Chapter 82
Nix
Volik sets me down just outside the back door of Bates Hall.
I know he used to walk through town to get to campus, but he’s avoiding the streets now because of the reporters.
And there are plenty of reporters.
I’m a little surprised, considering how that went for the last group, but I suppose if their bosses tell them to come…
“Are you sure you do not want me to come inside?”
I smooth my hand down the front of Volik’s shirt. “I’m sure. Go do your stuff.”
Volik’s clothing guy had a whole crate of clothes delivered—dropped onto the front lawn—this weekend. So Volik finally has a full wardrobe again. But apparently, the only fabric this guy had was black. Meaning every single item of clothing Volik has now is black.
I let my fingers trail down his stomach.
Good thing he looks hot in black.
“Go inside, Mate.”
Smiling, I lean forward and press a kiss to his chest.
Before I can step away, Volik grips my jaw, holding me in place as he lowers his head to press a kiss to my mouth. “I will be back before your second class.”
“Good.”
His nostrils flare. And I do the same thing, filling my lungs with his mint, before I turn away.
As I enter the building, I rub at my chest.
The weight of the mate bond has been feeling heavier over the past forty-eight hours.
It’s not a bad thing. And it never hurts. It just makes me feel heavy.
Dropping my hand, I reach into my bag and feel around for my fuzzy key chain.
We spent the rest of Sunday and all of Monday lounging on the couch, watching Volik’s favorite movies. I napped. Volik made me sandwiches. I watched him begin work on my new desk and chair. And then I lost myself as he turned those talented hands on me.
It was perfect.
So perfect I was tempted to take him up on his offer to never work again.
But, as I unlock my door and step into my classroom, I’m glad to be back.
Dropping my key back into my bag, I resume rubbing at my chest.
I don’t know that I’ll want to work until retirement age. Whatever age that is now that I have Alt magic in my blood. But talking to May this weekend was the perfect reminder that teaching the next generation of journalists how to find truth is important.
A squawk of surprise leaves me as I trip.
Catching my balance on the corner of my desk, I look back. At the clean floor.
My face scrunches as I look down at my feet.
My shoes aren’t untied.
I didn’t trip over anything.
And… it didn’t feel like I tripped over something. It was like my foot lifted up too high.
Don’t lose your mind now, Nix.
I set my bag on my desk and look at the empty room.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, will have read the article by now, and I’m not really sure how today will go.
Like me, many of these kids will take the information provided and end up with even more questions.
But after reading it, they’ll also know that we aren’t open to further interviews.
This isn’t going to be some publicity tour.
Our statement was done out of necessity.
To reassure the powers that be while reminding them of their place in this world.
Their place on the food chain.
I pull my thermos out of my bag and take the clean mug out of my desk drawer.
It was a relief to finally tell Volik about my family. I’d been dragging my feet on it because I didn’t want to dredge up all my old feelings. But sharing the weight of my past and having Volik so easily lift it… it was exactly what I needed.
And that sense of loneliness that has lingered with me since childhood… It’s gone now.
Disappointment remains. Always will. But pain is no longer the strongest emotion.
Steam rises from the thermos as I remove the lid, and the scent of coffee mixes with the lingering mint in my lungs as I fill my mug.
This weekend, Volik admitted that he’d never made coffee before. And that he only owned a coffee maker because all the design articles he read while building his home said they were a must.
And then this morning, Volik brewed my coffee while I was in the shower.
Gods, I really do love him.
I screw the lid back onto the thermos and drop into my chair.
One week ago today, I taught my first class. And on that same day, at 12:07, I turned thirty, sparking the mate bond that will connect me to Volik for the rest of my life.
Seven days, and I already know one lifetime won’t be enough. Not with Volik.
Breathing, I focus on lifting the heaviness in my chest as I reach for my mug.
My chair creaks.
There’s a soft vibration in the floor.
And when my fingers are still inches away, the mug tips over.