Am I just napping at the table right now, and this is all a weird dream?

“Ah!”

My hands fly up to my neck. Heart pounding and wild-eyed, I turn my body away. No, this isn’t a dream. That’s two distinct pokes against my throat, sharp and dangerously delicious.

“Niko . . .” I breathe. “I need to wrap up.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence. I dare to look at him.

The glow of his eyes dissolves; the room is darker, and the air significantly lighter. I’m able to breathe. I continue to hold my throat.

As quickly as he appeared, he’s gone. I barely blink, and the door is already shut like he never even opened it.

Too weak to hold myself up, I sink to my knees. The clouds give way to moonlight that spills into the meeting room. One hand drops from my neck to press against my erratic heartbeat. I shiver.

That happened. I know it did. I don't know how, but if I focus on it hard enough . . .

His hands are still imprinted on my skin.

3

FRICTION