by A. Vers
Nix eyes me. “How can you recharge?”
I wrap my arms around my waist, shaking slightly. It’s more to do with the final vestige of adrenaline fading than cold. “Sleep?” I hedge. They exchange a look. “Honestly, I’ve never used this much power in one go. Father trained me to fight with magick, but I’ve never had a reason to channel so much.” I hold up my arms with the now empty bracelets. “And it emptied every store I had.”
Chol clicks his tongue. “I could recharge them. But it would take a willing donor.”
Nix shakes his head. “You know the rules, Chol.”
The prince huffs. “And I can help. Sayah saved both of our asses tonight. If this will help her in case he—” His eyes dart to me and a flush of color stains his cheeks. “I owe her. And so do you.”
The warrior bares straight white teeth in a grimace. “Well, you can’t feed on Sayah, and I am not a donor.”
Something moves between them. Like an unspoken ‘right now’ or ‘again’. I peer between both handsome faces, noting the stubborn sets to their jaws and the flush in Chol’s cheeks.
An idea begins to form, and I exhale.
Damn it all to the Seven Hells, but it may be the only way.
“I can charge myself and maybe my stones,” I say slowly, “But you’re probably not going to like how.”
Ѻ
Nix shifts across from me on the roof, his eyes scanning every inch of the grounds. Or basically any space that is not in my direction. “This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he mutters.
I shrug out of my tank top and let it drop onto the silk shorts on the roof next to me. “We could have done this in the garden, but you decided to station every willing supernatural around the house,” I remind him.
His arms cross and the moonlit illusion of the Void glitters on his armor. “But do you have to do it like—” he gestures back towards my partially dressed frame with one hand, “that?”
I know he can’t see me, but there is almost an extrasensory perception to his accuracy.
“In order to absorb natural energy here, I need as much bare skin as I can manage. Think of it like a filter or an opening. The larger the space, the better the flow.”
“Personally, I just want to watch,” Chol says, and his smile is audible even in his voice.
I glare at the back of his head. “And if you turn around, I will stab you, remember?”
He sighs, forlorn. “And that is what our relationship has become. I offer you pleasures unlike anything you have experienced, and you threaten to stab me.”
My stomach flutters at his casual use of the word ‘relationship’. I shove it down. Deep, deep, deep down.
Nix claps a hand on his charge’s shoulder. “Let’s get this over with,” he says.
I step up behind them. As my tethers, they have to remain motionless in place. Grounding me.
I hope.
Their scents mingle on the clean night air, mixing ash and cookies until the overly sweet smell becomes almost over-baked. I press my palms against the hard, hot muscle of their spines.
Fake moonlight shimmers around us, filling me with a different kind of heat. One that flows over my skin, seeping through every inch as the clouds shift on the horizon. I shiver a little. The roof is sturdy and rough beneath my bare feet and it grounds me, too, holding me in place.
I wasn’t lying earlier. Midnight is my home; my roots are deep here, strong and solid. I am tied to the house as much as the foundation is tied to the land it sits on. If there is any way to refuel my system faster, this is it.
“Ready?” I ask, voice soft as the light helps to give me just enough energy to call my amhara.
They both seem to still, unbreathing.
“Yes.” Nix’s dulcet rumble vibrates into my palm, and Chol nods.
I let my shields go.
Channeling natural energy in the Void is like pulling water through a sieve. You catch splashes of it here and there, drops that stick in the mesh before collecting another.
My magick flows outward, leaving my physical body behind to glide down the outer walls of the house and into the gardens and front yard. Every blade of magickally grown grass is cool and damp in my mind. But it’s far away, like the sensation exists in-and-out of time. Most of the blades are empty, wilting even as I scan them. So I pull only a drop from each stalk and add it to the well inside me.
With every small taste, I channel a fraction of the power through my feet and into the house. It flows into the wards, and they begin to stir, like lights flickering during a storm. But it’s not enough. Not even for me. So I stop trying to awaken them and focus on replenishing what I lost.
I run through the grass and in between trees, fingers casting over everything and adding another wisp of power before trailing back up to the roof.
Nix and Chol’s steady energy filters through the amhara. Where Chol’s is a warm silver and gold now, Nix’s power is crimson and black. Sinister and not tainted, but similar.
My fingers press deeper into the strong muscle of his back. His power seems to turn towards me in my mind’s eye, seeking mine. Tendrils of onyx and blood flow backwards from his skin, winding around the blue and white of my heritage. It tightens, choking it off. My breath rushes from my lungs, and my hold on the amhara slips.
“Nix.” His name is a plaintive plea.
He wrenches away and the tie grounding me to him snaps in two. I rush back into my body, slamming into it like falling from a tree to the hard earth below. All the air leaves me in a loud whoosh and I cave in on myself.
I try to peer through the dazed haze of my vision.
“What did you do?” he asks, shoulders heaving. He carefully keeps his eyes averted, even this angry.
Chol rips the sweatshirt from his shoulders, and, eyes closed, turns and gingerly wraps it around my body. It’s a chivalrous move from one of the most sensual beings in the world. I pull the fabric close and try to breathe past the nausea being jolted causes.
“Damn it, Nix,” I swear and fluff my sleeping shorts before tugging them on under the big sweater. If we are going to argue, by God I will be dressed. Sort of. “My amhara takes me out of my body. Literally. I can’t just jump back in like that.”
“And my magick was not part of this grand plan of yours,” he hisses.
His words sink through my addled brain and my fingers still on the zipper. “You think I was siphoning from you?” I spit the word like the poison it is.
He rounds on me, carnelian eyes burning with flames. “I felt my power rear. It was defending me and the only reason for that was if you were trying to steal it.”
My face heats, and I cross the rooftop in three strides.
This close his body is scalding, just like his power. It’s like standing inside a fire, and as nice as it is to my cold, shaking body, I hate it. “Listen to me now because I won’t repeat myself,” I say, voice low, careful. “I am mimir. Not one of the horde. I know this may be hard for you to understand, but your power turned to mine. Not the other way around. I called nothing, pulled nothing. Your power attacked mine without reason.” I poke him in the chest plate, and his eyes flash. “I am not a siphon.”
He doesn’t back up, and we stand there, my finger jabbed into the obsidian overlay covering him as his eyes try to burn through me.
Chol steps next to us out of my peripheral, bare chest glowing in the dark. I try valiantly not to look, but the longer he stands there, the stronger the pull. Like a siren’s call.
A small sigh leaves me, and my head turns. The prince’s eyes glow softly, and his lips glisten a pale pink, like he licked them. My eyes lock on the full bottom swell and heat pools deep in the center of my body.
I know a kiss from him would be catastrophic to my hormones. Addictive.
One tan hand raises, and his knuckles graze over my cheekbone. My knees buckle and his arm winds around my waist, keeping me upright and tight to his hot flesh.
I stare at him from so close, a warm
fog rolling through me in small waves. He offers me a surprisingly pained smile. “Rest, Sayah. I have you.”
Something sweet flows to my nose, adding to the warmth and feeling of contentment. I raise my arm and wind it around his neck as he picks me up gently. Against the hard plains of his chest, his heart flutters under my ear like a trapped thing.
Is he nervous?
I stroke the hard line of his collarbone and make a soothing sound as my fingers dip into his thick hair. He chokes. But the golden light of his eyes deepens to amber.
A dark-clad figure steps into my line of sight, and I burrow deeper into the arms holding me.
“You’re using too much amour, Chol. She’s already besotted with you,” a red-haired male says. Something in me wants to argue that. But it’s a small part. A distant part. “You’re going to drain your reserves and there is no one around for you to feed on.”
“She was five seconds from blasting you off the roof, Nix—with the power she just got back. It’s been a long night for all of us, but Sayah especially. If this helps her stay calm and sleep, even if it’s only for an hour… I’ll deal with her anger and the hunger tomorrow.” The words rumble around me, and I giggle.
The red-haired one eyes me with furrowed brows and I feel like I should know him. Should recognize him. He seems so familiar…
He is--
“Fine. But we don’t separate,” he murmurs, still watching me. “She can have the roll away, and I will take the couch.”
He walks off, stopping to carefully pick up a bundle of fabric feet away before ducking under a narrow overhang into the house. We follow. At the windowsill, I’m passed from one warm body to another, and I find myself pressed against a hard wall of muscle and armor as a bright silver and gold light climbs through beside us.
My eyes flow between them. Like night and day.
For some reason, the thought leaves me tired. I curl up in the arms of the red-haired warrior and cling to the armor covering his frame. He makes a sound as he starts walking again. The lull over my mind grows fuzzy, like gold cotton pressing into my skull.
It’s nice. Simple. Though desire still burns in my veins, it’s like being wrapped in the only embrace you can ever want. It’s what I always thought love should feel like…
“She’s smaller than she looks,” Nix breathes, but it doesn’t stop the almost achingly deep quality of his voice.
There’s a short laugh, but the sound is not happy. “Maybe you shouldn’t say that while you’re holding her.”
“She’s in too far to be a threat to me right now, Chol.”
“Are you admitting she is a threat?”
Silence.
Chol sighs. “There is something too strong about her mind. Even I will admit that. It’s too… Just too something,” he says. “She can break my hold at any time. And when she wakes up, she may try to break me.”
“I will never allow that to happen.”
“I don’t want her hurt, Nix. We will leave first.”
We stop moving and the arms around me tighten. “You would risk our lives for hers?” Nix asks. There is nothing in his tone that I can grasp.
Chol peers down at me through the fog. “She’s innocent in all of this. Injured because of us. I can’t ask her to do more than she already has.”
“Then we leave.”
We move off again. They fall silent and slip into a dark room. A narrow bed waits along one wall near an open door, the blankets and pillows unused. Nix lays me out on the mattress as Chol holds back the blankets. The bed closes in around me, and the blankets are tucked over my body with a surprising amount of tenderness. I snuggle deeper into the cool sheets with a sigh.
The fine edges of sleep filter into the golden fog, adding a darkness that should scare me. Something about it should bother me. I know it. But for some reason, right now, it doesn’t. A soft exhale leaves me and a gentle warmth flows across my cheek.
“Sleep, Sayah. We’re right here.”
And I do.
Chapter 7
Light adds to the heat trying to suffocate me. I struggle and finally sit bolt upright, a too big, thick sweatshirt tight around my neck and twisted clean behind me. Pulling at the material through bleary eyes, the pale beige blanket across my waist gives me pause.
Whose bed is this?
The fatigue vanishes as a fine edge of fear filters through my insides. I look around, noting the robust furniture, tall lamps, and otherwise pristine suite. Soft breathing flows to my ears from the nearby sofa and I rise carefully, hoodie bagging nearly to my knees.
Tousled, ruby locks rest on one embroidered pillow, and, in the pale, silver light coming from the window, hints of crimson and scarlet shine up at me. Corded russet muscle is visible in the strong arms cast at odd angles, and the expanse of chiseled midsection where Nix’s tank top has ridden up in his sleep.
I try not to stare, but up and moving Nix is scary. Devastatingly hot…but scary. Asleep he is almost innocent. Adorable in his repose.
He shifts, full lips parting, and a few rich tendrils of hair flow across his closed eyes. I clench my hands into fists to keep from brushing them back.
Easing away, I turn on my heel and walk to the door. The hall is quiet, with little hint of the insane night evident. I slip into my room, and head straight for the bathroom.
After a quick shower, using some of my precious energy to heat the water, I change into a pair of torn jeans and my comfiest boots. I add a short sleeve tee and my jeweled blades and almost feel normal.
Walking from the room, the old mirror on the back of the door catches my attention.
Dark circles rest under my ice-blue eyes. It makes the color almost white and startling in my pale face. A single scabbed cut rests over my cheek, and I can only imagine it is from the front door exploding. But it’s the worse injury visible. I pull my still damp, black hair up in a loose braid and head downstairs to assess the rest of the damage.
The wards remain nonexistent as I trail my fingers over the paneling. Every few feet, I stop and dig deep through the spells, adding a pulse here and there. It’s nothing like Father’s near lyrical weaving, and I’m not even surprised when they don’t respond.
His office is barely controlled chaos, but I climb on the corner of his desk, next to the busted windows, with the old cellphone in my hand.
Only one battery mark remains, and it shimmers before solidifying once more. It’s going to have to do.
It takes some maneuvering, but I find the cold spot in the room and call the consulate. After much deliberation and verifying, they patch me through.
“Sayah?” Mother’s voice is harried, breathless. “Are you okay?”
I pluck a shattered piece of door off Father’s folders. “Sure. Just wondering when you guys will be back.” The phone gives a plaintive beep. I pull it away. The battery icon blinks.
Shit.
She exhales. “No time soon. There was an attack on the consulate.”
I go ramrod straight as her words send my pulse racing. “What?”
“Something breached the wards. It drained multiple members of the task force before it just disappeared.”
All the blood in my veins turns to ice as the phone beeps again. I press it harder to my ear.
Don’t die, don’t die.
“And…does anyone know why?” I ask.
“No. Just that it vanished into thin air like it was burned away…”
“Mother—”
Someone shouts on her end of the line. She gives a long exhale. “I’m sorry, Sayah. You’re going to have to hold down Midnight until we get back—Take care of Prince Chol.”
“Mother, wait. You don’t under—”
The phone beeps and then clicks in my ear. I pull the device away with a grimace and stare at the black screen. “Damn it all to the farthest reaches of the Seven Hells,” I swear.
A low whistle sounds and my head whips up. Chol and Nix stand in the doorway.
Nix has for
gone his hooded vest in favor of just the tank top and dark jeans he slept in. His boots rest on his feet, unzipped, and a myriad of weapons bristle about his frame. Though his expression is cool, his eyes burn under the casual sweep of his hair.
Chol leans next to him, one tan arm amicably draped over his guard’s shoulder. His soft blue shirt is vibrant in comparison to Nix’s attire, and a strange sense of déjà vu flows through me. A reminder of another time when their contrast was just as pronounced. Light and dark.
Sun and shadow... Wait.
It all roars back to me. The roof, Nix’s power and mine, Chol’s interference…Being in their arms…
Oh hell. The amour.
Chol used amour on me.
“You dick!” Face on fire, I rip a dirk from my belt and hurl it across the room.
Nix snatches the blade from the air, tip inches from his charge’s flesh. He raises a brow. “I gave you a free pass yesterday,” he says. “You should’ve taken it then.”
Chol stares—wide eyed—beside him. “I thought you were joking,” he croaks. In that moment, I’m not sure which is the bigger surprise, that Nix could make a joke, or that I was serious about stabbing Chol.
I hop down from the desk, finger wagging to hide my shock at my own level of violence. “I told you… No, I warned you not to use amour on me. And then you did anyway.”
Chol backpedals. “You were going to toss Nix off the roof! I saw it. It was the only thing I could think of.”
“So you took away my free will?”
His head shakes, blond locks swaying and his expression puzzled. “No. Of course not. Amour doesn’t work like that. It just allows me to amplify what is already there. You were in complete control. You just... didn’t care,” he murmurs the last part.
My mouth gapes; open and closing before settling on a hard line.
Didn’t care?
A low growl of sound pours from my chest and magick crackles at my fingertips.
