Volkov's Mate

Chapter Four: Take It Or Leave It

Nikolai was insanely bored after the speeches that were delivered. He became lost in his own thoughts during dinner, giving an occasional response when prompted. His posture was rigid and uncomfortable as the night dragged on. When the dancing commenced, Nikolai excused himself from the table and made his way to the open bar, needing some sort of activity to keep him preoccupied. Four shots later and he was on his way back to his seat. He almost made it through the onlookers watching the dance before stopping dead in his tracks.

She was eloquently dancing, her feet were moving to the steps of the dance in airy, effortless strides. Confidence emanated from her body language from the way she held her posture to the smallest detail of how she clasped her partner's hand. The dress she wore only added to the aura of refinery around her. The silk-like fabric clung to her upper body in a tightly laced corset. It pulled her figure into as much of a cone shape as it could before the skirt of the dress flowed out at the waist. On the back of the dress was a thin, black satin bow extending from the sleeves across the upper part of the shoulder blades. With each twirl she danced, Nikolai was mesmerized by the thought of reaching out to graze the soft fabric.

Even in the low lighting, he could make out some more physical features. Dark brown hair, teetering on the color scale between brown and black accentuated her pale skin. It was slicked back into a pinned, braided hairstyle at the base of her neck. How Nikolai wished it was free flowing down her back. Her full lips were covered with a thick coat of deep red lipstick, bringing attention to the high arch of her cupid's bow, and the all-around plumpness. They were curled up in a smile, but Nikolai knew it was for show. Her partner had to be at the least twelve.

Nikolai recognized him as the son of Alpha Seamus Keely. He had his father's features: a short and stalky build, oval face ridden with dark freckles and brownish red hair. The kid was a head shorter than his partner, ending up perfectly eye level with protruding corseted breasts, and was moving his hand lower form her waist a little bit every second. He was looking up at his partner (when not focused on the bust in front of him), with dreamy eyes and a goofy, braced smile.

When the music stopped, the girl scurried away as nonchalantly as she could, leaving the dance floor in the opposite direction Nikolai was in. He quickly followed, grabbing two champagne glasses from a server on the way through the crowd. She was headed towards a lounge area, filled with teenagers of her age who refused to dance. They were socializing amongst themselves in tight circles, obviously by the rank of the pack. A group sitting on the loungewear welcomed her teasingly. She plopped down on an empty loveseat, swinging her legs up to rest on the other cushion. It was at that moment Nikolai realized how sweaty his palms were, how itchy his collar made his neck, and how obvious it would be to present himself to a girl as boldly as he was planning. Especially when it was the infamously mateless Nikolai Volkov. As he pondered a new plan, the buffet of snacks was refilled and immediately the teenagers flocked to the food. Taking the chance, Nikolai composed himself and made his way over.

She was even more intoxicating up close. Nikolai almost forgot how to speak when his eyes landed on her face. Wonderfully dark brown eyes, surrounded by long, black lashes bore into his for a split second before they glanced over his entire appearance. Once they returned to his, he noticed how intense they were. At the same time that they were playfully intrigued by the man standing before them, they held a sinister sort of personality that was sexually appealing.

"Holy shit," Nikolai blurted out loud in Russian.

She raised her eyebrows and half smiled. "Hi."

"I'm sorry," he switched to English. "May I sit?" He motioned towards the seat her legs occupied.

"Yeah sure."

He sat next to her, and felt an intensifying of the atmosphere around them. It was almost indescribable, except for the fact that he was in utter bliss just from her presence. "Here, you look like you need a drink."

"I look like I need a drink? No, no, it's fine. I don't drink alcohol."

"Considering I witnessed your dance with Keely's kid, I think that experience is all the more reason to break that one little rule."

"There's two rules actually."

"Oh yeah? What are they," he said moving a bit closer to her.

She crossed her leg over the other, leaning away from Nikolai. He took note of her body language and eased off her personal space.

"The first, is that I don't take drinks from strangers. The second, is that I don't drink."

"Well, I'm not a stranger now. I'm Nikolai Volkov." He put the drinks on the coffee table in front of the couch and extended his hand towards her.

"How clever. I'm Angela del Olmo," she said softly, keeping her hands on her lap.

"All right." He dropped his hand, then picked up the champagne. "Take it. I didn't do anything to it."

She huffed loudly as she took the glass from him. He tapped his against hers then gulped it back, not caring that she did not touch hers. When finished, he stood up and made one last attempt.

"Just share one dance with me. At the end, I'll leave you alone if you like."

"No. I just danced and I'm not really interested."

"Please," Nikolai said desperately.

As she opened her mouth to reply, her passé returned from gorging themselves. One girl, a curvaceous brunette in a red peplum dress, joined the conversation.

"Hey, Angie, what's going on? I see you've attracted the attention of a Russian Alpha over here," she said, nodding her chin towards Nikolai.

"Ivy," she said as she motioned for the girl to bring her ear to her mouth. Nikolai did not hear what was exchanged but he felt an overbearing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He was embarrassing himself for too long. It would be the talk of the century to hear that the mateless man was attempting to pick up a girl, not only that but ultimately failing. Just as he thought about turning on his heel and leaving the gala, Angela spoke.

"Okay, okay," she exclaimed as she pushed Ivy away. She got up and closed the space between her and Nikolai. "One dance. Then you buy a round of shots for my friends."

"I'm interested in you, not your 'friends' alcohol consumption at the cost of a waltz with you."

She went on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, "Take it or leave it."

He growled lowly in his throat before motioning her to follow him to the dance floor.