Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(79)

Shine bright little star before you burn out forever.

A tingling sensation expands my heart and out through my limbs. One lily. Alexei mentioned to me once that it’s considered bad luck to give anything but odd numbers of flowers in Russian culture. The message is cryptic, and it could be from any of the Vory. But the flower itself has meaning that can’t be ignored.

In ballet performances, white lilies signify purity. It could only be from him.

“One minute,” someone tells me.

I need to think about so many things, but there isn’t time. I set the gift aside and take a breath. It’s my turn, and to say that I’m nervous as I make my entrance onto the stage would be an understatement. The last time I did this, it ended horrifically. But I can’t let that night stain this memory for me. Before I retire my shoes forever, I want to pay tribute to everything that ballet has given me. And if that note is any indication, it might be the last thing I ever do on this earth.

I throw everything I have into the performance—body, heart, and soul. Magic is real, and it exists on the stage. Around me, butterflies and fairies twirl. Tinkers and tailors and weavers enter the fray, hair whipping and arms swaying as they perform their duties. Lovers quarrel, and a forest is born. Stars cross, and chaos ensues. Kings and queens fall, and I learn how to fly again. Leaping through the air with slicing jetés and bounding across the stage with the lightness of a feather. It’s the most painful performance I’ve ever given, but it’s also my best.

Because I am free.

Tears cling to my cheeks as the final curtain falls, and when I exit the stage, I’m limping but at peace. I collapse onto the closest chair I can find and bask in the adrenaline high. Several of the dancers congratulate me on a job well done as they exit the stage behind me, everyone buzzing with the excitement of our collaborative effort.

“It appears that the angel has found her wings again.”

Ocean eyes crash into mine, and his name exalts from my lungs before I can stop it.

“Nika.”

He smiles, and it feels like sunshine after an eternal winter. Everything else falls away, and there is only the chaos in my heart when I look up at him.

“Come.” He holds out his hand for me.

My relief falters. It can’t be him. I can’t look into those eyes as he bleeds the life out of me. He should have sent Viktor. He should have sent anyone else.

“Do you no longer trust me?” he asks.

“Should I trust you?”

“Does it matter at this point?”

I shake my head. It doesn’t. He’s here. He found me. And whatever he decides, my fate is sealed.

“Come, zvezda,” he urges. “It’s time.”

“What if I say I don’t want to?”

His hand wavers, but he doesn’t retreat. “Then it would break my heart.”

“I didn’t realize you had a heart to break,” I whisper.

“Even monsters have hearts, my sweet.”

I know it’s true because a monster lives inside me too. I take his hand, and his fingers close around mine.

“You are sore?”

I nod, and Nikolai wraps his free arm around my waist. We walk together, and he takes me into the room where the stage props are stored. Behind the larger-than-life trees and one-sided building displays, he corners me.

When he touches my face, my eyes fall shut, and my chest heaves. He will probably strangle me. It’s an intimate way to die, and Nikolai is nothing if not intimate. He will want to see my face. Burn my skin with his fingers. Feel the last dull thump of my beating heart beneath his hands. His scent will be the last thing I breathe. His lips, the last thing I taste. And his skin, the last thing I feel.

A fresh tear leaks from the corner of my eye, but it’s bittersweet. I’m afraid that even in death, he will find a way to haunt me.

“Don’t cry, pet.” He wipes away the salty emotion with his thumb, smearing the evidence

into my skin.

“Will you make it quick and painless?” I ask.

His body cages me in, and his lips hover over mine. “It will be painless,” he murmurs. “But it won’t be quick.”

My heart leaps into my throat when he jerks me around and presses my face against the wall, his hands mauling my body as his lips come down on my throat.

“Nakya.” He grinds his erection against my ass while his fingers slip down between my legs, cupping me through the leotard.

“Tell me that you’re mine.”

“You already know I am,” I rattle.

His thumb drags over my clit while his teeth graze my shoulder. “I’m going to fuck this pretty little ballerina. You better be quiet if you don’t want anyone to hear.”

The thought of someone catching us leaves me panting. Ragged breaths wrench from my chest when he yanks my leotard aside, ripping a hole in the tights. I’m scared, and I’m so swollen for him it hurts. Nikolai yanks me around like a doll, forcing my hips back and arching my spine forward.

The position drags my nipples against the fabric of my suit as he jostles me forward, rubbing his cock against the hole of my tights.

“Are you still pure for me?” he asks. “Are you still mine?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else.”

“Good girl, zvezda.” He pets my face and wraps his hand around my throat, forcing my head to arch back until my eyes meet his.