NIKOLAI
Not to be a stalker, but I kind of ended up at the grocery store Bran frequents.
What? It’s his fault that I miss him as soon as we’re apart.
It’s the afternoon and guess what? He’s coming over to the penthouse this early. It’s been about a week since he agreed to stay overnight, and I’ve been the happiest fucking man alive.
Not that I’m still thinking about that night and morning or anything.
Anyway, the reason I’m outside this local organic grocery store is because of a conversation I had with him about half an hour ago. When I was in class.
Bran
What are you in the mood for tonight?
Me
What kind of question is that? I’m always in the mood to do dirty things to you, baby.
I meant food. FOOD.
You mean aside from your cum?
Jesus. Yeah, aside from that.
I’m happy with anything you cook.
You sure? If you fancy something to eat, tell me. I’ll go grocery shopping in a bit.
Nah. I love anything you cook. Do what you want. Also, you’re getting groceries right now? It’s the afternoon.
I finished classes early, so I’m heading to the penthouse.
Hell yeah. I’m on my way.
Don’t you have uni?
Not important.
Don’t skip classes, Nikolai. I’ll see you later.
So yeah, I totally skipped classes. I actually left that class while reading his last text and rode my bike all the way here. I left it at a local parking lot and followed him around on foot.
He can’t possibly expect me to stay away when he’s going to the penthouse this early. It’s true that I last saw him this morning, but I’ve been going through withdrawals.
My mood is dangerously dependent on him and that’s not even funny anymore, but I’m done trying to figure it out.
I’m just obsessed with this man and everything about him. Some would argue it’s something a lot more dire than obsession.
He consumes me, but he also grounds me. I’ve never felt as mentally strong as when I’m with him. Even the most mundane things we do together—having meals, watching movies, listening to him read the boring morning newspapers—bring a huge smile to my face.
Brandon King is ravaging me alive, and I can’t wait until I’m fully inside him.
In the meantime, I’m content with indulging in my stalkerish tendencies. I wait by the corner of the grocery store. I’d love to go inside, but it’s one of those small shops where I’d totally stand out, and while I don’t mind, he would.
My lotus flower fits right in with the locals. I catch a glimpse of him putting a few tomatoes in his basket while smiling at something the shop owner says. Now, she’s an older woman, but not that old. Maybe in her thirties, and I don’t like the whole interaction.
Lady better stop giving him heart eyes if she’s in the mood to live another day.
I’m about to creep up into her field of vision and scare the bejesus out of her when I catch a peculiar view from off to the side.
Since Bran turned me into a professional stalker, I always pick the best spots to watch him up close and personal, and for that reason, these locations are…rather obscure. I often run into all sorts of bizarre views, including couples, druggies, and homeless people.
This one, however, is different.
Usually, the couples who lurk in corners are doing some heavy petting, if not actual sex. The current scene is nowhere near that image.
A larger guy shoves another one against the wall with a tight grip on his T-shirt’s collar, and I hear, “Shut the fuck up.”
Any other time, I’d ignore this and change my position to continue stalking my Bran.
Something stops me, though.
The guy who’s been shoved against the wall is familiar. Wait…is that…?
“Gaz?” I ask, walking toward them.
Sure enough, my cousin looks up, his fist clenched in the other man’s shirt. An older man—at least early to mid-thirties—who’s dressed in a white button-up shirt, black slacks, and leather shoes. His dark hair is slicked back and his expression is solemn.
He looks at me with complete disregard, as if I just intruded on his fun.
I flex my fist and make sure he sees it. This fucker will be buried six feet under before he attempts to harm my cousin. “What’s your name, motherfucker, and what’s your favorite way to die?”
“Niko, it’s not…” Gareth trails off on a wince when the asshole tightens his grip on his shirt.
“Step the fuck away from him.” I stride toward them. “Now.”
“Who the fuck are you?” the man asks, his accent distinctively American, his expression entirely murderous.
I’m going to break his face for daring to touch my family.
“My cousin, Nikolai.” Gareth shoves him away. “Please leave, sir.”
“Sir?” I echo. “Why the fuck are you calling him sir?”
“He’s my professor. Kayden Lockwood.” Gareth stands beside me, his expression closed off as he stares at the man.
He narrows his eyes on me before he looks my cousin up and down. “We are not done, Carson. I expect you in my office tomorrow morning.”
As he walks away, a wave of tension rolls off Gareth before he puffs out a long exhale.
I stand in front of him. “Why the fuck would your professor corner you in an alley?”
He glances up, his green eyes large and his blond hair sticking to his temples with sweat. “We…had a slight disagreement.”
“And he couldn’t solve it in the classroom like all other professors?”
“I…uh, I pulled something outside of law school and he was pissed.”
“That still doesn’t give him the right to attack you. Want me, Jer, and Kill to add him to the MIA list?”
“No, no. That’s not necessary. I can take care of this situation.”
“Didn’t look like you were doing a very good job at it. Kill and I will maim the fucker.”
“Niko, no.” He grabs my arm. “Don’t…tell Kill. Don’t tell anyone about what you just saw.”
“Why not…? Fuck me.” I pause. “Is this that man you told me about that time? The only one you’re attracted to?”
Gareth’s lips part. “N-no.”
“You just stuttered. You never stutter.”
“Just forget it. Since when are you this perceptive?”
“Since now. It’s him, isn’t it?”
“No,” he says with more force than needed.
“In that case, I guess I can discuss this further with Kill and Jer and see if it’s true or false.”
“Nikolai!”
“Or you can just tell me.”
“Fine! It’s him.” He looks more relieved than burdened as he puffs out the words. I relate to him in more ways than one.
I know what it’s like to be in a secret relationship where no one is allowed to know. It’s suffocating sometimes, but it’s worth it.
And from the look in Gareth’s eyes, I think he feels the same as I do. It’s not ideal, but like me, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“A much older professor, huh?” I grin. “You’re much more adventurous than I thought, cousin. I’m actually impressed.”
“It’s nothing serious, so don’t tell anyone.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah.”
I grab him by the shoulder. “Want me to continue my lesson about butt stuff?”
“No, thanks.” He pushes me away. “I’m…going for a walk.”
He storms away before I can question him some more. I consider following him, but immediately shut down that idea when I see Bran walking out of the store carrying a few bags.
Forget about Gareth. He can survive. I, on the other hand, need to recharge by strangling my lotus flower.
I stay a safe distance behind him as he walks by the small stores in the town center. He’s dressed in dark pants and a light-green shirt, and his eyes are covered with elegant sunglasses. I can’t wait to unwrap him later.
He stops by a pastry shop and I grin when he buys a box of macarons.
Bran then proceeds to walk in the direction of the penthouse. Despite having a car, he doesn’t usually drive it and prefers to use his legs whenever possible. It’s about a half hour walk from town, but I’m not complaining. I love watching him from afar and seeing how he stops and plays with dogs or checks in on the elderly people he does volunteer work for.
He’s such a golden boy. At least, on the outside. I’m actually proud that I’m the only one who knows how much of a control freak he is.
Instead of going down the main street, Bran takes a secondary route and I follow, frowning. Does he have someone to visit around here?
He stops near an alley and turns around so suddenly, I don’t have time to hide.
Bran removes his sunglasses and hangs them on the opening of his shirt. He gives me a once-over, his gaze lingering on where my biceps meet my T-shirt, and I can’t help flexing them. I really, really love it when he checks me out.
That way, I can take some comfort in knowing he wants me. Not to the point of my utter obsession with him, but I do often catch him looking at me lately.
The other day, he was tidying up the bathroom while I was soaking in the Jacuzzi, but then I caught him ogling me as his shorts tented. He didn’t agree to join me in the bathtub, so what did I do? The most logical thing, of course. I bent him over the counter and fucked him as he brought the house down with his moans and groans.
He’s so loud, I love it.
I love that he lets go when around me.
Now, he releases a long breath. “You need to quit the habit of stalking me.”
“I thought I was being subtle.”
“Subtle? I could sense your eyes digging a hole in the back of my head.”
“More accurately, your ass, baby.”
“You’re not even going to offer an excuse?”
I shrug. “Do I need to? I’m a simple man. I missed you, so I came to see you.”
“We were together this morning.”
“I need a dose of you at all times.”
A pink hue covers his cheeks and he clears his throat. “Don’t you have school?”
“As I said, not important. You can’t expect me to picture you walking around the house while I’m not there.” I grab the heaviest-looking bags. “I’ll carry these. Go first.”
“We can walk together. This area is usually deserted this time of day.”
“Really?” I grin, gluing myself to his side.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to—”
“Of course I want to.”
He steps away, keeping a short distance between us, but I don’t focus on that and choose to watch his small smile and the way his face radiates under the rare sun. His eyes shine a bright-blue color and some of his hair looks lighter.
Christ.
How can a man be so fucking beautiful? The urge to kidnap him and keep him all to myself beats like a need beneath my skin. I’ve given up thinking this is only a phase that will go away or that there will be a day when I’ll see Bran and not have this queasy feeling in my chest.
I’m so screwed.
Bran clears his throat. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“That. Whatever that is.”
“Don’t think I can, baby. I have no self-control when it comes to you.”
He swallows and I can’t help watching the up and down of his Adam’s apple. Fuck. I flex my hand around the bag to stop myself from hauling him over and kissing the fuck out of his full lips.
“Does that mean you have self-control when it comes to everything else?” he asks, and his slightly husky voice does nothing to disperse Kolya’s attempt to rise to life.
“Yeah.”
“So all the rumors about your penchant for violence are incorrect?”
“They are correct. I love beating things and people up, but I have enough agency to stop. Can’t do that with you. It’s impossible.”
“Hmm. So I’m more important than violence?”
“Fuck yeah.”
He smiles a little. “Good.”
“You like torturing me?”
“It’s only fair.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
We spend the rest of the way in comfortable silence, and I find myself reveling in every moment I spend in public with him. I never liked silence, and wasn’t really given the choice considering how loud my brain is. Even with Bran, I often filled up any silence with gibberish. Admittedly, I talk too much. He doesn’t.
My Bran is one of those people who don’t talk unless he has something meaningful to say and I grew accustomed to his brand of comforting silence. It’s not tension-filled or brimming with unsaid words. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and fulfilling in its own right.