His eyes hardened, rejection and anger welling up inside even as his heart fought it. He stepped towards her and Rose felt true fear.
“Friends?” he glowered, knocking her hand away. “You come to me, reach out for me, desire me.” He smirked. “And then tell me we’re friends?” Nate’s restraint and anger battled within, his words twisting and vibrating through the struggle.
Rose’s heart beat double-time as she stared at this creature that stood before her, his eyes dark and menacing. She felt the thrill of power as it raced through to her finger tips, quicker this time – as though her body recognised the unmatched intensity of danger before her.
Nate leaned forward so they were barely inches apart, his eyes narrowed as they glared. “You’re nothing,” he seethed. “A tedious task I was obliged to undertake.” He grinned maliciously. “But it seems, thanks to a lifetime of grooming from the Guardian,” his eyes flashed cruelly as they swept over her, “I’ve failed. And since you won’t be swayed, I guess I have no further need for you.” He leaned back, almost causal in his movements.
“Not that you’d have been any use anyway,” he continued, “You’re weak,” he taunted. “Powerless.” He leaned forward again, leaving barely an inch between their faces, daring her to stand up to him. “He can have you,” he sneered, even as his eyes drifted to her lips.
Rose felt static flicker across her palms, her soul filled with the confidence that came with knowing she now controlled her power. She smiled, and Nate’s eyes flickered as she caught them in her gaze.
“He?” she asked calmly, moving forward, forcing Nate to step back. “Surely you mean they?” She flashed a small victorious smile.
Nate blinked in shock, but Rose pushed past him, heading for the door. She turned before she reached it.
“I thought I could save you,” she glared, despite her sadness. “Help you. But Christian was right. There is no good in you.”
She didn’t wait for his reaction, using the energy she felt to blow the door open, smiling grimly when it thumped against the wall, hinges groaning under the sudden movement. She marched out, determined not to look back as Nate stood and watched her leave.
20
The door rebounded off the wall, and Nate watched it swing back to bounce against the frame, where it juddered to a stop. He stared at it, hating that, once again, she’d walked out on him.
Never again, Nate vowed, getting up to shut the door properly. He pulled it closed a little too hard, nearly taking the handle off, before resting his hands against the wood of the door. He seethed, embarrassed, as he considered how much of a fool he must have looked, trying to pretend it meant nothing as she responded to his touch.
He recalled that heady moment before their lips met, and his fingers clenched in frustration. She’d wanted him then, as much as he’d wanted her, but she’d rejected him, pushed him away with her ridiculous plea of friendship.
He moved away from the door, struggling to get a grip on the jumble of emotions that tumbled through him, as he released a long, slow breath.
Fine. If she didn’t want him then he wasn’t going to beg. He was done crawling after her like an idiot. He had to flush her from his system before he let these trite human emotions consume him – which meant he needed to be as far away from her as possible.
Elle was right, he realised. It was time to rid themselves of the curse of the Archon – once and for all. If Elle wanted the girl dead, she could go right ahead. He saw no reason to stand in her way anymore – he’d even help.
Anything to get her out of his life.
He regarded himself in the mirror on the wall, ensuring that no sign of humanity showed before he stormed out of his room, his only thought to find something, anything, to take his mind off his embarrassing mistake. He headed out across the courtyard, passing several groups of students on his way.
Nate was fairly popular on campus, given his good looks and ability to hold his drink – but not today. People who would normally stop and chat moved swiftly out of his path as he strode past, as if sensing that he was not to be trifled with. Those who didn’t earned themselves a scathing glare that had them backing off as quickly as they’d come.
Nate recognised a girl from the few lectures he’d attended as he stormed past. She stood flirting with two male classmates in a half open doorway. She caught his eye and smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing under his calm demeanour.
She was attractive, Nate assessed critically, in a ‘skirt-too-short-socks-too-long’ kind of way. He looked her over briefly as he passed, spinning on his heels at the last moment.
“I’ll be in Rev,” he said with an impish grin, his eyes flashing invitingly. “All night.”
The girl – Louise, he suddenly recalled – made a terrible job of hiding her excitement from her two suitors. Nate turned and continued on his way, the playful smile instantly wiped from his face, the girl forgotten just as quick.
***
Revolution was a modern bar spread out over five floors near the centre of Cambridge, all leather seats and bright colours. It was too early to be particularly busy, the clientele at this hour consisting of a few Japanese tourists unaware that the drinks were cheaper almost everywhere else in town, and a young couple who, judging by the vast number of bags scattered around them, were stopping for a break after a day of shopping.
Nate was sat at the glass bar, swirling the ice in his tumbler, when a gaunt but smartly dressed barman appeared at his right shoulder.
“Can I get you anything else, mate?” he asked, politely.
“A decent whiskey,” Nate replied, not bothering to look up, “I don’t know what this house stuff is but it’s not scotch?”
“The single malts are eight pounds a measure,” the barman reasoned.
Nate waved a crisp fifty-pound note sarcastically. “I’ll have a double of anything that starts with a ‘Glen’ and ends with forty per cent proof.” The barman turned to the neon lit spirit shelf at the other end of the bar, stopping mid stride as Nate added: “One ice cube.” He’d only managed a few more steps before Nate halted him again. “Actually,” he folded his cash back into his pocket, “Start me a tab.”
The barman continued on his way, rolling his eyes discreetly.
Some time later, Nate was entirely failing to feel the effects of his fourth large Glenfiddich. It was just after eight in the evening and the atmosphere in the bar was beginning to change. It was filling up slowly, the pop and 80’s classics that had been quietly piped into the room were now replaced with more recent dance music, turned up to be heard over the low hum of chatter. It was a far cry from the loud and vibrant place it would become in a few hours, but the difference was noticeable nevertheless.
Nate was considering making the move from his leather bar stool to somewhere more comfortable, darker, where his thoughts could stretch from the muddle they had become in his head, when a hand clapped onto his shoulder.
“Nate! How the hell are you?”
Nate recognised the stocky red head who was addressing him in perfectly clipped private school tones, but wasn’t sure where from. He fixed a half-hearted grin to his face, resigning himself to conversation.
“Dave!” he ventured, not really caring if he was right or not. “Good to see you.”
“Pete,” The boy said, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“Pete! Yes of course. Always get you two mixed up.” Nate hid a bored smile in his glass.
“Easily done,” Responded the other man cheerfully. “Bit early for the hard stuff isn’t it?” Despite the lack of invitation, Pete settled onto stool next to Nate, ordering himself a Spanish lager that was served in an extravagant glass. Nate got himself another single-malt by simply waving his glass vaguely at the barman, who dutifully topped him up.
“I was saying,” Pete smiled over his glass. “Hitting it a bit hard for this time of day aren’t you?”
“Sometimes,” Nate muttered, one eyebrow raised as he glanced over. “Only s
cotch will do.”
Pete’s gaze flickered over him, assessing. “What’s her name?” he asked, shrewdly.
“What?” Nate was not in a conversational mood and the impudence of this near stranger genuinely took him aback.
“A man doesn’t hit the spirits at eight o’clock unless there’s a bird involved,” Pete stated, matter-of-factly.
Nate’s stare should have bored holes into his companion’s head, but Pete seemed entirely oblivious as he drank his lager.
“There is no ‘bird’,” Nate spat, emptying his glass in a single mouthful after it became apparent that his glare was having no effect.
“Whatever you say, mate.” Pete flashed him a cheesy grin, draining his glass before nodding at the barman to bring him another.
Nate watched as the barman pulled the fresh pint, irritation well up inside of him at the unwelcome image of Rose that appeared in his mind – thanks to the unhelpful reminder.
“Why can’t she just… disappear?” he heard himself mutter, instantly disgusted with himself.
“Knew it.” A smug look flashed across Pete’s flat features as he accepted his drink and handed over the cash.
“I mean it.” Nate was surprised to find the words just spilling out of him. “I want her out of my life – gone forever – and she can take all the damn trouble with her.”
Pete turned to face him, swivelling the stool around. “That’s not really likely now is it?” he nodded sagely as Nate glowered. “You have to deal with these things Natey. Deal with it and move on.”
Natey?
Nate glared into his glass, considering the other idiots who had tried to affix him with pet names. None of them had lived to breathe word of their mistake. He fixed Pete with another hard look that seemed to break through his thick skull.
“Not Natey, eh?” Pete apologised bashfully.
Nate pulled a deep breath through his nose, finding the urge to vent uncontrollable – even if it was to this simpering, foolish mortal.
“I changed for her,” he began, frustrated at his lack of control. “I … felt things. Broke rules. Betrayed people I’ve known for –” He caught himself quickly – “all my life. To try and make her happy.”
Pete made to interject but a look from Nate stopped him. “I showed her things. I opened myself up to her, and for what?” he glared at the empty glass in front of him. “What does she do for me?” He stared at the stocky man defiantly, inviting an answer, but Pete was chastened by the venom in Nate’s voice.
Nate slapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder – a little too hard. “What she did,” he glowered, his voice dangerously low. “Was crawl back to that angel,” he spat the word like an expletive, “Like I never even existed.”
“I must admit,” Pete said lightly, rubbing his now bruised shoulder as he plucked up the courage to respond, “I didn’t really see you as the type to get so hung up on a woman.”
“If you knew how right you are,” Nate seethed, thumping the bar hard enough to make all the glasses within a few meters tremble and all the customers and staff turn his way.
“I’ve had Queens,” he continued, to a bemused looking Pete. “I’ve had woman kill to be with me only to turn them away.” He grinned wickedly at the memory. “Entire families of sisters within hours of each other – and then this, this girl, does this, to me!” Nate eyes widened into pools of disbelief as he contemplated the unexpected pain he’d felt at Rose’s rejection, anger rearing up in him as he fought to control it.
Pete looked at Nate for a long time, finally seeing the warning signs of danger in the other man’s eyes as Nate glared, eyes dark and teeth gritted, the sound of his own rushing blood filling his ears.
“I have to go,” he muttered, gathering his keys and wallet from the bar. “But never mind eh?” Pete continued uneasily, and more than a little scared at the suddenly changed man in front of him as he stepped off the stool. “Plenty more fish in the sea.”
In a single movement Nate stood up, sweeping his tumbler into his hand and smashing it into Pete’s forehead. There were probably screams and panic all around him as Pete hit the floor, but Nate heard nothing as he crouched beside him.
“No there aren’t,” he spat the words viciously at the moaning, prostrate figure. “There are no other fish.” He leaned in closer, his eyes menacing as he spoke intimately into his ear. “There was only one damn fish, and without her,” he smiled cruelly at Pete, who looked up in genuine fear, blood dripping down his face from the myriad of cuts across his forehead. “We’ll never own the ocean –”
He was lifted into the air, two enormous bouncers taking him under each arm to pull him away. Nate shrugged them off as soon as his feet hit the ground, kicking the larger of the two gorillas violently in the groin and watching in satisfaction as he rolled into a table full of hastily retreating students. Grabbing the second man by his lank ponytail, he yanked his head back, chopping him viciously across the throat with his forearm.
Without stopping to survey the chaos he’d created, Nate exited the bar, straightening his clothes as he walked out into the busying street.
He spotted Louise in the throng of people and flashed her a cold grin, relishing her shocked expression, before disappearing into a side alley, the sound of sirens ringing out behind him.
His steps felt lighter as he prowled through the streets, the journey complete in what seemed like no time at all.
He reached his room, needing a shower to wash off the blood stains and trite human emotion that lingered on his skin like a sticky residue. Grabbing a towel, he headed to the bathroom.
***
Christian had been waiting for, what felt like an entire human lifespan for Rose to return.
He was sitting in her room, flicking absently through one of the many books that littered the desk, when he felt her draw closer. Anger and frustration fizzed in her mind, tinged with an element of guilt and trepidation – something that Christian found he was entirely grateful for, having felt her reactions to Nathaniel’s ‘lesson’.
He looked up as the door blew open and she stormed in, pausing at seeing him there. She hesitated, sudden fear flooding her eyes, before shutting the door quietly and moving over to sit on the bed.
“It worked, I take it?” Christian put the book down, indicating the doorway.
Rose looked blank for a second, before nodding to the book he’d placed by his foot. It skittered across the room, hitting one of the desk legs with a dull thud.
Christian watched it go, eyebrows raised at the buzz of energy he felt emanating from her.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, tentatively. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was ready to know the details of what had transpired.
Rose frowned, as unwilling to explain. “You stayed away.” Apprehension blossomed in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but move to sit with her.
“I thought that was … best,” he said carefully, after a moment of heavy silence fell between them.
“Why?” Rose’s eyes flicked up to his, wide and searching. He held her gaze as he tried to put it into words.
“You needed to get scared,” he eventually said, with a small shrug. “I was expecting it, so when I felt it …” he trailed off as Rose dropped her eyes.
“It wasn’t just fear you felt,” she asked quietly, “was it?”
Christian saw the exact moment she noticed the space between them, as she realised he’d made no move to touch her. She looked up expectantly, her eyes dull with sadness.
“Tell me what happened,” he asked, instead.
Rose explained, stammering through the admittance of her brief lust for Nate – being entirely honest with him. Christian sat back when she’d finished, and she waited as he worked through everything, matching it up with the emotions he’d felt in her absence – feeling her steadily rising panic, the longer he took to speak.
“I told you that he couldn’t be trusted,” he said, eventually, his eyes on the book on the floor. He almost
smiled as Rose tried very hard not to roll her eyes, feeling relief flutter in her heart.
“Is that it?” she asked, warily. “I told you so?”
“What do you want me to say?” Christian sighed resigned, as his eyes met hers.
“That it’s okay,” she said quietly, dropping her gaze. “That we’re okay.”
Christian reached out and gently lifted her chin until she looked at him. “It’s not okay,” he said, knowing she could feel the anger that flooded him, though he fought hard to keep it in check. Rose nodded as he dropped his hand, tears shimmering in her eyes, and Christian held her gaze as he organised his thoughts.
He hadn’t wanted her to go alone; had argued the point before she’d left, but had relented, in the end, when he saw what it meant to her.
It wasn’t because he’d known she would never betray his trust – truthfully, the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind – but more to do with the ongoing battle with his urge to control her every move, imbued as he was with the desire to keep her safe.
He knew she hated it, he knew it was wrong of him, and so, he’d let her go alone, let her walk into the lion’s den – despite every cell in his body telling him not to.
He’d been on edge the moment she’d left, monitoring her closely through his Ward-link, worrying about what Nathaniel might do, what he might take advantage of.
The moment he’d felt Rose’s desire, had realised that she could still react to Nate like that after everything they’d shared, pain had ripped through his heart, tearing the air from his lungs.
It had taken every ounce of control he possessed to stay put, to let it play out, to not march over and drag her away from the Fallen being he despised – knowing, as anger had rocked through him, that he would do more harm than good.
So he had waited, trembling fists clenching tightly as Rose had realised herself, relief rushing through him as he felt her shock, her fear – even disgust – the buzzing, humming of her power building in his ears.
He’d sagged into her armchair the moment her power had reached its crescendo, surprised at the strength she’d wielded, before feeling her thoughts towards Nate change, how they moved from sadness to anger.
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