Chapter 22
Twenty - Two
Nyx
Just as I feared it would be, Prue's is nothing short of a nightmare. It doesn't matter how many drinks I down, how many women I dance with, or how fun the atmosphere is, I can't get into it. All I want to do is leave and go home but Ronan has other plans.
With a stupid grin, he drags two girls to our private booth and has them plop in beside us.
He's supposed to be in search of a wife, instead he teases his hope of one of them cheering me up.
But there is no need to cheer me up. I'm not sad.
I just…don't want to be here. I used to consider Prue's a second home.
Now, I feel like a stranger, an imposter.
What the fuck is going on?
The girls are sexy. I mean, jaw-dropping tempting. And for as much as Finn and Eris mock me, I haven't slept with either one of them. Maybe I'm tired, but I'm not interested in feigning interest for a night of frivolity.
The blonde doesn't spare me a second glance.
She claims Ronan's lap, pressing her lips to his.
I've seen her type before. Not the talking type, purely physical.
I pity Rone sometimes. He's the crown-prince, the heir to the throne, but no one takes the time to get to know him for who he is.
They see power, titles, status and forget underneath all of that finery, he's a real person with feelings and dreams.
Holy hell. I've been hanging out with Kitarni and Eris way too much.
I take another swig of my whiskey. Is this my fourth or fifth? I don't remember.
A hand glides over my thigh, close to my groin.
I flick my eyes over my glass and meet the fiery redhead's gaze beside me.
She bats her long eyelashes and smiles. I'd be a liar if I claimed she wasn't attractive.
Weeks ago, I would have had no problem leading her out back and screwing her against the brick facade.
Despite those bright brown eyes of hers, I would rather be alone.
I grab her hand and gently remove it from my lap.
"What's the matter?" she pouts and reaches for my belt. "Do I make you nervous?"
"Just not in the mood tonight." I down the rest of my drink and set the glass on the counter. The rattling jars Ronan enough to come up for some air. "I'm ready to head out."
"What?" Ronan's eyes widen. "They just got here."
"You can stay." I shove my hand in my pocket and throw some coins on the table to cover my tab. "I have an early flight in the morning. I'm going to turn in."
"Nyx – "
The redhead grabs my wrist as I stand. "Want some company? It's a cold night. I'd hate to be alone in my bed."
I retract my hand. "You're lovely, but I'm not your type."
"I'm everyone's type," she hisses.
"I've wounded your ego. I apologize." I press my palm to my chest. "I hope you find someone to warm your bed. It just won't be me." I tip my head to Ronan and his companion. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."
I don't wait for a response or another one of Rone's rebuttals. Stomping down the staircase and sifting through the crowd on the dance floor, I head for the front door and out into the chilly night. I inhale the cold air and it makes me feel alive. Why was it stifling in there?
"Wait up!"
I light my reefer as Ronan rushes over to me.
"Where are you going?"
"I told you. I'm going home."
"If you don't find her attractive, we can find another – "
I shake my head and exhale a cloud of smoke. "She's not the problem. It's me."
"Are you…are you sick or something?" He eyes me head to toe looking for some mysterious illness to reveal itself.
"No, I'm just not interested in bedding her." I plop my hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I'm tired. That's all."
"Well, I suppose we should be turning in for the night. Father expects me early in the morning for another meeting anyway."
"Don't leave on my account," I catch up to him as he spears in the direction of the row house.
"Honestly, Prue's isn't as much fun without you." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Besides, if I'm late or even slightly hung over tomorrow, Father will ring my neck. I suspect I'm on thin ice as it is since I've refused to find a bride. His threats to find one for me are issued daily."
"I don't envy you, Rone." I exhale another cloud of smoke and walk through it. "You staying at the row house?"
"If that's ok?"
"Shaye moved into Atlas' room, so you can use the spare room again."
"Good, cause sleeping on the leather couch was awful." He stretches upward, cracking his back. "I feel like I'm getting too old for couches."
"I feel like I'm getting too old for Prue's."
The admission stops Ronan dead in his tracks. He slaps a hand against my chest. "Did you meet someone?"
"No? Why would you ask that?"
"You sound like a man willing to abandon his bachelor lifestyle because he's finally ready to settle down."
I bark out a laugh. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard. I'm not settling down. Not now. Not ever. I think it's exhaustion. From traveling most of this year, to guarding Shaye night and day, to learning to ride Drexel, I need a break."
Ronan squints. "You'd tell me if you'd met someone, right?"
"Of course, I would. Now can we drop it?"
"Fine."
We continue our trek a few blocks until we reach the row house. All the lights are out. Even though it's technically early for me and Ronan to turn in for the night, it's late for everyone else in the house. They'd have all turned in hours ago.
I fumble with my keys and twist open the door.
Ronan follows me inside and up the stairs to the third floor. He salutes me before claiming the room Shaye used to occupy. It's weird not having her a couple doors down from me.
I grab the doorknob to my room but I'm not tired. Well, not tired enough to sleep that is. My mind is wide awake. Determined not to lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling for hours, I go down a floor and sit at my piano. I haven't played in weeks.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey from the wet bar and sit on the black polished bench.
The moonlight hits the keys, illuminating the space enough for me to sit in silence to play.
I tap the first key and then the second and before I know it, music is filling the room.
When I go long stretches without playing, I fear I'll forget the music, but each and every time I start, it flows through me like it's my life source.
I am consumed by the melody like I'm in a trance.
All my worries, my fears, my sorrows melt.
I close my eyes and lose myself.
I'm not sure how many minutes pass before I sense eyes on me. My gaze darts to the other side of the room and I spot Atlas leaning against one of the bookshelves. My fingers stop and silence envelops us.
"Don't stop on my account," he says softly.
"Did I wake you?" I glance at the clock and grimace. I've been playing for nearly thirty minutes, and its way later than I expected it to be.
To my relief, he shakes his head. "I was already awake."
"I'd make a joke about a girl keeping you up all night, but that just seems icky now that I know it's Shaye."
He laughs, throwing his head back. "A respectful fear never hurt anyone." Pushing up from the bookshelf, he plops down and sinks into the couch. He twists his hands together, staring down at his bare feet. "No, it's nothing to do with Shaye. Why are you up?"
I crack my neck, dodging his question. "I'll tell you my reason when you tell me yours."
I count on my reserved brother to keep his secrets to himself, so I in turn don't need to be vulnerable. But he surprises me. "When you partnered with Drexel… what did it feel like?"
His question throws me. It's the last thing I expect him to bring up.
I mull over my answer, taking a swig of my drink.
There's no logical explanation. "It felt like a piece I didn't realize I was missing was found and pushed into place.
I'll be honest. I never wanted to be a dragon rider growing up.
But listening to you rattle on about them made them sound cool.
When Drexel chose me, it felt…right. Somehow it was meant to be.
" I look at Atlas and watch him fiddle with his clenched hands.
"Vidarr choosing you? That's what's keeping you up? "
"Uncle's council is against it."
"Fuck them." I snort.
Atlas smirks. "That seemed to be Thrane's sentiment when he argued with them."
"Ronan told me." I snicker, imagining the gaping mouths of those crotchety old men being put in their places. "I hate to admit it, but I like the Frost Elf."
His eyes widen. "We don't need to tell him that though."
"Oh, no, never." I shake my head. "We'd embarrass ourselves. He wouldn't give two shits if we liked him or not."
"True." Atlas groans, rubbing his hand through his disheveled hair. "He promised to train me."
"And that's a problem because...?"
"Vidarr is an ancient beast. I studied the history and lore of the war one thousand years ago. Naya's dragon was more than just a dragon – he was a weapon. What if…" He swallows and clears his throat. "What if I'm not worthy of him? He battled with Naya Valanor for shits sake!"
"He also lost Naya Valanor." I finish my drink and set the glass on a coaster on the windowsill.
Atlas tilts his head, curiosity plastered on his face.
I wave him off. "I might not have paid that much attention during our history lessons but attending Professor Riggs' class with Shaye and being around the Basilius clan long enough, I've picked up a few things."
"Fair enough."
"The point is, you aren't Naya. Vidarr knows that. He doesn't expect you to be her either. Just like Drexel didn't expect me to be Armas Basilius." Then it hits me. "Maybe that's why they chose us."
"What do you mean?"
"We are different than their former riders," I piece my theory together. "Vidarr didn't have to come back, but he did for you. Maybe he senses things won't end with you the way they did with Naya. Maybe he wants a chance to redeem himself, bearing her death as his failure."
My brother leans back, reclining deeper into the leather couch, and smiles.
I roll my eyes. "Oh, here we go. Why are you smirking at me like that?"
He clicks his teeth. "I hate to say it, Nyx, but I think you're maturing."
I stick out my tongue in disgust. "Never that!" My smile isn't full, but it's the most I can muster.
"Maybe you're right."
I slap a hand to my chest. "I'm sorry… I thought I heard you say I was right."
He shoots me a look. "Don't push it, asshole. I'm only going to say it once."
"I just wish someone else was here to bear witness to the occasion."
He shakes his head before narrowing his gaze on me. "Now, you know what's kept me up all night. Why are you still up this late?"
I hate having uncomfortable conversations. I would rather streak through the city nude than bare my soul. But he was honest with me. The least I can do is be honest with him. I strike a few more sad notes on the piano. "You ever have a feeling that something bad is going to happen?"
"Sometimes," he admits.
"Well, I've got that feeling."
He frowns. "Is something going on I don't know about?"
I shrug and shake my head. "Perhaps its exhaustion setting in. It's been eventful the last year. Maybe the girls are right. Maybe I should consider settling down."
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know." My hands settle atop my lap and I sigh. Might as well tell him the truth. He ought to know. "When I see you and Shaye together, part of me is jealous I don't have that. Then again, the thought of committing myself to one woman not knowing if I'm capable of dying …"
He leans forward, his hands hanging between his knees. He takes his time to speak, probably mulling over my unspoken fear. "You think you won't die?"
"Who knows?" I roll my shoulders back, my back starting to hurt from sitting on this bench for so long. "No one has my affinity. If you were me, would you give your heart and dedicate your life to Shaye knowing there's a possibility you might have to live without her?"
Atlas' smile is a sorrowful one. "I have given my heart to her knowing she might outlive me, which is just as depressing."
"Outlive, sure but – "
"She is a Basilius and a Sol, Nyx. One is immortal, the other has a ridiculously long lifespan. I have no idea what that means for Shaye and it guts me to think she'll have to walk this world alone one day because of my mortality."
"Atlas." I inhale deeply, unsure of what to say other than, "That's… sad."
His eyes are fixed on me and a tremor of intimidation spider-walks down my spine.
I haven't felt that way since we were kids.
I used to call that particular look the Atlas-stare.
But unlike when we were children, he isn't ready to throw punches.
He's here to be honest. "I'd rather live my entire lifetime with her, than pretend it'd be easier to keep her at arm's length. "
Shit. I grit my teeth, shooing the unexpected emotions. "Damn whiskey." I flick a tear away.
"Don't be afraid to love, Nyx. It makes you a better person." Atlas stands. "Speaking of love, I'll be heading back upstairs before that woman wakes up and realizes I'm not there."
"Have you talked to Shaye about all this?"
"About her lifespan?"
When I nod, he shakes his head. "Haven't found the right moment."
My brows furrow. "Well, you should."
He laughs. "I will." Atlas points at me. "I don't say this nearly enough – "
"Don't do it," I beg.
"I love you."
I crinkle my nose. "Why'd you have to make things weird?"
Atlas shrugs, a bright grin stretching across his face. Not sure if it's because he's made my skin crawl or because he means what he just said. "It's what older brothers do."
I groan, rubbing my forehead. "Having girls in the house has made us all soft."
Atlas barks out a deep laugh. "They certainly have. And I'm ok with that."
"Yeah, yeah." I smile. "Without making this night weirder – I love you, too."
My brother nods and backpedals to the staircase. "Goodnight, Nyx."
"Goodnight."
Well, that's settled. I'm never drinking whiskey again.