"Very well," Arabella said, shuffling her papers so that she could address whatever was next on their agenda. As far as Alden knew, anything that came from the High Council just appeared in their chamber before a meeting. "Anyone seen a lost princess?" she asked, disbelief colouring her voice. Next to him, Nathalie flinched slightly.
"Last one I saw was in 1563," Drayce drawled, kicking back with a satisfied grin on his face. They all ignored him, but Alden did have to wonder about the comment. No one knew much about Drayce, other than that he'd been on the Council longer than the rest of them, and seemed to not give a damn about anything they discussed. Arabella sighed.
"Apparently, the fae have lost one of their princesses, and they've appealed to the High Council to get us all to help look for her. Given the close relationship they have with the wolves, I think we at least need to put some feelers out." Alden's thoughts went back to Rhianna, and the weird fae like vibe he got off her.
"How long has she been missing?" he asked slowly.
"Three years apparently," Arabella replied after checking her notes. Alden nodded, almost convinced that this had something to do with his student. But it wasn't up to him to out her. Maybe he could talk to her once the necromancer problem had passed, but then if he was wrong, then he was going to look crazy spurting off about fae and lost princesses.
"Okay, I'll keep an eye out." It was all he could think of to say without revealing that he suspected something more.
"Is there anything else?" Nathalie asked softly.
"No, don't think so," Arabella replied, checking her list again. They said their goodbyes and Alden was soon outside the Council building, the cool air hitting his skin and making him want to fly.
Checking around, he slipped into the alleyway next to the Council building and quickly stripped off his clothes. He stuck them in a bag and stashed them in a doorway; he'd come back for them later. The need to shift outweighed the risks of leaving them right now. He secured his phone and wallet in the leather pouch he kept for occasions like this. He'd be able to carry it once he'd shifted, but it wouldn't be visible to any humans that spotted him. Or at least it wouldn't while it was dark.
Picturing his animal form, wings sprouted from his back and he shrunk several sizes, until he was completely transformed. He opened his wings and flapped a few times, lifting up into the air as he began his flight.
4
"Aurora," the voice said, sending shivers down Rory's spine. Just like it always did. It didn't help that whenever she had a meeting with her necromancer liaison, it always seemed to be at night, and somewhere dark and gloomy. It was as if he was trying to conform to stereotypes. She wasn't even sure where the guy she was meeting was, with all the echoing under the bridge.
"Hello?" she asked tentatively.
"Any updates for us, Aurora?" She shivered again, hating the way that he said her name. Besides that, no one called her Aurora. Not since she was a little girl and the other necromancers had made fun of her for having a princess' name. She'd started going by Rory after that, but it was too late, and she’d already been on the outside.
"They've discovered a name. Dean Winters," she replied to the empty space in front of her.
"Never heard of him," the voice said. Rory's heart sunk. She'd been expecting the answer, but she'd still hoped that she could take some good news back to Alden for a change
"Could you ask about?" Her voice shook as she asked, not wanting to think about what the answer might be.
"You think I won't, little Princess?" The voice sounded closer this time, and despite herself, Rory stepped backwards. She hated how weak she felt around him. Especially when she compared it to how at safe she felt around Alden. She briefly wondered why her Council was so different from his.
"N-no," she stammered, trying to dredge up some courage from somewhere, but failing miserably. Something felt off about this situation, but then again, it always did. She backed away further, bumping into the cold stone wall of the bridge. Something clawed at the skin of Rory's throat and her hands flew to it, not finding anything there. She tried to take a deep breath, gasping as she discovered that she couldn’t. She screwed her eyes shut, but that didn't make any difference.
"Don't question me again, Aurora. You won't like what'll happen if you do." She could swear that she could feel the man's breath on her cheek, but when she opened her eyes, he wasn’t there.
An odd screech sounded, and the pressure on Rory's throat lessened. On reflex, she ducked down and covered her head with her hands, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself.
"Hello? Are you alright?" a deep male voice asked, one completely at odds with the necromancer she'd been meeting with. And a somewhat familiar one.
"Alden?" she asked weakly, removing her hands from her head and standing up slowly. It took her a moment to realise that he was completely naked, and her cheeks flamed red.
"Rory?" He seemed surprised that it was her he'd saved, but other than that, he didn't say a word. She nodded slowly, tying not to let her eyes stray downwards. Though after the eyeful she'd already had, that was going to prove difficult.
"Do you often walk up to random women naked?" she asked, still a little confused about what was happening. Alden chuckled, and a weight within her lifted. It was an odd sensation, and one that she didn't really want to examine too closely.
"I wasn't exactly in human form." He lifted an arm to scratch the back of his head, and Rory almost drooled over the sight of his rippling chest muscles. He was slimmer than most male shifters, with more of a swimmer's body than the stocky shape most seemed to have. She found herself trying to work out what kind of shifter he was again, but failing to come up with anything more than it had to be something small. There wasn't really any other way for him to get about unseen; even at night.
"And how were you going to explain that to some poor unsuspecting woman?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling much less uncomfortable now that the other necromancer was gone. On the other hand, Alden was looking uncomfortable for the first time since appearing before her.
"Erm...I didn't think much past saving her. Well you," he admitted.
"Thank you," she said softly, knowing that she should have said that first, but she'd been distracted. Reasonably so, as she was sure most women would agree.
"You're welcome. What were you even doing here?" He folded his arms, and Rory glanced down instinctively. When she looked up again, she was greeted by a smirk that did funny things to her insides. Almost as much as his lack of clothing was.
"Meeting," she muttered and he nodded, not needing to ask any more than that. Considering the current situation, it was safe to say that he was as used to odd situations like this as she was.
"Do you want a drink?" he blurted out suddenly, seeming a lot less at ease than he had a few moments before.
"Are you asking me out?" she asked without thinking.
"Yes." He seemed surer of himself this time, probably spurred on by the fact that she hadn't said no straight off. Which made her wonder why she hadn't.
"I think you need more clothes on for that." She smirked.
"That's not a no."
"It's not," she acknowledged, her heart fluttering as she realised that she was finally giving in to her feelings for him.
"My flat's just over there." He waved towards a tall building on the other side of the canal. A look of horror crossed his face as he realised he'd just asked her to come back to his, but all Rory could do was giggle. He'd need to go there anyway to put some clothes on.
"Okay, but how are you going to get there without being arrested?" Once her words sunk in, his smile grew smug, and mere seconds later, a large dark grey owl was stood in his spot.
She bent down to his level and reached out to touch the downy feathers. It took a moment for it to sink in how special this moment was. Most shifters never revealed their true forms to none shifters, much like witches and their familiars. For him to share this with her meant that he trusted her
. And that she probably wasn't alone in the odd feelings she'd been having around him.
"Alright then, Alden. Lead on."
5
He pulled on pair of jeans, debating whether to bother with a shirt. On the one hand, he'd caught the admiring looks that Rory had been giving his chest. On the other, she'd been visibly uncomfortable at being caught, making him realise that she was possibly even more innocent than he'd first thought. Or she was a fantastic actress. But he doubted that. Ever since he'd first met her, there was something different about her, and she definitely wasn't anything like he imagined a necromancer would be.
Deciding that his chances of getting her to agree to another date were stronger if he wore one, he quickly pulled a shirt over his head, only belatedly realising he'd chosen the rugby shirt of a none local team, and hoping that she wasn't a diehard Bulldogs fan.
Alden walked out of his bedroom to find Rory looking out of the window and lost in thought.
"The city's beautiful at night." She didn't turn around, nor did he question how she'd known he was back in the room. Most paranormals had some way of sensing people around them, and he doubted the necromancers were any different.
"If you ignore all the building work," he replied, pouring two whiskeys from the bottle his Dad had given him when he turned twenty-one. He only opened it on special occasions, and his first drink with Rory definitely counted as that. She turned around and he handed her a glass.
"Thanks," she said, giving him a genuine, if shy, smile. "The building work is only making the city a better place though." She turned back to the window, taking a sip of whisky as she did. She closed her eyes as if savouring the taste, and Alden's appreciation of her only grew.
"I suppose. Makes you wonder what it's all hiding though." He stepped up so that he was behind her, mostly so he could look out of the window too, but partly so he had an excuse to be close to her.
"Alden…" the way she drew out his name, almost like it was a plea, did nothing to curb the attraction he felt towards her. "Let's not talk about that, please." He nodded, knowing that she could see him from the corner of her eye.
"It really is a beautiful view," he conceded. His focus wasn't on the city itself, but rather on the way the soft light from outside was making Rory's darker skin glow, and her eyes sparkle. For the first time since meeting her, Alden allowed himself to acknowledge just how attracted he was to her, unsure how he'd managed to hold back so long. She was so different from Janelle, both in her looks and her personality. Despite being a necromancer, and the potential for causing harm that she had, there was something innocent about Rory.
He placed a hand on the small of her back, not knowing how it'd be received. He was mostly sure that she was as attracted to him as he was to her, but was worried that some of it was just shock after whatever had happened earlier. He'd have to ask her about that later, when he didn't have other things on his mind.
To Alden's surprise, Rory turned, making his hand trail around her waist. They were a mere hair’s breadth apart, and his gaze caught on her slightly parted lips. The only thing he could think of was the urge to kiss her. When she didn't move, he reached forward to take the glass from her, placing it on the windowsill before drawing her to him. She didn't resist, and within moments, he lowered his head to hers, and gave in to what was possibly his greatest ever desire.
The moment their lips touched, something long dead ignited within him. He hadn't kissed anyone like this since Janelle, and even then, none of her kisses had made him feel like this. Rory's lips parted, and he deepened the kiss, tasting the whisky they'd been drinking.
She moaned slightly, and Alden responded by slipping one of his hands under the back of her top, a loose fitting, strappy thing, that had hidden some of her shape from him. Her skin was surprisingly hot, but then he imagined that his was too.
They broke apart, both breathing heavily, and at a loss for what to say. Alden lifted his hand, and tucked her hair behind her ear. When she didn't move away, his heart began to soar. Much the same way it did when he was flying. But he didn't give himself much time to examine the feeling, as he pulled her back towards him and kissed her again.
It was different this time, less restrained now that they both knew they wanted each other; and he loved it. Not breaking the kiss, he walked them backwards until he reached the sofa. He sat down, pulling Rory with him so that she was straddling him. The kiss broke, and he was worried that he'd pushed too far, but the glazed look in her eyes said differently. This time, it was Rory that instigated the kiss.
Spurred on, Alden let his hands wonder more, pulling her top over her head and throwing it to the floor. She took advantage of the break, and got rid of his shirt too. He stared at her for a moment, taking in the sight of her curves encased in a pale-yellow lace bra. He briefly wondered if she was wearing a matching set, but was soon distracted by the feeling of her tracing her nails over his chest.
He leaned up, kissing her again and moving them so he was lying back on the sofa. She came with him, and unconsciously, he began grinding himself against her, desperate to get closer. Rory moaned into his mouth, still tracing her nails over his chest. No one had ever done that before, and he'd have to remember to ask her to do it again in the future. He didn't even question that there would be a future for the two of them, something in him just knew that there would be one.
Rory pulled back suddenly, and jumped to her feet, grabbing her top from where it had landed, along with her jacket from the chair she must have left it on earlier. Alden tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but couldn't. He'd thought things had been going well.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, and fled through the front door, leaving Alden feeling suddenly very cold and alone. Not to mean confused by her sudden disappearing act.
6
She wanted to kick something. Herself mostly. Not that she was even sure if it was because she'd let things go so far with Alden, or because she'd run away. But there was no way she could've stayed, not without revealing her biggest secret, and she wasn't ready for that. Or at least, she didn't think she was. For a moment there, she'd almost given in.
Her phone rang, making her jump out of her skin. She didn't get many calls, which made sense considering very few people had her number. Even her work colleagues didn't have it; they didn't need to. All she did was input data into a system. Really, she was kind of grateful that a rogue necromancer had gone on a killing spree. Obviously not because people had ended up dead, but because it'd actually given her life some meaning. Up until then, she'd held her ambassador position with the Council merely in name.
She glanced at the name on the screen, and seeing that it was Alden, began debating whether to pick up or not. A large part of her wanted to, but there was a small doubting voice trying to tell her that he was only calling to say he never wanted to talk to her again.
Just as she'd decided to woman-up and answer the damn thing, it stopped ringing. "Guess that's that then," she grumbled. She reached over to power up her laptop, determined that she wasn't about to sit around and obsess about whether a guy was ever going to speak to her again; she was better than that. She quickly signed in, determined to see if she could discover anything about the elusive Dean Winters.
Twenty minutes later, and all she had to show for it was the knowledge that there were at least a dozen men with that name in the city, only one of which could be ruled out using the description that Alden's PI friend had managed to uncover. Well, so long as there wasn't a hidden necromancer power she didn't know about that could change someone’s appearance. She grabbed her phone and called Alden, forgetting her earlier hesitations in her determination to do something with her research.
"Finally," he answered after the second ring. She couldn't decide whether he sounded more relieved or frustrated, but either way, it was an odd way of answering the phone.
"Sorry?"
"You listened to my voicemail, right?" He sounded a little less frustrated already. Rory fro
wned, even knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see the expression.
"No?" She answered. He sighed audibly.
"Will you let me in?" A knock sounded on the door, making Rory jump. As well as question how the hell he knew where she lived. She'd never even hinted at it, and while she didn't live far from him, it still wasn't likely to be a coincidence. Despite her reservations, she crossed to her front door and swung it open, still slightly surprised to find Alden stood there, his sandy blond hair mussed up and his phone to his ear.
"How?" she asked, still talking into her phone.
"I followed you." He shifted uncomfortably. "Strong sense of smell." He shrugged and hung up his phone, leaving the two of them staring at each other.
"I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or worried," she deadpanned, but motioned him into her flat all the same. She didn't think she necessarily had the best judge of character, but she'd always felt safe around Alden, that hadn't changed.
"I was worried about you," he said quietly, and she didn't answer, wanting to see if he'd continue. "I'm sorry if I over stepped the mark by kissing you."
"You didn't," she blurted out before she could stop herself. Maybe it would have been better for her not to admit it, but then she'd never been one for lying. Yet another reason she'd never fit in to necromancer society. "I don't have any of the good stuff like you do, but I think I have some JD in the cupboard." She felt like she was prattling on, but went to the cupboard and pulled out the bottle anyway, pouring two glasses and hoping that he couldn't see her hands shaking.
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