by Ella M. Lee
“Nothing. All the data points I needed were said and done years ago,” Nicolas said venomously. “I’ll call the meeting—that has always been my responsibility—but I’m not backing you. You have agendas; so do I. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I had a long night, and I’m starving.”
He stood and nodded stiffly at Derek, who returned the gesture with narrowed eyes. He snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I followed him quickly. The only person I wanted to be around less than Nicolas was Derek.
Our meal was awkward. Nicolas ate woodenly. I barely touched my half-filled plate, feeling light-headed, my cheek still stinging, my knees bruised and throbbing from falling. He didn’t say a single word, nor did he touch me. In fact, he wouldn’t even look at me, and I had no interest in looking at him.
It was a trial to school my reactions, to keep tears from my eyes, to not remind myself endlessly that these might be the last hours of my life.
I wanted to ask him why, but I knew the answer. I had broken his rules, and he had punished me for it. My brain had made a careless miscalculation in believing our relationship was improving enough for him to extend me any leniency in public.
I understood what his reputation and persona meant to him. I knew he was incredibly angry with me, angry in a way I’d never seen from him, and I could only assume our deal was null and void.
Derek was still seated at his table, lazily playing with his phone. He eyed us as we left. Nicolas gave him an ironic salute and slid a hand up my back to the base of my neck. I bristled, but he kept his palm firmly on my shoulder, steering me out. I wanted to pull away, but there was no way in hell I wanted to get hit again.
Once back at his apartment, he practically shoved me through the open door. He slammed it shut behind us and spun to face me, his eyes blazing, his jaw tense, completely furious.
“Why, Fiona?” he yelled, slamming his fist down on his palm. “Why would you do that? You knew what would happen!”
I eyed him incredulously. “Why are you yelling at me? You hit me!”
“Because I had to,” he seethed. “What else could I have done?”
“You could have treated me like a human being!”
“I did,” he said, staring me down.
His cruel words froze me. His magic filled the apartment oppressively. I knew he was doing it to remind me of my place—mortal, captive, slave.
I glared at him, breathing heavily, holding back tears. His eyes were the angriest I had ever seen them, and there was no kindness in his stern expression.
Every shred of comfort I had begun to feel—with Nicolas, with Daniel, with this whole place—was gone. Shattered. Evaporated like morning mist and replaced with hatred.
I hated being trapped like this, without the power to do anything. I hated being helpless and at Nicolas’s mercy, especially when his mercy sometimes meant backhanding me so hard I hit the floor. I cursed the day I had ever gotten involved with clans at all.
Earlier I had thought perhaps the best course of action would be to beg for his forgiveness, to apologize and grovel and hope he still liked me enough to keep me around.
Fuck that.
He had hit me and then yelled at me, and that snapped something within me.
I had no desire to back down right now. If he wanted to shout at me, fine. If he wanted to hurt me, fine. If he wanted to strangle me with his bare hands, fine. I had no intention of kowtowing to him, of humiliating myself to please him.
I had enjoyed telling Derek off—for the half second before I had realized how stupid it had been to do so—and I wasn’t sorry, even if it had given me a death sentence.
Fuck Derek, and fuck Nicolas, and fuck all of this.
After a few moments, Nicolas closed his eyes. If I had to guess, he was counting in his head. He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and muttered several sentences of rapid, annoyed French. When he reopened his eyes, they were less angry, and he had reined in his magic.
“Are you hurt?” His words were hard.
He took a step toward me and reached a hand out. As quickly as I could, I backed up, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Don’t touch me,” I spat, and he froze.
“Fiona…” he said. His tone indicated he thought he might be talking to a wild animal ready to attack.
“If you’re going to kill me, get on with it,” I said, my tone venomous. “If not, then leave me the fuck alone.”
I had never spoken to him like that before, and his surprise was written all over his face. His eyes, which moments ago had glowed with ferocity, were now wary and concerned.
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He seemed completely unsure of what to do.
I stalked past him to the apartment door. It wasn’t shielded. I flung it open and then flung it shut behind me. The hall was eerily quiet, dim and demure around me.
I fell to my knees with a sob. I didn’t know why I had come out here. It wasn’t a wise decision, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same room as him for a second longer.
Trapped.
I glanced down the hall in each direction and sobbed harder. Even out here, I was still trapped. I couldn’t go farther with Nicolas’s shields blocking my path. My only choice was to face him, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.
If Nicolas wanted to follow me out here, he could, of course. But I heard nothing, no indication he intended to torment me over this transgression, at least not yet.
What was I doing? What had made me think this would ever work out?
My head snapped up at movement farther down the hall. Daniel had come out of his apartment and was walking toward me.
“Fi?” he called, confused. “You shouldn’t be out here…”
When he got closer, he stopped, his eyes widening in alarm.
“What the hell happened?” he asked, glancing at the closed door behind me.
I was still on my hands and knees, sobbing. I hated everything. I didn’t want to be here. Fuck Flame. Fuck Water. Fuck magic. I couldn’t even gather enough air to say a word to Daniel.
He knelt in front of me and lifted my chin with one hand. “Well, shit,” he said.
He touched my cheek with his fingers, and they came away with blood on them. Nicolas had hit me so hard that I had bled all over my face. Just fucking great.
I looked down again, my chest heaving. I couldn’t breathe.
I had shifted over the last couple of days toward considering myself safe here. I knew nothing had been decided, but it hadn’t seemed likely anymore that I’d be executed. At least, not until an hour ago.
Now it seemed very likely.
Nicolas had warned me, again and again. He had practically drilled it into me that he wasn’t kind, that he wasn’t non-violent, that he wouldn’t hesitate to protect himself over me.
Deep down inside, I understood. His actions were logical and measured. But how could there be any forgiveness in me when this was overwhelmingly likely to turn out poorly? All I could feel was fear and regret.
There was no room for anything else.
Daniel pulled off his sweatshirt and wrapped it around my shoulders. Gently, he gathered me into an upright position, looking around us carefully. I was shaking badly.
“Wait here for a minute, okay?” he said.
I couldn’t respond. I didn’t even look up at him. With a sigh, he opened Nicolas’s door, slipping inside and closing it behind him.
I couldn’t hear anything, not even muffled murmuring. I waited, trying to figure out what to do next, trying to somehow work around the fact that there weren’t any options. I was stuck here with Nicolas for the rest of my miserable life, which might be a hell of a lot shorter now. That brought on another round of sobbing. I huddled in Daniel’s sweatshirt, unable to calm myself.
I jumped when the door opened again only a minute or two later. My heart raced, afraid I’d see Nicolas, but it was only Daniel.
He offered me his hand. “Come on.”
&nb
sp; “I can’t go back in there,” I whispered. “Please, please, please don’t make me go back in there. Please, Dan.”
His dark eyes were alarmed at my tone, and he looked genuinely distraught by my panic.
“Calm down, Fi, we’re going to my place,” he said, tilting his head in that direction.
I thought I had never heard such beautiful words, but I was frozen. I stared at his proffered hand, terrified to take it.
“What about Nicolas?” I asked.
“It’s okay,” Daniel said. “You’re allowed to come with me.”
When I still didn’t move, he leaned closer and hauled me up gently by my wrists, putting an arm around me as we walked down the hall. I barely noticed that he was there, too focused on glancing back at Nicolas’s closed door and wondering if my life was over.
Chapter 22
I felt a hundred times more comfortable in Daniel’s apartment. I could breathe again, but only barely. I sat on his couch, trying to calm my trembling, numbly watching the rainy afternoon as he made tea.
I couldn’t stop my body’s stressed and nervous reactions. Tears slid down my cheeks and my teeth chattered. I put my hands to my face, embarrassed. A minute later, Daniel sat next to me.
Gently, he pulled my arms away from my face, holding my hands in his. Taking a close look at me, he winced. “Wow, he hit you really hard. How fucking unnecessary.”
He put a cup of tea in my shaking hands, and I took a sip. His tone of voice was annoyed and disgusted.
“Aren’t you… Aren’t you afraid he’ll hear you?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Nah,” Daniel said. “His mind-reading has a range, fifteen meters or so. That’s why he lives so far away from everyone else on the floor.”
“Oh,” I whispered. I guess it made sense that his abilities had limitations. “Why did he let you bring me here?”
Daniel’s eyes were shining with sympathy and concern. “Nico told me what happened. He’s worried. He thought maybe you want someone to talk to, and he thinks that you trust me more than you trust him.”
I froze, confused. That seemed oddly compassionate, not like the behavior of a man who would kill me immediately for disobeying him.
I put my teacup down. I was dizzy and could hardly sit upright. My body was heading into full-on panic mode, and I had no idea how to stop it. Daniel sensed my distress and put his arm around my shoulders.
“Hey,” he said. “Deep breaths, okay? I get it. Derek’s a prick. I’m glad you told him to shut up, even if it made Nicolas react like that. Nico has a specific way he treats slaves. I know that as well as you do.”
“Has Nicolas ever hit you?” I asked.
“Hit me?” Daniel echoed. “I don’t care if he hits me. It’s happened before, although not as a mortal, no. He used that dumb ward he invented when I slapped you, and that thing hurts like a bitch.”
I let out a breathless laugh despite myself. Of course Nicolas had invented that—he was a magical scientist, after all. Research and inventions were probably his thing.
“Sorry?” I whispered, and Daniel laughed.
“He never had to hit me as a mortal. Sure, when he bought me, I hated him. I hated everyone. But I caught on pretty quickly that Nicolas was powerful as hell. When someone beats you, join them, my brother used to say. That’s how you survive. Nico made it clear that he had beaten me and that he could continue to beat me, so I obeyed him. He had given me my life, so how could I not? He treated me the way he did because he had a plan for me. He always has a plan. The man knows the future, and he never does anything without a purpose.”
“I don’t think I have a plan or a purpose anymore,” I whispered. “I fucked up, and Nicolas made it pretty clear I would be dead if that happened.”
Daniel shook his head emphatically. “No, no. You’re fine, trust me. Nicolas isn’t as angry as you think.”
I studied Daniel carefully, wondering how much I could trust his words. He had known Nicolas for much longer than I had, but Nicolas’s hard look and angry tone still echoed in my mind.
“But… but I disobeyed him. In public.” My voice shook as I said the words.
Daniel shrugged. “He seems confident that his actions were enough to, uh, preserve his reputation.”
It was clear he was quoting Nicolas.
I glowered at Daniel. “You’re saying it was a good thing that he hit me?”
“No. But if he did that to you, it was because that was a better option than whatever else would have ended up happening. Did you want Derek to snap your neck because Nicolas didn’t punish you? Did you want Derek to realize Nicolas cares for you, putting an even bigger target on your back?” He shook his head, his eyes affectionate. “Trust me, no.”
Nicolas cared for me? Was that even true? Could hurting someone keep them safe? In the mortal world, there’d be a hotline you could call, friends and family you could reach out to, police who could protect you. Domestic violence, they would all say.
But in a clan? Things were not the same at all. How much casual violence had I seen in Flame? Too much to recall. Physical altercations, magical outbursts, cruel revenge. Clans were not the real world. In a lot of ways, they were much worse. I had made myself okay with that from the moment I had pledged myself to Flame, despite knowing what could happen.
Nicolas was merely playing by the rules. He had told me that himself. If I decided it would be a good idea to test his limits in public, I would find myself quickly regretting it, he had said, and I agreed to his terms.
“He has a plan,” Daniel said again. “One that supposedly works out for all of us in the end.”
“Even me?” I whispered, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“Even you.” He tapped my nose with his fingertips.
“Did you have to convince him not to punish me or… or… kill me?” I asked.
“Nah,” Daniel said. “You’re fine. He just explained what happened and told me to take care of you. He’s not going to hurt you.”
Daniel went to the kitchen and retrieved a wet towel. Gently, he wiped away the blood on my face and the tears that had leaked from the corners of my eyes. He was being so kind that I was at risk of devolving into a sobbing mess again. He was acting like an old friend, and I desperately needed an old friend right now.
“I’ve got you, okay?” he said. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Both you and Nicolas need to calm down and have a conversation.”
I nodded, trying to convince myself that I could talk to Nicolas and somehow smooth things over.
Please let Daniel be right, I thought. Because I didn’t know how many times I could have my hope shattered.
Daniel was watching me with concern, his lips pressed together. He beckoned, and I let him put his arms around me again.
“He’s sorry,” Daniel said after a minute or two. I opened my mouth to protest.
“I know, I know, you don’t care,” he said, pulling back to meet my gaze. “But he is sorry. He told me he was impressed that you had the guts to stand up to Derek like that.”
My grimace twisted into a tiny smile. “It did feel pretty good. For about one-tenth of a second. Landing on the floor… not so much.”
“He’s pretty torn up about the whole thing,” Daniel said. “He’s human, really, and he doesn’t like hurting others.”
“Could have fooled me,” I muttered.
Daniel winced. His arms came back around my shoulders, and I looked away. All I felt right now was confusion, and I was too broken to sort through it. Should I believe Daniel? He seemed certain that things were okay.
“I have to go back to him,” I whispered.
“Not right this minute,” Daniel said. “He wants to give you some space.”
Another very compassionate gesture from Nicolas when I hadn’t expected compassion at all.
Daniel said I was okay. This was a chance to show strength. I had to show Daniel I could handle this and then think up a way to approach Nicolas. One step at a time.<
br />
“Daniel?” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry for all of this. You’re being so nice, and I don’t deserve it, not after everything that’s happened.”
He looked away for a moment, but then his serious eyes met mine.
“Yeah,” he said. “But that’s life, isn’t it? One thing after another, constantly fucking with us. We chose clan life, and here it is.”
“Did you really choose this life?” I asked. “Your options sounded a lot like mine: Water or death.”
He smiled rather sadly. “That’s as much of a choice as I ever had about anything before Nicolas came along.”
There was a knock on the door almost two hours later.
Daniel had taught me how to make wontons, patiently demonstrating how to fold the delicate wrappers around his minced pork filling. Now I was seated with enough filling in front of me to make what seemed like five hundred wontons, fumbling with the unfamiliar motions.
I dropped what I was doing, startled and nervous, my eyes going to the door in alarm.
Daniel offered a slight frown and called, “Come in!”
It was Nicolas, of course. He eyed me carefully and tilted his head. He looked serious and calm, but I could see the tiny hints of stress I’d come to notice these past few days—the slight tenseness in his muscles, the unhappy shape of his lips, the way he pressed his fingertips together. His magic was about as toned down as he could make it, dark and snapped tightly against him like unfurled wings.
“Daniel,” he said, “can you find somewhere else to be? I’d like to speak with Fiona alone if that’s all right with her.”
Both Nicolas and Daniel looked at me expectantly. I swallowed and offered them a wide-eyed nod.
“Yeah, okay,” Daniel said. “I’m going shopping for the rest of dinner. You two finish the wontons while I’m gone.”
He pointed to Nicolas and then to the chair across from me. I tensed, looking down at my hands as Nicolas sat.
Nicolas watched Daniel until he was gone and then took a wrapper off the pile and shaped a wonton. Then another. Then another. He made four in the time it took me to make one. His gaze hadn’t lingered on me for more than a moment.