I don’t remember the last time my body felt this heavy.
Everything aches: hips, thighs, calves. Even my jaw.
Gee, I wonder why…
I stare up at the ceiling for a long time, trying to convince myself to move. The sunlight seeping through the blinds cuts across the wall in sharp lines, carving the morning into slices I still can’t gather together.
Yesterday’s rehearsal feels like a blur—it’s a miracle I got through it at all. It felt like it happened to someone else.
But it was me. It was my body that stumbled. My body that shook on stage. My mind that kept flashing back to Nico’s hand in my hair, his voice in my ear, his cold whiskey glass on my back, making me fumble and falter.
Kuzmina pulled me aside again at the end of it.
She didn’t scold me this time. Didn’t threaten to replace me. She just…looked at me. Like she saw through every layer of me in a single glance.
‘I cast you as the Swan Queen because you are very talented, even though you like to doubt yourself,” she said quietly. “And because I see both Odette and Odile in you. Play the Black Swan, but don’t let the role consume you.’
I nodded.
But I didn’t feel like Odette.
I felt I was already halfway to becoming Odile.
I managed to hold it together until the end of rehearsal. Then I stayed late. I ran through every sequence again and again. Until my muscles screamed and my brain had no more room for his voice. His growl. The flash of his eyes.
After I dragged myself home, I could barely climb the stairs to my apartment.
Then I had a text from Nico reminding me to be at his office promptly at eight again tomorrow and not to “bother with panties this time”.
I could barely feel the tingle that text would normally give me, and instead replied that I wouldn’t be coming tomorrow, since I’d stayed late after rehearsal.
Not because I was scared.
Not because I didn’t want to.
But because I need a fucking day to recover.
I roll over reach for my phone, the screen lighting up in my hand, and I see his reply, waiting for me like a figure lurking behind a doorway.
Nico
Be at my office in 30. Or I come find you and make sure your ass remembers whose it is.
My core twists.
My skin flushes.
I swipe to unlock the screen, heart pounding in my throat.
Another message comes in as I reread the first one, and I groan. I have read receipts turned on.
Nico
Don’t make me come over there and fuck your mouth again, ballerina. I won’t be so gentle this time.
My breath hitches.
There wasn’t anything remotely gentle about the last time.
…Like you minded?
Oh, shut up, self.
I read it again.
And again.
Then I throw the covers off.
I am not letting him show up at my apartment. Not when he means it, and not when I’m terrified to admit how much a big part of me wants him to.
I sit on the edge of the bed staring at his last message, glowing like a lit fuse.
Nico
Don’t make me come over there and fuck your mouth again, ballerina. I won’t be so gentle this time.
I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I shouldn’t feel this low, hot ache pulsing between my legs.
But God help me, I do.
I fire back a response before I can second-guess myself.
Me
I told you, I’m not coming today. Rehearsal ran late, and I need rest, stretching, and recovery. It’s part of my JOB.
A few seconds pass.
Nico
I’m positive I can assist when it comes to the stretching.
My jaw drops. My face throbs as I type again.
Me
Seriously. I can’t do both every day. I’m going to burn out.
The typing dots hover again.
Nico
Get your ass over here before I drive over there, put you on your hands and knees on the floor with your panties stuffed in your mouth, and fuck you until you can’t move for a week.
Nico
…Which is actually sounding more and more appealing the more I think about it. With you immobile, we can skip discussions like this. I’ll just keep you at my place as my own little fuck toy.
My mouth goes dry.
I mean, Jesus.
Me
You can’t speak to me like that.
Nico
Six months. Anything. Making you squirm when you hear language you’re unaccustomed to falls under that umbrella.
I feel my core tighten.
Me
You don’t know where I live, anyway.
Nico
Naomi
Just my name.
No punctuation.
My breath catches.
Nico
My driver literally gave you a ride home yesterday.
Fuck.
I let out an addible groan as my face twists.
He does know where I live. Of course he does.
He probably knows my building’s door code, which window I sleep next to, and what groceries I bought last week. If I don’t go to him now, he’ll show up.
And if he shows up…
My face burns.
Part of me wants to see what he’d do. To test that line.
But I don’t, not really.
Not yet.
I snap into motion, tossing my phone onto the bed, heading straight for the shower. The cold water wakes me up faster than coffee. I scrub quickly, efficiently, trying not to think about the fact that I’m already wet.
Ten minutes later, I’m dressed, out the door, and walking fast.
Not to Nico.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The hospital room is warm, bright, and smells like the lavender and other fresh flowers filling the space.
Bianca lights up the second she sees me.
“Hey!” she chirps, her voice slightly weak but full of that stubborn, unshakable energy that’s uniquely her.
She’s propped up in bed, a little pale, hair twisted up in a messy bun, cheeks still slightly hollow—but smiling.
It nearly makes me cry.
I manage to smile back as she holds her arms out. “Quick, come hug me before someone realizes you’re here and tells me to rest. Dude, I am so tired of resting.”
I laugh and cross to her, hugging her as gently as I can, trying not to fall apart.
“Oh my God, have I missed you!” I groan before I pull away. “You look good!”
She snorts. “I look like hell, but thanks. And the baby’s okay. We’re both okay. That’s what matters.”
I brush a stray piece of hair from her forehead. “Everyone’s been talking about you nonstop. We were so fucking worried about you.”
“I was, too,” she says softly. “And about the little one.” She shivers, but then her eyes sparkle. “Don’t tell Kratos. He’s already acting like I’m made of glass.”
I laugh again, but it’s forced.
Because under all the sweetness and light is a gnawing weight in my chest that I can’t explain to her, or share.
Hi, yes, super close bestie, I’m hooking up with your brother in an insane, probably toxic arrangement based on blackmail involving a tape of an assault that I’m still not sure how to process.
What’s up with YOU?!
Bianca and I are great friends. But no friendship is strong enough that you can tell someone you crawled to their brother naked on all fours. No friendship survives “your brother” and “butt plugs” in the same sentence.
I sit beside her on the edge of the bed. We catch up. I pointedly do not steer the conversation toward her family once.
She complains about the food. I tease her about being a princess on bedrest.
“Ooo!” she suddenly blurts. “Wanna hear the heartbeat?”
I blink. “Wait, what? You can hear it already?”
“Yeah!” she grins, her face flushed with excitement. “I mean, it’ll be all the time later.” Her hand drifts to her belly, still barely showing. “But they gave me a recording of the one they picked up yesterday. I’ve probably played it twenty times already.”
“I would love to!”
She pulls her phone out, taps a few times, and holds it up.
At first, the sound is so faint I almost miss it.
Then, there it is: steady. Rapid. Light, like butterfly wings.
And it’s beautiful.
Bianca frowns slightly at me.
“Hey…you okay?” she asks quietly.
I nod. “Oh, for sure.”
Liar.
But how do I tell her that I’m not? I mean, she just got car bombed, and I’m moping about…what…my feelings not being organized?
Please.
Yes, I’m spinning. Yes, I’m tangled up in something I don’t understand. Yes, her brother has his hands around my throat in more ways than one, and I don’t know if I want him to let go.
But I say none of that, because I’m a coward.
Instead, I just tap her phone, listening to that beautiful heartbeat again.
“So, do you know yet, boy or girl?”
“No.”
I startle, then smile when I turn to see Kratos filling the doorway to Bianca’s room. He’s wearing dark jeans and a plain black tee that do nothing to hide his massive size. His arms are crossed, tattoos clearly visible on both forearms.
He grins at me, then his eyes sweep the room like he’s assessing it for threats before he nods to himself, seemingly satisfied.
“Yeah, still no monsters, ninja assassins, or freak waves waiting for you to turn your back so they can get me, love,” Bianca sighs with a roll of her eyes.
Kratos gives her a look, but I can see a hint of smile on his lips as he crosses the room to her bed. He bends down, kissing her softly before he pulls away again and nods at me.
“How goes, Naomi?”
I get that Kratos terrifies most people. I mean, it’s like talking to a literal giant. He’s close to seven feet tall, arms as thick as my torso, shoulders as big as my head, and the rest of him is essentially made from iron.
It’s not like I actively try to imagine my friends in intimate situations. But considering how petite Bianca is…
Yikes.
“Just stopping by to say hi to my girl here,” I grin.
“She play you the heartbeat yet?”
I grin. “Yeah.”
Kratos beams from ear to ear. “That’s the heartbeat of a Spartan warrior, I’m telling you.”
Bianca sighs. “And if it’s a girl?”
Her husband shrugs. “Still gonna be a bad-ass motherfuckin’ Spartan warrior.”
Bianca and I both laugh.
“You wait, it’ll be triplet girls,” I eye him. “And they’ll all dance.”
Kratos snorts. “If you’re trying to scare me, try harder. I’d love all girls.” He nods thoughtfully, like he’s thinking about it. “I’d be a great girl-dad.”
Bianca rolls her eyes. “You understand that there’s more to the job besides scaring off boys?”
“Details, details,” he grumbles.
Just then, the door opens and a doctor walks in with two attending nurses, explaining that it’s time for routine bloodwork and a fetal stress panel.
“I’ll give you guys some privacy,” I say, leaning down to hug Bianca again, still trying to shove aside the guilt that I’m hooking up with her freaking brother.
“Come visit again soon?” she pleads.
I grin as I squeeze her again. “Obviously.”
