Chapter 2
Declan isn't sure what to say, after that.
A small part of him is annoyed when he realizes that Mikhail apparently understood everything he said about not smoking and clearly ignored it.
"Do you have one?" Mikhail asks, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"A cigarette?
No, I don't smoke, and even if I did you're not supposed to smoke here," Declan replies, annoyed.
Mikhail has the audacity to laugh at that.
"No, not a cigarette," he smirks, putting his cigarette out on the No Smoking sign.
Declan doesn't know whether he should be pleased that he's no longer smoking or annoyed at the blatant disrespect of the rules.
"A soulmate."
Declan startles.
No one has ever asked him that so bluntly.
It's actually considered rude, in some circles.
Then again, Volkov clearly doesn't give two shits about rules.
Should he share that he has a soulmate, too?
He's never told anyone before, not even his parents, but Volkov looks oddly invested in his answer.
Maybe even hopeful.
But Declan is terrible at reading people's emotions, so who knows.
He's not sure what exactly it is that makes him tell the truth.
There's something earnest in Volkov's eyes, something that makes him feel like this secret will be safe with him.
"Uh, yeah, I do," he answers, voice shakier than he'd like.
"Haven't met her yet, but she's out there somewhere."
Volkov's eyebrows raise at that, but he doesn't say more.
That curiosity is still there, like there's something Declan isn't saying.
Technically there is, he guesses.
But something stops him from sharing that his soulmate speaks Volkhovian.
He doesn't want to examine it too closely.
"Don't tell anyone, though," Declan rushes to add. "It's, uh, not something I like people to know about."
"Ah, there goes my best gossip," Volkov replies, monotone.
"Was going to tell all of Volkhovia that some random hockey player in Nordmark has soulmate."
Declan laughs, anxiety easing just a bit.
They maintain eye contact, Volkov's smirk fading into a shy smile.
It's freezing cold, but Declan feels warm in Volkov's presence.
As soon as the thought hits, the anxiety comes back in full force.
He has to get away from here.
"I, uh, my team." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, as if he's expecting the entire Nordmarkian team to be standing behind him.
"I should—it was nice to meet you, though.
Good luck with—yeah."
He dashes away before Volkov can reply.
Which is a good thing, probably, because even though he can understand English, Declan isn't sure he actually managed to say anything coherent.
He doesn't see Volkov again until the day of the draft, and he's so pissed about being second pick that he doesn't even get a chance to say much more.
When they chat later on the floor of a hotel gym, sharing a water bottle, Declan can't help but feel drawn to Volkov.
He licks his lips after taking another swig of water, chasing any taste of the other man left behind.
He's a little disappointed that he only gets the taste of his own sweat.
Volkov hasn't stopped watching him for a single second.
"Did you find her yet?" Volkov asks, breaking the silence.
"Who?"
"Your soulmate," he answers, like it should've been obvious.
Declan feels anxious, suddenly.
He doesn't really like to think about her.
"No, not yet.
I had a girlfriend up until recently but, uh," he pauses.
He doesn't want to say that he knew Brianna wasn't his soulmate because she didn't speak Volkhovian, so he just says, "it wasn't her."
"Ah, me neither.
She's probably in Nordmark, though," Volkov shares, and the piece of information feels intimate.
Like we shouldn't be talking about this
He continues the conversation anyway.
"Oh yeah?
How do you know that?"
"She speaks English and Gallican," Volkov sighs, like he's disappointed about it.
Declan's stomach does something weird at that.
"Nordmarkian Gallican, I think.
Hard to tell, is weird."
Declan wants to say that he understands, that he's tried with limited success to figure out if his soulmate is from Volkhovia or from another Volkhovian-speaking country, but that would require him to share more information about her, and he doesn't want that.
He doesn't want her here, in the space between them.
The thought terrifies him a little.
"I should probably get back to my room," Declan says, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.
He thinks he succeeds.
Mostly.
When he gets to his room, the back of his ear itches.
He wonders if it means his soulmate is thinking about him, wherever she is.
He kind of wishes she would stop.
When they meet again almost a year later for a commercial shoot, enough time has passed that Declan feels more relaxed.
He and Volkov can't stop laughing, and when the shoot ends he sort of even laments the fact that they'll have to go back to being rivals soon.
And then Volkov approaches him in the shower, and he isn't sure how they can possibly go back to being rivals.
He wants to forget it ever happened, maybe even to never see Volkov again.
And yet he tells Volkov his room number.
And answers the door when he knocks.
And slides to his knees so easily, taking Volkov's cock into his mouth.
He's never done this before, but it scares him how much he likes it.
He almost whines when Volkov finishes, because he doesn't want to stop.
But then Volkov is returning the favor, and Declan feels hot desire race through him in a way it never has before.
He finishes embarrassingly quickly, but he doesn't care.
He's never had an orgasm that good.
They laugh together, after, and it feels natural.
Easy.
"So, you're not gonna tell anyone about this, are you?" Declan asks, just to be sure.
It's a strange echo of the words he'd said before, when he asked Volkov to keep his secret about his soulmate.
"Me?
Yes, Whitfield, I'm going to tell everyone," Volkov says, looking annoyed.
"Because no one can know," Declan continues.
He can't look at Volkov right now, spread out on the bed like some sort of sex god.
It makes his brain go fuzzy.
No shit,"
Volkov replies, and Declan freezes.
He said it in Volkhovian, which means Declan isn't supposed to understand.
He suddenly overthinks his facial expression.
Is his face giving away that he understood?
Volkov goes on, though.
"Whitfield, look, I'm not going to tell anyone, okay?"
"Okay," Declan agrees.
Volkov leaves after that, and Declan still can't look at him as he gets dressed.
He looks at the ceiling for a bit, then at Volkov's belt when it's time to say goodbye.
Anywhere but in his eyes.
"Holy shit," Declan says to himself once Volkov leaves.
He isn't sure when they'll see each other next, or if there will even be a repeat of tonight's activities.
Who knows, one of them might find their soulmate before then.
His stomach turns.
Somehow, even here, she worms her way in.
Declan lays in bed, still naked, mind spinning out about his soulmate.
Will he have to tell her one day that he hooked up with Mikhail Volkov?
Or that he wants to do it again?
Well, he hasn't met her yet.
So she'll have to forgive him for doing some—experimenting in the meantime.
It doesn't mean anything.
She's a foregone conclusion.
She's his soulmate, so he knows that he'll love her eventually, but right now the thought of her still makes him feel a little sick to his stomach.
It's probably just nerves.
He's going to love her.
He has to.