Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(100)

“Do you even know what you look like right now?” His voice is gritty with anger. “You’re pale. You’re bleeding, and I have no idea—”

“I hurt myself,” I tell him. “I smacked into the hoop. Okay?” I try to push him back again, but he’s not budging. And he’s still glaring at the direction of Phantom, as though my pain and all the answers lie there.

His phone rings again. “Goddammit,” he curses and puts the cell to his ear. He shouts Russian, and my insides start to twist again.

He left Amour for you.

I shove him in the chest, pissed, tears welling. “Go back…right now, go back.” He still has time. He can make the last act, right?

Except for the firm hand on my shoulder, Nikolai ignores me, focusing on his phone conversation. He can’t be here right now. I grip his wrist and try to yank him towards The Masquerade’s globe auditorium, marching ahead.

His foreign words accelerate, and then he shouts at me, “Thora!” Just my name, his arm hooking around my waist and drawing me back into him, so quickly. He spins me and opens my jacket, skimming the length of my body, noticing my wardrobe for the first time.

He must have seen my exposed bottom, when I tried to tug him in the other direction. I swat his hands off and point towards the auditorium. He shakes his head like no. But he only speaks Russian, to the phone line, trying to multitask between me and someone else. He touches his bare chest, as if ready to give me his nonexistent shirt.

His costume just reminds me where he should be.

“Go back,” I say, my eyes stinging with tears. “You shouldn’t…” I choke on my own words, guilt pummeling me. And I inhale. “You can’t be here.”

He gives me a harsh look like how can you think I wouldn’t?

“You go back,” I tell him strongly. “And I’m going to leave you now. Okay?”

He speaks rapidly in the phone as I begin to walk away, towards the revolving glass doors. “Thora!” He catches up to me, slipping his cell into his pocket. He draws me to his chest again, shielding my half-naked body from the old women at slots, the casino carpet semi-full of gamblers.

“Let me go, Nik,” I say in a shaky tone.

His gray eyes puncture me. “There’s no chance of that. So stop pushing me away right now.”

I try to layer on a glare of my own, and I point at the east wing again. “You can still finish—”

“I can’t.” It’s a knife in my gut. “Amour ended.”

I relax a bit with this new hope. “So you left after it finished?”

He shakes his head once.

And my heart nosedives. “No,” I wince. “Nik, you can’t—”

“I did,” he forces. “I chose you tonight, and you have to fucking accept that so I can take care of you.” If our situations were reversed, he would’ve never let me pick him. He would’ve made me stay at the show. This isn’t right.

“The circus is your love,” I whisper. “You told me that, remember? You can’t choose me over your passion.”

He stares at me with this stern expression, like we’re back at the gym. And then he lifts me in his arms, his hands underneath my bottom, covering my ass from onlookers. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, even though I want to be on the ground.

I want him to reverse time and not chase after me. I never wanted my dreams to negatively impact him, and I’m beginning to realize they have. Right now, they’re tearing through his life, and I don’t need him to be assailed by the paths I take.

“Put me down,” I say.

He ignores me, carrying me to the elevators. His phone starts ringing again, but he talks over the default tone. “Luka texted me during the show.”

I curl my hands into shaky fists. I feel horrible. “You should’ve stayed until it ended. I was fine.”

He jaw locks, and he glares down at me. “You’re bleeding, barely clothed and shaking. That’s not fine, Thora.” He punches the light on the elevator, thankfully no one else waiting for one. It’s not long before doors slide open.

Once inside, Nikolai sets me on my feet and he swipes his keycard, pressing the number of his floor.

As we begin to rise, I rest my body against the mirrored wall. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. I had to try, to see if I could do this,” I choke out the last words.

His nose flares as he restrains more emotion. And then he stares down at me like I’ve impaled him repeatedly tonight, but doesn’t he understand…

“I took you away from your job,” I nearly cry. On top of more awful outcomes tonight. “I feel so badly…”

“What do you want me to say?” His voice is so low. “Do you want me to apologize for caring about you?”

I shake my head. “No.” I blink, and tears roll down.

He steps forward, to comfort me, but I raise a hand to stop him. “Myshka—”

“This only works if we don’t choose each other first.” He knows I’m talking about our relationship.

He tilts his head at me, with that no-nonsense look.

“I may leave soon,” I remind him. “Are you going to run after me then?” His whole world is in Vegas. His life, his family, his career. I’m just a small blip that will fly in and out.