Page 73 of Nikola

Adrik flashed him a cold smile as he circled him. “Time for your lesson, fucker.”

He carved a long cut on the man’s arm, drawing blood. The sight of crimson trickling down the artist’s arm made my body hum with excitement, and I wanted so badly to spill some blood and dish out pain.

But that wasn’t how today would go. I wouldn’t touch my future wife with bloodstained hands.

Rather, I watched my cousin torture the poor bastard until he cried like a baby while I waited for my woman to wake up.

26

SKYE

Iwoke up groggy, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

I couldn’t remember the last time my head and eyelids felt this heavy. The world shifted and I waited for the blurriness to cease, only for shock to set in as my surroundings registered.

Nikola’s bedroom in The Den of Sin.

My skin prickled at the feeling of being watched, but there was nobody in the room. I shifted off the bed, slightly unsteady on my feet, when the door opened and the man I’d wanted since I was a teenager stood there.

I should have reeled back or been terrified at the possessiveness he held behind his gaze. Yet all I could feel was excitement. Comfort. Safety.

“Wh-what… How did I get here?” I asked, struggling to move my hands while trying desperately to orient myself. I remembered drinking with Marietta, roaming the French Quarter…

“I carried you here.” He appeared calm, but his eyes burned, doing things to me. “You and Marietta were hammered.”

“Where is she?”

“Back at the house.” He shut the door behind him, slowly strolling toward me. “You shouldn’t be getting drunk when I’m not around. It isn’t safe, and you know better than that.”

I flinched at the reprimand. “I was looking for you.”

He lifted his cell phone.

“Funny, not a single message came through.”

“Well, since you never answered my messages before, it seemed pointless and didn’t cross my mind,” I signed, flicking a glance at the wall and noting the time.

It was only three in the afternoon. I returned my eyes to his tall frame, doing my best to ignore the trembling in my knees. He looked so handsome in those low-hung jeans and tight T-shirt that hinted at his canvas of ink. I squeezed my hands into fists to keep from reaching for him and?—

Ow. What is…

I snapped my head down and narrowed my eyes. I blinked several times, then lifted my hand and brought it closer to my face, certain I was seeing things. But no, the black marks were still there.

“What the fuck is this?” I asked, holding up the finger that hadNikolacarved into my reddened skin.

“It’s a tattoo.”

“I can see that, but why is it on my wedding ring finger?”

He shrugged. “We can get a ring later, but this is to ensure everyone knows you’re mine. If you hadn’t gotten so drunk, we’d already be married.”

I blinked, then blinked again. “Married?”

He smiled and my heart tripped over itself. “Yes, but we lost the priest and I had to improvise.”

My brows drew together, unable to follow his meaning. Or maybe my brain was catching up to my inevitable hangover.

“I don’t like the idea of carrying your name inked on my skin when you?—”