Put together, it’s a campaign.
Little whispers in Russian slip out of him between conversations. He throws a comment in Niko’s direction, then mutters something else just loud enough for me to hear as he brings his glass to his mouth.
“Tak napryazhenno,”So tense,he purrs, his lips barely moving, and my stomach drops. “Mnogo mysley v etoy golove, da?”There are a lot of thoughts in that head, yes?He’s doing it on purpose, he has to be. No one uses that tone by accident. What he’s saying doesn't even matter.
God, I wish I knew Russian.
I try to ignore it and focus on the cards, on the pattern, on the game, on anything that isn’t his damn mouth and the curl of those syllables wrapping around my spine.
It works for about thirty seconds.
The hand ends, I lose again, and Niko laughs at me. The sound of it would have made me blush a week ago. Now it just makes my chest tighten with something like affection and grief shoved together. “Another?” Niko asks, gesturing to the deck.
“I’m in,” Mason says.
“In,” one of the Russians adds in accented English, grinning.
I should say yes, sit here and sink another couple of hours into pretending I haven’t got electricity under my skin. “I’m out. I’ve got enough of a headache already.”
“Are you okay?” Niko asks, frowning.
“Fine,” I lie. “I just need some air.”
Ari’s gaze flicks sideways at me. “Air?” he repeats.
“I’m going outside,” I say, pushing my chair back. “I’ll be back in ten.”
Mason squints. “You want—”
“No,” I cut in. “Stay. Win my money back from these lot, yeah?” He shrugs and lets me go. Niko watches me leave and looks at me like he’s trying to decide if he should follow. He doesn’t get the chance because I’m already moving to the door. “Don’t cheat while I’m gone,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Learn to play better,” Niko shoots back, his laughter following me out of the door.
The corridor is a slap of cold and quiet, and I head toward the back of the building, away from the bunks, the warmth and the noise.
I don’t go outside; it’s too exposed out there, with too many eyes even in the dark. Instead, I cut left, down a side corridor, and toward the equipment sheds. They’re not exactly private, but they’re less public, and that’s enough for me.
I find one that I know is kept unlocked, and the handle gives under my hand. Inside, it’s dark and cold, and I step in,shutting the door behind me, letting my head fall back against it with a soft thunk.
I exhale slowly, curling my hands into fists until my knuckles ache. “Get a grip,” I mutter. “He’s just a bloke. A deeply irritating, beautiful bloke who can break you in half and knows it, but still just a bloke.” Saying it out loud doesn’t help.
I scrub a hand over my face, resisting the urge to actually smack myself. The movement drags my shirt up enough that cold air licks my stomach, and I shiver.
Then the door shifts against my back.
I go still, my breath locking in my throat. The hinges creak, light slices in for a second as the door swings open, then narrows again when a body slips through and the door clicks shut. I don’t need to see him; my whole nervous system identifies him before my eyes do.
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss. “Do you not know how to leave people alone?” Ari’s silhouette resolves in the gloom as my eyes adjust, the little bit of light from the vents outlining him in the dark.
“Not really, no,” he says calmly. “You left the room abruptly. That’s suspicious.”
“And you touching me every thirty seconds isn’t?” I snap.
“Was I?” he asks, and I hate that my insides respond to the sound of his voice. He takes a few steps closer, and the shed suddenly feels a lot smaller. I back up, and my back hits a metal shelving unit, sending a muffled clank through the space.
“Go away, Arseny,” I say. “I came out here to be alone.” He ignores that completely.
“What’s wrong, detka?” he asks, his voice dropping into that lower register that slides under my skin. “Too much noise? Too many people? Too much me?”
