Page 5 of Twisted Gift

Her brows rise. “And when it comes to me?”

“I already loved you. You’re my best friend. That love is different from what I see myself feeling for Tristan one day.”

She nods. “I think I understand what you mean.”

“Really? Because I don’t, not fully. I’m still working through it.”

“I get that.” She looks down at her hands, lowering her voice when she says, “Tristan asks about you a lot.”

Fuck. Just hearing his name makes my chest burn. I miss him so damn much it’s making me crazy. I swallow the lump in my throat. “What do you tell him?”

“Never much of anything. Usually, I’ll just smile and manage to turn the conversation around to something about the hotel. He sort of offered me a job.”

My eyes widen. “For what? Not motivational speaking in the lobby, I hope.”

She glares at me, but it’s half-hearted. She’s trying not to grin. “My official title is media coordinator. I handle the hotel’s online presence. It’s pretty awesome. I’ve been hanging out there a lot, training and stuff.” Considering she just spent four years of her life and thousands of dollars on a media degree, I have to agree that this is a great opportunity.

“That’s amazing, Al. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she says, after finishing off her beer.

Having completed our impromptu fae lesson with success, we head back into the pub to check out the music and have another drink. We sit in the only open seats at the bar, and Allison waves the bartender over, ordering us a couple more beers.

The crowd goes wild behind us, and I wince at the sudden influx of noise. Her hand on my shoulder, Allison frowns at me as if asking whether I’m okay. I force a nod and a smile.

“They really love this guy,” the bartender comments, grinning at the crowd who’s still going nuts all around the room.

As the guy starts singing, I can understand why. His voice is pure silk, which is probably why most of the crowd surrounding the bar—men and women alike—look as though they want to wrap themselves in the sound of his voice. Hell, I wouldn’t blame them. This guy can sing. I keep my back to the stage, wanting to face Allison while she’s talking to me about her new job, but I fight the urge to turn my head to see him sing.

The moment he goes into the chorus, the crowd starts cheering. Some of the women even scream. I swing around to look at what has these women all riled up, and the moment my eyes land on the singer, I suck in a sharp breath. Everything about him brings me back to the afternoon of Adam’s memorial, to the parking lot of the restaurant where a gang of light fae ambushed me.

Front and center on the stage, ignoring his screaming, adoring fans, Nikolai Sterling holds my gaze and grins only at me.

2

Ican’t look away. We continue to stare at each other as if we’re the only ones in the room. Finally, he blinks, turning his attention back to the row of people below him. He goes into the chorus again and extends his hand to the audience. Several women latch on immediately, hollering louder as his voice envelopes the room in the tune of the song. The lust they feel is suffocating; I’m seeing everything through a hazy, pink film. It makes me scowl until I watch it dim slightly. My eyes narrow on where Nikolai’s hand is brushing over several of theirs.

Son of a bitch.

He’s feeding on them.

I whirl around to find Allison isn’t paying attention to the stage but having a conversation with the bartender. “What the hell is he doing?” I demand. It’s more of a rhetorical question. I’m looking for an explanation as towhyhe’s feeding on the crowd. Aren’t there rules against this sort of thing? I should find out; it doesn’t seem moral. Though something tells me not much about Nikolai is.

Edgy bartender’s gaze shifts to mine, and he shrugs. “Relax,” he says in a calm voice, stepping away to fill some drinks before he returns to where we’re sitting. “He does this all the time.” He puts his hand up to stop me before I can say anything. “He’s never hurt anyone here. Not once. The crowd is so big, no one will notice a difference in themselves. If they do, they’ll chalk it up to the drinks they’ve had.”

A muscle ticks along my jaw as I look at Allison.

“He’s right,” she assures me. “He’s not hurting anyone.”

I blow out a breath. “Fine.” I lean back enough to look across the room to where the bathrooms are and groan at the line. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Allison.

She nods. “I’ll save your seat.”

After going to the bathroom, I pace the hallway for a few minutes, my mind spinning. I can’t stop thinking about the day Nikolai and Tristan fought in the parking lot of that restaurant. He said he wasn’t our enemy, and Allison doesn’t seem concerned about him, so maybe I need to give him a chance—some time to prove what he said to us that day.

I head back toward the bar after the pounding of the bass has quieted. If I were smart, I’d get my ass home and into bed, but I don’t want to ditch Allison without saying goodbye. No matter how heavy the exhaustion is hanging onto me right now.

I blink a few times until my vision focuses and keep walking. I stumble back when a dark figure steps out of the office, blocking my path.

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