“Did you sleep well?” Nikita asks before taking a bite of his food.
My cheeks burn and I nod as I drink some of the orange juice, praying I don’t choke on it. I slept as well as I could, given that he insisted on having sex with me three other times throughout the night.
After placing my napkin in my lap, I dig into my food, barely chewing it. I’m not sure if it’s myself or the baby or both of us that are starving, but I can’t get the food into my stomach fast enough. I barely chew my scrambled eggs, opting to just swallow them as they’re so soft and fluffy. Nikita chuckles from across the table.
“You better slow down before you choke.”
I snort. “Tell that to the little one. He or she is just as hungry, and your plate has just become my next target.”
I reach across and stick my fork into a piece of his bacon and shove it into my mouth before he has a chance to say anything.
“If you keep stuffing yourself, you’ll miss the best part.”
I quirk my eyebrow and stare at him. The best part? What has this man been up to as I was sleeping? I narrow my eyes at him and he breaks out into a series of snorting chuckles. So sexy ... not. But before I can ask him what his little secret is, a familiar scent floods my nose.
Cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and sweet icing.
One of the men places a box down and I tear it open to find my favorite meal of all time, and the one thing I have been craving all month. I pull the large cinnamon bun from its confines and bring it to my mouth, biting a chunk out of it. When I lower it to my plate, Nikita reaches over with his fork and I smack his hand away as I lick the frosting from my lips.
“Mine!” I growl playfully.
He stands and walks toward me. “Maybe you should eat that thing more slowly.” He sounds kind of weird. Nervous, almost.
“Why, so you can try to steal some? Nuh-uh, mister. Back off.” I take another mouthful and chew.
Nikita rolls his eyes and swipes at some of the frosting piling up on the side of my lips. “Annie, take smaller bites. Please!”
“Whatever.” I bite into heaven once again and this time as I chew my teeth hit something rough. Fuck. I grab my napkin and spit the chewed bun out. “What the hell is this?”
I pick through my chewed food to find the culprit that nearly cracked my tooth when a shiny stone sparkles in the sunlight. The air rushes from my lungs and I just hold my palm open. Nikita takes the item from my hand and cleans it off with his napkin.
“You know, I meant this to be romantic, hiding an engagement ring in something your eyes glaze over for. But I never expected you to eat like it’s going out of style.” He shakes his head and chuckles. Then he drops to one knee. “I want us to be a family—officially. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and raise our children in a loving home. I want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every evening. You make me whole in every way. Annie Thornton, will you marry me?”
I spring out of my chair and it tips over and hits the terrace floor with a bang. I launch myself into Nikita’s arms and he stumbles backwards as I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Yes!”
THE END
***
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Roman
Each of us is born with a gift. A special talent. Some people act, some people dance, some people sing a fucking jingle.
Me, on the other hand... I kill.
And tonight is another chance to show the world my gift.
Waiting is the worst part of this job. Memories are the only thing that helps pass the time. Leaning against the exterior wall of this night club, the memory of my first kill comes back to me. Like most of my memories, it ends with blood.
It was late August, when the weather was finally starting to get colder and the city folk began trading t-shirts for flannels and jackets. My father took my brothers and me hunting for the first time. We’d spent a good few months learning how to shoot both guns and arrows, and he wanted to see how well we’d taken after our lessons.
The crunch of leaves under my boots was so vivid that I can feel the texture of them to this day. The wind whipped our faces as we hiked from our truck through the hills until finally, we stumbled into a bit of clearing. At first, there wasn’t much to see. A squirrel clung to a large oak tree. A collection of rocks growing moss on the sides. My father asked us if we saw anything. We said no.
“Then look harder.”
That’s when I saw the tiny brown rabbit pressed against the trunk of a tree, quietly nibbling food. My father gave me a look. As the oldest, I knew what it meant. I’d seen it plenty of times before. Narrowed eyes, lips pulled into a thin, straight line. I had to set the example.
Quietly, I pulled an arrow from my quiver and nocked it, pulling back the bowstring. I steadied myself and set my jaw, holding the position until I could feel the right
