by Ella M. Lee
I checked my phone once I was back in the safety of my own apartment. Nicolas hadn’t contacted me. Was he still tied up? How long did council meetings last? Maybe he was simply avoiding me.
I wouldn’t have blamed him for that. I had asked for it. I had given him permission to forget about us, and I was trying to make myself okay with that. Caring for someone meant wanting the best for them, wanting them to be happy and fulfilled on the path they had chosen. That was the rational, adult way to feel, right?
Then why did it hurt?
Poor Nicolas, who didn’t think anyone could love him. Given the way he treated most people, that might actually be true.
I didn’t know if I could be the person who loved him. Whatever we had was far too premature for that concept, but I would try if he asked.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think he would ask. I figured I had told him exactly what he had wanted to hear: acceptance of being pushed away. He had tried to push me away—for however dumb of a reason—and I had given him an out.
My fingers hovered over his name in my phone’s texting app. I could say something. I could ask him how he was. I could ask him how the meeting had gone. I could tell him I missed him. I could ask to see him. I could tell him I wanted him to pick me and not himself.
No, I couldn’t say any of that, because none of it was completely honest. None of it was completely complete.
So I sent him the only thing I could, words that I would have understood. I knew he would understand too. Nicolas had always understood me, from the very beginning.
“Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
There. Encouragement. He could look up the words and find out that they were written by Rainer Maria Rilke. Nicolas had given me so much comfort and support. I could try to do the same for him in return.
You will find love, Nicolas, I thought. I’m not sure if it will be with me, but it’s out there, somewhere. Love so strong and so vast that even you will bow beneath it.
Because how could someone like Nicolas not be loved? I no longer saw the parts of him that frightened others. Instead, all I saw was the playful passion and quiet brilliance and deep understanding that dwelled beneath his carefully crafted facade. Anyone smart would be able to do the same.
So why was he still so alone?
I ate dinner woodenly. I read while completely distracted, my eyes running over sentences again and again. I couldn’t even cheer myself up with a hot shower or pictures of cute kittens or reruns of television shows I loved.
It was midnight, and I was tossing and turning in bed when there was light tapping on my door. A moment later, the softest touch of magic brushed my wards.
Nicolas.
I threw the door open. “Hey,” I said, breathless.
He looked the same as he had this morning: beautiful and grave, with all his magic dark and hidden.
“Hello,” he said, looking me up and down.
I blushed. I was hardly wearing anything, just underwear and a skimpy tank top, with my hair loose and messy.
“What?” I asked, embarrassed. “I was in bed.”
“I’m bothering you,” he said quietly. He took a step back.
“Never,” I said, waving him closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
That was a typical Nicolas response. He never offered any other answer when asked how he felt. I was now adept at understanding how to get him to respond to me.
“What do you need?” I said, rephrasing.
“Would you come with me?”
“Why?” I replied. I hesitated. “Where?”
“To my apartment. My day was challenging, and I miss your company. I’d like someone to talk to.”
My heart leaped painfully into my throat. I could say no. I probably should say no. But a million years ago—well, three weeks ago—I had told Nicolas that I wanted to be the person in his group who took care of him. This was his way of asking politely for that.
I offered him my hand. He gave me a relieved smile, grasping my fingers and tugging me gently down the hall and into his apartment.
“Tell me what happened,” I said as I wrapped myself in a blanket and watched him pour himself several fingers of whiskey.
He joined me on the couch and sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. “That council meeting was a mess. Everyone is still in an uproar over Derek’s disappearance. Nothing like this has ever happened here, and everyone is too caught up blaming each other to get anything done.”
“Do you know what happened yet or where he went? I couldn’t find much in our group’s reports about it.”
“All of the data for this issue is held in the semi-public files and folders that we share with Arturo’s group, not in our private database,” Nicolas said. “Dan can show you. I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping you in the loop.”
There was an understandable reason for that: until a couple of days ago, I hadn’t been part of the clan or his group. Nicolas took the confidentiality of his work very seriously. Even though I had been a clan candidate, I hadn’t been invited to any group meetings—which I knew took place—and Nicolas had rarely engaged in serious conversations around me unless they were in a different language.
I was fine with that then, but now I felt I deserved to be included, especially if Nicolas was going to drag me out of bed to talk. Nicolas gave me a slight smile, and I knew he had heard my silent griping.
“Thank you for being so patient, lamb,” he said. “We know Derek went to Meteor, but that’s about all. We don’t know if he joined the clan or if they are merely sheltering him, and we don’t know where he is. You know as well as I do that getting information out of Meteor is difficult. Derek is smart, but not as smart as me. He’ll seek allies quickly, people he thinks are powerful enough to protect him, in Meteor or elsewhere.”
“What now, then?” I asked.
“We keep trying to locate him, and when we do, I hunt him down and kill him.”
My eyes widened in alarm. Nicolas had said the words casually and matter-of-factly, with no hint of emotion. I studied him, but he didn’t seem ruffled in any way.
“Can you do that?” I asked. “Kill him? Does that break any clan laws?”
“It is perfectly allowable,” he said. “He is no longer a member of Water. He is a criminal who hurt my group members and attempted to kill me. No one would deny me the right to destroy him, and I fully intend to exercise that right.”
“Are you okay with that?”
He seemed annoyed and unhappy, but I wasn’t sure that had anything to do with killing Derek.
“C’est la vie. It is what it is,” he said, shrugging. “I’m certainly angry enough over what happened to murder him.”
I didn’t think I should explore this particular topic. There were better people to broach that with him—Daniel, Ryan, Teng, probably Sylvio.
“What was the rest of the meeting about?” I asked, changing the subject.
He spread his hands. “Plenty of dull issues that would be easy to decide on between three people but are somehow nearly impossible to discuss with fifteen people. Clan budgets, minor rule changes, new commander appointments, security changes, communications with other clans, etcetera. Every single thing takes ten times as long as it should.”
“Did you elect our chairman?” I asked.
Water’s chairman position had been open since before I had arrived. Nicolas didn’t want the position himself, but he’d been pushing an ally toward it, which made sense. The chairman made almost all high-level strategic decisions when it came to the clan’s long-term goals and objectives, and Nicolas obviously wanted that person to be aligned with his goals and objectives.
“Yes. Angie,” he said. “That, at least, went my way.”
“Congratulations,” I said, offering him a small smile.
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He held up his glass in a toast and drained it. He set it carefully on the table and stood. I could tell by his stiff movements that he was completely wiped out.
He stripped off his blazer and tie and unbuttoned the shirt underneath. He went into his bedroom and returned wearing just a white T-shirt and loose running pants. I smiled. I liked seeing him in white because it softened his stern looks.
He flopped back down on the couch and stretched out on his back like a large, powerful cat. His head was near me, so I ran my fingers through his hair gently. He looked a little less tense now.
“What did you do all day?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Got my ass kicked by Daniel, practiced transmutation with Ryan, tried not to be horribly intimidated by Teng. Oh, and Chandra spoke to me for the first time. She cornered me in the Menagerie.”
His brows flicked up. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to see my transmutation. She was surprisingly demure.”
“What happened?” Nicolas asked, his curious eyes on mine.
“I showed her my fire, then I offered to buy her an espresso and complimented her dress. She said she was on her way out. She was wearing this fabulous brown sheath dress and a red Hermès bag.”
“Yes, that dress is Hervé Léger,” he said absently. “A good look on her.”
I smiled. “Do you know everything?”
“About clothing, yes.” He paused. “I’m pleased that she was curious about you.”
“Did you ask her to talk to me?”
“No,” he said. “Although we have discussed you several times at length. I was confident Chandra would come around eventually without additional pressure from me. She likes having time to adjust to new ideas.”
“I’m glad you know your group members so well.”
“Our work requires unshakeable trust,” he said. “I pick my people carefully. A huge component to those selections is based on whether I can trust them, whether I think they will trust me, and whether I believe they can eventually mesh well enough with the others in a way that fosters respect and trust. Not all groups need such specific handling, but I require it in mine.”
“And you thought I met all that?”
He took my hand in his, resting his knuckles on my bare thigh. My breath caught.
“Yes,” he said. “My visions helped, but I did work behind the scenes too. I have spoken to every member of my group extensively about you and your background. I’ve studied you carefully. I paired you with Daniel and Ryan to learn their opinions of you. I’ve seen all the same signs and patterns with you that I’ve seen with other successful acquisitions. You are doing well.”
I smiled nervously, feeling embarrassed by his attention. “I’m trying to be worth all that trouble.”
“I know, lamb,” he murmured. “You are, truly.”
His fingers squeezed mine gently, and his words warmed my heart. Nicolas had never said a single negative thing about me, had never expressed even the slightest doubt in me. He was impressively encouraging. I was excited to see what it would be like to work under a commander like that.
And I was more than a little curious about what it would be like to have a boyfriend who treated me so well.
I hadn’t dated a lot in my life, and most of the men I’d been with had been sweet but mediocre. Nicolas wasn’t mediocre at anything. I wasn’t sure if it was even possible for him to stoop to the level of mediocre.
Nicolas had a combination of qualities that could have turned him into a complete jerk—brilliant, powerful, rich, gorgeous—but he was nothing of the sort toward me. Our situation hadn’t always afforded us the best interactions, but he had treated me with as much respect and compassion as he possibly could, and I was impressed by how attentively he listened and responded to me.
I absently played with the ring on his right middle finger, marveling at how such a little thing could hide all of his impressive and expansive magic. I loved his magic, had fallen in love with it slowly as I saw more and more of its beauty. I hated when he hid it.
“You can take that off,” he offered.
I slid the ring off his finger and gently placed it on the table, sighing as his magic settled in feathery, glossy layers around us.
“Fiona?” he asked quietly.
“Nicolas?”
His fingers swept along my thigh as he pulled his hand from mine. I tensed, shivers running up my spine. He sat up straight, studying me with a disarmingly eager and radiant expression.
“I’m taking you on a date tomorrow night. If you’re still interested, that is.”
I thought my heart would stop beating, hearing his warm and hopeful tone.
I nodded. “Definitely interested. Very, very interested.”
“Dieu merci,” he said, sighing. I knew that one: Thank God.
I rested my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around me, running his fingers through my hair.
“When did you have time to plan a date?” I asked.
“Even with the current unfortunate circumstances, I only need about a fifth of my brain power for council meetings,” he said. “The rest can be put toward sending frantic, pleading emails to my favorite restaurants.”
“How much of the council meeting did you spend deciding which way to go when it came to us?” I asked.
“It took me several hours to understand how I felt, to realize that I had already made my decision before I even left your apartment,” he said. “When you answered the door earlier, all sweet and tousled from bed… I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I still can’t.”
“I’ve missed you these past couple of days,” I said. “It’s not the same, being alone at night.”
He pressed his cheek into my hair. “Stay here with me tonight.”
I was relieved at his words. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before I did the same, falling asleep. I woke for only a couple of moments as he carried me to bed, placing a light kiss on my temple, making my breath catch once more as I imagined what could happen between us.
The next time my eyes opened, my vision was filled with Daniel’s dark gaze. I jumped back, startled. He was lying on his back next to me, his head turned in my direction, his hands lazily stretched up toward the headboard.
“Can you imagine my surprise, finding you in Nicolas’s bed?” Daniel asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Next time you scare me like that, I’m going to punch you in the face,” I said.
“Oh? I’d like to see that. You haven’t yet been able to punch me in the face.”
“I hate you. What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” he countered, raising his eyebrows and giving me a significant look.
“Long story,” I said. “You don’t have time.”
“I also don’t really care,” he pointed out, shrugging. He studied his fancy, magnificent watch for a moment. “It’s late. Get up.”
I sighed. When I didn’t move, Daniel crossed one of his legs over the other, planted his foot just above my hip bone, and shoved. I went flying off the edge of the bed and landed in a heap on the cold floor.
“Fuck you!” I hissed.
“Good morning, Fi!” he said, casting me a glorious smile before bouncing off the bed and dancing out of the bedroom. I followed reluctantly. Dan took a seat across from Nicolas at the dining room table.
Nicolas was dressed the same as last night, looking rumpled and relaxed. He was studying his laptop with his eyes half closed. I liked seeing his pleased expression. Hopefully it had something to do with me.
His eyes met mine, and he smiled, spreading his palms as if agreeing with my thoughts.
As I passed by Daniel’s chair, I reached over and messed up his spiky hair with my fingers. Fast as lightning, his hand shot out and closed on my wrist. I pulled away instantly, but his arm didn’t move, and I was locked in his grasp. I tugged again to no effect.
“Be careful what you leave within an o
pponent’s reach,” he said.
“Yes, okay,” I conceded. “Are you going to let go?”
“Make me.”
I wedged my arm against the back of the chair for leverage and tried to snap it down and out of his grip. That did nothing; Daniel was unfazed by my struggling. His fingers pressed into my skin harder.
I pursed my lips. Quickly, I rolled Water magic down my arm and shifted it to fire. It did nothing more than tingle on my skin, but I had learned that I could adjust how much it hurt others. I went just hard enough this time to give Daniel a good shock.
“Too slow,” he drawled, sounding bored.
His shield activated instantly, and I felt the crackling of his strange transmuted lightning against my own magic. A second later, he shocked me with it.
“Hey!” I said, annoyed.
“I teach kung fu to six-year-olds who have broken my hold faster than you,” Daniel said, tilting his head to give me one of his glowing smiles.
My gaze met Nicolas’s again. He was watching us, interested in Dan’s unconventional instruction.
Daniel had been eating an apple with a knife, and now the blade lay forgotten next to his laptop. Faster than he could catch me, I grabbed it and slashed it down his forearm.
He moved, about to disarm me with his other hand, but I shoved into him, pinning him against the heavy dining table.
He was stronger than I was, but all I needed was a moment or two.
Rapidly, I pressed my finger into the blood on his forearm and swept it into a spiral on his skin. I immediately suffused my fingers with my transmuted power and splayed all five against his arm, igniting the bloody design with my magic.
Instantly, his own fingers opened into the same pattern, and my wrist was free. I launched myself away from him. He spun in his chair and assessed me with wide eyes.
“Be careful what you leave within an opponent’s reach,” I said mockingly.
He exhaled sharply, inspecting my design on his arm. “You controlled my hand,” he said, his tone awed. “What was that?”
