For his part, Nix seemed happy enough to watch Ivan, only asking occasional questions about the business. He had the sleepy, contented air of a cat who’d just had his cream. It sent a strange, warmthrill through Ivan. He’d fed his incubus—had given Nix exactly what he’d been craving—and he hadn’t even needed to touch him to do it.
Except Ivanwantedto touch him.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. Surely such thoughts were a sign of an overworked brain.
Nix perked up immediately at the change, prowling over and setting himself on the arm of Ivan’s chair again. It felt too right to have him there—like that was his place, at Ivan’s side. Within arm’s reach.
Ivan glanced up at him blankly, determined to focus on business. “You sussed out the intentions of a few of my men,” he began.
“I did.”
“You could get a read on the rest?”
“I could,” Nix told him, sounding approving, like Ivan was a student who was finally following along.
Ivan let out a long breath. That was a powerful skill in a world as treacherous as his. “Maybe you are a boon, then,” he mused. “Maybe you weren’t just sent here to curse me.”
Nix’s lips twitched with amusement. “Why not both?”
It was the fatigue that made Ivan grin.
Nix latched onto his weakness immediately, as if one little smile was a sign that Ivan would indulge him. “Why are you so determined not to fuck men?” he asked, like that was an appropriate change of subject.
“It’s not a matter of being determined. It’s never been an issue before.”
It hadn’t. Ivan didn’t look at the men who worked for him and ache to bend them over his desk. He’d never been tempted by the clubs Sascha and Alexei frequented. He supposed, if he thought hard about it…maybe there’d been a pretty face now and then. Those effeminate men who’d mastered a particular sort of allure.
Although, Sascha would probably tell him his phrasing was offensive.
But Ivan had always liked fucking women. Maybe none of them had compared to Nix’s mouth on his cock, but Ivan had desired them at the time. He liked their soft bodies and sweet smell. The warm, wet feel of them on his cock.
None of them as warm as Nix.
Nix pinched Ivan’s shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “Trying to make me jealous, Vanyechka?”
Ivan cocked his head, suspicious. “Tell me truthfully—do you read minds?” It was a horrifying prospect.
“No,” Nix admitted with a pout. “But I catch glimpses sometimes. Images. Especially if they have to do with desire.”
“But you can read intent. As you did with my men.”
“To an extent.”
Ivan was tempted to ask what Nix read in him, but he already knew he wouldn’t want to hear the answer. He’d worked hard his whole life to be unreadable—to not let his father see any cracks in his armor, to not let the men under him see the strain in his leadership. It had been the only way to survive.
And now he’d let in the one creature his defenses didn’t work on.
Sascha had been right—Ivanwascoming apart at the seams.
Out of nowhere, Nix hopped off his chair, beckoning with one hand. “Come. You’re not spending the night in the office.”
Ivan glanced at his watch. “It’s only five p.m.”
“That’s when normal humans stop working, isn’t it? There’s a whole song about it. Something about nine to five.”
“Why would you possibly know about that?”
“The Void was very boring.”
