Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (2 page)

Nikolai turned down a street that ran parallel to a rather rundown shopping center. All of the storefronts were closed except for one—a tattoo parlor I recognized as the one his preferred artist owned. He didn't pull into the parking lot but instead navigated down the side street and into the employee lot out back. It was a shadowy space that would have made me nervous had I been alone, but I feared nothing with my husband at my side.

As he parked, I twisted in my seat to face him. "What are we doing here?"

He switched off the engine and unlatched his seatbelt. Leaning across the center console, he flicked off my belt and pushed it away from my shoulder. His fingertips grazed my cheek and jaw before gliding over my lips. Holding my gaze, he asked, "Do you know what today is?"

"Friday." I noticed Danny hurrying from the SUV to take up a position at Nikolai's door. He quickly unfurled an umbrella and waited for his boss to exit the car.

Nikolai chuckled softly. "Yes, but more specifically."

"Um…it's Friday. It's April the…" My voice trailed off as the significance of the date struck me. "Oh."

"
Da.
" He nodded solemnly. "Eleven years tonight." His hand slid down my neck, over the curve of my breast to the flat expanse of my belly. He rubbed a slow, warm circle there, his palm moving over the gunshot scars hidden by the diaphanous amethyst chiffon of my evening gown. "Eleven years since the night I nearly killed you."

The awful, ugly truth hung in the air between us. Flashes of memories I had tried to suppress came roaring back to life right before my eyes. The shame of my involvement in the attempted hit on Nikolai's life made my stomach lurch. I had been an easily tricked child, a little girl so desperate for her father's love that she had agreed to burglarize a house, but that didn't make me any less guilty for what had almost happened that night. Nikolai had fought off my father and escaped with his life before very nearly taking mine.

"We were bound together forever that night. You and me," he said, his hand going still on my abdomen. "I never imagined it would lead us to this life we share, but it has. It was fate that you would become my queen."

My eyes widened at his description. "Your queen?"

"You would prefer
koroleva
?" he teased.

"Kolya! Be serious!"

"I am being serious." He played with the loose waves of my hair that cascaded around my shoulders. "That’s what they're all calling you. The Night Queen," he clarified. "Because you rule the underworld with me."

"Hardly," I argued. "I'm just your wife. I'm just—"

"You aren't
just
anything, Vee. Not to me and not to them." He captured my mouth in a lingering kiss. Pulling back, he held my gaze. "Come. It's time for your coronation."

I blinked, and the pieces fell into place. "You've brought me here to see
Igla
."

He laughed at the nickname the men of his family had given to the Hungarian ex-pat tattoo artist who had spent most of his adult life in Moscow.
Igolochkoy
was a Russian embroidery style where the threads were punched through the fabric using a sharp needle. "You've been eavesdropping again."

"Your men should be more discreet."

He shot me a look before sliding out of the front seat. Danny handed over the umbrella that shielded Nikolai's tuxedo from the warm drizzle and stepped back to give him some space. My husband walked around the car to open my door. Reaching in, he grasped my hand and guided me out into the night. His palm settled against the small of my back and he gently pressed me toward the rear entrance of the tattoo shop that Arty now manned. The street captain with the shaved head and grass green eyes winked at me as I passed.

Inside the shop, we were greeted by the infamous tattoo artist. The older man sported a thick, long white beard and heavy ink from the top of his neck to the tips of his fingers. No doubt his torso, back and legs were equally as decorated. Nikolai called him by his real name—Tomi—but the artist only nodded before taking us to his private studio at the rear of the shop. It was so quiet in the space that I wondered if he had shut down the business to see us tonight.

With Arty and Danny guarding the door, Nikolai shut it behind us. Clearly at ease in these surroundings, he slipped out of his tuxedo jacket and bowtie, dropping them on Tomi's desk. He accepted the sketch the artist thrust his way and studied it with a smile. Handing it to me, he asked, "What do you think, Vee?"

I examined the surprisingly feminine and delicate crown Tomi had drawn. The design wasn't very big, but it was incredibly detailed. It was done in the style of a Russian tiara, the type one of the Feodorovna empresses might have worn. Tomi had incorporated Nikolai's pet name for me by using beautiful little sunbursts. There was a pretty crest in the center but it seemed unfinished.

As if reading my mind, the artist handed me a pencil. Addressing me in Russian, he said, "You're the only one I've ever allowed to alter my designs."

Understanding that this was something I should consider an honor, I reverently took the pencil and the drawing to the nearest flat surface. I didn't have to think twice about what would go in the center of the crest. I sketched in my husband's Cyrillic initials. Soon they would mark my skin, forever branding me as his.

When I handed it to Tomi, he actually cracked a small smile. "Good," he said before taking the pencil and cleaning up my addition with harder, cleaner lines.

Nikolai's hands settled on my shoulders. The heat of his chest seeped into my back. His lips brushed my ear. "You don't have to do this. I thought you might like to have one done. You've always been fascinated by them, by what they mean and how they're earned."

Glancing back at him, I asked, "Have I earned this one?"

He pressed a tender kiss to my throat. "You've earned so much more than this. It's the least I can give you. The very least," he whispered before turning my face and claiming my mouth.

"Where will it go?" I tried to ignore the nervous wobbling in the pit of my stomach and focused on the beautiful piece of art that would soon adorn my body.

"Where would you like it to go?"

"You choose. It's your gift to me."

His eyes sparked with a primal flare that made my insides tremble for a reason that had nothing to do with nervousness. I pressed my thighs together as Nikolai walked to Tomi's small desk and grabbed a rubber band from the container on the corner. When he came back to me, Nikolai gathered my hair in his hands and twisted the strands into a high bun that he secured with the rubber band. His lips skimmed the back of my neck. I sucked in a shocked breath when his tongue flicked against my skin.

"Here," he decided. "You'll wear my crown here."

I gulped and nodded. It would be easy to hide by wearing my hair down—and to show off whenever I wanted by choosing to wear my hair up. The idea of Nikolai seeing his mark on me when we were alone thrilled me. "Yes."

With a satisfied hum, Nikolai took my hand and tugged me toward the chair in the center of the room. The red leather was worn in spots but it seemed sturdy and comfortable. I was taken aback when he sat first and leaned back. When he patted his lap, my lips parted to protest, but he squelched the words with one heated look.

Ignoring Tomi's amused stare, I straddled Nikolai's lap as daintily as possible. The flowing skirts of my evening gown came in handy. They were loose enough and so full that I didn’t have to worry about the fabric bunching along my thighs or hips.

"Look at me." Nikolai commanded my gaze. "This is going to hurt. Not as bad as the other pain I've caused you." He shot a pointed look at my stomach. "But it won't be pleasant."

I interlaced our fingers and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm not afraid."

"No," he agreed and kissed me lovingly. "You never are."

Behind us, Tomi readied the necessary supplies. I leaned against my husband, accepting his strength and finding comfort in his soothing warmth, as Tomi prepared my skin and applied the stencil. Nikolai's powerful arms kept me from flinching when the first bite of the needles registered. I stared into his handsome face, enthralled by his pale eyes, and found myself wondering, not for the first time, how he managed to look at me with such love and kindness one moment and offered others that cold, icy glare the next.

The pain of the needles stabbing into my skin blossomed from one small spot to the entire back of my neck. After some time, the heated burn morphed into a strange numbness that I didn’t mind so much. My fingers began to tremble, and Nikolai simply held my hands tighter. The all-black design didn't take as long as I had expected, and before I knew it, Tomi was wiping away the blood and ink and handing us a pair of mirrors.

With my skin throbbing and feeling a bit lightheaded, I used the mirror I had been given to catch sight of the reflection from the one Nikolai held behind my head. The delicate and darkly beautiful mark on my skin seemed as if it had always been meant to fit right there. Maybe it had. Maybe Nikolai was right. Fate had thrown us together eleven years earlier, and now here we were, married and in love, the king and queen of Houston's underworld.

"Do you like it?"

I caught the slightest hint of uncertainty in my husband's voice. Smiling at him, I nodded. "I love it."

He leaned forward and kissed me then, the scorching heat of his lips against mine promising a night I wouldn't soon forget. Tomi bandaged my neck, and Nikolai carefully shifted me off his lap. He steered me toward a chair in the corner and slipped his jacket around my shoulders.

"Drink this," he said, taking a can of my favorite soda from Tomi and pressing it into my hands. "The sugar rush will help."

"Thank you." I sipped at the ice cold drink and glanced up at him when he started to remove his cummerbund and shirt.

As if reading my mind, he nodded. "It's my turn."

Consciously ignoring the painful pulse along my nape, I watched as he took his place in the chair and bared the back of his neck for Tomi. He was tall enough that he rested his chin on the top of the headrest while the ink master tattooed a matching but more masculine crown on his skin. I wondered how many other pieces the artist had done for my husband. The more elaborate art, the iconography on his forearms, the onion domed churches topped with steeples and crosses that took up his entire back, those were definitely Tomi's work. There was also the pair of interlocking Orthodox wedding crowns and our names that Nikolai had hired the man to ink over his heart on Valentine's Day.

Some of the tattoos, the faded ones with blue and green tints, had been done during his stints in some of Russia's worst prisons, back when Nikolai was younger and restless and prone to risky decisions. They were simpler pieces—numbers and letters, shields and crosses, spiders and daggers—that held secret meanings. Each tattoo told part of Nikolai's history with Maksim Prokhorov's criminal family.

With his father's crime family
, I silently added. That was a secret we hadn't told anyone. Only Yuri, our priest, the parish deacon and my father knew the truth about Nikolai's father's identity. We intended to keep it that way. There was nothing but danger that would come from letting that fact become more widely known. It was best for everyone to think that Nikolai was simply Maksim's chosen man in Houston.

My thoughts turned to the massive cross in the center of his chest and the stars just under his shoulder blades. He had two matching stars on his knees. They were tattoos that very few men in the life earned. I didn't know whether he had gotten them before or after he had earned his position as the
pakhan
, the boss, of Houston. It wasn't a question I dared ask or one he would likely answer. There were lines I didn’t cross in our marriage and that was one of them.

I didn't like it, but that was the bargain I had made when I had agreed to marry him. We weren't like our friends. He wasn't going to tell me everything, and I had to find a way to be okay with that. I hadn't yet discovered how I was supposed to do that, but I prayed that someday I would figure it out. I hated not knowing what was happening. I hated the nights when I stared at the ceiling waiting for him to come home, all the while knowing that I couldn't ask him where he had been or what he had been doing.

I worried that someday all that secrecy was going to tear us apart. Marriages were supposed to be built on truth, but our foundation had some serious holes in it. One good gust of wind—and the walls of our house might crumble in on us.

"
Solnyshka
?" Nikolai's concerned voice interrupted my thoughts. He didn't even seem to feel the needles buzzing along his skin as Tomi worked the vibrating tattoo gun back and forth. Brow furrowed, he gazed at me with worry. "Do I need to call in Artyom?"

I shook my head and offered a sweet smile. "I'm fine. It's been a long day."

He didn't seem totally convinced but let it go. Feeling steadier, I gripped the can of soda and stood. I pulled his tuxedo jacket tighter around my shoulders and enjoyed the familiar, comforting scent of him that curled around me. While the crown tattoo took shape on Nikolai's skin, I perused the framed art decorating Tomi's walls. His tattoo style leaned more toward the traditional end of the spectrum, but the ink and pencil drawings with vivid swaths of color that he had proudly hung on his walls convinced me he had been classically trained in the fine arts.