Lion of Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page B

of hope.
    He smiled faintly as he entered Novgorod. He loved this city, always had. Out of habit, he headed toward the museum that housed many artifacts from Russian history. Pulling into the parking lot, he shut off the vehicle and got out. The rich smells from a local bakery, Mihailov’s Bakery, reached him, and instead of entering the museum, he spun on his boot heel and strode toward the faded brick building.
    Sitting at a small table by the window, Nikolas watched the people move along the snowy sidewalk. He ate his ponchiki slowly as he drank some coffee. Ponchiki were similar to doughnuts. He took his covered in powdered sugar.
    As he sat there, the bell over the door jingled. Pulling his attention away from the window, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he gazed upon the woman who’d crossed the bakery’s threshold. His entire body rippled with unleashed energy.
    She had a different look from the women in the area, like a brilliant sunburst breaking through after a rainstorm. Her skin was a beautiful shade of amaretto with an added flush from the cold. She wore dark blue jeans and a black leather jacket that stopped at her waist, effectively hiding her shirt from him. There was a slight upturn of her lips as she stood at the counter of the bakery. Her black hair was pulled back and confined by a barrette.
    His cock stirred in his pants as he ogled at her. It had been many, many years since his body had responded to a woman with just a look. She flashed a smile to the attendant behind the counter and, then, turned to look around the establishment. The second she faced Nik, he knew.
    Settled at the base of her neck sat a crystalline snowflake with a gem in it. Something about it looked familiar. Narrowing his gaze, he honed in on it. His hand began to shake, and he set down his fork before he dropped it. Imbedded in the beautiful pendant was a blue stone. The piece was from the one that used to be on his sword. A long time ago, during a battle, one of the six stones had fallen out. He’d searched long and hard for it, and had found most of the pieces it had been broken up into. All except one. Until now. It didn’t make sense for him to know the stone, but he knew it.
    And, he knew who she was. With a restraint he didn’t know he possessed, Nik remained seated and just watched the woman, instead of approaching her and carrying her off over his shoulder like he longed to do.
    It was her. She was the one. His woman.
     
    Cleo couldn’t repress the shiver that overtook her. She frowned before pasting a smile on her face. It didn’t make sense—she wasn’t outside, and the bakery was really toasty. She’d been feeling a bit out of sorts ever since the bus had stopped here in Novgorod. She’d expected them to get going again soon after, but when she was told the bus would be going back to Moscow, she realized what had happened.
    Therefore, instead of booking a trip on the next bus out, Cleo found herself finding a small hotel and getting a room. Opportunity knocked, so she was going to take full advantage of it. If she were a believer in fate, she’d chock this up to that very thing. Now, she was here, and across the street stood one of the museums housing one of the largest collections of Russian history artifacts, paintings, and more.
    After ordering a coffee and a piece of butter cake, Cleo stood to the side and tugged off her black leather gloves. She stuffed them in the pocket of her leather and sheepskin jacket, grateful to be out of the increasing cold for the time being. It was late afternoon, and with each inhalation of the frigid air she took, she wondered if her lungs were freezing.
    It was a different story in this quaint little bakery. Each lungful of air brought such amazing scents to her nose and warmth to her body. She was hungry, and while a complete meal would be advisable, she wanted just something to tide her over until she got through the museum and back to her hotel. Moreover, that