Unnerved, she dropped her eyes to his glass.
“Hi, Nikhail,” she murmured, staring at the sparkling wine. Who knew tiny bubbles could be so incredibly captivating? “How are you feeling?”
This topic was safe. Good, even. River liked talking about work. When she was Doctor Waterborn, she wasn’t the Cursed One. She was a healer. A savior. A bringer of life.
When she was working, River actively fought against her fate. With every person she helped, every injury and illness she healed, she laughed in the face of her curse.
River revised her plan. She’d keep her walls up, find out how Nikhail was doing, and then they’d go their separateways.
It was sure to work.
Everyone who was anyone in the Republic of Balance was here tonight; surely, she could find a few people to talk to until leaving was socially acceptable. Nikhail would probably be hurt that she was ignoring him, but it was better for him to be hurt than dead.
And after that, she’d just spend the rest of her very long fae life avoiding relationships like the plague.
Easy.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Nikhail gestured to his side with his free hand. “Good as new, as you can see.”
Against her better judgment, River glanced up. And that…
By the Blessed Obsidian Sands, that was a mistake.
Nikhail’s soul-searching gaze ensnared her like an animal caught in a trap. Her heart beat faster, her mouth dried, and she felt an inexplicable urge to lunge towards the air fae and beg him to hold her tightly, like he did on the night of her storm.
Ryker grunted. “Riv.”
She jolted, her gaze swinging to her brother. Her nails were digging into his arm, his suit jacket wrinkled where she’d pressed her fingers into it.
“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip.
Ryker glanced down at her, his brow raised as concern flickered through his gaze. “You okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay at all. The walls around her heart should’ve been unmovable, but they were quivering in the face of Nikhail’s… well, everything.
“I… will be,” she said.
Once this night was over. She just had to get through this, and then she’d be in the clear.
Ryker looked at her quizzically, his brows drawingtogether. Before he could ask more questions, his wife jumped in.
“You were hurt, Nik?” Brynleigh had procured a glass of bloodwine from a server and sipped from it. Between the bright red wine and the wings, her vampiric heritage was on full display.
Nikhail waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, it was nothing.”
What did he just say?
River was moving before she even realized what was happening. Her hand slipped off Ryker’s arm, and her eyes widened.
“Nothing?” she repeated incredulously. “Nothing!”
Years of training regarding how proper ladies were meant to behave kept River’s voice low, but there was no way she could hide the disbelief running through her words.
Her hands trembled as visions of that day flashed through her mind. “You showed up at my hospital, covered in blood.”
Nikhail nodded. “I healed, though,” he said calmly. “The wound wasn’t that bad. Some might even call it minor.”
Gods above. Was he serious? Bugs had smaller eyes than River did right now. She could feel them widening as anger churned within her.