Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(89)

Luke glared at him. “Did you consider that instead of helping Mikhail, she might have been destroyed by him?”

“Of course. But that didn't matter, as long as there was a chance of saving Misha.”

“He got what he deserved,” Luke said with a grim smile, tossing back more of the vodka.

“And now so will Tasia.”

Luke stared at the Russian, hatred uncoiling inside him. If anything happened to Tasia, he would make Angelovsky pay. They were both quiet, letting the vodka work its numbing effect on the senses. It was the only thing that kept Luke from leaping on the Russian prince and ripping his throat out.

Quietly a servant came to the library and addressed Nikolas in muffled tones. A conversation ensued, until finally Nikolas waved the servant away. He turned to Luke with a frown. “He says Shurikovsky has returned, but he is ill.” He shrugged. “Too much to drink. Do you still want to speak with the governor tonight?”

Luke stood up. “Where is he?”

“In his bedchamber, preparing to retire.” Nikolas rolled his eyes as he saw the determination on Luke's face. “All right, we'll go to him. With any luck he'll be too drunk to remember anything afterward. Only five minutes, understand? After that we leave.”

They went upstairs to a lavish suite of rooms. Shurikovsky was seated on the edge of the bed, waiting passively as a servant undressed him. The governor looked completely different from the polished, self-possessed man who had presided over his own banquet earlier in the day. The gray hair was sticking out in untidy spikes. The keen eyes were now hazy and shot with red. Through the opening of his unbuttoned shirt, the drooping muscles of his chest were visible. The reek of wine and smoke was strong in the air, drifting from his sagging body.

“I don't know why I'm doing this,” Nikolas whispered sharply, as he walked into the room. He raised his voice. “Governor Shurikovsky…Your Excellency…” He paused and spoke brusquely to the startled servant. “Get out.”

Requiring no further prompting, the servant darted from the room. He brushed past Luke without a word. Luke stayed in the shadows by the door. Instinct kept him from moving forward. He sensed that his presence was better left undetected for the moment. A strange scene unfolded before him, one that he struggled to understand in spite of the language barrier.

“Your Excellency, I apologize for disturbing you,” Nikolas said in Russian, walking to the slumped figure at the edge of the bed. “I'll be brief, and then leave you to your rest. There is something I would like to ask you, sir, concerning the death of my brother, Mikhail Dmitriyevich. Your Excellency, do you recall every making the acquaintance of—”

“Misha,” the gray-haired man said thickly, staring up at the golden-eyed man before him. Miraculously he seemed to come to life. His shoulders straightened. His face glowed as if he beheld a wondrous vision. The dark eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, my beautiful boy, my lovely cub, how you've haunted me! I knew you'd come back, darling Misha.”

Nikolas froze, his expression turning blank. “What?” he whispered.

Shurikovsky's thin fingers went to the hem of Nikolas's coat, tugging urgently. Slowly Nikolas obeyed the silent command, sinking to his knees before the seated man. His yellow eyes didn't move from Shurikovsky's face. He stayed absolutely still as the governor's trembling hand moved in a caress over his golden-brown hair. Shurikovsky's lean face contorted with loving agony. “My beautiful Misha, I didn't want to hurt you. You made me so upset with your talk of leaving me. But you're here now, lyubezny, that's all that matters.”

From the doorway, Luke saw the tremor that went through Nikolas Angelovsky's body. Luke frowned in bewilderment.

“What did you do?” Nikolas whispered, his eyes locked with Shurikovsky's.

The governor smiled with ecstasy and madness. “Darling boy…you'll never leave me, will you? All the sweetness of heaven is in your arms. And you need me too…that's why you came back to your Samvel.” Tenderly he traced the taut line of Nikolas's cheek. “I was destroyed at the thought of losing you. No one understands…No one loves to the depth that we do. When you mocked me so cruelly, I went crazy, and I took the letter-knife on the table into my hand…All I could think of was that I had to stop your words, your terrible laughter.” He began to croon gently. “Wicked, lovely boy…all's forgiven now. We'll add it to our other secrets…my dearest love…” He bent down intently.

Nikolas jerked away before Shurikovsky's lips touched his. He rose to his feet, breathing through his clenched teeth, shivers rippling through his body. Bewildered, gray-faced, Nikolas shook his head. Suddenly he moved like a startled cat, fleeing the room. The governor collapsed on the bed with uncontrollable sobs.

Luke followed Nikolas in the headlong dash from the house. “Angelovsky,” he growled. “Damn you…tell me what happened!”

Nikolas stopped as soon as he reached the fresh air outside. He paused, staggered forward a few steps to the side of the street, and stood there with his face averted. He struggled to catch his breath.

“What did he say?” Luke demanded. “For God's sake—”

“He confessed,” Nikolas managed to say.

“An old man's drunken ramblings,” Luke said, though his heart was pounding.