Chapter 27 #2
“What happened to him? Did he not make it out of Saraad?”
“He did, but animals don’t live forever.”
He stroked a finger over the clover engraved onto the pommel, lifting a questioning brow at the symbol etched onto the other side.
“It means family. One side represents what strengthens us, the other what weakens us,” Gabriel explained. “I think my father was trying to be poetic.”
Nicholas’s hand tightened around the sword’s grip, no doubt remembering the infused barseem Gabriel had ingested prior to turning him. He didn’t toss the memory in Gabriel’s face, though.
“I remember Zayn launching this into the throat of a two-faced beast from at least forty yards away. Pinned him to a tree. I woke up terrified, but impressed.”
He spoke of the hairless, two-headed creatures from his dreams.
“They’re called Dawari,” said Gabriel. “Mindless mongrels, easily controlled by even the most inexperienced saharah. Think of them as your stray dogs or vultures. If given your scent, they can hunt you to the ends of the earth, but they are easily distracted and lack self-preservation, making them easy to kill. Their strength is in numbers.”
Nicholas slipped the sword back into its scabbard as Gabriel spoke.
“They were said to be highly intelligent beasts once. Royal guardians.”
“Saraad had royalty?”
“No, but there were folklores that spoke of other civilizations, once upon a time. Kingdoms that could only be seen and crossed by supernatural and mythical beings. It was said that the Dawari came through portals connecting Saraad to those lands, and that the portals were somehow sealed, making it impossible for them to return. Supposedly, Saraad turned them rabid.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I should say no. That they were just fables our parents used to scare us into behaving.”
“But?” Nicholas prompted.
“But I’d be a fool not to think anything was possible.”
Nicholas turned to the wall again, giving Gabriel his back.
“Do you think I’m drawn to the sword because Zayn was?”
“Possibly. While you may carry his soul and his moral character, you two are not the same person, Nicholas. Your personality is tied to your mind, your upbringing, and your environment, as well as many other factors.”
“Must be disappointing.” His response lacked heat, but contained a lingering uncertainty that he had every right to. It didn’t make him sound weak, though. If anything, laying it bare added to his strength of character.
“Look at me, Nicholas.”
He did so without an ounce of fragility in his gaze.
There was a type of stillness to him now.
The same stillness Gabriel possessed and once had to practice so hard to hide.
It made Nicholas appear more confident, more sure of himself.
Or perhaps that was due to the inner work he’d been doing lately.
Either way, it endeared Gabriel to him even more, if that were even possible.
“Your favorite color is green.”
Nicholas frowned a little. “I don’t have a favorite color.”
“But you do.”
Gabriel had the time to study Nicholas, to learn all his intricacies and nuances—even the tangled and subtle things that Nicholas didn’t realize about himself. The kind of time forged by a life of relative leisure, of not having to look over his shoulder for the next incoming threat.
His newfound attention to finer details came from harsh lessons learned, mistakes he never wanted to repeat, and a muse worth forgetting everything else for.
“It’s the color of that shirt you have on. The color of the suit you love so much on me. The one I’ve worn more times than I can count since meeting you. It’s the color of the bedding you have in the wash upstairs, the sheets you can never bring yourself to exchange for something different.”
Nicholas blinked his brown eyes at Gabriel, seemingly disarmed.
“They’re comfortable… soft.”
“I know. That’s why they’re the same brand and thread count as the countless other sheet sets in the linen closet.”
“Oh.”
Gabriel gentled his tone further.
“It’s the same color as the ribbon your birth mother left clutched in your hand before leaving you on the church steps. The ribbon you keep in your nightstand. The one you brought here when you started spending the night.”
Some nights Nicholas had reached for it in the drawer when he thought Gabriel slept soundly beside him. He’d fist the tattered silk before drifting back to sleep.
“Green is your favorite color, Nicholas. Specifically, the green of the forest. It’s why you love spring and summer so much.”
He’d never told Gabriel what his favorite season was, but his eyes lit up whenever they drove down a tree-lined street, and they’d dim whenever he’d spot a fallen leaf.
Nicholas averted his gaze, his forehead wrinkling in thought. Gabriel saw the moment he realized it was, the moment he understood that Gabriel knew him better than he knew himself.
His stare turned challenging.
“Let me guess. Green was Zayn’s favorite color, too.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. He was my blood–bonded mate, yet I don’t know.”
Gabriel didn’t have to try to keep the yearning for Zayn, for all they didn’t know and share about each other, from his tone. It hadn’t been there for some time now.
Nicholas looked as if he were internally scrambling to fortify his walls, as though searching for something that would make whatever he was feeling go away. He cleared his throat, pivoting to the swords again.
He moved on to the saber. His favorite, Gabriel knew. There were two of them mounted high. Nicholas reached for the one with the gold hilt, even though the silver one was closest to him. Gabriel tried not to read too much into his choice, but his markings pulsed beneath his suit.
Nicholas’s scent emitted confusion, his shoulders harnessing tension as he stood staring at the sword in his hand. Gabriel had a feeling it wasn’t the sword he was focused on at all.
“Care for a match?” Gabriel made sure to keep his tone light.
Nicholas looked astounded. “A match? These are sharp, Gabriel. They’re not fencing swords.”
Gabriel shrugged, tossing his jacket aside and rolling up his sleeves. “We’re immortal. Just don’t take my head off.”
He grabbed the other saber, heading over to the rubber mat. Nicholas stared after him.
“Come on. I promise to go easy on you,” he teased, rotating the sword to warm up his wrist.
He could feel something stir inside Nicholas. Relief at the conversation change, but also a building excitement. He needed this. He wanted it.
“Rules?” Gabriel asked, hoping to further entice him.
Nicholas bit his bottom lip. “First to disarm wins.”
“I like that,” Gabriel replied appreciatively.
They circled each other a bit, adrenaline rising from Gabriel’s core.
Nicholas examined his every move as one would a complicated math equation. With calculation and determination.
He advanced first, lunging, forcing Gabriel to retreat. He was clearly tempering his skills at first, but before long began thrusting his blade with full force, slashing before cross-stepping away to deflect Gabriel’s counter-attacks.
Gabriel’s style of fighting was more brutal, less diplomatic than Nicholas’s, but he adapted to him, keeping things clean when his instinct was always to fight dirty.
He’d seen Nicholas fence before, so he knew he was good with a sword, but he hadn’t expected him to be great with one.
What seemed like hours ticked by at a rapid pace, and sweat soaked through both their shirts by the time Nicholas’s sword went skittering across the floor. Gabriel brought the tip of his blade to Nicholas’s chest in a show of victory.
They faced each other, heaving, teeth bared, eyes aglow. The blood rushing through their veins was the only thing Gabriel heard, the soft pink flush along Nicholas’s sweat-slicked cheeks the only thing he cared to see, and the scent of their mutual arousal the only thing he wanted to breathe in.
He sucked down a lungful of the inebriating aroma, staring down the erection tenting Nicholas’s sweats. The front of Gabriel’s pants suffered the same punishment.
“Again,” Nicholas bit out, fetching his sword. He took a few beats before facing Gabriel again, his erection no longer visible.
Gabriel ran a hand over his shorn hair before unbuttoning his shirt. Nicholas growled in annoyance before cutting upward.
Gabriel retreated a fraction, bringing his sword down, and steel clashed against steel.
Nicholas grunted, driving forward with everything he had while Gabriel held a little of himself back. If he were to abandon himself completely, he’d eviscerate Nicholas. Still, the match was a challenge for him, one he hoped he’d get to experience again.
Seeing an opening and feeling confident in his second victory, Gabriel overextended his reach, leaving his center wide open. Nicholas’s blade sliced upward, carving a deep line through Gabriel’s chest.
Gabriel jumped backward with a wince, landing more than ten feet away.
“Gabriel!” Nicholas dropped the blood-tipped sword, readying to run to him.
“I’m okay.”
It was Nicholas he worried about. He held a hand up, stopping him from coming any closer. They’d expended a lot of energy and hadn’t paused once to re-hydrate. Bleeding in front of him was a recipe for disaster.
“I’m alright. See?” The wound was already knitting together, and he looked around for where he’d tossed his shirt, planning to wipe up the blood on his chest.
“Don’t.”
The word sounded like it’d been dragged through the pits of hell, and before Gabriel could register the room freezing over, Nicholas was already upon him.