Page 126 of Eternal
Azra, you’re fucked.
You get attached, and then what? What if he dies on a mission? What if you wake up one day and he’s just gone?
What if, what if, what if?—
Before I can counter, my phone vibrates against my thigh. I fish it out, glancing at the screen. Vik.
“Who’s that?” Damir asks.
I wave him off, pushing myself away from him as I answer. “Hey.”
“Where are you,Kroshka?” Vik’s voice is all suspicion, all older-brother energy. “What are you doing?”
I roll my eyes. “Eating.”
Damir exhales, and Vik catches it.
“With who?”
“Alone,” I lied.
Silence.
“You see him outside of work?” Kat’s voice cuts in from the background, clearly snatching Vik’s phone. “You’re with your hot partner when you’re not working? Oh My God!”
I choke on my own saliva, coughing.
Damir leans toward me, brows drawing together, voice lower. “You okay?”
I wave him off, turning slightly away as I clear my throat. “Stop screaming.Just—” I glare at my phone. “Kat, mind your own business.”
“Oh, this istotallymy business.” Her grin is practically audible. “Ice cream, little nocturnal walks? What’s next? Sleepovers? Pregnancy? Say hi to him.”
“Goodbye Kat,” I deadpan, hanging up before she can get another word in.
Damir watches me, amused, pretty and cold eyes sparkling way too happily under the streetlights. His sleeves are pushed up, tattoos covering the veins of his forearms, art and symbols in black ink, faded scars cutting through some of them. My gaze lingers, maybe too long, because his lips quirk like he knows exactly what I’m looking at.
“Checking me out again, partner?”
“You’re practically begging for it,” I shove my phone into my hoodie pocket, “Stop being naked around me.”
He smirks, but lets it go. “I’ll try.”
“You know,” I say, stretching my arms above my head, “The more you buy me food, the more I'll tolerate you. I might even teach you something with your bike.”
Damir turns his head toward me, unimpressed. “You think I need lessons?”
“I think you could be better.”
He exhales a laugh, low and rough. “Oh, yeah?” He shifts, angling his body slightly toward mine. “And what exactly are you gonna teach me?”
I lean in, catching the flicker of intrigue in his gaze. “How to really handle a bikefreely.”
His smirk deepens, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I drive just fine. You said it yourself.”
I know he does, but I also know it’s more calculated, stiff, as if he’s constantly aware of every little movement I make on the bike. “Yes. But you drive like you’re calculating everything when I’m on board.” I glance at his hands, the sharp lines of muscle beneath his skin, and tattoos I want to see and touch. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He chuckles low. “Spot on, when you’re behind I’m careful…” His fingers flex slightly as if the memory of my grip on himlingers in his mind, his tendons shifting beneath the skin. “Didn’t seem like you had a problem with it when you were holding onto me so tight your nails might’ve scratched my skin.”
