Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(97)

Every Saturday night, Nikolai Kotova has an “after-show” for the crowds, mostly tourists and people staying in Vegas for only a few days. The Red Death promotes his theatrics—hence, the spotlight—because he packs the club.

I’m not sure if I should watch, but I can’t lie: I’ve always been curious. I’ve heard mutterings about what Nik actually does, and I thought they seriously had to be rumors. Until Brenden confirmed that Nikolai tattooed a fork on a man’s chest.

I jab my thumb towards the bar like I’m headed over there.

Luka raises his brows at me, smiling wide. “Come on, Bay! You want to see this!”

I give him a look. “No I don’t!”

“I know you!” he has to shout over his cousins like me, but the music lowers for Nikolai.

I find myself stepping closer to Luk. “What do you know about me?!”

He nearly laughs. “You’re a people-watcher. This”—he nods to the spotlight and his older brother—“is a spectator’s heaven!”

Okay, he knows me. “Fine.” I try hard not to smile.

“Come with me.” He clasps my hand before I can protest, and he wraps an arm around his sister’s shoulder, leading us to the front “row”—which is really the edge of the spotlight.

Our hands disentangle as soon as Nikolai saunters across the open space and eyes us. He carries a magnetic force that’s simultaneously hard to meet and abandon. A green necklace swaths his rugged features, and he assesses the gathering, rapt audience with keenness.

“What’d I miss?! What’d I miss?!” Timo bounces up to his brother and sister, wedging himself on the other side of Katya.

“Nik’s just starting,” Katya tells him. “Thora!” She hugs onto the short blonde who slips into our group with a smile.

For the first time in years, I feel a part of what I once lost. I’m inside the depths of Luka’s world. With his little sister and his little brother, who’s my age. I’m witnessing more than most ever will or can, and he’s letting me not only see but be here.

I smile, almost in disbelief that this isn’t all a dream.

Luka catches my expression, and his face brightens in an indescribable, profound way. He wants me beside him. Just like I want him beside me.

More than anything.

“GOD OF RUSSIA!” Timo shouts, hands cupped to his mouth.

“He’s ten feet away from you,” John says behind his boyfriend, clutching Timo’s waist. “Really, what’s the point in shouting?”

Timo leans back against him. “I’m working out my lungs.”

“Your lungs don’t need a workout. They’re fully-functioning every night you’re with me.”

Timo smiles like a five-thousand-watt bulb, his gold Venetian mask adding to his effervescence. I watch Luka grinning at his little brother, wholeheartedly happy for Timo.

Everyone will talk about Luka’s generosity, but I always see his empathy surpassing everything else. It’s his foundation. It’s why he loves so strongly. Why he cares so deeply. It’s why he can watch two people fall in love and not be weighed down by sadness.

I can be happy for Aunt Lucy and her husband. I can be happy for Luka’s brothers, but I can’t always separate what I lost from the love I witness.

It hurts. Plain and simple.

Luka notices me staring, and he puts two fingers to his upturned lips. As indiscreetly as possible, he rotates his fingers, imprinted with a kiss, and presses them to my own lips.

Quickly, I lower his hand, cast a glance at Nikolai whose back is to us and then his siblings who laugh amongst each other, not about us. That’s when I realize I’ve been smiling this entire time.

Luka laughs, and he opens his mouth to speak—but Nikolai suddenly casts his attention onto our “row” of onlookers. And I go rigid.

Luka is a hundred-percent relaxed, hands stuffed in his slacks.

I don’t know how because Nikolai keeps perusing us and Timo, Katya—Thora, too. Actually, Thora a lot. I spot the creases of Nik’s mouth slightly lifting at the sight of his girlfriend.

She’s smiling back at him.

“Can you unzip me?” Katya asks Thora. I know what this is about. Kat explained a little of it earlier, so I’m not surprised when Thora unquestioningly goes to unzip her dress.

“Wait a minute,” John cuts in, flabbergasted. “She’s not seriously undressing right here. Seriously. Seriously? Everyone.” His eyes ping to all of us, but no one disapproves. “Why does no one else see what I see?”

Timo twirls his scepter. “Because we’re not a hundred-and-fifty, old man.”

John rolls his eyes. “Pick an age that actually exists.”

Timo calls out loudly, “Two-hundred-and-fourteen!”

We all laugh, and John shakes his head. “I’m not even smiling on the inside.”

“You can smile?” Timo says. “I thought John Ruiz droids were programmed with one setting.”

I notice John giving Luka a look, and Luka shrugging in return. Then John tells his boyfriend, “You mean truthfulness.”

“Grumpiness,” Timo combats, pounding his scepter on the ground to the beat of the song.

John is entrapped by him. “I’m cheerful in my left pinky nail.”