by Ella M. Lee
He was in an exquisite charcoal-gray suit tonight. The white shirt underneath was sumptuously textured linen, left open at the collar to reveal a beautiful piece of yellow jade on a dark rope around his neck. His sleeves ended in French cuffs, and the cuff links were unique: tiny fox heads done in orange agate with little black eyes and whiskers.
I took one of his arms tentatively in my hands.
“These are very neat,” I said, running my fingers over the little works of art.
“Aren’t they?” His tone was appreciative. “They were a gift from Jasmine. Foxes are a little inside joke of ours.”
“Not wolves?” I asked, recalling his intimidating and deadly shapeshifting form.
“My wolf came years later,” he said. “I went through much trial and error while deciding that.”
“I think the wolf suits you.”
“Thank you.” His touched expression told me how much he appreciated my words.
I was glad I had said them. He was so generous with his compliments to me that I wanted to give him something in return.
He squeezed my hands and studied me for a moment longer before withdrawing a long red box from his inner jacket pocket. It was emblazoned with Cartier, just like the necklace he had given me three weeks ago after I had helped him defeat Derek. I wasn’t wearing that necklace tonight—it was rose gold and didn’t go with my ensemble—and I felt a little naked without it. I hadn’t realized how much strength the little twists of metal had been giving me.
Nicolas held the box out to me with a small smile, and I accepted the gift with both hands.
“You didn’t have to…” I said weakly, shaking my head.
“I wanted to.”
His tone left no room for arguments. I swallowed and opened the box. Nestled on white silk was a string of sapphires. There must have been at least fifteen or twenty of them, each small and dark and perfect, all set a half inch or so apart along the length of the glittering chain.
Thousands of dollars in gold and gems, and Nicolas was handing it to me casually before a first date. I hated him, but I also sort of loved him for it.
“My god,” I said. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
“May I put it on for you?”
Nicolas was always the perfect gentleman, and it completely charmed me. I turned so that he could rest the necklace on my throat. Once he had clasped it, I touched the delicate chain.
“Tu es parfaite,” he said, studying me, his warm fingers still barely touching my collarbone.
I shivered, my heart practically beating out of my chest. We needed to leave for dinner. We needed to leave for dinner now, before I decided that I’d rather let him peel me out of my dress and do undoubtedly amazing things to me on my couch.
His hands tensed on my shoulders lightly; he’d heard my thoughts. I really liked that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off me, or keep from smiling, or keep his hands from lingering on my waist as he calmly guided me out of my apartment.
A devastatingly beautiful dark-blue Audi R8 waited outside the clan house building for us. Nicolas ushered me into the passenger seat, and I felt like a celebrity in his ultra-luxe sports car.
“This is a different car than the last time you took me out,” I said. “Did you buy it to go with my outfit?”
“Yes, I picked it up today along with those sapphires,” he said. “I am very thorough.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, what? Is that actually true?” With Nicolas, it was impossible to tell.
He laughed. “No. I bought this car several months ago after Daniel destroyed my last Audi.”
“Dan destroyed your car?” I asked, aghast.
“He was on an operation, and it got dangerous,” Nicolas said. “I’d rather pay for a thousand destroyed sports cars than see Daniel hurt, so there were no hard feelings.”
I watched him as he said the words. He was focused on driving, navigating quickly around other cars on the highway, and I always loved watching his intense concentration.
I wanted Nicolas, but I wanted him for so much more than his looks or his power or his penchant for giving over-the-top gifts. I wanted him because when he looked at me, I felt appreciated. I knew that Nicolas thought I was pretty, but his appreciation went so much deeper than that. When he looked at me, he didn’t just take—he gave. His gaze filled me with strength and encouragement. I felt capable and clever with him, and I was always inspired to be better in his presence.
Everything about Nicolas that made others wary of him—like his insane magic and his intimidating mind-reading ability—sparked desire within me. He worked very hard to make those attributes appear dangerous, and I understood precisely how much fortitude it took for him to maintain that act.
I saw a person I cared for a great deal lurking underneath that veneer. I knew there was a side of him that could be funny and playful and sweet, that could be compassionate toward me in my darkest moments, that could curl up next to me and offer me insights into his depths.
Nicolas cared, even if he didn’t want most people to know. He had genuinely mourned the death of his lieutenant. He was generous with every member of his group. He loved Daniel in ways I rarely saw outside of true family, and I had heard him call Ryan “brother” more than once even though they were not related by blood.
It made me think he could extend that sort of attention and love into a relationship, even though he seemed to worry about whether he was capable of that or not.
I honestly had no idea why he wanted me.
Nicolas could have anyone he wanted if he put his mind to it. I wasn’t the prettiest, smartest, or most powerful person in his life. I had no confidence in myself, which was probably why I had been so willing to let him go. Yet he hadn’t left me, and I didn’t know why, except that maybe I was the only person in his life who would answer the door at midnight and provide him with comfort after a long day.
Nicolas’s eyes slid to mine, and he offered me a thoughtful smile. “You have the causality the wrong way around,” he said quietly. “I didn’t come to you for support last night because you were the only option. Every single person in my group is available to me at all hours, for all manner of stupid reasons. I came to you because you were the only person I wanted to be near.” He paused. “I suppose, in a way, that did make you the only option. The one person I wanted to open myself up to when I was annoyed and frustrated and needed someone to pull me together.”
I studied him. “I didn’t… you… you were fine,” I said, flustered. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You haven’t known me long enough to notice the cracks in my emotions, but they were there last night,” he said. “Don’t belittle your own abilities. I appreciate you being there for me.”
“You were always there for me,” I said, disarmed, twisting my hands together in my lap. “You held me together before it even made sense for you to care, when I was still an enemy that you should have hated.”
“Keep in mind that the present and the future are a little more fluid in my mind,” he said. “When it comes to situations like those, I have often already moved on to the necessary subsequent emotions and actions. I could see your future. I knew what needed to happen, what probably would happen in the end.”
He paused.
“But I can’t see my own future,” he continued. “For the things that touch my own life, I have to make guesses. I have to try my best. I have to sometimes make mistakes. I have to think. It’s hard work.” He laughed, and I joined him. “But it’s work that I am willing to do for you.”
“Why?” I asked.
He laughed again. “I realize I am usually incredibly analytical, but I don’t want to overthink this, and I don’t want you to overthink it either. I don’t know why you aren’t confident in yourself, but I intend to fix that. It is simple. I want you because when I look at you, I see all the things I’ve ever wanted in someone. I see someone who can survive when others would fall and break, who can charm those closest to me and pu
t my arrogant lieutenant in his place, who can handle me, which is not easy. I look at you, and I’m tempted to say and do all manner of crazy things for a smile or a laugh or one of your amused eye rolls, because I want to do things that will impress you and keep you close. I want to keep being amazed by you.”
He took my hand carefully in his, resting his fingers on mine. My heart nearly stopped.
“One of my favorite books taught me an important lesson, and I’ve carried it around for years,” he said. “It is the advice I use to judge people, to make what few friends I have, and to love.” He took a deep breath. “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
A sad and haunting book, but one so wholly dedicated to love. I eyed Nicolas’s cuff links again. The prince in the book had encountered many strange characters throughout the narrative, but the meeting—and goodbye—that brought most readers to tears was the prince and the fox. The fox had taught the prince about making connections, and the prince had changed the fox’s life forever with his love and attention.
“Foxes,” I murmured, turning his wrist over to study the beautiful fox face against the fabric of his cuff.
“One fox,” he offered, almost shyly. “Jasmine never lets me forget that little bit of who I am.”
“You are something else,” I said, breathless. “Please tell me you practiced that speech in the mirror a hundred times, and you aren’t just naturally this romantic and eloquent and perfect.”
His gorgeous, gilded eyes met mine for just a moment. “Ah… but I can’t lie to you,” he said.
Of course he was naturally good at charming and seducing me. I should have expected no less from him. He was so attractive that I hoped I wasn’t going to faint right now, before our date even really got started.
With trembling hands, I brought Nicolas’s fingers to my lips and kissed his knuckles gently. His whole body went rigid, anticipatory and eager at my touch. I let go quickly.
“Please don’t crash the car and kill us both,” I said.
“I would never,” he said, exhaling indignantly. “I haven’t had enough time with you yet.”
Christ. How was I going to get through the night without completely melting into a puddle?
I didn’t ask where Nicolas was taking us; I wanted to be surprised. I thought we would end up at some upscale hotel deep within the sparkling city. That seemed like the kind of environment Nicolas probably thrived in, with pretentious staff and fancy food and a wine list longer than most fantasy novels.
But he didn’t drive us into the city.
Instead, we were cruising parallel with the ocean now, climbing higher up the side of a green mountain. In the light of the setting sun, the whole sky was golden and glinting. The drive wasn’t very long. My eyes were glued out the windshield as we crawled down a long, straight, dirt driveway and parked in front of a huge temple.
The main building was impressive and expansive, its red columns and orange-brown roof towering over us. There were crimson lanterns over the threshold. The huge dark doors were currently thrown open to reveal a large garden within, full of stone and manicured bushes. Nicolas opened the car door for me and took my arm as we climbed a dozen stairs to the entrance.
Two monks in orange robes greeted us with bows and—I assumed—polite words. Nicolas introduced me in Cantonese. I could tell because I heard my name, which sounded similar in that language as it did in English.
“Welcome to Faa Saan Zi,” one of the monks said to me slowly and deliberately. “Please follow.”
“Thank you,” I said, bewildered. I had thought we were going to dinner.
“This place is called the Flower Mountain Temple,” Nicolas said in an undertone.
Nicolas took off his shoes and steadied me as I pulled off my heels. We followed the monks further into the complex, down wooden halls, past golden Buddha statues and altars and captivating displays of art and religious worship. It was quiet here, but there was a certain energy that I picked up on quickly. Magicians were very sensitive to spirituality, and I felt comforted by the power and potential of this place.
“It is an active, working temple,” Nicolas told me, guiding me in front of himself up a short set of stairs, “but it’s also a hotel and spiritual retreat for people seeking rest and enlightenment. Additionally, it happens to be the home of one of the best vegetarian restaurants in the city.”
We emerged from the narrow hallway onto a large terrace. It was set on the side of a cliff, the glistening ocean and setting sun spread out before us as we stood above lush greenery. The terrace had a single table at its center, and the whole space was decorated with candles and flowers. There was very soft music playing in the background, a soothing reed instrument singing out soft hymns.
Nicolas sat me at the table, letting his hands linger on my shoulders gently for a moment. I could have stayed like that all night, with his warm presence and dazzling magic surrounding me. I took a deep breath when he withdrew, reminding myself that we were in public, and I couldn’t disintegrate into a tangled knot of desire right this second.
The monks poured water and brewed tea for us. Nicolas chatted with them amiably while they did; he seemed to know them at least a little. When they left, the atmosphere turned serene. Nicolas was completely relaxed, but he had pulled in all his magic and seemed more human than usual. I leaned forward and put my arms on the table, studying the fantastic view.
“I could have taken you to the Ritz-Carlton or the Four Seasons,” Nicolas said. “They both have excellent restaurants and stunning views of the city, but that felt quite impersonal. Impressive, but without character. Any true Hong Konger appreciates character; the city is full of it. I find this place grand and magnificent, and I wanted to share it with you. I thought you might like it here, too.”
I held my hands out to him across the table, and he took them in his. “This is wonderful,” I said. “Made all the better because you look so content.”
I loved watching Nicolas. He was like studying a puzzle, and I didn’t mind that the clues to his feelings were bound within tiny details: the slight elevation of his normally even breathing, the intensity of his focus on me, the desire in his eyes.
Nicolas had called this one of the best vegetarian restaurants in the city, and he hadn’t been exaggerating. I was normally a meat-and-potatoes woman, but the dishes were all spectacular. Flavors I didn’t know existed were laid before me in braised vegetables, stir-fried noodles, pickled greens, silky tofu, and spiced rice dishes. Everything was simple but abundant and perfect.
Nicolas and I spent much of the meal gushing over the food, and I liked how he had known that sharing this meal with him would please me far more than foofy, over-engineered dishes from some famous chef.
“Dan can cook most of this, and will do so if you ask nicely,” Nicolas said when I questioned him about how soon we could return.
“Daniel is frighteningly talented,” I said. “I can’t believe you bewitched him into wanting to work so hard for you.”
“I believe he has always had that much energy. I merely gave him more interesting outlets for it.”
“And he really likes food.”
“Before he met me, he went hungry frequently,” Nicolas said. “I know no one who appreciates everything in life as much as he does. Family, food, safety, money, freedom—those are all things he’s had taken away from him before, so he understands their value.”
“He is so compassionate,” I said. “You’d think his experiences would have made him bitter.”
Nicolas frowned. “Dan has struggled with his emotions, but he’s come out on top of them.”
“Perhaps that’s due to you.”
“I think it’s due to a lot of things. Ryan is an outstanding mentor to Dan,” Nicolas said. “I’ve tried my best with him. I’m not the most compassionate person, but it was very easy to be kind to Dan. Before me, hi
s brother was an excellent influence, someone who showed Daniel how to sacrifice to protect someone you love. And his mother…”
“Daniel told me she was a poet. I love that he enjoys poetry.”
“She was quite famous in her time, at least in circles where poetry is appreciated. Her writing is full of emotion,” Nicolas said. “She wrote a lot about her childhood and about her relationship with Daniel’s father. I think it helps Dan to have a window into her life even though she’s gone, to learn things he was too young to talk to her about before she died.”
“He won’t translate any of her work for me. He says he wouldn’t do it justice,” I said. “He’s only told me what his tattoo says.”
“I believe he has translated some of it into English,” Nicolas said, “but I’m not surprised that he won’t share it. He gives so much of himself to others. There are certain things he likes to keep, his memories and emotions among them.”
I could understand that. I hadn’t talked to many people about my past either. Even in times of sadness, when I was younger and everyone pushed me toward family or friends or therapy, I had stayed withdrawn. My favorite therapies were reading, music, figure skating, and the perfect art on top of a delicious latté.
And here in Water? I had done my best to ignore my grief. If I let myself pause for too long, it crept up on me, reminding me that I had loved and lost—and lost and lost and lost. I may have found a new best friend in Daniel, but I couldn’t forget that I had an old best friend too. The years we had spent together were imprinted on me in some unshakeable way.
Violet. It was so hard to think she was gone. I hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. My last exchanges with her were merely tactics and worried looks. No words of love or affection, not even the slightest hint or suggestion that those would be our last minutes together.
Clan life taught you to move on, and that was what I was trying to do.
I wondered how Violet would have felt, knowing where I was now, who I was with. I rather thought she would have approved of my tenacity and my ability to play the game and come out ahead. That was what she had tried to do her whole life, and I don’t think she would have begrudged me the chance to be happy.
