by J. J. Dean
The hand creating swirls on my back trails higher, between my shoulder blades and to the base of my neck, where Nix gently brushes my hair aside. As soon as my neck is bare, his warm touch moves along my skin and under my shirt. His touch elicits a full body shiver, and he chuckles under his breath, the sound loud but comforting under my ear. "There you are."
I move my head until my chin rest on his chest. The position is entirely too intimate, but I can't even put into words how right it feels. This shouldn't feel right, sleeping on top of a man I've known for much less than a week and feeling like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"Do you know how I ended up like this?" I ask, feeling warmth crawling up my neck to my cheeks.
Nix gives me a smirk and says, "Beats me. I'm just irresistible, I guess."
I can see the humour in his eyes, so I snort and poke a finger into his ribs. He flinches like I hurt him and laughs.
"Alright, alright. I think it was my fault again. You woke me up at some point in the night. You were having a nightmare, and when I tried to wake you, you started crying, so I just wrapped myself around you to calm you down. I must have rolled over without letting you go," he explains while his finger still traces soft patterns on my skin.
I cringe at the thought of having a nightmare that he had to wake me from. I don't remember dreaming at all, but now that I think about it, there's a sadness weighing me down, like it's pressing hard on my shoulders, but I don't know what caused it. Must be leftover emotions from the dream I don't remember.
"Well, in that case, thank you for waking me and comforting me," I say just before face planting into Nix's chest because I sound like an idiot.
He snickers, and my forehead bounces on his chest. He pulls his hand from under my shirt and begins to run it through my hair, untangling it with his meaty hands. "You're welcome, babe."
My body turns to stone before melting all over again. If he's calling me 'babe' like he did last night, does that mean he remembers using the term of endearment before we both fell asleep? Could it mean he remembers what he said before that, about me staying? Could this mean he meant it, or does he not remember anything and has sporadically decided to use the term of endearment thinking it's the first time he's said it? What I wouldn't give to have Zayn's ability to read minds right now.
"What? What's wrong," he asks, his ministrations pausing when he feels my body stiffen for that very brief moment.
I clear my throat and decide to drop it all. I don't want to make a fool of myself. I'd rather save myself the embarrassment if he doesn't remember or regrets what he said. "Nothing. I'm fine. We should get out of bed."
I make a move to slide awkwardly off the shifter, but his arms keep me in place. "It's not nothing. What had you freezing up just now?"
"It's really nothing," I tell him. When he doesn't make any move to shift his arms away, I blurt, "You're going to need to let me go. I need to pee."
Comically fast, he releases his hold on me, and I push away from him, climbing out of the bed awkwardly. I walk towards the door, opening it enough to check the hallway. My eyes spy the bathroom, and I'm beyond grateful that the door is open, indicating that it's empty.
I rush to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me. As soon as I'm enclosed in the safety of the room, I move towards the sink and turn on the tap, splashing some much-needed cold water on my face. Once I dry my face, I spot the toothbrush Ezra gave me yesterday. Only, now it has my name printed on the pink surface of the handle. Who labelled my toothbrush and why?
I shake my head and check my reflection in the mirror. My hair looks better than it would have thanks to Nix's attention, but my complexion is still incredibly pale and my face too thin, just as the rest of my body is. My cheekbones stand out more than they ever have, my jaw sharper than the rounded baby face I used to sport before I was taken.
A pang of sadness has me looking away from the mirror, but my eyes catch something bright before I look away completely. I glance back in the mirror, looking for whatever it was that caught my attention. When I spot it, my eyebrows draw down in confusion.
Is that women's shampoo?
I turn around and move closer to the rack that holds the guys’ various toiletries. Amongst them is a bottle of women's shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. None of that was there yesterday, so...
Deciding to take a look around to see if anything else has popped up since the last time I showered, sure enough I find a pack of unopened women's razors, a bright pink sponge, a wash cloth, and a small assortment of bubble baths and bath bombs. None of which had been there before since I’d had to use Ezra's things. Where did they come from? Are... are they for me? Given I'm the only woman here, that seems like a stupid question to ask.
Confused, I walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where Spencer sits at the island eating cereal and reading something on his phone, a black snapback hat in place today. Ezra is sitting on the couch that faces away from me, only his deep red hair visible over the back of it. Zayn doesn't seem to be around. I wonder where he is.
As soon as I step into the kitchen, Spencer's head lifts from his cell, and he looks over at me. He watches me carefully as I fetch myself a glass of water and continues to do so when I lean against the sink and sip my drink. I can feel my eyebrows still furrowed as I think about the girly things that now take up space in the bathroom.
"Morning. You okay? Looking very deep in thought there," Spencer says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm okay. You okay?" I ask, offering him a smile before taking a large gulp of water.
His lips quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but close enough, and it sends all thoughts of my discoveries out of my brain. This man should really smile more, even if they're small and reserved.
He gives me a nod and says, "Yup. I'm okay." He pauses to finish his cereal, and once he's finished, he asks, "Did you have anything specific in mind for what you wanted your room to look like?"
My eyes fly to his, as wide as dinner plates, and my mouth pops open with an audible pop. Did I just hear that right? Did he actually say... "My- my room?"
Spencer looks confused for a moment and asks, "Yeah. Didn't Nix talk to you about living here? With... with us? Zayn said he'd spoken to you about it."
He sounds unsure. His eyebrows are raised, and he scratches behind his ear, like it’s a nervous reflex. My mouth still hangs open, shock rendering me speechless. Nix really meant what he said. It wasn't a sleepy ramble he'd thrown at me. They... they want me to stay. After five years of suffering, I actually have a home.
Tears fill my eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they're happy tears. My empty hand flies to my mouth, covering my trembling smile. Spencer must mistake it for something else because he's around the island in a blink, looking utterly stricken. He misconstrues what my tears are for, and with him not being able to see my unsteady smile, he thinks I'm crying because I'm upset. "Don't cry. You don't have to live here if you don't want to. We can help you find somewhere else. We just thought you wouldn't want to live by yourself for a little while, or a long while, or however long-"
I slide the glass onto the counter, far enough from the edge, and without warning, I throw my arms around the mage, hugging him as tightly as I can manage. He stills suddenly before he slowly lifts his arms and wraps them around my back. The hug is awkward to begin with, but Spencer quickly thaws from his frozen state and wraps his arms more securely around me while I cry my happy tears at their generosity.
With his cheek against my head, he asks, "So, you want to stay here?"
I nod against his chest, smudging tears over his dark grey shirt. He doesn't seem to mind because he simply holds me while I release my tears of relief, gratitude, and happiness.
"Alright, then it's settled. It's going to take some time for me to construct the room for you, but everything else should be a breeze. Just let me know what you want done to it, and I'll make it happen. We want you to feel
at home here, to feel comfortable."
He really is going to do his, what did Nix call it? Wizardy shit. He's going to use his wizardry shit to make me my very own room. That thought makes me cry harder, and my shoulders shake with the effort it takes to suppress my sobs.
Suddenly, Nix's voice loudly penetrates the room. "Now that it's agreed that you're staying, we need to plan out your room. Ready?"
I reluctantly move away from Spencer's embrace, but his arms don't leave me immediately. They land on my waist while my hands rest in the crook of his arms. I look up to see him looking down at me, and I give him the biggest grin I have, teeth and all. I hear him swallow loudly, and it seems like his breath stills in his chest for a moment, but I'm too happy to really pay much attention to it.
While I'm still being held in his arms, I tell him, for perhaps the millionth time since they saved me, "Thank you so much."
Spencer looks a little dazed before he shakes his head and offers me a grin. "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now, let's go build a bedroom."
I laugh, a little disbelievingly, but no less joyfully.
I have a home again.
Chapter 13
Novia
Spencer goes to gather a sketchpad and pencils, leaving Nix and I in the kitchen. Ezra is still sitting in the living room, but he hasn't said anything since I walked into the room. His sole focus has been on the TV show he seems to be thoroughly enamoured with.
"So, any ideas on what you want? Colours and shit?" Nix eloquently asks.
I titter but shake my head. "Uh, no. I don't really know. I guess I'd want a big window. But that's all."
"We'll need to make you a large closet for all the clothes you have now." He grins my way, and I smile awkwardly in return. I'm still not entirely comfortable with it, but I am relieved to have things of my own to wear now, even if I've kind of taken a liking to wearing Ezra's clothes.
Spencer returns with pad and pencils, his snapback on his head facing the right way. I find myself wishing he'd turn it back around to his usual back to front style since his honey coloured eyes are shadowed more now, but I keep the thought to myself.
Which reminds me. "Where's Zayn?"
"He said he had some research he needed to do, but he'll be back in a couple of hours," Spencer tells me, plopping the sketchpad on the counter top. "Alright, sweetheart, what are we doing?"
"Uhh…" I begin to fidget, twisting my fingers together and then separating them a second later. I don't even know where to start. The only room I've had was shared with my sister, who I allowed to choose the colour schemes and decorations. After that, I was confined to a dingy cage.
"She wants a large window, but that's all the requirements she has. I suggested a big closet because this vampire and mage I know went on a shopping spree and bought an entire store's worth of clothes for her." Nix is grinning again, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
Spencer is jotting things down on his pad, pausing to give Nix his middle finger, and then continues with his writing. "Okay, big window. Big closet. Anything else?"
"Umm, I really don't know. My sister decorated our room before we were taken. I don't know what I should want," I answer, crossing my arms over my chest to stop from fidgeting some more. I look between the two, watching them share a look.
Nix turns on his seat to face me. "So, let's try it this way. What do you like doing? What hobbies do you have?"
I think on it for a moment, thinking of the things I used to do. "I guess I like to read. I like gardening. I used to have my own greenhouse before... yeah. I used to plant flowers, mainly ones Dahlia liked because she'd always keep a vase of whatever I grew for her beside her bed. And I used to grow camellias and irises because my mom’s name was Camelle Iris, and they made my dad happy."
I smile sadly at the memory of the time I brought him a large bouquet of camellias and irises one day, and he'd cried before hugging me tightly and arranging them in the fanciest vase we owned, placing them on the kitchen table where he'd read his newspaper in the mornings.
A teardrop falls off my chin and onto my arm, and it pulls me out of my memories. The room is quiet, and I look up to find Nix and Spencer watching me with rapt attention. Nix's head is resting on his fist, while Spencer braces his arms against the counter on top of his sketchpad. With a quick glance, I see Ezra's head is turned, his ear pointing in our direction.
I swipe the wet trail left behind after the rogue tear. I clear my throat and say, "So yeah, gardening. Uh, I play piano. That counts as a hobby, right?"
"Yeah, that counts," Spencer answers, writing it down on the paper. "Zayn plays, too. Or he used to. It's been a while since he sat at a piano."
I smile slightly at the revelation, finding myself enjoying learning things about these men. The more I learn, the more comfortable I get around them. Though, I don't seem to be having much trouble being comfortable around them as it is.
"Next, what's your favourite colour or colours?" Nix asks.
"White and grey." Spencer looks up from his pad questioningly, and Nix tilts his head with a bemused smile. "What? They're pretty together. I like the contrast."
Spencer nods, but Nix snorts. "I would have pegged you more for a purple girl. Or pink."
I must pull some sort of face to showcase my distaste because Nix outright laughs while Spencer shakes his head with a grin and looks down at his paper.
"Alright then. Not a pink or purple girl. Someone should probably tell Zayn because he filled the bathroom with a bunch of bright pink shit." Nix grimaces. The idea that Zayn went to the trouble of getting me girly stuff for the bathroom has my heart warming, but the thought of him piling anything pink he finds into a basket has me laughing.
"I like yellow, so that would come a close second to white and grey," I tell them with a shrug.
Spencer looks up again, and says, "That's my favourite colour."
I smile. The colour of his aura is gold with small specks of yellow, so that doesn't surprise me. It's still nice to learn though.
"Mine are blue and green since we're all sharing," Nix announces. When my gaze moves to him, he's already staring at me with a crooked grin. Blue and green. Uh-huh. I roll my blue and green eyes, and his grin only grows.
Focusing back on Spencer, I watch as he draws an outline of a room on the paper, adding things in certain places. "Need anything else from me?"
"I think that's about all I need. It'll take a couple of hours for me to construct the room. After that, I'll fill it with the necessities," Spencer answers, leaning away from the island counter. "After that, we'll take you somewhere to pick out furniture and bedding and whatever else you need or want to make the room yours."
My heart warms again, while my chest constricts. How did I find myself saved by these guys? They're too good to be true. I haven't been shown this level of kindness by anyone before, only my father and sister before our imprisonment. It's as overwhelming as it is appreciated.
I give him a nod, worried that if I open my mouth to speak, I'll once again find myself crying. I've done enough of that lately. I'm beyond done with tears, so I give Spencer a smile instead and hope that's enough to convey my gratitude.
He gathers the sketchpad from the counter and turns to leave. "Alright, I'm going to get this done. Be back in a little while."
He leaves, walking down the hallway to his room and disappearing inside. Once he's out of sight, I turn to Nix. "So... what now?"
He shrugs. "We wait. It'll take him some time to finish the room. He hasn't used a lot of power in a while, so it'll be a stop and start process. Want to take a walk with me to waste some time?"
I frown briefly at the comment about Spencer not using much of his power. Why wouldn't he use much of it? I'd have thought a mage would use his power regularly. I mean, I think I would if it made life easier.
Nix snaps me out of my internal musings. "Novia? Want to take a walk?"
The idea of being outside sets my teeth on edge. The feeling of nails scraping
across a chalkboard is the same feeling I have about leaving the safety of the walls that surround me. I've always been an outside girl. Always. But Davis and quite possibly other guards are on the outside now. What if they're still searching for me? What if they find me? I resent that I fear for my life, confining myself indoors in case I'm found and dragged back to that place, but I'd rather stay safe than be captured again.
Nix must see the panic on my face. He steps closer and rests his hands on my shoulders. "I'll keep you safe, I promise. No one will get close enough to touch you, okay?"
I can sense the honesty in his words. It's enough to calm me down some, and I slowly nod my head. "Okay, sure. Let's go for a walk. Let me just get dressed."
"Sure. Your stuff is still in Zayn's room, so you can change in there." Nix squeezes my shoulders once more before giving me a smile and heads to the living room.
Just as I turn and walk towards Zayn's room, I hear Nix ask, "What the fuck is your defect today? You didn't even acknowledge her."
I walk away before I hear a response, deciding I don't want to be privy to whatever conversation they're having. Nix has a point, though. I feel thoroughly ignored by the incubus. Not even a morning greeting or just a look of acknowledgement. Did I do something to upset him?
Shaking my head, I close the door to Zayn's room, seeking out my new clothes. I find them all folded in stacks on the desk and chair, so I pull out a loose-fitted white shirt, a pair of jean shorts, and a red pair of chucks. I find the paper bag that holds underwear and yank out a matching bra and panties. I drop everything to the bed and change out of Ezra's clothes.
Just as I'm tying the laces to my chucks, the door opens, and Zayn walks in carrying a stack of books. "Hey. How did your research go?"
"It was somewhat informative. I didn't find much of what I was looking for, but I have enough to carry on researching at home instead. Are you going somewhere?" he asks instead of seeking answers from my head. I want to ask him about his research, but he changes the topic of conversation too quickly for me to ask. "Nix mentioned taking a walk. Are you joining him?"