31. Sam

“Nik,” I breathe, my fingers tightening on the door handle, my knees threatening to give out beneath me. His name falls from my lips like a prayer, a plea, a desperate attempt to make sense of the impossible sight before me.

“Sam,” he whispers back, ocean eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath. He licks his lower lip, a nervous gesture that sends a shiver down my spine, and I find myself drinking in every detail of his face, from the chiseled line of his jaw to the perfect slope of his nose. And gods, that scent—that glorious, intoxicating cologne that clings to his skin, making my head spin and my heart race.

His hair is longer now, falling in tousled waves that beg for my fingers to run through them. It suits him, this new look—a little wild, a little untamed, like the man himself.

But then reality comes crashing back in, the shock of his presence hitting me like a punch to the gut. What is he doing here, at my house, with my brothers just a few rooms away?

Panic claws at my throat, my eyes widening as I hiss out a warning. “You can’t be here!”

But Nik doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. Instead, he presses his hand against the door, pushing it open with a slow, deliberate motion that brooks no argument.

He’s not leaving. And gods help me, I don’t want him to.

I cling to the door, my throat going dry as he steps inside, his presence filling the hallway like a physical thing. “Nik?” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. “What are you doing?”

He stops in the middle of the hall, turning to face me with a look that steals the air from my lungs. “Where is your brother?” he asks softly, his tone low and intimate, meant for my ears alone.

“M-My brother?” I stammer, my mind reeling. “My brothers are in the parlor.” Gods, Nik, take a hint! Run, before it’s too late!

But he doesn’t run. Instead, he nods, his eyebrows lifting slightly, his eyes filled with a longing so pure and undisguised it makes my heart ache. He purses his lips, and that dimple, that sinful little divot in his left cheek, winks at me, tempting me to lean in and press my mouth against it.

Focus, Samara! Nik is here, in your home, with both of your brothers just a few steps away. Is he mad? Does he have a death wish?

But as he takes a step forward, his gaze never leaving mine, I find myself moving with him, my arm lifting of its own accord to point down the hallway. He bows his head in silent acknowledgment, falling into step beside me as we make our way towards the parlor.

I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I’m going along with his insanity. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it, the blood rushing in my ears like a roaring tide.

As we reach the doorway, my breath catches in my throat, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I think I might faint, or throw up, or both.

“Sam?” Vlad’s voice cuts through the haze, his tone laden with concern as he rises from the couch. “Are you unwell?”

But then his eyes land on Nik, and his expression morphs into one of pure, unadulterated fury. Gavriil must have told him about what happened, about the forbidden bond between Nik and me—but Vlad, sweet, kind Vlad, would never bring it up, not if it meant causing me pain.

The silence stretches, heavy and oppressive, until Gavriil finally looks up, his gaze drawn by the tension in the room. And when he sees Nik standing there, his face flushes with rage, his features hardening into a mask of barely contained violence.

“What are you doing here?” he roars, surging to his feet and crossing the room in three long strides, until he’s standing toe-to-toe with Nik, their faces mere inches apart.

But Nik doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. He meets Gavriil’s glare head-on, his resolve unwavering in the face of my brother’s wrath. “I’d like to speak with you,” he says, his voice calm and even, betraying none of the turmoil that must be raging inside him—if there is any.

Gavriil starts, his eyes widening in surprise, as if he’s just realized something. He growls, a sound of pure frustration, and heaves a sigh that seems to come from the very depths of his soul. “Given recent events, I fear I’m forced to hear whatever you have to say,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

And then he does something that leaves me speechless, something I never thought I’d see in a million years.

Gavriil, the mighty Ursa King, steps aside, allowing Nik to enter the parlor.

I stand there in the hallway, my mind reeling, my wrist aching from the force of my own grip. What is happening? What could Nik possibly have to say that would make Gavriil listen, that would earn him an audience with the man who hates him more than anyone else in the world?

“Sam,” Nik says, his voice cutting through the chaos of my thoughts. “You should come too.”

I blink, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But somehow, I manage to nod, my feet carrying me into the room as if of their own accord.

Gavriil drags the sofa in front of the fireplace, his movements sharp and angry, while Vlad pulls an armchair up beside him. And then there’s just the couch left, the only spot big enough for two.

For Nik and me.

We sit, the heat of his body seeping into mine, and I feel like I’m going to combust, like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces from the sheer intensity of the moment.

“Your brother stepped down as head of the family, I hear,” Gavriil begins, his voice deceptively calm, a silken threat hidden beneath the veneer of civility.

“He did,” Nik confirms, his posture relaxed, his demeanor unruffled. I envy his composure, the way he seems to take everything in stride, even as my nerves are stretched tight as a bowstring.

“A smart choice,” Gavriil says, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. “Bram’s not cut out for it. Never will be.” He pauses, fiddling with his cufflinks in a gesture that’s as much a power play as it is a nervous tic. “And will you do a better job at it, I wonder?”

Nik’s lips curve in the ghost of a smile, his eyes glinting with a newfound confidence that sends a shiver down my spine. “I’ll try,” he says simply, and in that moment, I believe him. I believe that he’ll move heaven and earth to be the leader his people need, to bring honor and glory back to the Draken name.

Vlad’s gaze darts between Nik and me, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. But he says nothing, deferring to Gavriil’s authority as always. In the end, the crown trumps all.

“Have you come here to threaten me?” Gavriil asks bluntly, cutting through the pretense and the posturing to get to the heart of the matter.

“No,” Nik replies, his voice quiet but firm. “I came here to settle our grudges once and for all.”

My brothers exchange a look of surprise and amusement, their eyebrows climbing towards their hairlines in perfect unison.

“Huh,” Vlad says, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Indeed, you are na?ve.”

But Nik just leans forward, steepling his fingers in a gesture of calm deliberation. “I will put a stop to any violence from my clan to yours,” he declares, his words ringing with the weight of a vow. “And I assure you, any disruptions to my law will be severely punished.”

Gavriil shoots him a look of pure incredulity, his eyes narrowing to slits. “You’ll burn them, perhaps?” he asks, his tone as dry as the Sahara.

“Maybe,” Nik concedes, matching my brother’s sarcasm with a cool nonchalance that makes my heart swell with pride. “Can I expect the same assurance from you, Ursa King?”

Gavriil raises his chin, studying Nik with a new intensity, a begrudging fascination that borders on respect. And I sit there, my mind whirling, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in the room, the way the tide seems to be turning before my very eyes.

Why am I even here?I wonder, my presence feeling more and more superfluous by the second. This is politics, the dance of power and alliances that I’ve never been a part of, never had a say in.

“Will you challenge my claim to the Deveraux Witch?” Gavriil asks, his voice carefully neutral, betraying none of the emotion that must be churning beneath the surface.

“I will not,” Nik replies, and I feel a rush of relief so strong it makes me dizzy. At least there will be peace between our families, a truce that’s been a long time coming.

“Then we have an agreement.” Gavriil rises from his seat, his hands smoothing over the arms of the sofa in a gesture of finality. The meeting is over, and with it, the tenuous courtesy he’s extended to Nik.

I heave a sigh, pushing myself to my feet, ready to show Nik out and try to salvage what’s left of my dignity. But then he speaks again, his words freezing me in place like a deer caught in headlights.

“There’s something else,” he says, his tone even, almost casual, as if he’s not about to drop a bombshell that will change everything.

“Oh?” Gavriil cocks his head, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I would like your permission to date Samara,” Nik continues, and my heart stops beating, my breath catching in my throat as the world seems to tilt on its axis.

Did he really just say that? Am I dreaming, or have I finally lost my mind?

But no, it’s real, it’s happening, and the look on Gavriil’s face is one of pure, unadulterated shock.

“You—what?” Vlad sputters, his composure cracking like a pane of glass.

“No,” Gavriil snaps, his voice harsh and unyielding.

But Nik doesn’t back down, doesn’t falter. “I love her,” he says simply, his eyes finding mine, holding me captive with the depth of emotion I see there. “And I believe she feels the same way.”

Gavriil flinches as if he’s been slapped, his gaze darting to me, searching my face for confirmation, for denial, for something. “Samara?” he asks, his voice strained, almost pleading.

And I nod, a tiny, barely perceptible movement that feels like the greatest act of defiance I’ve ever committed. Because it’s true, it’s always been true, and I’m done hiding it, done pretending that my heart doesn’t beat for Nik and Nik alone.

“Gavriil,” Vlad hisses, his tone a warning, a reminder of the line we’re crossing, the taboo we’re shattering.

But my brother just takes a hand to his brow, his fingers massaging the tension there. “I know, Volodya,” he mutters, his voice rough with resignation. “I know.” He looks away, his hand sliding down to cover his mouth, a telltale sign that he’s holding back, that he’s fighting the urge to speak his mind.

And then he’s turning back to Nik, his eyes hard and unyielding. “You’re a fucking dragon,” he says, his tone dripping with venom. “Do I even have a say in this?”

Nik tilts his head, a shrug rippling through his broad shoulders. And I know, in that moment, that he’s won. That Gavriil, for all his bluster and bravado, is no match for the force of nature that is Nikolaas Draken.

“Yes, you may date,” my brother grits out, the words like broken glass in his mouth. “You’re bound to split up, anyway. Love never lasts.”

But I barely hear him, barely register the bitterness in his voice. Because Nik is rising to his feet, his hand finding mine, his fingers lacing through my own like they were made to fit there.

“Thank you,” I breathe, my heart soaring as I cling to his arm, my fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

Gavriil sneers, waving a dismissive hand in our direction. “Please,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Spare me the PDA.”

Nik frowns, confusion and uncertainty flickering across his face. “The PDA?” he murmurs, glancing down at me for clarification.

I feel my cheeks heat, a blush staining my skin as I bite my lip to keep from grinning like a fool. “Public display of... affection,” I explain, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I see.” Nik nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I thought I could take her on a date.” He turns to me, ocean eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

“That sounds fun,” I blurt out, my heart racing at the thought of spending time with him, of being able to show the world that we’re together, that we belong to each other in every way that matters.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gavriil mutters, already walking away, his shoulders tense and his jaw clenched. “Do whatever you want.”

Vlad follows close behind, but not before shooting me a look that’s equal parts warning and concern. I know he’s worried about me, about the path I’ve chosen, but I also know that he’ll support me, no matter what. Because that’s what family does.

And then it’s just Nik and me, alone in the parlor, the air thick with the weight of everything that’s just happened. He takes my hands in his, his thumb stroking across my knuckles in a gesture that’s so tender, so achingly sweet, that I feel like I might cry.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate. “Will you come with me?”

“Yes,” I breathe, the word tumbling from my lips without a second thought. Because there’s nothing in this world that I want more than to be with him, to follow him wherever he leads, to build a life together that’s filled with love and laughter and endless possibility.

My fingers tighten around his. A silent promise, a vow that needs no words. And as we walk out of the room, out of the house that’s been my prison for so long, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders, a sense of freedom and joy that I’ve never known before.

Because I’m with Nik. My dragon, my love.