Chapter Thirty-Three:
Speaking in Tongues (part A)

Rain had started beating against the tinted glass of the Penthouse master bedroom, when Robin entered in stocking feet, her husband trailing behind her. She was tired -- still jet-lagged -- and this whole night hadn't done much to infuse her with energy. There was still tension between her Uncle Mac and Jason (which both parties handled by saying as little as possible), Felicia was distracted and high strung about something, and then...

Well, then there was Carly. As there is, was and always shall be. If the woman hadn't been at the restaurant first, Robin would have suspected they'd been followed. The fact that she'd been there with Nikolas was just icing. At this point, she didn't think Carly could surprise her.

Ha.

Ok, so she hadn't know exactly what to make of Carly being with Nikolas. And no, it hadn't looked particularly platonic. But Nikolas was a smart guy, and he had notoriously little patience for dishonesty and...

Married? MARRIED? Unconsciously Robin paused in the midst of removing her jewelry and shook her head at her reflection in the mirror.

"You're thinking about Nikolas and Carly."

Robin caught her husband's eye in the mirror and laughed slightly. "Aren't you?"

Jason was watching her from the window, leaning one shoulder on the wall. "Not much to think about."

"I knew you'd say that," she murmured as she dumped her earrings into a dish on top of her dresser. "You have to have some kind of opinion, Jason."

After a moment. "I wouldn't have guessed he was someone she'd go for."

"No." Robin undid the clasp on her watch. "No, neither would I." She started to pull the pins that held her shoulder-length hair up. She shook her hair out, then lifted it up, exposing her neck. "Unzip me?"

Jason moved slowly from the wall, like a predator, and Robin smiled to herself as he reached her, and made study of her back. She let out a sigh. "Are you worried about her?"

He lightly ran his fingertips along her neck, towards the back of her dress.

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Carly."

Jason's fingers closed around the tab on her zipper. "Cassadines usually want something."

Robin shook her head. "Nikolas isn't a typical Cassadine."

"We'll see," was the last thing he said before undressing her.

Stefan had seen the light in his study glowing as he'd ascended through the storm up the steps to Wyndemere, so he was not surprised to find the door ajar when he reached it, or to see the crackling fire invading the shadows on the wall. He was, however, unprepared for the sight of his sister, leaning against his desk with her arms crossed, and wearing an expression designed to drag all appearance of warmth from the room.

"You've heard," Stefan observed, forgoing all pleasantries.

"Oh, and you'll never guess where," Alexis stared hard at the books that lined the opposite wall. She'd been waiting here for him for nearly an hour, unable to stay in her apartment a moment longer. There was only so much pacing one could do before giving serious consideration to the cost of carpet replacement.

"Spencer," Stefan pushed the study door shut, none too gently.

"Ned."

Stefan paused, taking in that piece of information and filing it in it's appropriate place.

"I see."

"Makes me look a little pathetic," Alexis bit off the words as she spoke, but didn't bother to conceal the hurt. "My ex-husband calling to give me a heads-up on what's going on in my own family." She snapped her head around to face him. "Everything I did yesterday, and you didn't think I rated a phone call?"

"I've been preoccupied."

"Bullshit!" Alexis pushed herself off the desk and strode across the room to him. "You've been trying to manage the situation and you didn't want anyone else's opinions about the length of Nikolas's leash!"

The corners of Stefan's mouth twitched dangerously. "I don't have the inclination or the patience to attend to your bruised feelings, Alexis." Stefan's voice was gruff with uncharacteristic emotion. "You abandoned your post with this family long ago, lest you forget."

"I was pushed out!" Alexis exploded. She wasn't giving him an inch. "You EXPELLED me!"

"Due to betrayal!" Stefan pushed past her, moving to his desk. "Due to lies and deception."

Alexis laughed bitterly, pivoting on her heel to follow him. "Due to my overzealous attempts to protect you. From a gold-digging witch and your own bad judgment!"

"Don't you DARE bring..." Stefan spun around instantly, finding Alexis closer to him than expected. He bit back the words, struggling visibly a moment, before turning away from her again. "Ties have been renewed, Alexis, but this is hardly the time to come seeking further concessions on my part."

"I don't need your concessions to worry about my brother!" she spit at him. Despite the venom in her voice, the words silenced his next attack, and Stefan stopped to study her. He looked, suddenly, years older. Tired. Sad. Alexis's mouth tightened. "This is killing you, isn't it?"

He sank into his chair, giving up all effort to appear stoic. Alexis took a step forward. The anger fled from her face and was replaced with worry. She stood, uncertain of where to go next, waiting for some sign from him. She could read him better than anyone else on this planet, but part of her knew that was because he let her. In his small and silent ways.

"I'm losing him, Alexis."

Alexis pressed her lips together. She was battling with herself. Her rage at being shut out of this family crisis warring with her basic love and concern for the people involved. She couldn't have felt more conflicted. Having not even spoken to Nikolas, she could feel some element of rebellion being exorcised here. Felt, in brief moments, impressed by it. On the other hand...

She was on her knees on the oriental carpet without any warning, her face turned up to his, her hand pressed against her brother's bearded cheek.

"There is no way on this earth," she left no room for argument. "Two things you always have, Stefan. Nikolas and me. No matter how infuriating we find you, you have a part of us for life."

Stefan closed his eyes a moment, looking as near defeat as Alexis had ever seen him. "I can't reach him," he murmured. "In many ways he's never pulled himself this far from me. Even when..." his voice trailed off.

"Do you know why he's done this?"

Stefan shook his head. "She has him utterly captivated. I'm reduced to an obstacle on the path. And he has no interest in hearing any words of reason. He's suspicious of every move I make." He drew in a breath. "I know that the marriage was his idea. I suspect it was largely to impede the inevitable opposition to the coupling."

Alexis drew back. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, her brow furrowed. Stefan eyed her warily.

"You have something to say?"

"I was just thinking..." she gave a wry smile. "That's the most Cassadine-like thing I can remember him doing."

Stefan made a sound that was dangerously close to a grunt. "He's hostile to reason."

"Your reason."

Stefan's eyes raised to meet hers. "You have your own theories, then."

"I think he saw what he wanted and he took it," Alexis stretched out her neck as she considered this. "Which is, in some ways, the Nikolas I remember from two years ago." She glanced quickly at Stefan, but he gave nothing away. "Yes, some part of me finds that encouraging. Comforting even. But."

"But."

"She's a Spencer," she exhaled. "More than that, she's the Black Sheep of the Spencer family. That takes some doing."

"You at least permit me my concern, then."

"Your concern, always." Alexis drew herself up. "But this is Nikolas's battle."

Stefan raised a hand, batting the words away as if they had taken on a physical manifestation. "This is his life. There is no alternative but --"

"To manage this," Alexis groaned, grabbing the edge of the desk and pulling herself to her feet. "To do as much damage control as you can and seamlessly remove all threats to Nikolas's honor, reputation and future. Am I close?"

His eyes darkened. "You think I've overstepped my bounds with Nikolas. Repeatedly."

"Stefan," Alexis sighed, "All I care about it helping to hold together the shards of my family -- preferably with me in it. You and Nikolas can't go off self-destructing, your grip on the family is tenuous enough as it is. Surprise Prince after a twenty-year avocation, and without heir at that! I know you intend for Nikolas to lead the family after you're gone, but if that's going to happen we all know there can't be any cracks." She shook her head firmly. "I'll always support strength for the Cassadine family. You know that."

Stefan sat up, pulling away from his sister and self-consciously straightening the line of his jacket. "What are you offering, Alexis?"

She sat down on the edge of the desk, fixing her eyes on him. "I want in," she said simply. She was accepting an invitation they both knew was lying on the table. "We've put off the inevitable ever since the truth about Nikolas came out. The Cassadines need to be reinvented, and apparently they're going to have to be reinvented with Carly -- in person or in concept -- among them."

"My first concern is Nikolas."

"Exactly!" she leaned forward. "When Nikolas was Prince your first concern was always the health of the family. Because that WAS Nikolas. It was his future. Now it's your present, and --"

"You question how I run things?" The way he said it, it was clear he didn't believe her to be that stupid. Alexis shook her head impatiently.

"Stefan, you take better care of your son than you've ever taken of yourself and we both know it. You resent this family and you resent being made it's Prince. Regent was always far more your speed."

Stefan stood without warning and moved across the room, propelled by something Alexis could only guess at. He stopped by the side table, and placed both hands on it, holding it tightly, his shoulders hunched, before pulling in a shuddering breath and turning back to Alexis.

"I look around this room tonight, and I see a family in ruins." Stefan's eyes trailed the room, moving over statues, leather-bound books, paintings... all symbols of the name. "Our history, our lineage, our mythology... Meaningless. When Nikolas was The Prince, I saw a point to it. Now..."

"It's yours," Alexis turned on the desk to face him. "And you never wanted it."

Stefan picked up a glass off the table side table and filled it with water. He took a careful sip before responding to his sister. "I do not want to see my son an outcast. I do not want the circumstances of his conception to brand him for life."

"And they won't," Alexis stood up. "We've spoken of this before, Stefan. If we move the family into the Twenty-first Century, if Nikolas proves himself -- he will lead this family as if he was the prince, simply because he will be the man for the job. Genes aside, he was raised to it. It's still his destiny."

"He can't continue on this way!" Stefan set his glass of water down on the side table with such force that it splashed over his fingers. "This quiet self-loathing, this rejection of everything he WAS as if the mere fact that he is not the son of my brother changes what he was all along. And now... Now THIS! I ask you, if this isn't about his desire for self-destruction, then what is it?"

Alexis folded her arms across her chest. "There's not a chance he might love her, is there?"

Her brother deflated visibly. "He's feverish with love for her." He pushed his hair back from his face in a restless gesture. Not a hair had been out of place. "I saw it in his eyes when he first told me. He tries to hide it from me now, but it's in every move he makes when she is in his sight. It's as if he sees nothing but her. Nothing beyond the next touch."

She winced. "So this is bad."

"This is very bad."

"She..." she searched for words. "She hasn't gotten into any ... serious trouble. Lately."

Stefan crossed to the desk, lifted up a folder and let it fall without ceremony in front of Alexis before dropping back into his chair. He looked at her expectantly.

"What's this?"

"A Short History of Caroline Benson," Stefan leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I had an extensive dossier complied on her and her behaviors when I was married to Barbara. At some point I assumed it would be of use. Though I never dreamed for this reason."

Alexis picked up the folder gingerly. "This looks rather... compact."

"It's an overview," Stefan said softly. "What was known, and what I failed to follow after my union with Barbara was dissolved."

She nodded, opening the folder. "I assume it paints a picture."

"In the end, Alexis," Stefan's voice was grim, "her family, past indiscretions, and complete unsuitability as the wife of a Cassadine is immaterial."

Alexis was scanning the contents of the file, nodding to the half-heard words as he spoke. So far, there were no great surprises here. Adopted in Florida by Virginia and Frank Benson. Father left when she was still a little girl. Rocky relationship with her mother. Alexis was slightly surprised to see that she was listed as being a disruptive but gifted student. Prone to talking out of turn.

"This is all close to common knowledge now..." Alexis looked up at Stefan blankly. "This is immaterial?"

"Turn to the last page."

Alexis obeyed, and quietly ran her eyes over the report with the practice of someone who routinely searched documents for pertinent information. "She's always...." her voice trailed off. "Oh." Alexis pulled in her breath. "Oh."

"You see it, then."

She shook her head. "I knew... I knew all this. But I don't think ..." She shook her head. "It's different to see it all laid out like that."

"Yes," he enunciated the single syllable.

Alexis shook off a chill creeping into her bones. "How did you know about AJ?"

"He gave a deposition that wasn't allowed into the court. It's sealed, but it had the facts as he could best recall them."

"Ah," Alexis nodded. Nothing in Stefan's world was ever truly sealed. Even if it had been, she'd been married to Ned for at least some details of this travesty. A little about AJ's dealings with Carly and how underhanded things had gotten. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and reached for the only straw within her grasp. "Any chance that she feels anything for Nikolas?"

"Every chance," Stefan spoke matter-of-factly. "I was uncertain until this evening, but after dinner, I have to admit... She is like her mother. There is the same desire for affection, for love and acceptance. She is attached to him at the very least, and it may very well run deeper than that, given time."

"So..."

"She loved Jason Morgan by all accounts," Stefan straightened up in his chair. "AJ Quartermaine, I believe, considered himself a close friend. And Tony Jones... If her antics in the name of keeping him by her side are any indication --"

Alexis let the report slip from her hands, falling back onto the desk. "You don't want her to love him."

"A gold-digger would be far easier to rid ourselves of. And far less dangerous to Nikolas."

Looking at the page in front of her, Alexis had to agree. Three known lovers in Port Charles, the report said. One shot in open court, one drugged and dumped in an alley, and the other physically attacked in a crowded restaurant. Combine that with the fact that these events were often followed by stays in psychiatric institutions... And the picture became considerably darker. Reserve judgment, she told herself. But her body shivered, anyway.

"What do we do?" she asked the question as if prepared to follow whatever outline Stefan laid out. He responded by leaning forward, his eyes glinting slightly in the light from the fire.

"We bring them where I can keep a closer eye on her, and we decide if the situation can be salvaged."

"How do you suppose we do that?"

"I've laid the groundwork, I expect they'll move into the Guest House by the end of the week."

Alexis blinked. "I feel tempted to take that bet."

"I pointed out a few truths of their current circumstance at dinner. Carly was receptive to the idea that Nikolas will require her to join the family -- surprisingly so, though that may have more to do with her desire to outmatch Robin Scorpio than anything else." Stefan let out a slow breath. "Nikolas was shaken by the suggestion that my mother might object to the union."

"But you're holding Helena in a defacto prison off Cyprus."

Stefan said nothing.

"Nikolas doesn't know that, does he?"

Sitting back in his chair, Stefan's face took on a drawn and fatigued pallor. "I will do what I have to do to make this into something Nikolas will not regret. Nothing else matters."

The tinfoil swan was a little worse for wear when Carly and Nikolas reached the Zephyr. Carly had been nervously fiddling with it's beak in the car, and the rain was coming down hard when they'd reached the marina. By the time made it to the safe haven of the galley, the bird was dented, had a ripped wing and it's neck was bent in half. Carly felt sharp tears come to her eyes as she laughed at the sight of it when Nikolas flipped on the pot lights that illuminated the rear of the cabin. Yeah, she thought, tossing the leftovers on the counter. I know how you feel.

"You can put that in the fridge," Nikolas said, distractedly, from behind her. Carly picked up the creature by the hindquarters.

"I think I missed that on the grand tour."

"Over there," he pointed, without looking directly at her. Carly moved to a small brown bar fridge hiding in the far corner, under the counter. She looked down at the pathetic package in her hand and smirked.

"Should we say some words first?"

Nikolas didn't answer. It was remarkable, the more distance he got between himself and that meeting at the Continental, how little he had to say. He knew, despite separate returns to the table, that Carly and his father had discussed something -- and then watched all subjects be expertly mutated into the being in his father's grasp. Any grip he had on this situation had slipped away. The Helena Card was designed to mess with his mind -- Stefan didn't have to do anything more than lay it on the table. Over coffee (Coffee! He got talked into that HOW, exactly?) his father had finally lowered the boom. He wasn't, as it turned out, naive enough to suggest Nikolas return to his rooms at Wyndemere. Instead, he brought up the Guest House. The former-cottage had been overhauled the previous year -- at least partially, Nikolas presumed, to exorcise That Woman. It stood mostly empty, a little out of place, and just waiting for it's purpose to reveal itself.

If he hadn't known better, he'd think his father had anticipated this turn of events. Check that -- he did know better. At some point, his father must have realized he'd have to go to greater lengths to keep Nikolas on the island. That was what the renovation was really about. He'd somehow managed to play into a hand Stefan had already built.

If all of that wasn't enough -- he had Ghost of Boyfriends Past to deal with. Jason Morgan, staring steadily across the restaurant, wearing that look. That look wasn't going to leave him any time soon. His eyes fixed on Carly like he owned her. Like she was still his. Married and making a life with another woman, and he still had Carly on some kind of hook. Nikolas couldn't stand the thought. It stirred every primeval inclination he had. She was HIS wife. His lover. And no one got to look at her like that.

Try to keep your wits about you on the topic of living arrangements when you have that shit going through your head.

"What's this?" Carly stood up holding a drooping and rather traumatized flower in her hand.

"It's a dead rose."

"Really," she turned to face him. "Why's it in the fridge."

"So it wouldn't die," Nikolas exhaled, sitting down on the steps at the far end of the galley.

"Good plan."

"It was in there longer than it was supposed to be." he pulled impatiently at the laces on his dress shoes. Amazing how wet his feet had managed to get coming from the parking lot to the boat. On Spoon Island the staff always had raincoats, umbrellas, on hand. Left to his own devices, Nikolas always managed to end up a drowned rat. Carly was in the same boat, her dress clinging to her in some very distracting ways. "There are towels in the head, if you want to dry off."

Carly shook her head dismissively, scattering little drops of water across the counter top. "You know what I hate about flowers?"

Nikolas raised his head and looked at her expectantly. He didn't trust himself to speak. He was feeling incredibly hostile, and while she hadn't done anything to provoke it, she was the person who was there. He wasn't sure how far he'd make it if she started pushing him.

Carly cocked her head to one side, examining the flower. She knew what this was. Something he'd brought that first night, part of the push to make her swoon. To make her forget reason and fall for him. She fought against the bitter smile trying to take up residence on her lips.

"Someone gives you flowers like it's this incredible achievement on their part. Then you take them home, you put them in water, and you get to watch them wither and die." She tossed the rose towards the sink like so much garbage. "They're like great big smelly metaphors."

Nikolas kicked off his shoes, glaring down at the tile floor. Tile he'd lay on the day before with her naked in his arms. An Analogy-free Zone.

"It's not meant to be a metaphor."

"Flowers are always a metaphor."

She was looking at him, inviting an objection. She wanted a fight. He wondered if she had any idea how close she was to getting one.

"Are you going to tell me what he said?" Nikolas's voice was taking on an edge. It was the third time he'd asked her about his father. Carly had been ignoring it. This time, she twisted her mouth before shrugging.

"What makes you think it was important?"

"Carly."

"I'm tired," she announced, turning her back on him, and walking with a well-practiced sway of her hips, out of the galley.

"Dermo," Nikolas swore under his breath, as she moved through the sliding door that separated their sleeping quarters from the rest of the cabin. He stood up to follow her, and promptly sat right back down again to prevent himself from slipping on the hard tile, due to wet socks. In the distance, thunder rumbled, indicating an approaching storm in addition to the already heavy rain.

Great. Just great. This, he thought, pulling off his socks, is the official end of my rope. He tossed the garments aside and angrily kicked his shoes out of his path as he stood up. He strode across the cabin, throwing the sliding door open with so much force it attempted to bounce back and close again, instead hitting him in the shoulder as he moved through it. Carly was standing with her back against he wall and her arms crossed over her chest, looking absolutely furious.

Something in that look... in the hurt, the anger, the way it mirrored what he was feeling so completely, that just turned something over in him. Nikolas moved across the room towards her with determination, and when she moved, coming away from the wall, Nikolas pushed her right back again. His mouth came down on hers hard -- covering it. Owning it. He swallowed her gasp, and anything that might have followed it, parting her lips and invading the warmth of her mouth with his tongue. His kiss was a mixture of desperation and desire. He just wanted and wanted and wanted. As her lips and tongue fought with his, he struggled between the two sides of his ache for her. The need to have and the need to be had. He couldn't bring himself to pull back until the lack of oxygen made him so lightheaded he began to doubt his ability to remain upright.

His body leaned against hers, pressed so close that their breathing had to balance the other. Their eyes were locked, both looking at their mate in frustration and fury.

"Feeling possessive?" Carly taunted, when she caught her breath.

"Feeling threatened?" Nikolas countered immediately. Carly's stomach flipped over. There was just the slightest chance that he was beginning to know her too well. She let out a low growl in response.

"I hate her," she hissed. "The idea of you with her makes me sick!"

Nikolas gave a low laugh. "Whereas the idea of you and Jason Morgan is something that just rolls off my back."

"You didn't seem all that cut up about it."

Nikolas's hand flew up and grabbed the back of Carly's neck, pulling her into another frenzied kiss. "Do you understand what you do to me?" he panted as he extricated himself. "What you drive me to?"

Carly made a face, sticking her bottom lip out in an enticing pout. "Smiling benignly at your ex-girlfriend?"

Nikolas looked momentarily stunned, then dropped his head back, "Ya skhazshu po tebe suma!"

"What?" Carly looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "No, no. If we're going to fight, you keep talking in languages I understand."

"You drive me crazy," Nikolas translated. His eyes came back to hers and saw the gleam in her eye as she absorbed what he'd just said to her. "That's what you want," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "You want to make me insane." God, it was more than half what he wanted from her, too. His mouth closed over her bottom lip, utterly incapable of not sucking it gently into his mouth. "Ya skhazshu po tebe suma..." he repeated. Carly blinked at him, her expression dazed. He sunk into another kiss, reveling in his ability to do the same thing to her. Her hands reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt as their mouths moved against one another. Nikolas's heart thundered through him, drowning out the sound of the rain, as he let himself wade in her hunger for him.

"You were acting like I was just some girl you were escorting for the evening," Carly spit, pulling out of the kiss to give them both a moment to catch their breath.

"What did you want me to do?" Nikolas prompted, his hands sliding down her thighs as he spoke. He reached the end of the dress and let them venture under the material, caressing the backs of her legs as he spoke. "Take you on the neighboring table so that he'd know exactly how intimate our relationship is?"

Carly let out a laugh of shock -- not so much at the words, but at the fact that this was Nikolas saying them. "It might be a start," she told him, lifting her legs to wrap around his. His body was flush against her that there was very little sensation of either of their centers of gravity shifting. Nikolas lifted her left leg up to his waist, then grabbed her hand in his. He turned his face against her palm, and kissed it, before letting his tongue dart quickly across the gold band on her ring finger.

"That's what this is for," he murmured. His mouth moved across her wrist, and then he turned his head against her neck, nuzzling her, breathing in the smell of her damp hair, her warm skin, before lowering her lips to the powder covered purple bruise he'd left on her the day before. "And this."

Carly groaned, arching into him as much as was humanly possible. "I knew you weren't really sorry about that."

Nikolas murmured something in a low rumble against Carly's skin. Carly tried to shift against him again, but he allowed her no room. Every muscle was taunt and hard, holding her there and permitting little to no argument.

"What did you say?" her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Nikolas lifted his head, dragging his lips across her cheek. "Ya hachu, chtobee tee beela tol'ko mayey"

The way the words moved in his mouth, the low guttural sound, how at home they sounded... she had no idea what he was saying to her, but it sounded amazing. She let out a slow breath. She didn't know how much more of all this foreplay she was going to be able to take.

"And that means?"

"I think you know," Nikolas straightened up, meeting her eyes again. "I think you can tell."

The raw possessive look on his face made Carly's breath catch. God, did he want her. She knew what that looked like, she'd seen it a million times before, but never like this. Never like this, from him. A man who had asked her to marry him on what was really their first date, who had made her feel desired on so many levels, but she'd never seen that look on his face before. She swallowed. Hard.

"I can't..." she started. Can't what? Understand? She understood all right. She just... couldn't admit she wanted that. Look at him and say I'm yours. Funny, she could say it when he didn't want to hear it. She shook her head, hard. "I can't believe you ever let that girl touch you," Carly's voice wavered, trying desperately to move away from the suddenly terrifying prospect of continuing this... whatever this was.

Nikolas shook his head slowly. He didn't want to talk about Robin. He was finished with that. Right now, everything he wanted was right in front of him.

"You know no one's ever touched me like you have."

Carly seized the opportunity suddenly laid at her feet. She let her legs slip from around his waist, the only move she could make to pull herself away from him, without opting to the physical push.

"Can't say the same of me, can you?" She tilted her chin up defiantly.

Nikolas's eyes narrowed. "Don't."

"That's what this is really about, huh?" Carly pressed on, the tremor in her voice refusing to abandon her. "You don't like having the fact that your wife is a slut thrown in your face."

"No!" Nikolas's hand moved to her face, holding her so that she was forced to look into eyes that wouldn't allow her to deny what he was saying to her. "I never -- EVER -- want to hear the word from you again." His voice nearly cracked. God, he hated it when she did this. "Jason wasn't anywhere near good enough for you."

Carly's eyes widened with pure shock. She tried to respond, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn't even shake her head, his hands holding her like this. Her eyes filled with tears and she angrily tried to blink them away.

"I think you got that backwards."

"No," Nikolas's grip softened, his thumb stroking her cheek and brushing the tear away. His blood was rushing through his veins with so much speed it was making him feel omnipotent. Out of his senses, entirely. Which was the only possible excuse for the words he was about to let come out of his mouth. "He might have taken you to his bed, but he has no idea how to treat a woman like you."

Carly gave a derisive laugh. "Oh, and you do."

"Yes," Nikolas spoke with a conviction he wasn't in possession of. "I do."

"Wanna prove that?"

"Is that a challenge?"

Carly licked her lips, her eyes holding his as well as she could manage. Stop it, she told herself. You can take control of this. You can make him quiver, you can make him melt all over you. Don't give it. Don't invite him to do the same thing to you. She cleared her dry throat, tried to move her hands to the collar of the shirt. They were shaking. Her mouth fought to work the words out of her.

"What do you think?"