Читать книгу The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19 онлайн

“Should I leave for you?” Without stopping, Arel asked hoarsely, clearly addressing Nik. Kors understood what he meant – he asked him whether he could come inside Kors or pull out in advance, leaving him not so wet for Nik.

“I’m not your cigarette!” Kors shouted indignantly, instantly losing his mood and hearing how the prince sharply pulled out of him, sprinkled next to him, a little on his thigh and probably on a brocade blanket. He “left”, that’s how it was called.

Nik approached them. Hearing the creaking of the floorboards, Kors jerked himself up on the bed and stubbornly repeated:

“I’m not a cigarette to leave me to each other! I. Am. Not. A. Cigarette!”

“Yes?” Nik asked, as if a little surprised, and pulled Kors by the chain dangling from his collar. “And it didn’t bother you before. Even if we… mmm… smoked you alone for two or at the same time.”

“You loved me then, but now you humiliate me!”

“It seems to you,” said Nik, and Kors felt him pulling him by the chain harder, forcing him to lean forward a little, touching his face and ripping off the plaster with a sharp jerk.

“Oh!” Kors covered his eyes with his palms. “You could be more careful! Not only you have eyelashes!”

He looked up, and when he saw Nik, he literally froze in shock. Nik was not wearing a mask, but his face was tightly bandaged with wide strips of black cloth. He wrapped his head in the same way as Kors once wrapped it, with the only difference that Nik left a narrow gap for himself at eye level, and he also cut the fabric at mouth level, just as Kors did. He looked with horror at the shiny ring sticking out from under the strips of fabric under his nose, at the wrapped chin and the top of his head, on which white hair stood up a little between the bandages. Nik wrapped himself around both the way Kors wrapped him and the way Doctor Cassiel had done in Prince Arel’s estate. The side of Nik’s neck was plastered over.

 Kors swallowed hard, clutching his throat, unable to utter a word. Nik was almost no different from Valentine now. He looked frankly bad and pathetic. Nik unfastened the chain from Kors’ collar and walked away, returning to his couch of skins, laid right on the floor. He obviously didn’t intend to fuck.