Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(50)

“They’re free mints,” Luka gawks. “I can’t steal things that’re set out for everyone to take.”

“You’re supposed to take one, not the whole fucking bowl,” Nikolai shoots back.

“What do you do, Thora?” Dimitri suddenly asks, rerouting my attention. He sits on the coffee table, facing me, still clutching that wine bottle. His tribal tattoo peeks from the sleeve of his white tee, the inked design spindling up his neck. It makes me more aware of Nikolai’s tattoo, one I hardly ever notice since it’s on the inside of his bicep: a collection of fir trees with long lines as trunks, ending at the crease of his elbow.

I focus on the question at hand. What do I do? I guess I could answer this numerous ways. I choose the most honest one. “I work at Phantom.”

Dimitri smirks, and his crude gaze lingers on my boobs. “I heard they tip well if you have a cunt.” He chugs the wine.

My lips part, my insides turned to stone. I don’t even know how to respond.

“Stay! Stay!” Timo shouts at the television. He rests his hands on his head and groans. “What a moron.”

“Want another mint?” Luka asks, passing me a second one. I haven’t even unwrapped the first. Then Nikolai appears beside his nineteen-year-old brother, gesturing him to stand. Luka rises, and his collection of mints litters the carpet. Nikolai brushes a few off the cushion before sitting next to me, his arm wrapped protectively on the couch behind my head.

Dimitri and Nikolai seem to be having a testosterone-fueled staring contest that I don’t understand fully. This is the first impromptu gathering of relatives in Nikolai’s suite since I’ve been here, but something tells me that they happen often.

I decide to text Katya: I don’t know how you handle all these guys like this. She’s my hero.

“Fold! Fold! Come on!” Timo springs from his seat, arms extended at the television.

Dimitri fills the newly free spot on my left, and I go entirely rigid, a wine glass in one hand and my cell in the other. I try not to make eye contact, but I feel his arm ascending. About to swoop around my shoulders.

Nikolai beats him to it, tugging me closer to his body and away from Dimitri, more territorial than anything I’ve ever been caught in between.

Dimitri lets out a short laugh and says something to Nikolai in Russian. Frustration binds my muscles, mildly irritated that I can’t understand them. It’s like being a part of the wrong foreign feature film.

I muster the courage to say, “You can talk in English.”

Dimitri smirks again. “How old are you?” The way he asks—it’s like he’s gauging whether or not I’m legal to screw.

Nikolai dips his head down, his lips brushing my ear, “I promise you’re safe, myshka. Don’t read into him.” He knows I am. Because he’s reading into me.

“Twenty-one,” I answer softly.

My phone buzzes.

Headphones help – Katya

And then another text drops beneath that one.

It’s still impossible to block out the annoying parts of them. You should come upstairs. My cousins aren’t allowed in my room. My rules. – Katya

Before Dimitri asks another question, I spring to my feet, Nikolai’s arm falling off me. “I’m going to go…” I point at the twisty iron staircase. “…talk to Katya.”

Both guys say nothing. No facial expression beyond their intimidating builds and strong jaws. No smiles. Okay…you have this, Thora.

Confidence still intact, I spin on my heels and head to the staircase. About three guys watching the television start to shout over each other. It strengthens my determination, somehow, and I climb the stairs to Katya’s room.

I’m about to knock, but she shouts, “You can come in, Thora!”

I open the door and shut it behind me, the hollering faint now. Her room is tiny, like the size of my dorm. On her dark purple comforter, Katya leans against a headboard, paperback in hand.

I scan her space: clothes strewn over a desk chair, textbooks stacked on a window. It looks less like a hotel and more like a teenager’s bedroom, with posters from different circus shows taped unevenly on the cream walls.

Nova Vega

Celeste

Somnio

Infini

Seraphine

Viva

Amour

The largest poster hangs above her bed: Noctis, orange words scrawled over a moon. It’s clear which Aerial Ethereal show she favors.

“Did Dimitri hit on you?” she asks, plucking earbuds out and closing the paranormal book.

“Does he have a reputation for hitting on anything with two legs?” I ask, sitting at the end of her bed, tucking my ankles underneath my thighs, crisscrossed.

She nods, her hair dried straight around her thin face. “Unless you share the same DNA. Which, you don’t. And he’s…” She crinkles her nose.

“What?” I frown.

“He’s really competitive with Nik,” she says. I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. I’m left to assume that Dimitri wants what Nikolai has—that’s most likely why he found me interesting at all.

I gesture to the paperback. “How’s the book?” I’ve loaned out books before, but rarely are they ever read. So it’s kind of special to see someone actually dive into the story.