Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(99)

And yeah, he pierces her right now, right in the middle of the club. One of his cousins hands him a sterilized hollow needle, and a minute later she returns to our group with a glittering stud in her nose.

“Bay,” Luka says, trying to grab my hand.

I shift away. “I’m okay.” I just feel weird. Like a traitor to my family. Like maybe I should be with Brenden right now. Not here.

Not lying to my brother, who I love with all my heart. He’s been struggling with the new choreography changes for aerial straps, and I haven’t been around as much as I want to be.

I should back up, but I’m cemented to this place. My feet unmoving.

“Baylee.” Luka reaches out to touch my cheek, but Nikolai faces him.

Luka and I jerk away from each other on instinct, and I avoid Nikolai’s domineering and disapproving stare.

“I choose you,” Nikolai tells Luka and motions him forward.

He reluctantly and painfully tears away from me.





Act Thirty-Four

Luka Kotova




I can’t even keep an eye on Baylee in the crowd. Nik watches me so fixatedly that I worry he’s a fucking breath away from scolding me out loud.

Nikolai refrains from repeating the rules to the audience, and he asks me firmly, “Piercing or tattoo?”

“Tattoo.”

A server brings out shots of tequila. Nik and I clink glasses before downing two each, and the air tenses more. I don’t feel like he’s on my side when it comes to Bay.

He never has been.

“One-handed handstand,” he challenges me.

I nod, and he asks me if I’m okay in Russian. I just nod again. I don’t try to pick apart his expression. I don’t try to care about what he thinks of my irresponsibility and recklessness.

I go through the motions, and after he counts to three, I perform a one-handed handstand beside my brother.

(Don’t hold your breath. I never win at these types of competitions.)

Like clockwork, I fall after a few minutes. I barely hear the boos from Timo and Katya. While Nik gathers the tattoo equipment, I search the audience with my gaze.

She’s gone.

I sense it before I really confirm by sight.

She’s not here.

“Lift up your shirt,” Nikolai says, cutting into my trance.

I snap out of it and comply. I hear Timo say, “I bet a hundred bucks he inks a penis.”

“Deal,” Anton says.

“Good God, that’s a losing bet,” John says dryly.

Nikolai says under his breath to me, “I’m not inking a dick.”

“Thank you,” I say, wishing I could laugh at the absurdity, but my stomach is in knots.

“Stay still,” he instructs.

“Okay.” A chill runs down my spine. My body is screaming to run after her. Wherever she went, I want to be.

The tattoo gun buzzes, and Nik places the needle to my right ribs. “Be careful,” he says lowly, and I know he’s not talking about the ink.

He means Baylee. The contracts. The no minors policy. My own brother won’t rat me out, but he’ll caution until I stop.

“I am.”

Nikolai looks disbelieving.

So I rephrase, “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

I can’t even nod or respond. I’m frozen solid, and he’s finished with the tattoo faster than I thought he’d be.

In tiny script, he wrote circus is family.

He bears the same words in the same place on his body. It means something to him.

And it means something to me.

I nod a couple times, and he touches the back of my head like earlier tonight.

Why do I still feel like he’s my enemy?



*



When I head to the bar with my brothers, sister, and cousins, I spot Baylee sitting at a stool and chatting with Camila, who wears a red glow necklace like a crown.

They’re both instantly distracted by the on-rush of Kotovas.

“Hey, cuz,” Camila says to John, who claims a stool about two down from Baylee. She departs from Bay and starts taking a slew of drink orders.

Baylee turns slightly, and our eyes lock.

I quickly occupy a free stool to her left, the music blaring. “Are you okay?!” I ask at the same time she says, “What tattoo did you get?!”

I lift the corner of my shirt to show my ribs.

Her smile appears and vanishes rapidly. “Yeah, I’m okay!” She raises her cup to me, the liquid clear. It’s water. I figured she wouldn’t drink tonight. When she feels a lot more low than usual, she’ll stay away from alcohol.

I scoot my stool closer, so we won’t need to yell. Bay casts a cautious glance to my siblings. And cousins. They all fight about what to drink, and Katya, back in her Calloway Couture dress, rolls her eyes and spreads her arms out. Giving herself a small bubble of space.

Robby, Dimitri’s younger brother, still bumps into her.

Baylee fixates on me again, and just as I’m about to ask another question, she says, “I invited Brenden here.”

It makes sense. “Okay.”

Baylee studies my reaction. “You’d really be okay with Brenden showing up?”

I nod, assured. “Yeah, Bay. He’s your brother. I’m not trying to tear you two apart. I’d never do that.” Does she really think I’d stoop that low? That I even have that in me?