White Wolf by Lauren Gilley

Author:Lauren Gilley [Gilley, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HP Press
Published: 2017-10-28T18:30:00+00:00

23

FOUR WALLS

He’d shaved closely, carefully via his reflection in puddles and slow-moving streams while they were camping out in the woods north of here. Feliks had a little hand mirror he’d borrowed a time or two.

Standing at a sink full of clean water, face white with lather, mirror steaming as he shaved in the white-tiled bathroom at the base seemed the height of luxury. Dr. Ingraham was annoying, but his American money had bought an American-style base, with showers the likes of which Nikita had never seen before. He passed the razor along his jaw, taking off stubble and revealing a stripe of pale skin, and he thought he looked thinner, but not unhealthy. He realized, with some surprise, that he’d been eating regularly, nothing but protein, lots of fresh game, with the occasional bit of cheese or bread thrown in. He didn’t feel weak or unsteady. Studying his reflection – naked save the towel around his waist – he thought he looked leaner, harder, more muscular than he had before, and he felt better than he had in months even though his hipbones stuck out sharp, framed by deep shadows.

“Huh,” he said aloud, voice echoing off the wet tile around him.

“Talking to yourself again?” Kolya asked, drawing up to the next sink over. His hair had grown so long that it hung almost to his shoulders, longer than normal since it was wet from the shower. He slicked it back with both hands and shot Nikita a questioning glance. “You had breakfast?”

“Fuck you. Yes.” Nikita snorted and returned his attention to the mirror, feeling only a little guilty that he’d lied.

They’d trooped in after dark last night, bone-tired, swaying on their feet, too exhausted to even get cleaned up. Nikita had awakened earlier that morning to realize he’d even slept in his muddy boots.

The door to the bunk room had been cracked, and the scent of breakfast had wafted down from the floor above: the nauseating stench of burnt grease and something pre-packaged. The appetite he’d enjoyed during their expedition shriveling up into nothing.

“Your girl,” Kolya started, and Nikita made a dismissive sound.

“Not mine. It isn’t like that.”

“Uh-huh. You just wish it was.”

“Shut up.”

Kolya chuckled, a rare and surprisingly-delicate sound from him. It was easy to forget, when faced with his daily scowling countenance, shaggy hair, and the cold way he killed, that he used to be charming and courtly. “I’ve never even see you look at a girl before.”

Nikita stiffened, razor hovering against his cheek. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Kolya said easily, and began to lather his own face. He shrugged. “You’re too tense. Always gloomy. It’s good for you, I think. At least a little.” In measurements, he meant. Enough to cheer him up, but not enough to distract him.

“I’m gloomy? What about you?”

“I’m just very, very proficient.”

Nikita felt something light and effervescent bubble in his chest, and it was such a rare occurrence that it took him a moment to realize it was laughter.

Kolya grinned at his reflection and said, “I wonder how Sasha’s wolves are getting along with being inside.

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