Chapter 26
Nicholas
The heavy mist dampened the pages of Nicholas’s journal, but he couldn’t bear going inside. Not when the tang of sea spray concealed Gabriel’s scent. He could hold his breath for the remainder of his stay, but he enjoyed breathing; it felt natural to him.
Concentrating on the space around him, Nicholas created a thin, cool barrier, freezing the tiny water droplets.
He’d been working on his ability to manipulate moisture and temperature, on being intentional with his desired outcome instead of throwing a mental tantrum that destroyed everything around him.
Yesterday, he’d turned the whole bathroom into an ice exhibit while trying to make the shower water cool with his mind.
“Only focus on the flow of water. Let it be the only thing you see, the only thing you smell, the only thing you hear.”
Nicholas had taken Gabriel’s instructions and tried again this morning. It worked—to a degree. He’d only affected the water this time, but instead of going from hot to cool, it froze before shattering into a million pieces.
“Think of your power as a lever. You turn it slowly when all you need is a drip.”
Gabriel was meticulous about control. His gift was fire. Nicholas had felt his heat, had seen his skin glow, had watched him light a hand-rolled with an embered fingertip, but he had yet to witness his flame.
He said he’d only allowed himself total abandon once, but hadn’t elaborated any further. It had to be back in Saraad after Zayn died. Nicholas was both intrigued and terrified by the thought of seeing him let go in that way.
He checked his frosty barrier, feeling smug. A light drizzle tapped his shoulder, and he glared at the small hole above. He focused on it, finding himself frozen inside a block of ice.
Nicholas groaned, shattering it to set himself free.
Sighing, he brushed away the chunks of ice, reading through a few more pages to reorient himself with his notes before picking up his new journal.
He called this one the accountability book.
It was where he stopped being a victim and started taking some responsibility for his many self-denials.
It was time he grew up and figured out what he wanted for his own life.
“We need to talk.”
Gabriel’s voice broke through the thick fog separating them, reaching Nicholas where he sat at the far edge of the rough cliff. He shivered as the words caressed his skin.
Tenuous best described their relationship over the last couple weeks.
Nicholas drank without argument, listening intently when Gabriel advised him on how to control his thirst, but he only spoke when absolutely necessary.
He was desperate to gain possession of his bloodlust, but with the weakening of it came the strengthening of his arousal.
Like the lessening of one craving made room for the other to grow.
His lust was a stalking presence, hovering on the periphery of every thought, and made worse when the object of that lust was near.
He didn’t dare look over at Gabriel, knowing he’d be standing there with that brooding expression of his, in a suit that matched his dark aura and clung to the curves of his body. No, Nicholas needed to get a hold of himself first.
He focused on the blank page in front of him, letting his other senses dull. Soon, his cold eyes warmed, and his hardening cock softened. Only then did he address Gabriel.
“I’m listening.”
“Inside, please.”
Nicholas was afraid he’d say that.
The fog parted as if commanded to, and Gabriel stood there like a beautiful beast of prey cloaked in black. He disappeared into the house, like he knew Nicholas couldn’t move with him standing there.
Gabriel waited in the kitchen, a tumbler filled with blood set on the island. Nicholas palmed the glass, turning the contents to slush. He preferred his bagged blood cold.
It was warm and loose by the time he brought it to his lips. He grimaced at the taste, scowling at Gabriel before freezing his lips shut, preventing the comment he knew was coming. He looked comical, which unfortunately weakened Nicholas’s defenses.
Gabriel gave a pointed look at the book Nicholas rested on the island with his journals.
“The Art of Mastering Self.”
Nicholas had been reading it earlier.
“What? I’ve improved. I wanted to turn you into an igloo.”
“Touché,” Gabriel said, eyes brightening.
Nicholas realized he hadn’t seen that spark behind his darkness in a while. Gabriel had always seemed tortured, but there were moments—with Nicholas at least—that he seemed at peace. Nicholas had taken pride in making him feel that way.
“I love seeing that hint of mischief in your eyes,” Gabriel whispered, making Nicholas’s heart flutter.
They were too close. His rules were to never be within touching distance. Nicholas took his tumbler to the living room, facing Gabriel from there.
“What did you want to talk about?” He kept his tone firm, all business.
“It’s about Kyrin.”
“What about him?”
“He needs to be dealt with.”
“Dealt with… Are you saying you want to kill him?!”
“Nicholas—”
“No. I thought you were done with killing? What happened to baking bread and building sandcastles? Was it all a lie?”
He understood now how much he’d wanted that claim to be true, how much he’d unconsciously been clinging to it. It shouldn’t have mattered. His goal was to leave this place and never look back.
So why did it matter then?
“He’s seen your face, and who knows if he’s learned more about you by now, or if you’ll bump into him—or his men—on the street.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened.
“You’re being ridiculous. This is a huge city, and how could he possibly learn more about me by just seeing my face? He knows nothing about me.”
“I won’t take that chance with you, and you refuse to change your form.”
“Because nothing else will be taken from me!”
Nicholas wouldn’t glamour himself—if that was something he could even do—because the body he was in was the one thing real, the one thing he didn’t have to question.
“And I won’t relocate either. This city, my apartment… They’re the only things I know, the only comfort I have left.”
Gabriel looked torn but still determined.
“You can’t expect me to know you’re in danger and do nothing about it, Nicholas. Be reasonable.”
Nicholas’s habit of being timid in the face of harsh realities no longer suited him. He’d seen too much, knew too much, and it was time his countenance reflected that. He made certain to keep his voice steady, unwavering when he spoke.
“You no longer get to decide what happens to me. You’ve played God for far too long. You will not murder anyone else on my behalf. Call the police if you have to, or does that not satisfy your thirst for vengeance?”
“Prison won’t stop men like him.”
“Then so be it. Ask around, find out what he knows, enlist your brother’s help… Anything but what you’re suggesting. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Nicholas swallowed hard before offering a dangerous compromise.
“I’ll stay here a little longer until you’re sure, if that’s what it takes.”
He was already fighting the urge to crawl over to Gabriel, even while being so furious with him. What would living under his roof for longer than he planned do?
Gabriel gripped the edge of the island, the crack of marble echoing around them. He looked ready to refuse.
“I won’t agree to this,” Nicholas said. “And if you think I don’t have a say, then you haven’t learned from your mistakes at all.”
Zayn had begged him not to leave their cave the night he died, but killing an enemy had been more important to Gabriel. Ego and arrogance had been his masters then. Would they be now?
Gabriel’s helpless expression pushed against the fragile walls surrounding Nicholas’s heart.
But he didn’t storm away like a child who hadn’t gotten their way, didn’t cry like a baby bird with a broken wing.
He held Gabriel’s gaze as he collected his journals and his book, forcing himself to withstand the pain and indecision there before vanishing upstairs.
Even with his advanced hearing, Nicholas missed when Gabriel left the house. But there was a void that stretched wider and sank deeper the further apart they were. It was a thing that constantly niggled at Nicholas, like an itch too far beneath the skin to address.
When on opposing sides of a room, the itch burned. When on opposite sides of the house, it turned stabbing, like his blood was made of blades. Both, he’d barely learned to weather. But when Gabriel left the house altogether, the sensation focused on his heart, slicing away at it.
Marcus had shown up soon after he’d left to run an errand yesterday.
He’d brought the dogs, watching him like a hawk while he played with them, even while he himself kept his distance from Nicholas, reminding him to hold his breath every so often.
Nicholas appreciated his vigilance and the fact that seeing them took his mind off Gabriel for a while.
He couldn’t say why, but he got the feeling Gabriel had sent Marcus over for that reason, to distract him from the pain of his absence. But he shut that thought down quickly because it would mean Gabriel knew how much he wanted him, even if he also knew how much he hated it.
The smell of his arousal was one thing, and could be explained away by the primitive instincts Gabriel always spoke of, especially with him being newly turned. He’d seen Zayn suffer the same thing, but Nicholas tried his best to hide the worst of his obsession. His heart-lust.
It had to be the blood-bond making him feel this way, this deeply. Gabriel said everything was heightened and would level out eventually, but living here had to be intensifying things.
He sat at the end of his bed, feeling his heart fray, wondering if it would only worsen once he moved out, not improve.
No, he likely just needed to be away for an extended period for it to stop. A few weeks apart and he’d feel normal again—or as normal as he could, given the situation.