Page 101 of Nemesis

“It feels like control,” he says, responding to my question. “And after spending many years of my childhood without that privilege, I hold it in the highest regard.”

I stare right into those bright blue eyes. I’ve been lost in the haze of jealousy many times throughout my life, but never has it felt quite like this. I’d never take his control for myself, no matter how tempting it would be.

I look down at the grass, but his knuckles nudge my chin back up. “People like you and me will never be completely satiated by sustenance and love. We need that control like the air we breathe, and that’s okay.”

I don’t allow my vision to blur, even though the tears are locked and loaded. The small act of defiance proves even more challenging when Vasiliy drops to his knees before me. My hands immediately find his shoulders.

“I don’t think…” I clear my throat, glancing around to make sure the courtyard is empty. “I don’t think I’m allowed to have any control here.”

His hands slide around the backs of my thighs, unconcerned with the possibility that someone may see him kneeling before me from the compound windows. “If no one will offer it, you’ll have to carve it out for yourself.”

“Is that what you did?”

His eyes flicker. “It’s what I tried to do. I never quite managed to crawl out from beneath their thumbs.” His throat clears. “But it’s not always an all-or-nothing mentality. Little wins can sustain you more than you’d think.”

“Little wins,” I repeat, considering.

His lips tilt, smile turning conspiratorial. “If you could do anything you wanted to me, what would you do?”

“That’s a dangerous opening.”

He shrugs. “An opening I’d only offer to you, of course.”

My chest warms. Only for me.

He’s not a man, I decide, gazing down at the creature happily dirtying his knees in the damp soil just so I can have a taste of true power. At least, not a man like any of the others I’ve met in this life. He must be an alien.

“Well? What will it be?” he presses, tugging me closer with his grip on my thighs. The wind ruffles my sweaty hair, drying my neck.

“Have you ever had your nails painted?”

His pink and black nails are still drying when I leave to go school my father on his own chessboard.

An adorable growl pierces the air as another shot goes wide, just barely missing the target in the distance.

“This is a misogynistic target,” Octavia announces to the small indoor booth. Then she smacks the button on the wall, and the levers creak as the unmarred platform swings forward.

“You can do better than that.” I lean against the wall with amusement. She’s actually gotten quite good at target practice. I would never admit it out loud, but that cousin of hers is a good teacher. Not as good as me, obviously.

“I know that,” she snaps, huffing a breath as she reloads her chamber.

“I think you are improving very quickly, Ms. Siderov.”

My body goes rigid at the words.

“Thanks, Dmitri,” Octavia responds in a tone that’s way too nice for my liking. Especially after the fight night incident. I stand up straight from my slunk position and turn, squaring up with the little soldier.

“Aren’t you supposed to be guarding from a distance?” I ask, taking deep pleasure in the fact that I have to look down to meet the little shit-weasel in his eyes.

The boy’s been following Octavia around with pathetic heart eyes for weeks, but it’s gotten worse after I doled out his punishment for touching her that night. In fact, I’ve nearly killed him for the offense several times. It’s amazing that some people just go about their lives, not knowing how close they are to their own demise.

“I don’t answer to you. My assignment is limited to keeping Ms. Siderov safe, and that’s precisely what I’m doing.” He narrows his gaze, injecting vitriol he never lets Octavia see.

One suicidal fuck, that’s what he is.

“I’ve been keeping Ms. Clarke safe since before your balls dropped.”

“Vas,” Octavia protests behind me.