Free Nikolai: A Dark Light Novella (Dark Light #2.5) by S.L. Jennings Page B

wraps her arm around my waist, rubbing her cheek against my chest. She lets out a soft sigh that ends in a hum. “Mmmm,” she smiles. “Niko.”
    Come again?
    I study her face to ensure that she is actually still asleep. Her breathing is deep and steady and her eyelids are sealed. I knew she was dreaming of me, but I’d never heard her say my name. And the smile attached to it? Shit. I feel like I just died a thousand sweet deaths.
    All night, I hold Amelie tight as if she might slip away. And the truth is, she might. Something else - something deeply evil and unnatural - has corrupted her body. It has blackened her soul and claimed those startling, amber irises. I just hope to be strong enough to claim her heart.
     

 
     
    “So…what do you think?”
    Blood red, beady eyes narrow speculatively. I know this is bad. It won’t end well for Amelie… or me.
    “Definitely sounds like she’s possessed,” Cyrus replies, rubbing the patch of dark hair on his chin. He scans the dimly lit bar for eavesdroppers before slipping his shades back on. Not that anyone would be alarmed; it’s a Dark owned and operated establishment.
    “But the shit with the Light … how do you explain that?”
    “The Light in her is fighting against it. But whatever is in her - whatever evil is running through her veins - it’s strong. Especially to manifest like that.”
    We both sit in silence, sipping our poison while mulling over Cyrus’s theory. A few more patrons enter as night falls. Darkness brings the beasts to life.
    “Who else have you told about her…” He looks around to ensure no one is overtly interested in our conversation. “…about her heritage?”
    “No one,” I answer, shaking my head. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”
    “Because you know what that would mean for her.”
    He doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what Amelie’s fate would be. What it still could be.
    “And she had no recollection of that night?”
    I shake my head. “She didn’t remember a thing. However, she did mention a dream she had … said it scared her.”
    Cyrus looks over the rim of his dark shades, red eyes gleaming with blood lust. “Go on.”
    I take a deep breath, not wanting to say it out loud. I know how it must sound. Shit, it sounds suspect as hell even in my head. “She dreamt that I was on the ground, surrounded in a pool of blood, dying. And she … she was standing above me, apparently my murderer.”
    “Shit,” Cyrus mumbles.
    “Yeah.” I down the rest of my bourbon and signal for another. “So honestly, what’s your take on it? What should I do?”
    I can see Cyrus’s brows rise even behind his sunglasses. “You care about her, don’t you?”
    I lower my eyes to the wooden tabletop. “More than my dumb ass should.”
    “Hmph,” he snorts. He tips back the rest of his blood infused whiskey. “I’ll head back to Skiathos. Do some digging. In the meantime, you do what she told you.”
    My eyes lift to meet his knowing grin. Although it’s not intended, it makes him look all the more menacing against his fangs. “What?”
    “You do what she told you to do. You help her. You save her.” He smiles wide for added effect, and I see just a tiny glimpse of the roguish brute from my childhood. “You love her.”
    “I don’t know,” I say shaking my head, though I can’t hide my own grin. “I don’t know if it’s possible.”
    “But whatever you do,” he adds sternly in a hushed voice. “You don’t tell another soul about her. I’m serious, Niko. Do you know what your enemies will do with that kind of information? That’s like handing over a loaded gun.”
    “I know. I know that, Cy. But how do I protect her? And what makes you think that she even feels anything for me?”
    “She sleeps beside you every night, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And she’s no longer spelled to the room?”
    “Right.”
    “Then I don’t think,” he remarks, certainty resonating through his deep, husky voice.