Chapter 5
Tristan
Beer pong is a deceptively simple game. Throw the little ball into your opponent’s cup, and they must drink.
Were I not attempting to win at all cost, I might have let Richie get a few balls in just for the fun of it.
The cups hold a variety of human alcohols that I would have loved to try in different circumstances.
As it stands, Richie has now been forced to drink from five cups, while each of his attempts didn’t manage to land.
He’s found that increasingly frustrating, as he is apparently some kind of champion at this game.
Well, all it takes to make the flimsy ball to change its course is a strand of my shadow pushing it away.
The thread is barely visible, and as I was presented with the rules, there were none forbidding the use of shadowcraft, so I don’t consider it cheating.
Why wouldn’t I use all the tools at my disposal?
Especially with Nate watching from the sidelines, face flushed, black eyes glistening behind glasses like a reflection of the moon inside a cup of Canavan wine.
When I pulled him out of the River of Souls, he was shivering like a fawn born in winter.
Like he wasn’t supposed to be there, his shadow so weak it didn’t belong on a human who was to become a Dark Companion.
But I saved him. First from the waves, then from Captain Gloombane’s cruelty, and by the time he sank into my arms in a wordless plea for protection, his hooks were deep in my flesh.
So maybe I shouldn’t be sniffing around a human who is another’s promised, but while frowned upon, there’s no law against it.
And Gloombane doesn’t need to know about my interest. During the next full moon, he will make Nate his Dark Companion, and then I’ll be free to spread my charm anyway.
Nothing wrong in planting the seed of my interest a bit early.
I can’t deny being easily charmed, but Nate has ignited a spark I can imagine burning in my heart for more than a night.
Now, in the artificially bright lights the humans love, his skin is no longer pallid like it was last night, but what humans call ‘sun-kissed’.
If I play my cards right, it will be Tristan-kissed by next morning, and I’ll know every beauty spot on his dark golden skin by heart.
Now that I see him standing straight, in my velvet cloak and with jewels woven into his midnight black hair, he reminds me of the noble birds patrolling the islands north from the Nocturne Court.
Nate’s profile is strong, with a prominent yet narrow nose and lips like strawberries.
He’s tall and lanky, with distinctly masculine proportions.
I have a healthy interest in people of any gender, and he is a beautiful example of a man of a scholarly nature, with intelligent eyes and long fingers.
I’ve been raised to shelter the defenseless, and the way he clung to me at the river, so very helpless and fragile, makes me feel responsible for him even now.
No longer a fawn too weak to stand on his own, Nate still uses my cloak for shelter, eyes sparking with the need to see me succeed.
It’s that admiration in his eyes that makes me determined to win at all cost.
And I will be his hero at this strange game I have no experience in.
Every time he yells my name and claps, my soul soars as if I’m dueling the Lord of the Nocturne Court himself, and when I win, he shall reward me with all his attention and praise.
I’ll bathe in it, all warm and sated. I want to be his knight, his prince, I want him to follow me with his gaze when he walks past me at Gloombane’s side.
I fling the next ball so hard it knocks over the cup it lands in and prompts a discussion about whether I’ve earned a point or not, but I can’t help the bitterness simmering inside me.
Gloombane’s very existence is a thorn in my side, but the fact that he has the right to Nate and his shadow, when he’s already proven himself unworthy at the River, is maddening.
Why did I pressure him to make the bond when I have no Dark Companion of my own and could have bonded with Nate myself?
Hubris, plain and simple.
I saw Nate’s shadow, found it wanting, and made my superior face the responsibility for the human I fished out for him. But when I held his shivering soul in my arms, drinking every word from his mouth, my mistake became glaringly clear.
It’s too late now. Nate’s shadow isn’t mine to take anymore, but I can still have his attention.
His lips. The inviting warmth of his body.
The union between a shadow wielder and their Dark Companion is often one of desire and love, but that isn’t always the case.
Captain Gloombane is one of those men who’s only interested in the female sex.
Why would he mind it if Nate and I formed a different kind of bond?
I might even put a bit of royal pressure for him to accept that if need be.
I’ve barely touched Nate’s physical form for a few seconds, but that moment was more than enough to turn the spindles inside my head, and I won’t rest until I taste him.
“Tristan!” Nate cheers, and I sink into a state of absolute focus. But I’ve battled shadow wielders and monsters, and this human game won’t be my downfall.
Richie is already swaying on his feet from all the drinks he’s been forced to down, so it shouldn’t be long now.
I throw my ball toward a cup on my opponent's side of the table when a girl with small ears attached to her head reveals a tiny, hand-sized windmill, which blows my projectile off its course.
I don’t have the time to try to understand how the devilish contraption works, or whether bystanders are allowed to interfere, because the light, hollow ball flies my way.
I am not about to lose. If all manner of trickery is allowed, I waste no time and let shadowy wings erupt from my back.
I spread them to gasps full of shock and awe, but all I care about is that the redirected ball bounces off the phantom webbing and leaps back to Richie’s side.
The girl with the windmill shrieks, and my opponent loses yet another point.
“Go on. Drink,” I say with a smirk and stand even taller as the crowd stares at me. Some cheer, some ask ‘how did he do that?’, and I couldn’t feel any prouder when my eyes meet Nate’s. His eyes shimmer, and he’s gasping for air, as if he’s consumed by fever.
Yes, sweetheart, admire me at your leisure, and I might just offer you exactly what we both want.
Richie scowls, leaning on his edge of the table so rapidly I’m worried the drinks contained in all the red cups are about to spill, but he finally gulps down another dose of liquor.
For a moment, he appears to look for the ball, but as he reaches for it, about to make another futile strike against me, his eyes roll back, and he flings himself toward the sink.
With one of his buddies standing right behind him, the two men collide, and Richie makes a gurgling noise that’s more animalistic than human.
A sour yet somehow also sharp scent fills the air as the women screech in distaste. Vomit covers Richie’s friend’s chest and splashes to the floor.
Not the most romantic of sights, but it does mean I am victorious. I hope this is a lesson Richie will never forget. Then again, he will most likely never see Nate after tonight. With a joyful shiver I tuck my wings back into my shadow.
“Oh, my God! How do you do that?” A woman with curly pale hair asks.
“How did I do what?” I tease, but my eyes are already searching for Nate. The people around me are discussing something called ‘special effects’, but I only have eyes for that navy cloak that makes his skin tone appear even warmer and more inviting.
It is the very same one I wear while carrying out my duties, but nothing’s in the way of me gifting him one that’s similar yet carries my family crest instead of the insignia of the Nightcloaks.
There he is, wide-eyed and excited to see me win this challenge in his honor. “That was… so impressive!”
The woman trails her fingers over my forearm. “Would you show me how it works?”
I may not be a scientist, my knowledge of alchemy is limited, and spending time at the library has never been an interest of mine, but I do know when someone is trying to flirt with me.
So I put my hand on Nate’s jaw to make my intentions clear.
His short stubble has the most delicious texture.
“No. Apologies, but Nate and I have matters we need to discuss.” And it won’t hurt if we also end up fucking.
I can just about imagine his soft lips shivering, cheeks flushed, eyes rolling back…
“Oh,” she says, as if this isn’t the answer she was expecting, but Nate leans into my touch, his cheeks even darker now that we’re standing close together, among all those people.
“Do we?” he asks with a mouth that should be whispering my name.
“We have unfinished matters from last night,” I tell him, never letting go, even as I look back at Richie being helped out of the garage by his friends. “And I’ve been so successful at beer pong I’ve not even had the opportunity for a drink.”
Nate laughs, but the moment I smile back, still holding his chin, his gaze drops. Is he shy?
“Well, I definitely owe you a drink. Thank you for this… it was very noble of you,” he says, wrapping himself in my cloak.
“It’s the least I could do after seeing the way he manhandled you. I would have preferred to draw blood, but this chance to humiliate him was also satisfying.”
He opens his mouth with a scowl and grabs my arm, leading me away from the girl, who keeps staring at my back as if she’s never seen shadowcraft in action.
Then again, she probably hasn’t… I am not always certain what exactly humans consider myth and what they believe to be true.
“Is beer good?” Nate asks, approaching a crate of dark bottles with colorful labels.