Chapter Six #2
“Dominant’s the word. Capital ‘D’.” Still that grin. “One of my friends insists her subs call her Mistress Superior. Not sure why. It’s not like she wears a habit. For me, no one’s had the grit to use ‘pushy raven’, yet. At least not while screwing.”
Zyr shouldn’t inquire further. Not in the way he wanted to. Asking for details. Asking why.
“Grit would seem a negative trait in a ‘submissive’ partner,” he said instead, more to himself than to Robin. “It aligns more closely with defiance than obedience.”
“I’m not a fan of the ‘make me’ sort, personally.
Since I can’t, exactly, make anyone do anything.
” Robin gestured down at himself, all long limbs, lean and elegant.
“But someone who doesn’t push back is boring.
Life’s too short to settle for boring.” He offered Zyr another one of his razor-blade smiles. “For humans, anyway.”
Zyr fell quiet, his gaze fixed on Robin as he sorted through the man’s words. Robin preferred a “submissive” who did not wish to be forced to obey. That made sense. But he also wanted one who pushed back. Which did not.
Mastery.
Perhaps that was the best way to think of it. The pleasure of asserting ones will over someone who had a will of their own. Not through force, but through power of personality. That suited what little he knew of Robin. His intensity. The sharp expectation that he would be obeyed.
“We have our lifespans, too. Those of us who don’t die of violence, and most do, aren’t immortal.
We exist only so long as we have the will to exist. And no being can maintain that will forever.
Eventually, we forget what we value. Lose touch with our affinity.
Settle for boring, as you put it. And then we stop. Fade away.”
“Everil said you were relentless obsession. Said that’s what you meant when you said you lived for your collection.
I assumed it was more along the lines of suicide versus fading.
” Robin glanced around the room, gaze flitting from piece to piece before returning to Zyr.
“Your collection’s more like a heartbeat than just your skin. ”
“It’s both. Call it… a count to nine. It brings me back to myself. But even relentlessness must give way to stasis, eventually.” With a nod toward the walls Robin had been studying, he added, “This is not my collection. I imagine you wish to discuss terms, before we visit it.”
“Terms. Right, yeah.” Robin rested his chin in his hand, watching Zyr with those bright, intelligent eyes.
“I don’t live in Faerie. I’ll be here until the next little summit, then I’ve got a job to get back to for a couple days.
Once that’s sorted, I’ll be in Faerie for another four.
I’m good with being here for the days I’m in Faerie–I can even crash here, if you want and have a spare room–in return for your help with the research we talked about.
Once the six days are up–seven, counting today–we renegotiate. ”
Six days.
Zyr didn’t need Robin for six days. Robin was a treasure, a study, a new wing of his library, unfolding. He was, to use his own words, a heartbeat. A count to nine. Zyr needed him to stay. To agree to be his, to be here where everything that mattered in two worlds existed.
“I can arrange a spare room for you,” he said, with forced calm.
His tail wrapped around his ankle, barb gouging the wood floor, while electricity danced over his skin.
“And anything else you need. I’ve collected a few volumes that will provide the basic grounding in death magic that you’ll require.
I’m willing to accept your terms, but I cannot promise you results.
Not in six days. I highly doubt a method for killing the Monarchs–certainly not one amenable to the Solstice Kings–exists.
Our best hope is using an understanding of principle to create a new ritual. That will take time.”
“That’s where the renegotiation comes in. Bo and Everil aren’t running a clock on me. I’m the one who made the decision after we talked. I’ve got obligations in my world.” Robin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re upset.”
He should have considered the fear of it, the absence of what he needed close, before fixating on the human. But he’d never had the desire to collect a person before. He wasn’t accustomed to the considerations. He wasn’t used to thinking about other people much at all.
“I’m feeling,” his eyes flicked down to the wheel on the table before returning to Robin’s face, “powerless. I cannot protect you if you leave here. I won’t know where you are or whether you’re safe or what you’re doing.”
“I’ll tell you,” Robin said. He stood and walked around the low table to Zyr’s chair, head cocked.
“Because I like how you explained yourself just now. With the wheel, and why. I’ll tell you where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing.
My workdays are pretty set. Down to the quarter hour for some things. If you’d like to hear it.”
Zyr relaxed minutely, as Robin grew closer. Close, like before, when there had only been Robin’s voice in the dark and everything had slowly settled into place.
Aftercare, Robin had called it. After the sex that they hadn’t had.
You listened, you got darkness.
A pattern to their interactions that was already clear. Please the pushy raven and be rewarded for it. Robin picked what pleased him and what the reward would be.
It was very strange to feel at a disadvantage against a human whom he could kill with a touch.
None of his books, even those that killed most their readers, were quite so disconcerting. Fascinating. Grounding.
“That would be appreciated,” he admitted, freeing his tail from the gouge in the floor, and wrapping it more surely around his ankle.
“Okay.” Robin reached out his fingers playing idly in the air near Zyr’s horns. “You said you felt present when we did a count, and I need you to hear this. Close your eyes. We’re going to count.”