Nicholas

“Did we not agree for one to keep watch? We all need our sleep,” said Nicholas.

William glared, probably because he didn’t bother whispering and the bed creaked from his movements. He slipped off and stretched. Charmaine stirred, though didn’t wake. That didn’t lessen William’s heated attention. Nicholas’ lips quivered into a smile, always proud to irritate most, but especially William. 

“We’ve been under constant attack, I figured it would be best for all of us if two kept watch,” the medic replied.

“Because of the monsters or us?” He waved a hand between himself and Arden. “Frightened one of the fae had found a loophole in the treaty and would cut your throat in your sleep?”

“No, though I did have a strange thought that two cowardly bastards may abandon Albie and I in the dangerous woods with no provisions and monsters on our tail. Certainly that wouldn’t have happened, would it?” William’s eyes dared either of the fae to speak. Regardless of his scowl, Nicholas dropped onto the floor beside him. The medic rolled his eyes when their arms brushed.

“You’re annoyingly attentive,” said Nicholas as his eyes took in the lines of William’s strong jaw and the ample curves of his neck that would look wonderful marked.

“I’ve learned to expect the worst, particularly from those like you.”

“We could still leave. Even if your friend wasn’t limping, neither of you could keep up with us at our swiftest,” Nicholas warned.

“If you’re intent on being foolish, then do so, but don’t come crawling back when you meet trouble.”

The electrified air between them bristled and shifted. Nicholas didn’t look away, as if the two shared an unspoken battle that whoever tore away first lost. He hated losing, especially if it were against William. The medic irked him in every way, and yet, he didn’t want the evening to end. He wished to sit here, testing how far he can push. See if William would dare to raise that revolver at him, like he wanted to the other day. See what other reactions he could provoke that William never expected to show. That was a victory in his mind.

Nicholas waved a dismissive hand towards Arden. “Take your rest. This annoying little wolf has ensured we won’t drop any deadweight tonight.”

The creaking of the floorboards then the bed informed him that Arden had obeyed. William kept his undivided attention. Though jade eyes reflected the glistening flames, Nicholas had never seen a look so cold, so unbearably bitter and bleak that every breath came short and tingled as if overtaken by snow.

“There’s a coldness to your eyes, William. Has anyone ever told you that?” He brushed stray hair from the medic’s eyebrow. He snickered when the tip of a knife pressed against his neck. Iron. His skin blistered.

“You are becoming far too familiar for my taste. Move aside,” William warned.

“But I like this.” Nicholas pressed forward, uncaring of the blade sizzling against the thin skin of his neck. William remained still, not giving him so much as a twitch. Eyes as cold as before, in the forest where Nicholas saw Death for a brief moment.

“You don’t tense easily,” Nicholas whispered.

“Shall I congratulate you on stating the obvious?”

He leaned back. William let the knife rest against his leg, though his knuckles remained bone white against the handle, prepared to strike.

“Tell me, what would make the little wolf tense?” he asked.

“A cup of bad tea.” William’s blatant disregard and cold demeanor only made Nicholas want to break him more. The game had been set and he craved the sweet taste of victory.

“You are no fun. Won’t share a thing with me. At least keep me entertained. I sense neither of us will get any more sleep this evening.”

William scoffed. “You seem more than entertained right now.”

Nicholas snapped his fingers. “Let us have a game of riddles. I will make the first simple.”

William’s defiant disapproval was ignored.

“We do not wish to meet, but always will. What am I?” Nicholas kept his excited eyes on William, momentarily confused by the sudden interest in his eyes.

“Death,” he said, confidently. “And you stole that from Martha’s Book of Riddles.”

Nicholas shouldn’t have been surprised. The information Arden retrieved proved that William came from what humans called a refined upbringing. He understood that some families had better education than others. Fae knew of no such things. Knowledge could be found by those who sought it.

“You have read her works, then?” he hummed. “I am impressed. I quite enjoy her fables, too. Impressive for a mortal.”

William gave the first sign of life outside his indifferent demeanor by feigning a gag of disgust. “I despise that we have anything in common.”

“What a joy to hear because I imagine we have quite a lot in common, son of Lord Robert and Lady Matilda Vandervult.”

Nicholas found it, a knick in the armor, albeit small. William’s eyes shut, as if suppressing an emotion. Then those eyes opened, showing nothing, and his voice remained level when he asked, “Am I meant to be flattered by your invasive intrigue?”

“Perhaps. I like to know what I’m up against, and I will admit that you are interesting.”

“Hearing that from you is rather insulting.”

“How much have you spoken with them? Your parents and brothers?”

“How much do you speak with yours? I hear fae don’t hold family relations to high esteem, that they do the bare minimum and are more often than not, unforgiving, cruel, and malicious.” William countered, not allowing Nicholas to dig deeper. He was quite skilled at turning a conversation.

“Compared to that of human expectations, certainly not. We do not require coddling.”

William rolled his eyes and didn’t provide more. That didn’t stop Nicholas from trying. With the others asleep and a long night ahead of them, he had opportunities that he did not want to miss.

“Tell me how such a fragile child who spent so many days in the infirmary became,” Nicholas waved a hand towards William. “Like this?”

“Do specify.”

“A walking sexual frustration.”

Nicholas’ hopes of a blush were dashed when William responded nonchalantly, “Puberty.”

But then the medic shared a wry grin. He tapped an impatient finger against his blade when asking, “Since you adore games, why don’t we play a new one? Let’s see who can remain quiet the longest.”

Nicholas faked a yawn. “Even your idea of a game is boring. What if I share information as well?”

“Not worth it as I am not interested in you.”

“You try so hard to wound me.”

“I wish for nothing more.”

Those words were another string for Nicholas to grab. He settled close to William again, allowing their sides to touch. He did not miss the darkening of the medic’s eyes. He relished in it, in fact.

“Must make you regret even more not taking your chance back there. In the woods.” Nicholas set a hand against William’s muscled thigh. Still not a flinch. He wanted the medic to tense. To twitch. To shudder. To snap under any pressure.

William feigned innocence. “What regret do you speak of?”

“A moment where you could have been rid of me with the last bullet of yours, although Arden and your fiery friend would have grown suspicious of the hole in my head.”

The look returned, a bitter dullness to William’s otherwise enchanting eyes. As if Death reaped the color and took over body and mind.

“There it is. That look.” Nicholas inched closer. William’s side pressed firmly against his chest. They shared the air they breathed. The fae’s fingers spread out across a warm thigh he wished was uncovered. That he wished trembled or showed any sign of discomfort, or yearning.

“If by look, you mean that of irritation, then yes. I’ve always shown that towards you.” William raised the knife in warning. It only urged Nicholas on.

“The lies humans weave are so vexatious. You know of the look, of the chill inside you. You have the eyes of a beast, like me.”

William’s lips parted in a silent breath. “What are you implying?”

“I am implying you are a dangerous man, William Vandervult, and I am curious how many know it.” Nicholas’ hand lifted further, barley an inch from the center of William’s legs.

“Move once more and I will relieve you of your fingers.”

Nicholas clicked his tongue. “Are medics meant to be so quick to violence? Though I suppose you would excel at a mysterious dismemberment, ailment, or death here or there.”

“If you believe that then you should play nice, though for you that may be impossible. Not many people tell you no, do they?” William’s eyes shifted towards Arden’s sleeping form, then back to Nicholas. “As a Shade, your kin show you a form of fearful respect, and your father lords over Darkmoon. You’re accustomed to spoils.”

“That’s right. I am as rotten as rotten can be. I get what I want when I want. Always.”

“But you want me dead and I’m still here.”

“There are several things I want from you.” Nicholas would have eagerly shared the list, even the desire to relieve William of his clothes for an evening of pleasure if only for a chance to break the stoic facade, but suddenly, William stood. The tension dissipated.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“I heard nothing,” said Nicholas.

“There’s something outside.”