Raluca felt the shiver that went down Nick’s spine.
“It sounds fucking horrible,” he said. “Like a nightmare I had once, where I was a puppet. I couldn’t move except when someone pulled my strings. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”
“You imagined it perfectly,” Raluca replied. “That is exactly what it was like. I was a marionette, and Uncle Constantine moved my strings.”
Nick pulled her closer into his arms. “Well, you’re not a puppet any more. You’re a real girl now.”
Raluca smiled. Uncle Constantine had made sure she watched all the Disney movies with princesses, but he’d let her see the rest when she asked, so she knew Pinocchio too. “And I didn’t even have to turn into a donkey first.”
“Nah, you couldn’t ever be anything but a dragon.” Nick traced the dragonmark that curled around her shoulder. “That’s nothing your asshole uncle made you into. That’s the real you, one hundred percent. And he sure as hell didn’t make you jump off that balcony.”
“That seems to be a famous story,” Raluca remarked. “How much did Lucas tell you about me?”
“Not that much, but he said he’d never known you very well, so he probably told us everything he knew,” Nick said. “But he and Journey both gave us all the deets on the balcony jump. Guess it made a big impression on them. It sure would’ve made one on me.”
Raluca settled herself into Nick’s arms, resting her head on his shoulder. They fit against each other so easily, like pieces of a puzzle. “You know my story, but I still don’t know yours. When I asked you to show me your America, I was attempting to find out more about you by seeing what you liked, but I must have phrased it in some offensive manner...”
Nick groaned. “Was that what you meant? I thought it was something like, ‘Show me where low-lifes like you hang out, so I can go sneer at them.’”
It took Raluca a moment to mentally translate the first part into “Show me where the lowly peasants like you live,” but she understood the second half instantly. “That was not my intent at all.”
“Yeah, I get that now,” Nick said. “I think we misunderstood each other a lot.”
Raluca recalled their past interactions, and how they had changed once Nick had walked into this room. “Would you agree, in the future, that if either of us thinks that the other is saying or even thinking something unpleasant, that we explicitly inquire as to the truth of the matter, rather than jumping to the worst possible conclusion without ever speaking our conjectures?”
Nick blinked; she seemed to have spoken in a manner that required him to also mentally translate. Then he said, “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. So you think we have a future? You’re not still planning to run back to Viorel?”
Once again, Raluca had the sense of falling and then soaring into unknown but lovely skies. “If you wish a future with me, then I wish one with you.”
“I do,” Nick said instantly. “You’re my mate. I love you. I want to be with you forever, no matter how fucking many times we have to say, ‘What did you mean?’”
“I love you, too.” The words came easily to Raluca’s lips, surprising her. It was as if she was now flying with the wind rather than fighting against it. “And I want to be with you, no matter how many times I have to hear that word.”
“I could try to cut down,” Nick said, a little doubtfully.
“Now that I am using my own voice, it seems wrong to stop you from using yours. I would prefer you to carry out what you vowed earlier.” Raluca paused to remember his quaint phrasing. “I mean the removal of the shoulder chip. There is much in the world that is worthy of anger; why take it out on those who love you?”
“That’s over,” Nick said. His words were plain, but the determination behind them could move mountains. “There might be some slips, but...”
“I do not expect perfection. That was my uncle’s mistake.” Then, undeterred, she asked, “But why? That is not a rhetorical question.”
Nick took a deep breath. “Because I’m a fucking hand grenade with the pin out. I’m still fucking furious about all this shit that happened to me years ago, but no one wants to hear about that, so —”
“I do.”
Nick’s bright eyes widened with surprise. “You do?”
“Yes,” Raluca said. “I want to hear your story. I have tried to ask before, but...”
“But I took it the wrong way and blew you off.” Nick moved restlessly, trying to resettle himself in bed without dislodging her from her position. All his muscles had tensed as soon as he’d mentioned his past, and were hard as rocks.
“Roll over,” Raluca said, nudging him.
Obediently, Nick rolled on to his stomach. “Why —”
“Your muscles are very tight. If they are not massaged, your body will ache tomorrow.” Raluca sat up and placed her hands on his bare shoulders. She had never given a massage before, but she’d received many after long, tiring days of dance and posture lessons.
“It’s a sweet thought, but I don’t think you can —” Nick began.