Shadowed Fire (Veil of Midnight Book 1)

by A. Vers

  Nearly three days with the Parax. Chol’s eyes glow almost constantly with hunger, and I know it’s because of his wound. He needs energy to finish healing, to replenish what he lost.

  But I can’t leave without Nix. And Chol won’t.

  Soon the prince will have to feed one way or another. My face heats. And though I am sure one of the Parax could be tempted, I don’t think I can watch him walk away with someone else. Not now. Not after everything.

  “I think you missed a spot.”

  I peer over my shoulder. Chol crouches inside the narrow opening of our tent, shirt gone and his hair still wet from his own makeshift bath.

  His bandages have been reduced to little more than a strip of white over one oblique muscle.

  Fire courses through me at the gold bursts in his irises. “Were you watching me?”

  He smiles, equal parts angelic coloring and sinful teasing. “I would never.” His head tilts. “Now, gazing at you like I would a work of art… that I may be guilty of.”

  I drop the rag back into the bucket and tug my last clean shirt from my bag and slip it on. He grumbles, but there is no true discontent in the sound when my finger crooks at him.

  Chol does not hobble over, stoop, or walk. He crawls in a predatory sway over the cushions until he is level with me. His fingers wind in my hair, pulling me onto the low bed. Our mouths meet and delicious fire pools in my stomach. The world goes hazy.

  With a deep growl, he pulls me down, settling between my legs in a hot and heavy press. Even through my jeans. One strong arm holds him up while the other loops under my back, lifting me until my chest is flush with his, until I can feel his heartbeat. Pounding. Gods it pounds into me. I grip his back, fingers digging into his muscle as his mouth trails over my jaw and to the shell of my ear.

  He nibbles and laves at my lobe until I gasp and arch into him, leg looping over his to pull him to me.

  “Glad to see you’re both still alive. No. Please. Don’t stop on my account.”

  I lean around Chol’s broad shoulders, heart in my throat as my desire turns cold.

  Familiar burning eyes lock in mine, and I inhale sharply. “Nix.”

  Chapter 22

  Nix rips his cloak off, fluffs it out, and drapes it over the pole next to the fire. Every movement is stiff, angry, and my stomach knots.

  We didn’t come looking for him. But now I know I should have instead of waiting here in his friend’s arms.

  Chol offers him a wooden cup filled to the brim. Nix guzzles down the water in long pulls that make his strong throat work. He scrubs his hand over his mouth and hands it back as Chol drops gracefully onto a fallen log.

  “What happened?” the Prince asks.

  As Nix turns, the firelight illuminates thin, livid red marks all over his russet skin. He huffs. “What do you think?”

  My blood freezes. “Did you… Are they—”

  He peers at me, flames rolling in the depths of his irises. A small ripple seems to go through him. “Yes. All but the leader. By the time I backtracked, he was gone.”

  I grab the cup from Chol and move to the hollowed out trunk in the shadows of the tent. Refilling it, I take the handcrafted tumbler back to Nix.

  He takes it, his eyes cutting to me from under his long lashes. It makes my heart stop.

  “Start from the beginning,” I say softly. “How did you find us?”

  He sprawls casually in front of the fire, one arm cast over his drawn up knee. “By the time the dark closed over you both, the shifter was on me,” he begins.

  I listen, hands curling tighter and tighter at the battle that followed. Serena and the shifter woman had appeared seemingly from nothing, relying on Nix’s inability to see in the dark where the shifter could.

  He strips off his shredded tank top as he talks. Burns and charred smudges mar his skin from the blasts of power Serena hurled at him. Rage unfurls in my stomach like a great wave of darkness. I grind my teeth.

  “It took hours staggering in the dark trying to find any sign of a trail.” He slips off his gauntlet and holds up his arm. A familiar silver cuff glints. “Then this started humming.”

  I stare. “Humming?”

  He nods. “Every time I turned the wrong way, it would quiet. I followed it through the night. And here I am.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but my eyes stray to the band of silver on his wrist and then to the marks it was supposed to protect him from.

  “Did you create that, Sayah?” Chol asks, jarring me.

  I whirl, neck heating. “Ummm… That wasn’t the spell I wove.” I peer between them. “It was a shield spell. Or it should have been.”

  “Should have?” Nix asks, taking another drink. The motion and tone is nonchalant. But his eyes burn into me.

  “My magick is--different,” I hedge. “Sometimes it doesn’t do exactly like I want.”

  He remains silent, and the fire in his gaze grows. Even with Chol feet away, I want to rush to Nix and search his body. To verify he is fine. Real.

  The memory of Wicked courses through me, building the fire that he ignited. Unwittingly and unwillingly.

  I grip the log beneath me, digging my fingernails into the smooth bark to keep myself in place. “Well…regardless,” I say, breathless, “I’m glad you’re okay and that you made it here.”

  He takes another drink and inclines his head.

  “There’s a bucket inside the tent,” Chol says. “If you want to clean off.”

  Nix climbs to his feet, stretching. My eyes flow over the marks covering him and the solid muscle beneath them. When my gaze finally flows up to his face, he watches me with a predatory light.

  “I won’t be long,” he murmurs and turns to the other man. “Chol, is there anything to eat?”

  The Prince climbs to his feet. “Damn. Of course. I’ll be right back.” He sprints off through the tents toward the Brekka. I stand frozen in place as he goes.

  The tent flap flutters behind me and I turn. Nix disappears inside. One russet hand holds the panel open in a silent invitation to follow.

  I bite my bottom lip.

  My head turns in the direction that Chol went. Should I…

  I stumble closer to the tent and duck under the small overhang.

  Nix moves deeper into the gloom, gaze casting over the disheveled cushions and thick pelts where Chol and I sleep. I hover near the doorway.

  His hands move to his weapons belt and he starts disarming. The knives and swords fall from his waist in a glittering array. My mouth goes dry.

  “You both look well,” he says, eyes burning as he peers over at me.

  “The Parax healed Chol and…though they caused it,” I gingerly touch my temple, “my head feels better.”

  He stalks over the narrow space between us. His long fingers reach for my hair, brushing it back as he peers at the healed marks along my temple. His jaw ripples.

  “The ones who did it… Did they look worse?”

  My lips curve, I can’t help it. “I killed two before they knocked me out.”

  His smile is feral and menacing. “Good.”

  We stare at each other. Each fingertip is hot, searing deep into me. “Nix--”

  He pulls away. “The leader is still out there,” he says, turning towards the side of the tent and the bucket waiting.

  I give him my back. Water splashes and I fight valiantly not to envision each droplet as it trails over him.

  Gods above why did I come in here?

  “We’re going to have to go, aren’t we?” I finally ask as the quiet grows unbearable.

  He sighs. “The consulate is our best hope. Though I hate to risk another attack, their resources are nearly endless. If we can get to them… Maybe they will be able to do something more permanent.”

  I nod. “Chol says this is the longest he has gone without running. Is that true?”

  Silence. “Possibly, yes.”

  “I don’t think that’s ever going to not be depressing.”

 
He snorts and more water splashes. “Imagine living it for years. Never really resting, having a home. Friends. A life.” There is something in his voice.

  I turn in time to watch as he pushes back his sodden hair. The thick strands fold over, leaving his face surprisingly bare and his eyes like beacons inside the dusky tent.

  “Do you miss not having any of that?” I ask, voice softer than I intended.

  There is something oddly intimate in the silence between us.

  He reaches for one of the clean strips of fabric and begins drying his glistening chest and arms. I was right. The water doesn’t help.

  “I never used to,” he admits, and I try not to watch as his upper body flexes with every movement. “Would never have considered trading what I am. Not for anything.”

  “Before Chol, there was the brotherhood. Then Chol became part of my life, the family I never had. So though we never have a moments peace, I have him to keep me sane when the blood flows too much.”

  I gulp at that mental image. “And now?”

  He drops the fabric and moves in close to my front. His body heat radiates into and around me, filling me with relief and a calm that has been missing for days. But the fire soon follows. The fire he is building without realizing it. The one I shouldn’t feel.

  That he can never return.

  His irises lock deep in mine. “Now…” He exhales. “Now I would give almost anything to have been in Chol’s place the last few days. Safe. Surrounded by friendly people.” He looks at me. “A good woman. A partner.”

  I blink.

  He turns away and reaches for his discarded pack. “But that was never meant to be my life. I was born a Hallow and will die as one. Alone and in the dark.” He pulls a simple black shirt from his bag and tugs it over his head. “And that is all I can ever hope to have. That’s why you need to hear this now.”

  My heart slams in trepidation.

  “That kiss should have never happened, Sayah.”

  I shift in place, rubbing my arms as my stomach tosses and turns with anxiety. As guilty as I feel about it, I don’t regret it. Not really. A kiss with Nix—even a one-sided one—is a once in a lifetime thing. And something I will never forget.

  “I never said thank you,” I murmur. “For not throwing it back in my face, I mean. You were right. I drunk more than I thought.”

  His back ripples under his shirt, and I wish I could see his expression. “No. You were upset about Chol feeding.” He faces me, features blank. “But he’s going to have to feed again and you need to come to terms with that.”

  “I have—”

  He holds up one russet hand. “You think you have. But theory and reality are two different things. Every time he feeds it’s going to be on someone else. Several someones possibly.”

  My stomach knots. “So what are you saying?” I demand, searching his defined features in the low light.

  He shifts closer. “I’m saying you need to decide if you can really handle all that. If you can really watch him take someone else to bed whenever his hunger gets to be too much.” His exhale is tired, worn out. “You need to decide how much you care for him, and, if you can’t handle it… If you care enough to walk away.”

  Ѻ

  With the firelight dancing over the canvas above, I expect it to be warmer. Easier to sleep. But Chol is feet away--at my insistence.

  When Nix offered to leave us alone, something odd zapped my insides, jolting me into motion. Telling him to stay, to remain close just in case, was selfish. I know it, but I can’t change it.

  My eyes press closed, wishing for the oblivion of slumber. Anything but the back and forth seesaw of my emotions.

  Surely this is not normal.

  The few relationships I have witnessed have been simple on the outside. And the couples never appeared as confused as I am now.

  Nix’s words repeat over and over in my head. Made worse because a part of me knows he is right.

  As much as I like Chol--and I like Chol… I don’t know if I can watch him walk away with someone else every time he needs to feed. Besides, he will be somewhere topside, hiding out and staying safe and I’ll be…

  At Midnight.

  I roll onto my side, peering into the dimness. Chol’s full lips are parted, his soft breath audible. No doubt unfettered by untimely decisions, by kisses he can’t take back. Or questions that leave hope trapped and dying in your insides with fluttering wings--

  He turns over and one tan arm throws out towards me, fingers stretched for mine. My chest tightens all over again.

  “You need to sleep, Sayah,” Nix’s voice is a rich whisper in the dark. It does things to my insides, heating them like a caress upon my skin.

  I snort at the absurdity. “Sleep is not forthcoming this evening.”

  Silence. The cushions dip a bit. My head raises to find his vibrant eyes as he prowls closer to me. Like a large cat stalking his prey. He drops his pillow and a midnight pelt within reach and lays down.

  In front of the tent opening. Less than a foot away.

  He rests his head upon the curve of dark fabric beneath his shadowed cheek. His hair falls over his gaze, leaving the embers of his irises surrounded in fiery tendrils. “Do you fear the assassin?” he asks.

  My lips curve against my will. “I fear nothing with you both near.”

  He props up on his hand. “Nothing?”

  I mull over the question. “I fear you both leaving when the time comes,” I say honestly, knowing he expects no less. Knowing I can give him no less. “It has been years since I had a friend beyond Aith.”

  “You would call me friend?”

  My brow arches. “I think watching each other’s back the last few days counts, don’t you?”

  His head bobs a bit. “I suppose.” It’s neither an admission nor a denial. It’s simply Nix.

  I lay back down, facing him. “Where will you go after the consulate?”

  He pauses. “What do you mean?”

  “If they can protect Chol, will Marlec require you to stay? Or will you have to leave?”

  Something achingly bright flashes through his eyes. “I will leave. Chol will have no need of my skills. His--life will have no place for me anymore.”

  “So you’ll go back to being a Hallow?” I ask in a terse whisper, trying to force away the pain I unwittingly caused him. And myself.

  He huffs. “Ah yes. To rejoin the brotherhood of assassins.” One russet arm comes up and shoves his hair back. The little funnel shaped beads in his braid remain silent.

  I reach without thought, fingers flowing through the carefully wrapped silken tendrils of his braid to the matte black pieces. He stills. The four little spikes are stacked inside each other, carved with intricate whirls similar to the ones on his skin. “What are they for?” I ask. “And how do they stay so quiet?”

  When I glance at him, his gaze is locked on me with the same predator’s focus as before. “They are feir. One for every lustrum, or five years, I have been part of the brotherhood. They remain silent by Hallow magick.” His fingers flow over mine, showing me the patterns on each with his guiding heat. “Each design is a testament to my lineage, my power. My skill.”

  “When I was inducted, the High Magisterium had the first engraved. But after my five year ceremony, he had the next ten commissioned.”

  “Why?” I breathe.

  His white teeth bare in the dark. “Because he had never seen anyone who could kill so easily as a boy.” His expression and words are meant to intimidate. To keep people out.

  My heart stutters with pain for him. “Could you?” I ask. “Kill that easy?”

  Something dark rolls through his eyes. “I will do my job, Sayah. I will protect who I am meant to protect. Target who I am tasked to target. No matter the cost.”

  His words are almost a warning. A plea. And the assassin’s words at Midnight float back to me.

  My lips part. Nix is a killer. Through and through he is a Hallow. Deadly, unrivaled. Da
ngerous.

  But he’s also loyal, strong, and protective of those he lets in.

  His hand closes over mine, pulling it from his feir. I let it drop back to the cushions with an exhale, but it’s shaky.

  He looks at Chol’s slumbering form, his expression guarded. “Chol will bear that scar for the rest of his life. And I will bear the pain of knowing it was my fault…as penance.”

  Something in me breaks. “It wasn’t—”

  His head turns away, giving me his chiseled profile. “Again and again you have saved him. By bringing him here--by risking your own life… You are as much his protector as I am. And for that, I owe you my honor and a debt I can never repay.”

  He leans closer until his breath is warm across my face. “But this is why Hallows fight alone. Why we kill alone. Why we are alone.” The word alone is like a spike in my chest, reverberating over and over as he speaks. “My mistake nearly cost Chol is life. Nearly cost me my honor. My friend.”

  I stare into his eyes from so close.

  He sits back. “And that is why as soon as we are topside…as soon as Chol is safe…I will leave and return to the brotherhood.” Cool air flows between us, leaving me cold and hollow. “Chol is more than my charge, he is my family. Him and Erem. They are all I have in this cursed life. And I will not forsake him. Will not hurt him again in any way.”

  “So whatever you think you feel for him…figure it out. And soon. He needs someone who can watch his back when I’m gone. Someone who can make him happy. But that means he needs someone who can accept all of who he is too.” I start to speak but his gaze sears me, stopping the words in my throat. “Not just the parts they agree with.”

  His words hang in the night, but they rip through my heart and soul in a way that should not be possible. Not so soon.

  Tears well in my eyes before I can blink them away. “Of course.” I hear the words leave my lips, devoid of inflection. “Chol means so much to both of us. He deserves a little peace in this hell. And if we both care for him, then we can give him no less. Nothing short of a normal, peaceful life.”

  I try to smile, but it’s probably closer to a grimace. “Midnight is my home. I know that. Ambassador or not, I know my duties. My place. Even in his life. And yours,” I amend. “Don’t worry. What you saw with Chol was his hunger. The amour. Nothing deeper.”