Page 122 of Wicked Refusal

“How about a trial lesson to decide?” I ask.

“Sure.” Nikita grins. “We can do one right now, if the little man’s up for it.”

“I am!” Eli starts jumping up and down. “Please, Mommy, can I?!”

“Only if you pick up all the crayons first.”

Within seconds, they’re back in the box.

42

MIA

Eli’s first martial arts lesson is a resounding success.

Not gonna lie, I was a little worried at first. It’s not that I don’t trust Nikita, but I get the feeling her definition of “danger” is very different from mine.

However, her lesson is completely kid-appropriate. She teaches Eli a couple of basic stances, a breathing technique, and shows him how to do a few fighting poses so he won’t get bored with it. That last part is, frankly, hilarious.

By the time it’s over, Eli is rubbing his eyes. “I’m tired,” he yawns.

I bet you are.Between his episode and an improvised martial arts class, it’s practically bedtime already. “How about mac and cheese and Bond?” I suggest.

“Yes, please!”

I whip up a quick meal for him and set him up on the coffee table. He manages to get halfway through the bowl before he’s asleep.

I pick him up and carry him to his bedroom. “Sweet dreams,” I whisper, and kiss him goodnight.

“He’s out?” Nikita asks.

“Like a light.” I put away his leftovers and slump against the counter. “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” She shrugs. “Little man looked like he could use a confidence booster.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Got his father to thank for that.”

“Don’t we all?”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. “Seriously, thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Just doing m’job.”

She gives a mock bow. It makes me laugh—until I see her whole body tilt.

“Nik!” I rush forward to catch her, but she manages to right herself at the last second. “Everything alright?”

“Sorry,” she laughs awkwardly, grabbing the edge of the counter for support. “Lost my balance there for a second.”

“That wasn’t just your balance,” I protest. “Your eyes went out of focus. You were fainting.” When she doesn’t deny it, I steer her towards the couch by the shoulders. “Sit,” I order. “Rest.”

“Geez. Yulian rubbing off on you, much? Wait, on second thought, don’t answer that.”

“Oh, I’ll answer.” I cross my arms. “As soon as you tell me when’s the last time you slept. Or ate.”

Her face grows guilty. I scan her body—yup, still skin and bones. No, actually,moreskin and bones than when I brought her home after her three months in captivity, being fed through a straw.

Which is weird. She was supposed to be getting better by now. Gaining back muscle, fat, strength. According to Yulian, Nikita used to be much curvier than this. But now? If it weren’t for her height, she could borrow my clothes and swim in them.