Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Act one

“Why are you staring off into space? Missions over?”

The sound of footsteps stops next to me, and I glance up. Caleb looks down at me, hand on his hip, and smile on his face. His scruffy brown hair brushing gently against his forehead in the light breeze.

“Did you find any big bad wanderers?” He continues when I don’t respond.

“Uh, no.” I answer, turning away. “The fluctuations disappeared. Probably a false alarm.”

“A false alarm?” He asks, stepping closer. Suddenly he grabs my wrist and raises it in front of me.

“Caleb!”

“If it really was, then what’s this?” As his grip tightens slightly. A small tear in my coat sleeve opens to reveal a thin cut along my wrist, small drops of blood collecting at its edges.

“It was nothing. I just caught it on something.” I tried to pull my wrist from his grip, but his fingers tightened even further.

“On what? A stray cat? You’re a terrible liar, Sienna, so don’t try.”

“Come on, Caleb, let go. Gran’s waiting for us. Let’s just go home.”

He glared at me for a moment more before dropping my hand and stomping off. I raced to catch up with him, wary of his obvious bad mood.

“It was just an accident, Caleb. Really. You and gran have enough to deal with-“

“I understand you want to hide it from Gran. We’ve caused her enough trouble since she brought us up together.” He stopped and turned to face me. “But why do you have to hide it from me? Can’t you trust me now that we’re all grown-up?”

“I just don’t want you worrying about me. I hardly get to see you anymore and I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

He looked away, his jaw tensing as he grit his teeth.

“Besides,” I continued. “I’m an adult now. I know how to take care of myself. You can’t protect me forever.” My voice trailed off as I finished and I looked down, fiddling with the torn cuff of my sleeve. His hand moved into my vision and rested on my arm as he stepped closer.

“Why is that a problem? If not me, then who could you turn to for…” He stopped, hesitating, before giving a quiet, breathy chuckle and stepping back.

“What is it?” I asked, looking up at him again.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you, pip-squeak.” He said, his usual boyish humour back in his eyes. “Forget it.”

He turned to the door next to him and gripped the handle.

“Hide the blood on your sleeve before you come inside.” He shot back over his shoulder before pulling the door open.

“Wait, Caleb! Don’t-“

BOOM!

My eyes shot open as my heart pounded against my chest, my breaths coming short and sharp. A deep, grinding pain flared in my chest as I thought of my dream. Well, I guess nightmare would be a better word. It felt so real, like I’d lived it myself. Even the grief clawing at my chest. Closing my eyes again I gave myself a mental kick. That’s what happens when you get emotionally involved in a mobile game. Still, I hadn’t played that chapter in a while. The last one I played was Sylus’ story so why I was dreaming of Caleb? And why did it feel so real?

Rolling over I tried to put the questions and dream from my mind and settled back under my duvet. Then I heard something. My eyes shot open again and I sat up slightly, straining my ears. There was a faint murmur coming from downstairs. Was I imagining it? Careful, I slid out of bed and crept towards my door. Trying not to make a sound, I pulled the handle down and opened it slightly.

No, I was not imagining it. There were definitely sounds coming from downstairs. What’s more I could see a light shining near the foot of the stairs. I know I turned all the lights off before I went to bed. And since Phoebe was in Hong Kong for the month there shouldn’t be anyone else in the house.

I reached behind my door for the baseball bat I kept on hand before opening the door wider and creeping onto the landing. I had to walk the length of the corridor round the edge of the room to get to the stairs which continued circling down to the circular hallway. As I reached the top of the stairs, I could see the light leaking out from the thin gap between the double sliding doors leading into the second living room. That was where the murmurs were coming from as well. It was definitely voices I could hear.

I tiptoed down the stairs, holding my bat to the side, ready to swing it at anyone that appeared. When I made it to the bottom of the stairs without being discovered, I decided to see if I could spot the intruders. So, I carefully stepped out in front of the door and crouched down, peering through the gap between the doors. I could see hints of movement on the other side, hear the inconsistent hum of voices. Was there two? Or maybe three of them. I strained my ears to hear what was being said but struggled to make out the words. A faint cord of recognition slipped through me as one of the intruders gave a low chuckle and I tensed. The sound vibrated through me like a warning bell, my strained nerves begging me to run. Had I really been discovered so quickly?

“Why are you hiding out here?”

The soft voice behind me pierced my awareness like an arrow. I shot up, swinging my bat out as I spun to face the person right behind me. The bat stopped suddenly, and I stumbled back against the doors, hearing them rattle in their frames. Then my eyes landed on the owner of the voice, and I froze.

Vibrant blue eyes observed me from beneath ash blond eyebrows, almost hidden behind the strands of soft hair hanging across his forehead. His pale skin, smooth and clear across his soft features, gave him an almost childlike appearance that belied the unwavering strength of his grip on my bat. A small furrow appeared on his brow, and he tilted his head ever so slightly as his eyes travelled across my own features.

I could feel how wide my eyes had grown as I stared at him, my mind refusing to accept the sight before me. There was just no way-

The support of the door behind me disappearing cut through my thoughts as I felt myself tilt backwards. I released the bat to flail my arms, hoping to regain my balance before landing on the hard wooden floor. But gravity was faster than my reflexes and the floor too smooth. My feet slipped out from under me and the frame of the door above me rushed into view.

As quickly as my decent had started, it stopped. Something warm and firm circling behind my shoulders and a grip on my bare arm supporting me. I looked up into the face of my rescuer and my breath caught in my throat. Startled hazel green eyes stared down at me from behind wire frames glasses perched on a sharp straight nose, dark hair brushing against the tops of their rims. Soft, full lips opened slightly as he, too, examined my features, his dark brows drawing together.

His confusion spurred me to action, and I pushed up out of his hold, catching sight of the blond in front of me still. I spun to the room behind me. The dark-haired man straightened, his white coat settling over his broad shoulders and the dark shirt shifting across his frame.

My eyes flicked to the figure next to him. The slim, angelic face framed by dusty purple hair tilted as he pouted, hands resting on the belt of his ridiculously well fitted black trousers. His equally well fitted white shirt showed off his graceful frame while the unnecessary number of open buttons at the top hinted at his lithe musculature. But what really caught my attention were his eyes, hues of pink and blue shifting across them under the gentle living room light. They drew me in, like a gateway to an endless depth lay just beyond them.

Movement on the other side of my room pulled my attention again and I found myself staring into the fires of hell. Bright crimson eyes pierced through me and burned a path down to my very soul. As if the strength of his gaze was the only source of heat left in the world, my limbs went cold, almost numb, while the heat inside me made me dizzy. The quirk of his full lips, followed by the movement of his arms crossing over his broad chest forced the oxygen from me. I tried desperately to breath life back into my numb body, still caught in his piercing gaze, but my traitorous lungs refused to work.

My head began to spin and my vision blurred. The sound of strangled gasps reached my ears and I realised it was me. I was desperately trying to get oxygen back into my lungs but the spasms in my chest were too fast, too strong to allow my body the breath it needed.

Hazel green eyes appeared in front of me again and gentle hands gripped my arms.

"It's ok." He murmured, rubbing his hands along my arms. "Try to calm down." His voice had an airy quality that brushed over me in my panicked state.

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm my heart rate. But I could still feel his touch on me, brushing along my exposed skin. I could smell the hints of disinfectant from his clothes but there was a minty pine scent underneath that helped to clear my head slightly.

“Sit down.” He told me, leading me to the sofa. As I sat, I felt the cool leather cut through the thin material of my pyjamas and realised how hot my skin was. I gripped the edge of the sofa with my hands trying to draw the cold into my body, as I willed my heart to slow and my lungs to expand. As my body began to obey me once again, I considered my situation.

There was no way these men were in my house. It was just impossible. It couldn’t really be them. They weren’t real. Maybe they were cosplayers? Just really good cosplayers…in my house…in the middle of the night. What if it’s a gang thing? They dress up like game characters and break into houses to rob people or…or…I didn’t want to think about the other possibilities in that scenario.

I opened my eyes slightly, head tilted to the floor. I could see the coffee table a little way in front of me and beyond that the archway leading into the dining room. Glancing to my right, the doctor kneeling beside me blocked my view and my passage back the way I had come. I could see the man with his hands on his hips standing in front of the tv but not the blond one. Glancing to my left I spotted the smart black shoes and trousers of the devil, feeling my cheeks heat at the thought of how much he was towering over me. 

I had to get out. I didn’t want to wait and find out what these men were doing here. But, could I do it? Could I move fast enough to evade them? My best bet would be through the dining room. I could cut through there into the kitchen and out the back door. Or maybe through the utility room? No, it would be too easy for them to cut me off going that way. The kitchen door was my best option. I just needed a distraction. Something to draw their attention, just for a moment.

“Here.” The soft voice called from the doorway. The blond approached us with a glass of water in his hands. This was it. As he reached us, the doctor turned to him and I took my chance. I launched myself off the sofa and jumped across the coffee table…

And stopped.

In mid-air.

It felt like the air had turned to jelly, like gravity had stopped working altogether. Then I looked down. Swirling red and black mist surrounded me, brushing almost imperceptibly against my skin. No way. There was no possible way this was real. It’s a dream. It has to be.

Then it tightened, like thick rope pressing into my skin. I gasped and flailed desperately, my arms moving freely but never able to escape from the mist and my legs kicking beneath me unable to find any purchase.

Nope. Not a dream.

As I struggled wildly, the man on my left stepped in front of me. One large hand raised casually as his unruly silver hair brushed against those crimson eyes. Despite my halted flight over the coffee table I was only just above eye level with him, his smirking, sharp-featured face directly in my line of sight.

“Going somewhere, Sweetie?”

Chapter Text

“Going somewhere, Sweetie?” His deep, rich voice rumbled through the room, gripping my heart like sin itself. Sylus. My brain supplied. This man is Sylus. Before my brain could formulate a reply, a flash of light and sharp voice cut between us. The point of a silver longsword levelled at his throat.

“Let her go.”

I turned to the blond man, his once gentle voice now as sharp as the edge of his sword. My struggles for freedom died down as I stared at the man brandishing his weapon. I had a bloody Deepspace Hunter brandishing his massive light sword in my living room. Not even my living room; it was Phoebe’s. It wasn’t even my house. What the hell am I going to do if he starts swinging it around?

Sylus' lips curled into a sneer as he met Xavier's steely gaze, his crimson eyes flashing with disdain.

“And if I don’t? What will you do little hunter? Cut me down where I stand? By all means, give it your best shot.” He taunted.

“Can someone please just explain what the hell is going on?” The angel-faced man, Rafayel, snapped. “I don’t have time to stand around playing tag with you weirdos. I’m busy.” Though his tone carried a melodic quality, his words rang like those of a spoiled youngster mid-meltdown.

“We all need to calm down.” Zayne said from behind me. “This is obviously a confusing situation for all of us and tormenting the only person who might have answers is not going to help.”

“Would you rather I let her run off?” Sylus sneered, turning his gaze on the doctor. “I’m not prepared to let her escape so easily.” His burning gaze turned back to me, and I flinched. I had to do something, or I was going to die here, I was sure.

“P-please,” I squeaked. Swallowing I tried again. “Please put me down.” I hated how weak my voice sounded but with those red eyes boring into me there was nothing I could do. “I-I won’t run.”

Sylus glared at me for a moment, no doubt debating my trustworthiness.

“Please.” I squeaked again. Something shifted subtly in his gaze, softening ever so slightly. The fingers of his hand flexed and I felt myself drifting slowly back to the ground. As my feet touched the hard wood floor the mist melted away. My knees quivered and I reached out instinctively.

Before I could collapse, Zayne was by my side, gripping my elbow in support. He helped me find my way back to the sofa and passed me the glass of water he had clearly been holding this whole time. I took it with shaking fingers as he lowered himself to the seat beside me. I could feel a headache starting to press against my eyes.

“Thank you, Zayne.” I muttered, before taking a drink of the cool liquid. The water trembled against my lips as my gaze swept across the room, meeting four pairs of eyes - red, hazel, cerulean, and dual-toned - each watching me with furrowed brows and tense shoulders. My heart skipped when Zayne's gentle voice broke the heavy silence, making me realize I'd let something slip that I shouldn't have.

“You know my name?” He asked in his soft, airy voice. Forgetting I had a mouth full of water, I inhaled and immediately began coughing. The glass was removed from my hand as I tried to dislodge the water from my already sore lungs. When the coughing fit died down, I cleared my throat a few times and glanced at the doctor next to me, waiting patiently for my answer.

“I…um…” I cleared my throat again, trying to formulate a thought, some sort of explanation. I knew now, as impossible as it was, these men were real. They shouldn’t exists but they did. And in a world so different from their own. How they were here I had no idea but whatever had happened I needed to fix it.

Come on Rory, pull yourself together! It’s only four super-hot men who shouldn’t exist waiting for you to explain their existence to them. I took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to explain what I knew. But honestly, there was no simple explanation.

“I know…of you.” I started tentatively. Zayne’s only response was the raising of a single dark eyebrow. I took a deep breath and sighed. “You’re game characters.”

For a moment, no one spoke. I glanced between them, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“You mean, this is a game?” Xavier asked at last.

“Um…no…it’s…”

This wasn’t working and my headache was getting worse. I sighed again and moved to stand up. The whole room went suddenly tense as the men prepared for my next escape attempt. I stilled and held my hands up in, what I hoped, was a placating gesture.

“I’m just going to get my phone.” I explained “I left it upstairs. It will help me to explain.”

“Use mine.” Sylus said, offering his sleek, black device. I glanced briefly up at his face before looking away.

“I don’t think I can access what I need on yours. I need mine.”

“I’ll go with you.” Zayne cut in, standing. I turned following, grateful for an escape from the room, even if only for a moment. At the doorway I paused and glanced back.

“Xavier,” I called. The hunter looked up at me, startled. “Please put the sword away. This isn’t my house, and I don’t want to break anything.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and hurried up the stairs after Zayne.

At the top of the stairs I took the lead, heading round the circular landing to my bedroom door, still standing open slightly. Pushing past it I went straight to my nightstand and unplugged my phone. 1:13am flashed on the screen before it went dark again, and I rubbed my forehead. No wonder I had a headache. I glanced at my bed longingly, wishing I could just dive under the duvet and hide until morning. What if I had just stayed in bed earlier? Just ignored the noises and gone back to sleep. I sighed. That was a dream.

“Aren’t you cold?” Zayne asked from the doorway. I turned back to him then looked down at myself. My top was a loose, thin material with spaghetti straps and the bottoms were no more than long shorts, made of the same material.

“Uh, a little…I guess.” With everything that had happened in the last…what…ten minutes? I hadn’t even noticed the cool air beginning to leave goosebumps on my skin. Looking back up at Zayne, I found him removing his white doctor’s coat, most likely to offer to me, I realised.

“It’s ok.” I said, hurriedly before he had completely removed the garment. Before he could object, I grabbed my dressing gown off the end of my bed and shrugged it over my shoulders. “I’m good.” After a moment he nodded and pulled the coat back over his shoulders, then stepped back and let me lead the way back downstairs.

As we went, I unlocked my phone and began to search for the app, tapping it open just as I reached the open doors again. I stilled as the game loaded, frowning. The screen before me was the usual café view, dark to match the time of day, or night. But the seat was empty. There was no one there. I clicked the change person button, thinking it was just a glitch and stopped. The slots came up for the different love interests, but they were empty. I closed the menu and opened the memories tab but even these were blank. I scrolled down through all the cards I had collected but not a single one showed its image.

Finally, I hit the story button and selected the last chapter I had played yesterday. Nothing happened. I tapped it again. Still nothing. This wasn’t possible. Did they seriously just disappear from the game? I looked up at the men around me. The men that had somehow come out of the game and into my world.

“Hey, I know that place.” Rafayel mused, peering over my shoulder. I jumped at his sudden proximity before looking back at the screen. The empty café scene was showing again. “Isn’t that the destiny café? How did you get such a good picture of it?”

“It’s not a picture.” I said hesitantly. Rose and vanilla filled my nose with a briny undertone. I glanced back at him and found myself staring into those sunset-sea eyes again. Way too close! I swallowed and stepped away, deciding on a new plan of action. Reaching for the tv control I switched the device on before connecting my phone to it. With the screen duplicated I wouldn’t have four guys leaning over me to see what was going on.

As the game wasn’t working, I decided to pull up you tube instead, selecting a video of the main story line. Then I sat again on the sofa and let it play out. There was the first meeting with Xavier, then the chance meeting with Rafayel, the check up with Zayne. I watched as the truth began to sink in, the reality that their lives were laid out in front of them like this.

After a few minutes I stopped that video and pulled up another one of Sylus’ story, although I skimmed through to one of the simple conversations, not wanting to provoke any more hostility. I let that run for a bit before hitting pause and closing the app. For a while no one spoke, each of them ruminating on what they had just witnessed.

“We’re not real?” Rafayel spat at last.

“Of course you are.” I said before I could stop myself. Four pairs of eyes turned to me. “I mean, you’re here, aren’t you. You’re not just…ghosts or whatever.”

“This…game,” Xavier piped up, thoughtfully. “It’s from Sienna’s point of view. Could her evol have something to do with…this?” He gestured around him.

“Unlikely. If it has anything to do with her it’s more likely related to the protocore fragment in her heart.” Zayne reasoned.

“You mean the aether core.” Sylus corrected. Zayne glanced at him briefly but ignored his comment.

“Either way, if she was involved then, surely, she would be here as well.”

“She is.” Everyone looked at Xavier but he was looking at me.

“I’m not Sienna.” I started waving my hands in front of me. “I mean, yes, she’s my avatar in the game but I’m not actually her. My name’s Rory.”

“But she’s a part of you. You’re connected.”

I opened my mouth to protest but hesitated. That dream I had - it felt too vivid. As though I'd lived it myself. Like I was experiencing Sienna's own memories. Her loss.

I turned my focus inwards scanning through the memories of my recent life. But my focus slipped, and I found myself reliving events I didn’t remember. Except I did remember them. I remembered Caleb and Gran. I remembered meeting Zayne as a child, the three of us playing together in the park. That wasn’t in the game. That wasn’t my memory. It was Sienna’s.

My hand stole to my mouth as the truth settled home. She was a part of me. Slowly I looked back up at Xavier.

“That’s not possible.” I breathed. He simply watched me, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Perhaps we should resume this conversation in the morning.” Zayne suggested, glancing between us. “I don’t suppose you have spare beds for us to use?” I slowly looked up at him, my brain struggling to register his words.

“What?”

“Beds?” Rafayel asked. “Preferably comfortable ones?”

“Oh, right. Um…” I tried to pull my focus back to the present, away from the new yet familiar memories now inhabiting my mind. “There’s a guest room and my friend Phoebe’s room. She’s away for the month. There’s also a sofa bed in the study.” I looked around at the four men. “Otherwise, it’s just the sofa.”

“I’ll take the sofa.” Xavier offered. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“I’ll be fine with the sofa bed.” Zayne added.

I nodded and turned to lead three of the men up to their rooms.

“I’ll bring some extra bedding down for you, Xavier.” I called back.

Rafayel quickly snapped up the master bedroom belonging to my friend and landlady and Zayne assured me he could manage when I offered to set up the sofa bed in the room next door. Both these rooms were at the top of the stairs, and it took me a few seconds to realise who was left. I could feel my cheeks heat as I realised Sylus of all people would be staying in the room right next to mine. The universe was truly trying to screw with me tonight.

As we reached the door to the guest room I stood aside and gestured to it.

“This is the guest room.” I said, refusing to look at him. For a moment, he just stood before me, arms crossed over his broad chest. I could feel his eyes boring into me, willing me to look at him, but I refused. My soul was burned enough already. Feeling the tension grow between us, I turned on my heal and headed back down the corridor, muttering a half-hearted goodnight. Digging in the cupboard I pulled out two lots of bedding, delivering the first armful to Zayne and the second armful downstairs to Xavier.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs again I wanted nothing more than to sink back into my bed and sleep through the next year. I trudged across the landing and pushed my door shut behind me, leaning against it for a moment before dragging my body across the room to my bed. I sat on the edge and fell backways, bouncing slightly on the mattress. As exhausted as my body was, my mind was buzzing. Spinning uncontrollably through everything that had happened. I rubbed my hands over my face and groaned. How could this be happening.

The sound of my door opening caught my attention, and I pulled my hands away from my face. In my doorway stood the Onychinus leader, thumbs tucked into his pockets and crimson eyes watching me. There was no smirk on his face and his head was tilted back slightly, so he was looking down his nose at me.

I felt my stomach churn at his presence and sat up again, trying to stay calm.

“Please, Sylus. I really need to get some sleep. Can we talk in the morning?”

He didn’t respond, simply stared at me as if waiting for something. Then he took a step forwards. Feeling my nerves begin to hum as he approached, I turned away, suddenly realising I’d left the baseball bat downstairs. Not that it would help me much. Not against him.

He stopped directly in front of me, and I could feel the tension growing between us again. His whiskey and teakwood scent wrapped around me and I tried not to breath too deeply. Then he reached out and gripped my chin, pulling my face round to his. The feel of his skin against mine felt like an electric shock and I pulled back suddenly, pushing his hand away.

“What the hell-“

Faster than I could react he caught both my wrists in his hands and pushed me back into the bed, pinning my arms above my head. I tried to cry out, but his free hand covered my mouth, silencing me and forcing me to face him at the same time. I struggled against his grip, trying to bite his palm and twist my arms from his wrist.

“Settle down, Kitten. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I tried to kick out at his legs, but he gripped my thighs between his own. Then his eye began to glow, and I froze. I could feel his gaze digging its way into my mind, searching. I had to shut my eyes. I had to shut him out. But I couldn’t, my body was no longer responding to me. I was trapped and vulnerable, a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.

Possess him

Devour him

Just…kill him

As the voices filled my ears and my mind, seeping into my bones and blood and soul, Sylus smiled down at me wolfishly. He hummed in amusement as the edges of my sanity frayed.

“It seems the hunter was right.” He murmured, his hand sliding from my mouth down to my throat. “Best get some sleep, Kitten. Things are going to get interesting from here.”

As his words echoed through my ears and settled in my chest, darkness blurred the edges of my vision and pressed down on my awareness. Against my will my eyes closed, and the darkness engulfed me.

Chapter Text

The initial sensation that crept into my waking mind was a soft, enveloping warmth wrapped around me. Next came the clean, sudsy fragrance laced with subtle flowery notes. It was so pleasant and inviting I felt my mind and body melting into it and wished, for once that I could return to my peaceful slumber. I shuffled under my duvet, trying to bury myself further into this warmth.

But as usual, my mind refused to listen, and awareness slowly trickled back into my body. As it did, I became aware of something solid and heavy circling my waist. I shifted again, trying to dislodge the weight, until it tightened. I felt something hard and warm meet my back and heard a rustle on the pillow behind me. Had Chester somehow got into my room last night?

Wait, last night!

Memories flooded back and my eyes shot open. Cautiously, I peered over my shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t find what I suspected. And yet, I knew, there was no way that heat behind me came from Phoebe’s rag doll. Chester might be big for a cat, but he wasn’t that big.

As I suspected, a mop of ash blond hair came into view behind me. When had Xavier ended up in my room? Wasn’t he sleeping downstairs on the sofa? I watched his sleeping face for a moment, so serene and peaceful compared to the dangerous hunter persona he had showed to Sylus last night. A slight frown creased his forehead as he grumbled and his arms again tightened around me, pulling me even closer, like some oversized teddy bear.

“Xavier,” I gasped, feeling squeezed. A soft sigh answered me, and his warm breath brushed against the back of my neck. A shiver went down my spine and I felt goosebumps on my legs.

“Xavier.” I cried, slightly louder, struggling to turn in his embrace and push him back. That’s when I came to another startling realisation; Xavier was topless, his hunters jacket and shirt discarded somewhere during the night. At this point my subconscious took control of all motor functions and I shoved hard against the ridiculously well-toned chest in front of me.

And then Xavier disappeared from view.

In my defence, I hadn’t realised how close to the edge of the bed he was. I had only just woken up after all. I heard a resounding thud as he landed on my bedroom floor, followed by a groan. Worried I’d hurt him, I crawled to the edge of the bed and peered down. Xavier peered up at me with bleary, half-open eyes as he rubbed the back of his head. Thankfully, I noted he still wore his trousers. The last thing I needed was a naked space man in my room.

“Sorry.” I said, grimacing as he glanced around, finally realising where he was. Before he could respond there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Rory, is everything ok?” Zayne’s voice came through the wood.

I reached for my dressing gown strewn over the end of my bed as I responded.

“It’s fine. Xavier just hit his head-“

“Xavier?”

I paused, suddenly realising what I’d said. Damn my sleepy brain not thinking things through. I glanced over at Xavier who was now sat up but looking just as sleepy. I clearly took too long to come up with an explanation as my door was quickly pushed open and the dark-haired doctor stepped into the room. He still wore his dark shirt and trousers, but his white coat was nowhere to be seen. I really need to sort these guys out some more clothes. I thought to myself.

As Zayne’s eyes landed on the half-dressed hunter sat on the floor beside my bed, the room turned frigid. His face darkened and small icy crystals began to appear at the tips of his fingers. I bit my lip, not sure if I should intercept. But it seemed Zayne had more control that I realised.

“Xavier,” He growled through gritted teeth. “Out.” He pointed through the open doorway behind him.

Realising the danger he was in, or simply feeling too tired to argue, Xavier quickly scurried from the room. I watched Zayne as he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths, regaining control of his evol. Once he was calm again, he turned towards me slightly, although he kept his gaze averted.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think to check on him when I went down this morning.”

“It’s ok. He just caught me by surprise is all.”

Zayne turned his hazel eyes to me at that.

“Are you saying you didn’t mind him getting into your bed?” He asked, an odd tone to his voice. I blushed and waved my hands in front of me.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. I just…” I paused as a faint smell of cooked meat reached my nose. “Is someone cooking?” I asked, distracted by the smell of food.

“I cooked breakfast.” Zayne explained simply. “I hope that’s ok.”

“That’s…great.” I replied, slightly shocked. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a cooked breakfast; let alone the last time someone cooked it for me.

“I’ll let you get changed, then.” He said, as he turned to leave.

Once my door was shut, I flopped back down on the bed and groaned. I could see my once peaceful life going up in flames before my eyes. No more quiet nights in front of the TV or peaceful afternoons reading my favourite novels in the den. I frowned as I considered the effect these men might actually have on my health. If I could trust them to behave and not stress me out too much, I should be fine. But let’s be honest, Xavier had already proven that wasn’t going to happen. Not to mention Sylus’ impromptu visit last night.

Recalling his actions the night before my eyes narrow. No way am I letting him get away with that. As soon as I find him, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind. Yeah, like that’s gonna make a difference. I think, rolling my eyes. Then another thought occurs. These guys have evol, which is basically superpowers, in a world where there’s no such thing as magic. What happens if someone else sees them…evol-ing. I rub my hands over my face. Never mind the powers, these guys are practically famous in certain circles. What if someone else who plays the game spots them? What if they end up on the news.

Stop it! I snap at myself. Just take one day at a time.

Right, I just need to lay down some ground rules. And hope they follow them. Sighing at all the lost causes I’m pretending will work I push myself out of bed and trapse over to my wardrobe. I pull out a pair of faded jeans, a simple white t-shirt with ‘wildflower’ stamped across the bust and a fluffy mauve cardigan. Once I’m dressed, I pull my hair back into a ponytail, tuck my phone into my pocket, grab my pill pot and open my door.

Directly in front of me is the door to the guest room, where Sylus supposedly slept last night. Was he still in there? I considered knocking to see. Maybe I could confront him about last night without the others around. Or maybe I’d just be tempting fate. I shook my head at my idiocy and shut my door.

The house was built in a sort of circular shape around the stair well, each bedroom located off a small room separated from the landing by an archway. So, my room and the guest room were opposite each other through one archway and the main bedroom and study were opposite each other past another archway at the top of the stairs. Between the two archways was my workroom. At the bottom of the stairs there was the second living room where I’d met the deepspace men last night, which, really was more of a gaming room. Opposite that was the den, which was just a small library room, or reading nook. Past these two rooms was the foyer to the front door.

On the other side of the gaming room was the dining room which then led right, into the kitchen; my attempted route of escape last night. Going through the kitchen led to a corridor from which you could either get back to the stairwell or into the large double story communal living room. This was were most of the socialising took place when Phoebe had visitors, so I wasn’t overly surprised to find Xavier, fully dressed again, thank goodness, and Sylus lounging over two of the three sofas in the room watching the morning news, while Zayne stood in the kitchen dishing up what looked like sausage, eggs and toast.

For a moment I stared at the back of Sylus’ head as he slouched against the back of the sofa, one arm stretched out beside him, as I contemplated my ire at his behaviour. I really should confront him about it. This was my house, and he had no right to treat me like that. Ok, so it wasn’t my house, it was Phoebe’s house, but I lived here, and he was just a guest. But then I remembered the look in his eyes as he’d pinned me down, the feeling of his gravelly voice vibrating through me and his comment about things getting interesting and knew my face was turning a bright red.

Maybe I’d leave it for now. After all, I hadn’t laid down any ground rules yet, so he hadn’t exactly broken any. Maybe he’d behave himself more once I’d explained things. Dream on. A voice chided in my head. Oh, if only I could, I thought wistfully.

Turning away from the living room I entered the kitchen and started up the coffee machine. I was in desperate need of some caffeine if I was going to get this mess sorted out.

“Should we eat in the dining room?” Zayne asked from beside me. “I assume that’s where you normally eat?”

I nodded and smiled my thanks as he began taking the plates of food into the other room. As the coffee machine whirred before me, I looked around, slightly confused.

“Where’s Rafayel?” I asked, as Zayne re-entered the kitchen.

“He hasn’t come down yet. I assume he’s still asleep. Do you want me to wake him?”

I shook my head as my cup filled with the dark liquid I was craving.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll do it.”

I stepped back out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs when an almighty scream filled the house. Moments later the man in question, also topless, practically fell down the last few steps and slipped ungracefully on the wooden floors. Quickly regaining his footing, he ran full pelt towards me and ducked behind my back, gripping my arms like I was his shield.

“Monster!” He wailed behind me.

“What?” I tried to face him, but his grip was too tight. “Rafayel, what are you talking about?” It didn’t escape my notice that Xavier had jumped to his feet and conjured his sword. Or that Sylus had merely turned to look over his shoulder, completely unfazed.

“There’s a monster in this house!” Rafayel cried again. “Look!” He pointed to the bottom of the stairs.

Like the master of the house he believed himself to be, Phoebe’s large, fluffy rag doll cat hopped down the last step and sat, gazing around him at all the unfamiliar faces before pausing to give a big wide yawn.

A moment later Sylus’ deep chested laugh rang out around us. I even heard a slight sputter from Zayne, who was clearly trying to control his amusement. The corners of my lips tugged up and I quickly pressed my lips together. I’d forgotten about the artist’s fear of cats. Guess I should have warned him.

“Don’t laugh!” Rafayel snapped at Sylus who simply ignored him. “That thing is a killer. It tried to eat me!”

I pulled myself out of his loosened grip and approached the proud feline.

“He wasn’t trying to eat you Rafayel.” I explained. “He’s Phoebe’s cat. And you’re sleeping in Phoebe’s room. He just wanted you to get up and give him some food.”

I picked Chester up and gave him a little kiss on his head before heading back to the kitchen.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch it!” Rafayel complained as he skittered out the way.

“Calm down. I’m just going to feed him and then he’ll go and find somewhere to sleep.”

“What’s his name?” Xavier asked, having followed me into the kitchen. His sword, thankfully gone.

“Chester. He’s spoilt and proud and the laziest cat I’ve ever met.”

Once I’d fed Rafayel’s nemesis and he’d disappeared to find a place to nap, the painter disappeared back upstairs, grumbling all the way, to finish getting changed while the rest of us made our way into the dining room. As we waited for the last member of our party to re-join us, I fished one of my tablets out of my pill pot and washed it down with the first sip of coffee.

“You’re on medication?” Zayne asked as we moved into the dining room.

“Oh, um, no. It’s just vitamins.” I stuttered, waving him off as I took my seat. Yeah, ok, lying to a doctor? Not a great idea. But I was still reeling slightly from having these men I knew intimately, having little to no idea who I was. And honestly, I didn’t want to unleash my demons right now…or ever, if I could help it.

Once Rafayel returned we all ate in silence. I want to say it was blissful, but honestly, it was so tense I could barely stomach the food before me. I knew once the meal was over, we’d be returning to the topic of where they were, why they where here and how I miraculously ended up with the memories of their mutual friend. Although, I was well aware that wouldn’t be the word they would use to describe her.

Taking a final mouthful of my coffee, I put my mug down and turned to my visitors.

“We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

“We need to talk”

“Indeed. Perhaps Xavier could explain why he believes you to be Sienna?” Zayne said, pointedly, lowering his own cutlery.

A deep chuckle echoed from the end of the table and Sylus’ vermillion eyes turned to me knowingly.

“Oh, she is. Believe me.” He rumbled, that infuriating smirk twisting his lips.

“What makes you so sure?” Rafayel cut in, leaning forwards on the table and glaring at the mafioso.

“That’s not what’s important right now.” I snapped, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Before we get onto any discussions about other worlds or aether cores or anything like that, I need to set some rules.”

All eyes turned to me expectantly and I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves under their scrutiny.

“Firstly, this isn’t my house, and I can’t afford to pay for repairs so there will be absolutely no fighting while you’re here. Secondly, you all have to keep a low profile. The game you’re from is popular and I’d hate to think what sort of chaos would ensue if other players where to spot you. Also, people don’t have powers in this world like you do so you absolutely cannot use your evols around other people. Thirdly, I work from home, and I often have clients come to the house. When I do, you guys have to stay out of view.”

“What kind of clients?” Rafayel, again, interrupted. His expression shifted to that familiar, petulant sulk.

“I’m a seamstress. I make and alter clothes for people. My clients come for fittings to make sure their clothes fit them properly. Which is another thing,” I hurried on as Rafayel opened his mouth to comment again. “We need to get you all some more clothes.” I refuse to have any of them wondering around naked while their only set of clothes gets washed. I can feel my cheeks heat at the thought. I clear my throat and move on quickly. “I can make you some clothes but it could take a while so we might want to order you some. But, again, my funds are limited so it can’t be anything extravagant.”

“Anything else, Kitten?” Sylus drawled at me. There was a hint of mischief in his voice that set me on edge.

“Yes. My room is off-limits. None of you are allowed in unless I say so.”

“And if we don’t follow these rules?” He asked, tilting his head, his voice far too gentle.

“Then I call the police and tell them I’m being held hostage in my own house by a group of suspicious men.”

Jaws dropped around the room as Xavier's face drained of colour, his cerulean eyes wide with terror. Zayne's stoic mask cracked, while Rafayel's lips parted in disbelief. Sylus's rich laughter cut through the stunned silence.

“You think I’m worried about being arrested?” He asked, the challenge clear. I grit my teeth, my temper rising. I was absolutely not going to stand for this. All this man had done since showing up in my home was push my buttons and I was 100% done. I turned to him with a stony expression, for once, able to meet his eyes as my own rage flared inside me.

“No, of course not. I’m well aware you’ve already managed to break out of a prison far better than any in this world. However, if the police do come to arrest you and you evade them you won’t be able to stay here. Also, if they see your evol, they’ll most likely call in some secret agency to hunt you down who have much better resources. They will hunt you to the ends of the earth and either lock you up and experiment on you or do everything they can to kill you. And you won’t be able to get back to your world or your precious N109 zone, Onychinus or your stores of modified protocores. In comparison, I don’t think I’m asking for much. And in return for you following my rules, I’ll do what I can to help you all get home.”

For a moment, Sylus simply stared at me, a hint of something like admiration in his eyes. No, it couldn’t be admiration. Not from him. Could it? Finally, he relaxed back in his chair again.

“Well played, Kitten.”

“I assure you I’m more than qualified to bargain with the likes of you.” I bit out, spurned on by the embers still burning inside me. As he registered my works the smirk slipped from his face slightly. Looking away I exhaled deeply. I was well aware of the competition I might have just started but as my anger died down, I found I simply didn’t care. Sighing, I pushed myself to my feet.

“I need more coffee.” I muttered, shuffling back into the kitchen. I wasn’t all that surprised when they all rose and followed me but the cool hand at the small of my back caught me off guard. I turned to look up at Zayne who watched me with a hint of worry.

“Why don’t we move into the living room. I’ll make the drinks.”

I thanked him and followed the others into the large, open room further on. This room was open to the floor above and windows covered two of the walls, allowing the morning sun to flood in. In the corner of the room, between the windowed walls was an angled wall with a fireplace at ground level and a large tv screen on the wall above it. The opposite walls were mostly taken up by archways leading back into the kitchen or into the stairwell, but a section of wall on the right supported a large landscape painting of rolling hills. Below this was an old turntable and a stack of vinyl records. A modern stereo system sat in the opposite corner.

Of the three sofas surrounding the square coffee table I chose the one on the left, seating myself at the end closest to the fireplace. Xavier sheepishly lowered himself down beside me but left a small gap between us and turned his eyes to the floor. Sylus chose the centre sofa, sitting down in the middle and crossing his legs, his arms stretched out over the back looking for all the world like he was perfectly at home.

Rafayel, on the other hand, approached the fireplace and started stacking a few logs onto it’s base. Then he raised his hand and small pinky-red flames danced across his fingers. He flicked his wrist, and the flames flew to the wood and instantly caught. The sudden warmth was delightful against my skin so I chose to ignore that fact that he’d used his evol despite my earlier rules. Besides, no one else had seen it except the five of us.

Once Zayne had joined us and passed out the mugs of coffee, he and Rafayel settled themselves in the last remaining sofa. I took a sip of my drink and leant forwards, resting my elbows on my knees.

“What Xavier said last night was right, I think.” I started. “About Sienna being a part of me. I…I have her memories. Not just the scenes from the game but all her memories, even from her childhood. I think, when…whatever happened, Sienna was pulled here too but…got merged with me…or something…I’m not sure.”

“I suppose it’s possible, given your similarities.” Zayne mused.

“You think I’m similar to her?” I asked, looking up.

“You do look alike. Not exactly the same but not so different either.” Xavier offered.

I suppose that made sense. After all I’d styled her after me when I first started playing.

“You keep talking about the ‘game’.” Rafayel cut in. “But it’s not a game. It’s our world. We were all alive before that stuff you showed us last night and we’ve all had experiences that weren’t shown there.”

Before I could apologise, or try to explain how confusing it was, Xavier spoke up again.

“It’s possible what Rory has experienced as a game is actually a connection between our two worlds. Perhaps the people who made it thought they were creating something themselves, when the truth is, fate was guiding them to build a window into our world.”

“So, we came here through a window?” Sylus drawled, unconvinced. Xavier shook his head and continued.

“It’s more likely that something happened to create a crack or rift in the connection which pulled us all through into this world.”

“Ok, so how do we get back?” Rafayel demanded.

“That depends on what caused the rift in the first place. And whether it stayed open after we came through.”

“What was everyone doing before the rift opened?” Zayne asked looking around.

As it turned out, none of them had been doing much at all. Rafayel had been painting, big surprise, Xavier had been out on patrol, Sylus had just returned from a business meeting, the specifics of which he kept to himself, and Zayne had been writing up some patient notes. When they all turned to look at me, I raised my eyebrows.

“I was sleeping.” I said flatly.

“But what about Sienna?” The doctor asked. “You said you have her memories, can you see what she was doing at the time?”

I turned my focus inside, searching for the memories that didn’t belong. Like before, I felt my focus slip slightly, then images flashing in my mind’s eye; Linkon in the sunlight, Caleb laughing, dinner at Grans. Darker images followed; a forest at night; a swarm of wanders, a thickening oppressive fog. I tried to shift through the memories, order them somehow to make sense of them. The more I tried the more they seemed to slip from me. I shook my head,

“I’m not sure. It’s all jumbled. I can’t make sense of it.”

“It’s ok.” Xavier said, reaching out to take my hand. I looked up at him and he smiled. “It’s new. Just take your time.”

I nodded and took a deep breath, preparing to examine the jumble in my head again when vibrations from my pocket distracted me. Pulling my hand free from Xavier’s I dug my phone out of my pocket and hit the power button. A text alert flashed on screen.

Daniel: On my way. Be there in 10.

“Oh, crap.” I shot up from the sofa, nearly spilling the last dregs of coffee before downing it and rushing to the kitchen with the now empty mug. I’d completely forgotten I was doing a fitting this morning!

“I have a client coming in ten minutes.” I explained as I returned to the living room. “So you guys need to…you know…occupy yourselves. Feel free to watch tv, or we’ve got some consoles in the other room…I don’t know if any of you are into games at all…or there’s a reading room opposite that. I need to sort out my work room.” Before they could respond, I was hurrying off up the stairs to the room in the middle of the landing. I truly hoped the others were occupied when Daniel arrived. The last thing I needed was Phoebe's brother finding out I had four men staying here. No doubt he would tell Phoebe and then I would never hear the end of it.

Ten minutes later, when the doorbell rang, I made my way downstairs. Glancing around I was please to discover no one else in sight and quickly made my way to the front door. Daniel smiled as I opened the door, a dress shirt over one arm and smart shoes hooked over the fingers of his other hand. His mousy brown hair sat in a mess on his head as his pale eyes lit up with his smile. His flannel shirt and patched jeans hung loose over his frame, unlike my visitors who seemed to veer towards more fitted garb.

“Hi Daniel, come in. I was just getting set up.”

“Thanks. I hope I’m not too early.” He said in his warm voice as he stepped across the threshold.

“Not at all. I’ve done most of the alterations, but I need to check the fit before I make the finishing touches.”

“No problem.”

I turned to lead him towards the stairs and stopped dead. Leaning against the banisters, a far too innocent smile across his angelic face, was Rafayel. As our eyes met, he stepped forwards and tilted his head.

“Hey, Rory, I was wondering if I could ask a favour?”

Chapter Text

It had taken Rafayel less than a heartbeat to feel the pull of the bond with Rory after their eyes met the previous night. He’d been so stunned, he’d momentarily forgotten how he’d suddenly ended up in that unfamiliar room with three complete strangers. Not that he didn’t recognise the hunter’s uniform Xavier was wearing. And it hadn’t taken long to identify the silver-haired man in the black and red suit as the infamous Onychinus leader.

But to discover this woman who looked so similar to his love, his one and only, who he’d observed for years before finally, finally getting to meet? It pissed him off. Like, seriously infuriated him. He’d been working so hard with Sienna, finding reasons to see her again and again, working through that wall she put up, even saving her life! And now? Now he had to start all over again! And this time there were three other guys literally in the same house who all seemed to know her. To not mention the bloodthirsty beast roaming around that could show up at any moment.

When Xavier mentioned that Rory was Sienna, Rafayel wondered if it was the bond to the hunter that he was feeling, rather than the seamstress. But when she’d laid down the rules this morning, he knew – he knew it was Rory not Sienna that held his heart. Every rule she laid out for them had pulled at that connection between them, willing him to obey, to do as she commanded. He couldn’t deny her, even if he wanted to.

So, he had two options; either find some way to return to Linkon with Sienna and continue working his way into her life, or turn his focus to Rory, to this seemingly uncomplicated seamstress who knew too much. It would be hard, he didn’t have the years of observation to work with, didn’t have any information about her past, her friends or family, only his experience with her previous incarnations that he'd met.

On top of that, they still had no clue how to return to Linkon. It could take days, weeks even before they found a solution. There was no way Rafayel would last that long waiting for Sienna. No, he couldn’t wait for a solution. He would have to try and get close to Rory, draw her into his realm, work his way into her system until she was irrevocably his. And if they found a way back to Linkon? Well, he would worry about that later. First, he needed to set his plan in motion. Which meant catching Rory when the others weren’t around.

So, when the doorbell rang out through the house, the artist paused in his analysis of the paintings in the dining room and listened to the sound of the seamstress scurrying down the stairs. He meandered slowly into the kitchen, waiting for the sound of the front door opening, the voices in the foyer, before quickly placing himself casually against the banisters at the bottom of the stairs. True, she’d told them to stay out of sight when her clients came round. But she’d also told them to occupy themselves. And what better occupation that watching another artist at work?

When Rory caught sight of him, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the time Sienna had confronted him in his studio about the metaflux in his paintings. He’d been able to manipulate her then, he could do the same to Rory now. When her ‘client’ stepped into his view, Rafayel felt his fingers tighten minutely where they rested on his arms. She hadn’t said she was doing a fitting for a guy. Let alone one that looked at her like she was the only light in the world. Oh, he was not going to let that slide. Rafayel was going to build a very solid wall between this sloppily dressed nobody and his girl.

He pushed himself away from the banisters and stepped forwards, hands on his hips and paparazzi smile firmly in place. He tilted his head in that way that always used to make Sienna blush and met Rory’s accusatory glare with his polychrome eyes.

“Hey, Rory, I was wondering if I could ask a favour?”

He saw the guy beside her turn to him and felt the first spark of victory in his chest as eyes widened slightly at the pristine, elegant man before him.

“What?” Rory asked, curtly.

“Well, I’d really like to watch you work. After all clothes are just another form of art and seeing another artist at work could give me some real inspiration.”

The look Rory gave him spoke volumes.

“I’m not sure-“ She began but Rafayel cut her off.

“It’s only fair. After all, you’ve watched me work on my paintings.” He silently congratulated himself when his gamble paid off, Rory’s slight blush telling him she had done just that. He wondered if she’d ever taken inspiration from his paintings, but the thought was fleeting.

“I don’t mind.” The nobody said, smiling that sickly sweet smile at his girl, making Rafayel bristle slightly. “I keep saying you should share your work more often.”

Oh, so he was going to play that card, was he? Clearly, they had a bit of history. Well, if he thought that would be enough to get cosy with her, he had another thing coming.

“Are you sure? It’s not very professional.”

“You don’t need to be professional when you’re with friends.”

“I guess.”

“Then it’s settled.” Rafayel cut in before Rory could find another excuse. “I’m Rafayel. And you are?”

“Daniel.” They guy said offering his hand. Rafayel ignored it, turning back to Rory.

“Let’s see what you can do then, cutie.”

The nickname earned him another death glare before she turned and led them both up the stairs. Rafayel quickly stepped in behind her, forcing Daniel to follow last.

As they reached the door in the middle of the landing, Rory turned and pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him back toward the banisters slightly. Then she turned to Daniel.

“The suit is on the railing; you can get changed in the bathroom. I’ll be in in a  minute.”

“Sure.” He said, stepping through the door. Rory pulled it closed behind him and turned back to Rafayel.

“What are you playing at?” She asked, hands on hips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, cutie.”

“Don’t call me that. I told you to stay out of view when I had clients over.”

“I thought he was a friend?” He tilted his head questioningly, the challenge clear in his eyes. “Besides, you agreed I could watch. Don’t you think it would be more suspicious now if I didn’t?”

Rory opened her mouth, then closed it again before turning away and clenching her fists. But Rafayel knew he’d won. Knew, before she said anything, that she would relent.

“Fine.” She said at last, turning back to him. “But I want you to get it into that fish brain of yours; you cause any trouble and you’re out. Understand?”

Rafayel blinked at her. Fish brain? Wait, did she know? Had she seen something in Sienna’s memories? No, Sienna didn’t know. He hadn’t even got close to telling her yet. But Rory knew. She had to. Why else would she mention fish? The corners of his lips twitched into a smile at this new discovery, and he dipped his head in a mock bow.

“Whatever you say, cutie.”

Following her into the work room, Rafayel glanced around. In the middle of the room was a large square table, a self-healing cutting board across its surface. A collection of roller cutters, scissors, fabric weights and caulk lay scattered on top. To the left was another door, which must have led to the bathroom, a large floor-to-ceiling mirror and a free-standing railing with a collection of hangers and a few items of clothing. To the right was a desk with multiple draws and cupboards above it. A sketchpad lay on its surface surrounded by scraps of fabric and bits of thread. Next to that was another desk with a sewing machine. On the far wall was a set of double doors and a couple of various sized mannequins.

“You can sit there.” Rory said, pointing to the chair tucked under the desk with the sketch pad on it. He meandered over and slipped into the seat, pulling the sketchpad onto his lap and flipping to the first page. It was a design of a wide A-line skirted dress with a tulle underskirt, a wide waist band and sweetheart neckline. Pieces of material were stuck to the page with arrows drawn to the parts of the dress they were intended for.

The sketch pad was suddenly pulled from his grip, closed and put back on the desk.

“Stop snooping.” Rory chastised. He smiled up at her, unfazed and pointed to the double doors.

“What’s in there?” He asked innocently.

“My collection.”

“Your collection?”

“The clothes I’ve made.”

“Can I look?”

Before she could respond, the door to the bathroom opened and Daniel stepped out in a black suit jacket and trousers with the white shirt and smart shoes he’d brought with him. Rory directed him in front of the mirror and began to tug and pull at the fabric in various places. She checked the fit of the jacket over his shoulders and the length of the sleeves against his shirt cuffs. She smoothed out the lapels and tugged the hem down to make it sit right. Then she knelt down and smoothed out the hem of each trouser leg, tugging it slightly so that it sat evenly. Then she stood up and pulled gently at the waist band of the trousers.

Rafayel had to grip the arms of the chair he was sitting on to stop himself barrelling over there and pulling her hands off him. He could see Daniel watching her every move, the faint tinge of colour on his ears darkening each time she touched him.

Finally, she stepped back and pursed her lips.

“The jacket seems ok, but I think the trousers are a little loose. I’ll take them in a little more and then finish up. I could have it done in the next few days, so it’ll be ready for your work do at the weekend.” She turned to the large table and scanned the items on the surface. Not finding what she was looking for she pulled open a couple of draws underneath and rummaged through. Then she stood up, sighing.

“Sorry, I think I left my pins in the other room. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” Daniel said, watching her go. Once the door closed behind her a thick silence fell over the room. Neither man looking at the other. It didn’t take long for Daniel to speak up, however.

“So, are you guys…dating or something?”

Rafayel eyed him for a moment, trying to hide his smirk.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, nonchalantly

“You keep calling her cutie. Seems a bit weird if you’re not dating.” Daniel shrugged.

“So, what if we are? I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” The painter asked, tilting his head.

“It’s just surprising is all. I mean after what happened before.” He shrugged again like it was nothing, but Rafayel could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Before?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh…” Daniel looked away and tugged distractedly on the sleeves of his jacket, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “You know what, you’re right it’s none of my business. I just want her to be happy. She’s had it hard and I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”

Rafayel watched him for a minute, frowning. Clearly something had happened to Rory in her past and this guy knew about it. Was that why she had tried to run from them last night? He contemplated his chances of getting Daniel to tell him everything. But Rory could come back any second. He doubted he had the time to force it out of him. But no matter. He’d find out sooner or later anyway. Instead, he stood and approached the other man, his arms crossed over his chest and a stony look in his eyes.

“You clearly know more than you’re telling. But I won’t push. If Rory wants to tell me she can. But if you really do just want her to be happy, you need to stop with all this love-sick puppy stuff.”

Daniel looked up sharply, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What? I don’t-“

“Don’t deny it. It’s obvious. And I don’t appreciate you pining after my girl. So, keep those dewy-eyed looks to yourself or I’ll personally escort you and your two-bit suit off the premises. Okay?”

Without waiting for a response, Rafayel turned and approached the closet in the far corner of the room, busying himself with examining Rory’s collection of home-made clothes.

When Rory returned, Daniel kept his eyes well and truly averted to her actions, following her instructions silently or responding to her questions with short, one-word answers. Rafayel silently congratulated himself on an opponent well and truly beaten. One down, three to go. He thought to himself.

When the fitting was over and Rory led Daniel back downstairs, Rafayel chose to stay in the workroom, taking the opportunity to have another look through her sketchpad.

It didn’t take long before he heard the sound of the door closing and Rory’s footsteps on the stairs again. Appearing in the doorway she glared at the artist once again snooping through her designs. She stormed over and reached for the sketchpad, but this time Rafayel was faster. He pulled it out of her reach, holding it up like he was daring her to try and grab it from him again. She didn’t take the bait. Instead, she growled and fisted her hands at her sides.

“What did you say to him?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I left the room for two minutes. I come back and he wouldn’t even look at me, hardly said a word and can’t get out the house fast enough. I know you said something to him. What was it?”

Rafayel shrugged, turning to meander across the room and continuing to flip through the sketchpad.

“He asked if we were dating.” He replied calmly.

Rory followed after him, reaching for the sketchpad again but he avoided her once more.

“And what did you say.”

“I said it was none of his business.”

“Why didn’t you deny it?”

“Why should I?” He asked, finally turning back to her. “He was clearly pinning after you and I could tell you had no interest.” He stepped towards her, closing the distance slowly. His voice lowering slightly, he continued. “Besides, is it really so bad if he does think we’re dating?”

“You just can’t go around saying stuff like that.” She objected.

“Why not?” He asked quietly, stepping forwards again, this time into her personal space. She flinched and stepped back.

“You know what I am, right?” Rafayel continued, still advancing.

“What?”Rory's words emerged softly, her previous anger dissolving in the mounting intensity between them. He stepped forward, she stepped back.

“You called me a fish earlier. So, you know what I am. Does that mean you also know about our bond?” He stepped again, but Rory had backed up against the large table and couldn’t move any further.

“Your bond with Sienna. Don’t get me confused with her.” She retorted, though her voice trembled faintly.

“Oh cutie, you still don’t get it, do you?” Rafayel chuckled. He leant forwards, bracing his hands on the table either side of her, the sketchpad discarded. He inhaled her sweet fragrance of honey mixed with vanilla, the aroma seeping into his core like a glowing coal. She leant away from him, bracing herself on the table with one hand while trying to hold him off with her other. “Why do you think she became a part of you when she came here?” He asked, his voice soft.

“She’s…my avatar.” Rory whispered.

“It so much more than that. You have the same soul. My bond with her is the same as my bond with you. And I think it’s only fair that I can call myself the boyfriend of the one to whom I gave my heart.” He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his hand moving down below her chin to tilt her face up just a little. He could almost hear her heart pounding in her chest, her face flushed.

“Rafayel…” She breathed.

He leant down, breaths mingling as his lips hovered inches from hers.

“Cutie.” He closed the distance, pressing his mouth to hers, his tongue caressing her silky soft lips. He felt her hand on his chest fist in his shirt and stroked his fingers from her chin, down her neck and into her hair. She shivered against him and a small whine escaped her throat. He deepened the kiss, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling the tender flesh. Her other hand came up and gripped his shoulder and he circled his free arm around her back, pulling her even closer.

She melted into his embrace, and he drew back slightly, hovering his lips near hers while she panted softly, her gaze unfocused. With a gentle smile, he pressed his face against her cheek before leaving a tender kiss at the edge of her lips.

“You’re designs are exquisite.” He whispered, gliding his fingers out of her hair and back along the edge of her jaw. Then he stepped away and wandered out the room, leaving her flustered and breathless against the table.

Chapter Text

I stared up at my ceiling, thoughts swirling in my head like a whirlpool. I should be mad, furious, even, that Rafayel would do something so underhanded. So romantic. No, not romantic. Wrong! He was wrong. He should never have kissed me like that. Never have suggested to Daniel that we were dating. But the feel of his lips, like velvet. The taste of salty caramel. The warmth of his arms around me.

Snap out of it! I told myself shaking my head. He had totally lied to me. Saying he just wanted to watch me work? I should never have trusted him! I mean, he’s not even human! Can Lemurians even love humans? He’s just confusing me with Sienna. That must be it.

Is that so bad? A part of me asked. Yes. It’s very bad.

So why wasn’t I mad? Why was I disappointed when he pulled back? Why did I feel so hollow, so empty when he left? I reached up and traced my fingers over my lips, remembering the feel of his teeth, nibbling gently. The caress of his fingers over my skin had filled me with a warmth I never thought I’d feel again. And now that I’d felt it…I wanted more. I shouldn’t…but I did.

He didn’t hurt you. That annoyingly logical part of me said.

But what if he does? What if I let my guard down again and everything happens like before?

He’s different.

I sat up, rubbing my hand over my face. I’d been having the same argument with myself all afternoon. I had no idea how long I’d stood there, leaning against the table after Rafayel had left. I think Zayne had come looking for me at some point. Or maybe Xavier. Either way, I’d missed lunch. And dinner? I’d hardly touched my food. I was too confused, too anxious to eat much. I’d made some excuse about not feeling well and retreated to my room. I just needed to sleep on it. That was all.

I looked over at my clock; 12:39 am. I hadn’t slept a wink. This was so bad for my health. Sighing, I pushed the duvet off and slipped out my room. I just needed a glass of water. I tiptoed along the landing and down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone. As I entered the kitchen, Chester trotted up to me, purring and rubbed against my bare legs. I put some dry food in his bowl, which he happily devoured, before grabbing a glass from the cupboard and approached the sink.

The hiss of running water filled my ears and hid the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Rory?”

The quiet voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to find Zayne standing at the edge of the kitchen. His hair was slightly mussed, and his shirt hung open. For once, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and I was surprised at how soft his features looked without them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” I responded turning off the tap. He shook his head.

“You didn’t.” He looked me up and down and frowned. “Do you make it a habit to walk around at night with so little clothing on?”

I glanced down at myself. I was again in my pyjama top and shorts, my legs, arms and feet bare.

“Um, I guess. I didn’t really think about it.”

“You should take better care of yourself.” He said, placing a hand on my back and guiding me towards the living room. “If you don’t wrap up properly you could catch a cold.”

“I’m OK. I only came down for a drink.”

“You said earlier you weren’t feeling well.” He pointed out.

“Well, I feel fine now.”

“Is that why you’re awake in the middle of the night?”

Damn. Why did he have to be so perceptive? He led me into the living room and sat me down on the centre sofa.  As he stepped away, I noticed an open book on the coffee table, his glasses balanced on its open pages.

“Have you been down here all night?” I asked, turning to look up at the doctor, his eyes, not his slightly exposed abs. Definitely not those.

Zayne pulled a blanket out of a wicker basket at the end of the sofa, a pair of beige fluffy slippers in his other hand. I recognised the slippers as the pair Phoebe always wore. She’d left them in the utility room next door when she left for Hong Kong.

“We had a change of sleeping arrangements.” Zayne explained as he came back to me. “Xavier said he got cold down here, which is why he ended up in your room, and Rafayel refused to sleep in the main room if the cat was going to wake him up again.” He placed the slippers on the floor and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. “So, Xavier is sleeping in the study, and Sylus has taken the main room.”

“And you’re sleeping down here?” I asked. He knelt down before me and gently lifted one of my feet off the floor. I swallowed my gasp at the cool caress of his fingers on my ankle. I felt my skin tingle as he adjusted his grip.

“That’s correct.” He answered, sliding a slipper onto my foot and placing it back on the floor. Before I could compose myself, he’d reached for my other foot.

“You don’t seem to be doing much sleeping.” I said, trying to distract myself from his touch. His lips twitched as he fitted the remaining slipper around my foot.

“Neither do you.” There as a hint of amusement in his voice as he lowered my foot to the floor. When he looked up at me, however, a frown creased his face.

“Are you feeling alright?”

It was only then I noticed the heat in my cheeks and knew my face must have turned a nice rosy red.

“I’m fine.” I said, but my voice came out with a higher pitch than I intended, causing me to blush even more.

Zayne stood and lowered himself on the seat beside me, his torso turned to face me. He reached up and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

“You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

“It’s not a fever.” I confirmed, pulling his hand away from my head. “I’m just…not used to being looked after like this. It’s…different.”

“I suppose you’re going to say I’m acting like your mother?”

I laughed sardonically.

“Trust me, you’re nothing like my mother. She wouldn’t give me the time of day if I asked for it.”

I felt his fingers twitch against my palm and realised I was still holding his hand. I quickly let go and took a sip of my water, trying to make the movement seem natural. It didn’t escape my notice that he moved his arm across the back of the sofa, or that he was close enough that his hand could easily clasp my shoulder furthest from him if he wanted to. He was also positioned perfectly to watch my every movement, making it hard for me to look at him.

“You don’t get on with your mother?”

Placing my glass on the table in front of me I shook my head.

“Let’s just say I’m not the sort of daughter she was hoping for.”

“What about your father?”

I fiddled with the edge of the blanket and shrugged.

“He wasn’t around much when I was young and then one day he just didn’t come home.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

“Not really. You can’t miss something you never had.” I looked up at Zayne. His hazel eyes watched me with something I couldn’t quite place, like he was trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces to make sense. I blushed again and looked away. My eye fell on the open book, and I reached forward.

“What are you reading?” Lifting one side I read the title on the front. “Moby Dick? That’s…um…deep reading for a bedtime story.” I lowered the book and slid back into the sofa.

“I’m unfamiliar with the authors of your world. I was having trouble sleeping so I picked something at random.”

“Are you still having nightmares?” I asked, thinking about the anecdotes I’d read from his story. When he didn’t reply I glanced up to find him watching me with a crooked smile.

“I don’t suppose you realise how disconcerting that is, do you?”

“What?”

“How you know so much about us. Especially since you've told us so little about yourself.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think about that. This whole situation must all be very strange for you.”

“Probably as strange as it is for you. I assume it’s not every day you find people from another world in your house.”

I chuckled and he smiled at me.

“How are you handling it all?” He asked, reaching up to brush my hair behind my ear. The gesture seemed so natural in the moment it hardly registered with me.

“Well, it has only be a day. I guess I’m still trying to process everything.”

“How are you managing with Sienna’s memories.”

I shook my head, frowning down at the blanket in my hands. “I still haven’t been able to figure out what she was doing. Her more recent memories seem jumbled.”

A cool finger slipped under my chin and pulled my face back to Zayne’s.

“Don’t pressure yourself too much. Remember, you’re not in this alone.”

The thought settled in my heart like an ember burning away the cold of an icy blizzard. He was right and yet…when was the last time I didn’t feel alone?

* * *

The bright morning sun shining on my face roused me the next morning, along with something brushing gently across my hair. I peeled my eyes open and glanced around groggily. I was…in the living room? No wonder it was so bright. The double story windows had no blind or curtains.

Movement under my head pulled my attention back to the sofa I was lying on. Or more accurately, the lap I was using as a pillow.

“Good morning.” A quiet voice said above me, and I looked up. Zayne watched me with a gentle smile. “How did you sleep?”

I pushed myself up and rubbed my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t mind.”

I glanced at him, noticing the amused glint in his eyes. Was Zayne…laughing at me? Before I could figure it out, he stood and picked up the book and his glasses from the table.

“I’m going to go take a shower. Do you mind if I use the bathroom in your workroom? I doubt the others are awake yet and I’d rather not disturb them.”

I nodded and watched him cross the room and head for the stairs. We’d talked late into the night about a number of things before he’d offered to read to me, suggesting it might help me get to sleep. Clearly it had worked.

Thinking through our conversations, I frowned. He’d said last night how disconcerting it was that I knew so much about them. But the more time I spent with them, the more I felt like I didn’t know them at all. I sighed and pushed myself off the sofa. I needed coffee. That would make everything better.

Leaving the blanket on the sofa I shuffled into the kitchen in Phoebe's fluffy slippers and turned on the coffee machine, fetching a mug from the cupboard. As I looked out the window, I contemplated how the first day with my unexpected visitors had been. The conclusion was…less than encouraging. Maybe today would be better. Maybe we would make some progress on getting them home.

I was so lost in my thought’s I almost didn’t notice the warm arms that circled my waist or the firm torso that pressed against my back until a soft, sleepy voice mumbled next to my ear.

“Morning.”

I opened my mouth to respond when warm lips brushed against the side of my neck. I gasped and pushed Xavier back, releasing his hold on me.

“Xavier, don’t do that.” I breathed as I place a hand over the spot he’d just kissed.

“I didn’t mean to make you jump. I’m sorry.” He said, looking the picture of a puppy who just got scolded.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean…I’m just very sensitive on my neck, that’s all.”

He looked up at me, curiously and I could almost visibly see an idea forming in his mind. Just then the coffee machine beeped to signal my drink was ready. Perfect timing.

“I’m going to go change. I’ll be down in a bit.” I said, grabbing my coffee and heading for the stairs. I didn’t think I would ever get used to Xavier’s surprise attacks. He came across so innocent and sleepy I had forgotten to be on guard against it.

Once I was back in my room, I put my coffee down on my nightstand and sat on my bed, taking deep breaths. You can do this, Rory. I chanted silently. You can do this. The sound of my phone vibrating pulled me from my mantra, and I picked it up. The name ‘Phoebe’ flashed up on the screen repeatedly and I groaned. This was not going to be pleasant.

Chapter Text

Accepting the call on my phone, I braced myself before putting the device to my ear.

“Hi, Phoebe.” I tried to make my voice sound casual, but I may as well have saved myself the effort. Before I’d finished speaking my friend’s tremulous voice assaulted my ear.

“Rory, girl, what the hell? When did you get a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? How did you meet?”

I ran a hand down my face as I listened to her barrage of questions. I should have expected this. After all, Rafayel had given the impression we were dating to none other than Phoebe's brother. Of course Daniel would tell her.

“Phoebe, slow down. It’s not what you think. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“But Daniel said you did. He said-“

“It’s just a misunderstanding.”

There was a beat of silence. The Phoebe spoke again, her voice more serious.

“So, who was that guy in the house with you?”

“He’s…an artist. We met at a conference-“

“You went to a conference?”

“It was online.”

“You invited a guy you met online to visit you at home?”

I covered my eyes and dropped back onto my bed. How was I going to explain this? I couldn’t exactly tell her four fictional men suddenly became real and turned up in our house. Especially since Phoebe was an avid player of Love and Deepspace. Just mentioning their names would be enough to have her booking the first flight home.

“Rory?”

“I’m here. I just…”

“Do you need me to come home?”

“No, no. It’s fine, everything’s fine. It’s just…a bit difficult to explain right now.”

“But you’re ok, right? He hasn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, I’m fine. He’s not…he’s not like that.”

Phoebe hummed down the line, unconvinced.

“I swear. If there was a problem I would tell you, you know I would.”

“I guess.” She still sounded unsure.

I heard the sound of the doorbell ring out from downstairs and pushed myself upright.

“Phebs, I need to go there’s someone at the door. I promise, if I need you, I’ll call, OK?”

“You’d better. You know I hate leaving you home alone. Especially now since-“

“I know. But really, I’m fine.”

I could hear the door open downstairs and the hum of voices. I quickly said goodbye to my friend and ended the call. Hearing the front door close again, I decided to change before going to investigate. I pulled on a wine-red sleeveless turtleneck top and a pair of skinny jeans before making my way downstairs.

Approaching the living room, I found Sylus seated on the sofa with a large cardboard box open in front of him. He was pulling out smaller plastic wrapped parcels from inside and spreading them across every available surface. Through the transparent plastic wrapping I could see a collection of various shirts, trousers, jumpers, waistcoats and vest tops.

“What is all this?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the number of packages filling the large box.

“What does it look like, Kitten.” He chuckled. “I ordered some clothes. It’s bad form to wear the same shirt two days in a row.”

I stood there, dumbfounded, as my eyes wandered over the seemingly endless array of expensive-looking garments being methodically arranged across every surface of my living room. My jaw hung slack as I took in the sheer volume of clothing - designer labels peeking through the clear plastic wrapping, rich fabrics in various shades and patterns, all perfectly coordinated in a way that spoke of careful selection rather than impulse buying. The casual display of wealth was almost overwhelming in Phoebe's modest suburban home.

“How the hell did you pay for all this? I never gave you my bank details.”

Sylus reached into his pocket and produced a shiny black card with gold designs around the edge. I took it from him, dumbfounded.

“But this is…how is that even possible? This card shouldn’t work here. Unless…” Unless the rift was still open. But if that was true, and the signals from whatever bank Sylus used could get through, what else? How big was the rift? Could people come through? Could wanders?

Before I could fully process this terrifying thought, a large hand slipped around my waist, and in one fluid motion, I found myself being pulled down onto Sylus' lap. I yelped at the sudden movement, my body going rigid as the warmth of his chest pressed against my back. The rich scent of whisky and teakwood enveloped me, making my head swim slightly. His arm felt like a band of steel around my middle, somehow both restrictive and oddly comforting. My hands instinctively gripped his forearm to steady myself, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt sleeve. The casual display of strength in that simple gesture left me momentarily breathless, my heart thundering against my ribcage.

“You’re thinking too hard, Kitten.” He purred in my ear. “It took three attempts for this to work, and it only did so in the other room.”

“Meaning?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the strain in my voice.

“Meaning the connection between our worlds is barely open enough for a signal to get through, let alone anything else.”

My racing thoughts must have been written all over my face. Just as I moved to stand, anticipating Sylus would release his hold, something in the package grabbed my attention. Reaching for what appeared to be a receipt, I snatched it up to examine it closer. The figures printed on the document made my jaw drop in shock.

“Sylus, how much did you spend on these clothes?” I cried

“A reasonable amount for the quality I require.” He replied nonchalantly. I scoffed.

“Reasonable? It’s extortionate! I could make clothes like these for a fraction of the price!”

“Really?” The gravel in his voice, coupled with the tightening of his arm around my waist made my breath hitch. He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Maybe we should put that theory to the test?”

“Are you doubting me?”

He hummed, reaching down to pick up a dark shirt with black and silver embroidery and a matching tie.

“If you can make something for me that’s better than this in three days, you win.”

“And what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?” His tone as he posed the question sent a tremor down my spine, one I was certain didn't escape his notice.

I chewed my lower lip, considering my options. What could I possibly request from Sylus? What did I truly desire? A thought crept into my mind, but I hastily dismissed it. No way! Then suddenly, inspiration struck.

“If I win, you have to do whatever I say as long as you’re here.”

"So, it's my submission you desire?" He breathed.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks at his sultry tone and gulped.

“Very well, Kitten. But if you lose you have to do something for me.”

“Do what?”

He chuckled again.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you.”

The mere idea of his potential request sent my mind reeling, and I struggled to break free from his hold.

“Not gonna happen.” I snapped. “Because I’m going to win!”

Sylus leaned back on the sofa with his infuriating smirk.

“We’ll see.”

Not knowing if it was embarrassment or frustration that was heating my face, I stormed off towards the stairs, ignoring his call of;

“Three days, Kitten.”

* * *

Four hours later I had a small collection of designs I thought might be good enough to win my bet with Sylus. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. Some small detail that Sylus would use to deny me my reward. I knew I would need to spend a little more on the fabric to get something of high quality. But more than that I needed the patterns to stand out as unique.

I knew I needed a second opinion, and I knew who I needed to ask. I just wish things hadn’t gotten so confusing yesterday. I ran my hand through my hair, took a deep breath and stood up. Grabbing the sketchbook from the desk I made my way across the landing to the guest bedroom. As far as I was aware, Rafayel hadn’t left this room all morning.

I paused before his door, nibbling anxiously on my lip before steeling myself and rapping twice against the wood. There was movement and the patter of feet from within, then the door swung open to reveal Rafayel gazing down at me.

“Oh, so you finally remembered I exist, did you?” He asked, crossing his arms and pouting.

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be. I was waiting all afternoon yesterday and you totally ignored me.”

“You’re the one that kissed me and then just walked away!”

“Oh, so you’re mad I didn’t go further?”

“What? No, I…” I sighed, “Look, Rafayel, I’m not very good with the…physical…romantic stuff, OK? I haven’t been close to anyone like that in…a long time. I just…I didn’t know how to respond.”

“Are you saying you didn’t like it? Cos you seemed pretty into it at the time.”

“That’s not…” I paused and took a deep breath. This wasn’t getting me anywhere. “Whatever, I didn’t come here to talk about what happened yesterday. I came to ask for your help.”

His pouty demeaner disappeared instantly as he blinked at me.

“My help?”

“I was hoping I could get your input on some designs I’ve made.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, cutie? Come on, let me see.” He held out his hand, a small, excited smile on his lips. I passed him the sketchpad and he flipped through the few designs I’d kept.

“These are men’s clothes. Who are you planning to make these for?”

“I made a bet with Sylus that I could make better clothes for him than the ones he ordered.”

Rafayel’s head snapped up, the designs forgotten.

“He ordered clothes? When? How? Never mind, I’ll ask him myself.”

He shoved the sketchpad back into my hands and disappeared down the stairs before I could call after him.

In the end Rafayel made such a commotion that all the men ended up ordering themselves a selection of clothing while also demanding I design and make a unique outfit for each of them. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate already.

Chapter Text

Zayne was used to spending long hours at the hospital, seeing patients, reviewing files and performing surgeries. The little time he spent away from the hospital usually involved time spent on research or visiting Sienna. Time was always set aside for sleep but due to his ever-present nightmares, he rarely got more than a few hours each night. So, when, one night while working late, he’d risen from his desk to suddenly find himself in an unfamiliar room with three other, unfamiliar men, he found himself at a bit of loss.

Of course, he’d heard of the eccentric artist, Rafayel, and Sienna had told him a little about her partner from the Hunter’s Association, Xavier. But to discover the third man was the leader of Onychinus had put him on edge, especially when Sylus had revealed his knowledge of the truth of Sienna’s heart condition. He was not ignorant of the time Sienna had spent in the N109 zone, but he had hoped, since she returned unscathed, that her secret had remained just that.

It had caught him even more by surprise to find his childhood friend in the body of a woman he was sure he’d never met. And yet, the more time he spent with Rory, the more he noticed how similar she was to Sienna. The way she bit her lip when she was focusing on something, or rubbed her forehead when she was nervous. Even her habit of always claiming she was fine despite clearly not looking after herself properly. And much like Sienna, she could never back down from a challenge, as he’d discovered when overhearing her bet with Sylus.

The biggest similarity that he’d noticed however was how she wouldn’t meet his eyes when lying. Which was how he knew the tablets she took each morning were not vitamins as she’d claimed. So, against his better judgement, he had made the decision to discover the truth and used the time she was busy with her client that first day to search for the original packaging of the tablets in her room. He eventually found them in a cabinet in her ensuite and immediately recognised the drug. Why she had kept such a serious health condition from him, he couldn’t fathom.

Incidentally, he had still been in her ensuite when she had entered the bedroom to search for something. Feeling incredibly guilty he had remained silent, hoping she wouldn’t discover him. To his relief she hadn’t, but his guilt had kept him from confronting her about her deception. If she wanted to tell him, she would.

He'd also noticed many differences between Rory and Sienna. Firstly, she seemed much more capable of standing her ground against others, as she’d shown in her confrontation with Sylus that first morning, and her subsequent argument the next afternoon with Rafayel, which Zayne had also overheard. She also seemed much more guarded. On more than one occasion, Zayne had noticed a slight pause, or hesitation in things she said, suggesting a truth she was unwilling to reveal about herself. Finally, she seemed to have a distinct aversion to public spaces, as he discovered on their third day in her world.

After breakfast that morning, Rory had pulled him aside and asked, in a much more sheepish way than he was used to seeing with her, if he would accompany her to the market. There were certain things she needed to purchase but felt taking all of them would be too risky. He had quickly agreed, only to discover another, surprising difference; Rory didn’t drive. She didn’t even have a licence, let alone a vehicle they could use. Instead, she had hired a taxi service.

As the taxi pulled up to the market square, Zayne had caught the way Rory’s eyes had scanned the crowds of people milling around, as well as the constant movement of her fingers picking at her nails as if trying to dislodge some dirt or debris visible only to her.

When they had paid and exited the taxi, Rory hesitated, a clear look of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Is everything OK?” He asked.

She turned to him, showing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Of course. Everything’s fine.”

He watched her turn back to the crowd and take a deep breath before charging forwards.

Now, Zayne was in no way a slow walker, his long legs and experience rushing to an emergency surgery at the hospital giving him a relatively quick pace. But with Rory in such a rush to get through the crowds, Zayne found himself almost jogging to keep up with her. They wove through the collection of temporary market stalls and groups of people milling around in the square to reach a row of shops at the far end. Rory led Zayne to one near the end of the row which he identified as a craft shop once they’d stepped through the door.

Without hesitating, Rory made a beeline for the stairs in the back corner and Zayne followed at a slightly slower pace, glancing around at the shelves packed with yarn, thread, ribbon and a vast collection of craft tools. Reaching the top of the stairs, his view was bombarded with colours and patterns of all kinds. Each shelf on this floor was bursting with all manner of fabrics from various coloured silks and intricately woven lace to thick denim and faux leather. Some fabrics were plain, while others were covered in a variety of patterns, some busy, some simple, and some that played tricks on your eyes the longer you looked at them.

Zayne found Rory perusing a selection of plain cotton fabrics. In her hand was a list with various measurements against, what he assumed were different fabric types.

“I assume this is for the clothes you intend to make for us. Is this where you normally come for materials?” He asked as he reached her.

She reached out and ran her fingers over a plain grey fabric, shaking her head.

“I normally order online.” She explained. “But if I’m going to win my bet with Sylus, I need to make sure I’m buying good quality fabric. And I don’t have time to wait for delivery.”

She paused in her perusal and reached into her pocket, pulling out a couple of folded notes of money.

“Here.” she said, offering him the notes. “I could be while so you’re welcome to look around. The market stalls sometimes have interesting things and there’s a bookstore down the end that might have some medical journals if you’re interested.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, but I’m happy to stay here if you’d prefer.” He replied.

“That’s ok. I’ve got quite a lot on my list, and I don’t want you to get bored while you’re waiting.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll come back in a bit to see how you’re getting on.” He took the the slips of money from her and headed back down the stairs.

Leaving the craft shop, Zayne decided to wander through the market stalls first. The variety of different goods was staggering. This stall had fresh fruits, that one displayed unique hand knitted items of clothing, and the next one had glass paper weights with all sorts of different items inside. There was a young man selling scenic pastel drawings, a couple offering delicious baked goods, and a lady with rows of silver and gold jewellery laid out on the table in front of her.

The sight and smell of the baked goods drew Zayne towards the stall at the end but as he passed the jewellery stall, he paused. Amongst the chains of shiny gold and sparkling silver with large iridescent stones and polished shells hanging from them was a simple silver necklace with a small pendant in the shape of a beautiful flower. It’s five petals circling the small golden drops in the centre were painted a pure white. Although understated in its elegant form, the necklace beckoned Zayne closer as if concealing something crucial. It stirred an elusive ache within him, touching upon a significant memory that remained frustratingly out of reach.

“Do you like it?” The lady behind the stall asked, pulling him from his musings. He realised he held the delicate pendant between his fingers, not even sure when he had picked it up.

“It reminds me of someone.” He replied, looking back at the necklace. “What sort of flower is this?”

“It’s a jasmine flower. I have a collection of them in my garden which inspired this necklace.”

“It’s beautiful.” He murmured, still trying to place that strange feeling the pendant inspired in him. “How much is it?”

* * *

By the time Zayne returned to the craft shop he had successfully spent all the money Rory had lent him. Two chocolate filled pastries warmed his hands and the small pendant was safely tucked away in a box in his pocket. Noticing Rory at the till, Zayne decided to wait outside. She seemed to have gathered a staggering collection of fabrics that were slowly being packed away into as few bags as the shop keeper could manage. It proved to be a difficult task, however, as Rory still emerged from the shop with four bulging bags that looked ready to split at any moment.

“Let me.” Zayne said, juggling the pastries in one hand in order to take two of the bags with the other. He then offered her one of the pastries before leading her to a bench at the edge of the square. As they sat to enjoy the sweet snacks, Zayne glanced over the collections of bags.

“Is this all for our clothes?” He asked, somewhat perturbed at the amount of fabric, thread and rolls of gauze like material in front of them.

“Not just for that.” She responded, covering her mouth to hide the large bite of pastry she’d just taken. “I have a few other personal projects I’m working on as well. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.”

Zayne tried to hide a smirk as he noticed a spot of melted chocolate at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he reached up and cupped her face, wiping the smear away with his thumb. Rory froze, her eyes going wide. Realising what he’d done, Zayne pulled his hand away, turning back to the crowds milling in front of him. He could feel a faint blush coating his cheeks and a tightness in his chest.

“I didn’t think to pick up any napkins.” He muttered, hoping it would be enough to excuse his behaviour. He had kept his control so well the last few days, keeping a respectful distance, not crossing boundaries. How could he have slipped up so easily.

For a while, they sat in silence, the atmosphere, so relaxed before, now slightly uncomfortable.

"I suppose I should have expected you'd choose the chocolate pastries." Rory joked, though her voice retained a hint of unease. Zayne glanced back at her, offering a gentle smile.

“No, I suppose not.”

Trying to find an excuse to clear the air, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box.

“I spotted this on one of the stalls and thought you might like it.” He said, offering it to her.

“Oh, Zayne, you didn’t have to do that.” She said, taking the box with a hint of curiosity. When she opened it, the words of thanks died on her tongue. Her eyes fixated on the pendant, muscles tensing around them as lines carved into her forehead. Her jaw slackened, each breath trembling past her parted lips. The sight twisted something in Zayne's chest, and his fingers found their way to her wrist, gentle but firm against her pulse.

“Rory?”

She turned to him, her face relaxed slightly, and she smiled. Despite the slight quiver in her lips her voice didn’t waver.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Zayne.”

She pulled it out of the box and handed it to him, turning to face away and pulling her hair to the side. As he slipped the necklace around her neck, he noticed her hand reaching to her face momentarily. Was she…crying? He clasped the chain and sat back. When she turned and admired the pendant her cheeks were dry but there was a redness in her eyes that worried him.

“Is there anywhere else you wanted to go?” He asked, hoping to brighten her mood again.

“No, I’m done. We should be able to catch a taxi on the main street.”

As they gathered the bags, Zayne noticed what looked like a sketchbook and a small metal case in one of the bags.

“Is that for more of your designs?” He asked casually, indicating the sketchpad.

Falling into step beside him she shook her head.

“I wanted to get something for Rafayel to thank him for his help with the designs. And maybe to keep him occupied as well.” She admitted.

Zayne’s gut twisted and he turned his attention to the path in front of them.

“You seem to be rather forgiving towards him, considering his actions a couple of days ago.”

Her steps faltered as she looked up at him, surprised.

“You know about that?”

“I heard your conversation on the landing, yesterday.”

“Oh.” She looked at her feet, her ears turning slightly red.

“You also forgave Xavier for getting into your bed during the night. And I’m sure, knowing Sylus, he’s done something inappropriate that you’ve forgiven him for.” Zayne knew he was being harsh, but the churning in his gut was becoming unbearable. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be so lenient-“

His words were cut off as a sharp tug on his sleeve pulled him off the path into a shaded, quiet corner between two buildings. Standing in front of him, still holding his sleeve, Rory looked up at him with a piercing gaze.

“Zayne, what’s really bothering you? Because I don’t think it’s my forgiveness towards the others.”

Zayne looked away, fighting with the beast inside him. Did it bother him that she had seen right through him? Possibly. Probably. Did he feel his control tested as she gazed up at him so demandingly? Without a doubt. He clenched his jaw a few times before answering.

“I’ve noticed you seem to be on guard around the others, most likely due to their behaviour. However, when you are with me you seem more at ease. I fear I have made myself out to be innocent in my feelings towards you in comparison to the others. I cannot accept that.” He turned to look at her. “If you are going to be on guard against them, then you should also be on guard against me. My feelings towards you are no less than theirs. I am simply better at containing my desires.”

As he spoke, Rory’s expression softened and when he finished, she smiled and reached up to place her hand on his chest.

“I’m not ignorant of your feelings, Zayne. Although I believe they’re directed more at Sienna than me. The same with the others. And it’s true I feel more relaxed around you. These last few days have been…overwhelming for sure. But you’ve helped me so much. You’re always looking out for me and supporting me. I don’t think I could have managed any of this without you.”

Zayne could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His felt so light he feared he might float away. A delicious warmth flooded his chest and he felt himself reaching towards her. This was her warmth, her light. Against the odds, against the frozen temperature of his evol, she had warmed him, like the sun on a clear day. He wanted to feel her warmth every day. No, he needed to feel it.

His hand cupped her face, and his lips pressed against hers like she was the air he needed to breath. Her lips were warm and soft, and she tasted so damn sweet. Hints of chocolate and sugar mingled as he deepened the kiss, desperate to get as much as he could. And still it wasn’t enough. He stepped forward, backing her against the wall and tilted his head to angle his lips against hers.

A shrill laugh from the crowd broke through his senses and he pulled back suddenly. Rory stared up at him, her lips slightly swollen and rosy red. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes wide. Zayne had no doubt her heart was beating as furiously as his. He stepped back, quickly releasing her face and blinking rapidly as all his senses finally returned to him.

“P-please, forgive me.” He huffed, struggling to control his own breathing. “That was…inappropriate. I should never…”

His words trailed off as a small giggle escaped Rory’s mouth. She clapped her hand over her mouth but couldn’t contain the hysterical twinkle in her eyes. She turned to face the wall and lent her forehead against it, taking deep breaths.

Unsure of how to react, Zayne glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but the crowds all seemed more interested in something beyond his view. He turned back to Rory to find her once again facing him, eyes closed and her focus purely on her breathing. When she opened her eyes, there was nothing to indicate how she might be feeling about what just happened.

"I sincerely apologize." He repeated softly.

She put her hand on her hip and looked around.

“Well,” She started, her lips twitching just slightly. “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m so forgiving.”

Zayne stared at her. Was she…joking? Or was that a jab at his behaviour after he’d been so harsh before?

“What’s going on over there?” She asked, distracting him from his confusion. He turned to look in the direction she indicated. The small crowd he’d noticed earlier had grown and they all seemed intently focused on something by the road.

“Come on, let’s go have a look.” She said, grabbing his sleeve again and pulling him along behind her. He pondered whether she was trying to flee their uncomfortable encounter and prayed it wouldn't strain their connection in the days to come.

They ducked through the crowd to reach the road and stopped dead at the sight before them. Propped up on it’s stand against the curb was a pure black monster of a motorbike. And leaning casually against its seat, dressed all in black leather, with large sunglasses covering his eyes, was none other than Sylus.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, parked behind his bike was a bright red convertible, soft top down and a very smug looking Rafayel leaning against the door. He was posing for a couple of college students taking photos of him on their phone and giggling.

“Oh god,” Rory muttered. “They think he’s a cosplayer.” She hid her face in her one free hand.

“You took your time.” Sylus piped up from his perch. Dropping her hand, Rory marched over to him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She growled through gritted teeth. Sylus raised his eyebrows smirking.

“We were thinking we could give you a ride home. Saves you paying for another taxi.”

“Care to explain how you paid for these?” Zayne questioned, gesturing at the transportation while positioning himself strategically to shield Sylus from the onlookers attempting to sneak pictures.

Rory glanced back at the crowd and spotted the worrying number of phones on view.

“Not here.” She said, turning towards the convertible. As she reached the artist she reached up and pulled him down towards her by the ear.

“Ow, hey, stop that.” He whined.

“Rafayel, get in the car or I’ll be feeding Chester fried fish tonight.”

The man visibly paled and rushed round to the driver’s side as Rory slipped into the passenger seat. Once Zayne was in the back and their shopping bags were safely stowed, the motorbike in front roared to life, closely followed by the convertible and the group left their unsuspecting audience behind.

Chapter Text

The feel of being back on a bike was thrilling for Sylus. The speed, the power, the risk. He loved it. It was a small reminder of how it felt to fly, back when he had his powerful dragon wings. So having managed to purchase such a vehicle in this world was one of his biggest highlights, topped only by his favourite moments with Rory. The time she snapped at him during their first morning together, the determination she’d shown when he’d offered the bet, even her attempts to fight him off that first night. It all showed a spirit of strength within his kitten that he couldn’t get enough of.

So, as he leaned against the back of the sofa, listening to her berate him, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you have any idea how many people saw you? They were all taking photos and videos! It’s going to end up all over the internet and someone is going to figure out you’re not cosplayers!” Rory yelled.

“Don’t stress so much, Cutie.” Rafayel replied, leaning on the sofa beside him. “You’ll get wrinkles. Besides, no one’s going to figure it out.”

She turned on the artist with such a glare that his shoulders stiffened slightly.

“I thought you didn’t like too much attention, Rafayel.” She said in a too-sweet tone. “In that case, when a stampede of fans, who have figured out you’re the real deal, come and break down the door to kidnap you, I’ll make sure I stay out of their way. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of their attention.”

“Kidnap?” He asked, sounding genuinely worried, but Rory had turned her attention back to Sylus.

“And what they hell were you thinking riding around on that bike? Or the car? How did you even get them? You have to have a licence to get a vehicle, and you don’t even have ID! Please tell me you didn’t steal them!?”

“And what would you do if I had?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Sylus!” She snapped.

He chuckled at her outrage.

“Relax, Kitten. I didn’t steal them. They’re both completely paid for.”

“But how? You never would have been allowed to buy one without the necessary documents which you don’t have!”

Sylus shrugged. “I simply suggested to the salesman that they weren’t necessary.”

“You threatened him?”

“Of course not, sweetie. I only encouraged him to be a bit more…open minded.” As he said this, he tapped the side of his head, next to his eye.

Rory began to turn bright red at this.

“Sylus, what did I say about using your evol around other people?”

He pushed off from the sofa and approached her, bending down to be on eye level.

“As I recall, you need to win our deal before I’m required to do what you say.” He taunted.

Rory stared at him, clenching and unclenching her jaw before turning on her heal and storming off towards the stairs, grumbling audibly.

Sylus stood to his full height again, watching her go. In all honesty, he didn’t want to make her angry. But for some reason it was the only time she would meet his eyes. Any other time she would actively avoid looking at him and he couldn’t figure out why. Was she scared of him? But then she wouldn’t be so forceful with him when she was angry. Would she?

“Would you care to explain how you physically managed to pay for the vehicles?” Zayne asked from his spot in the corner, where he’d been standing quietly since they got home. “As I recall, our cards only work here, at the house.”

Sylus glanced at him out of the side of his eye.

“It seems not. The vehicle store was just down the road from where you were shopping.”

“What are you suggesting?” Zayne asked, frowning.

Sylus turned to face the man. “I’m suggesting that the rift is not tied to the house.” He looked back in the direction Rory had gone. “It’s tied to her.”

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, Rory asked Sylus to join her in the workroom so she could do an initial fitting of his shirt. Although, the term shirt may have been a little generous. Sylus eyed the pieces of fabric that were tacked together. It was a soft dove grey material with a back lapel and main back piece, two front pieces and two sleeves. There was no collar, no cuffs and no placket, let alone buttons or buttonholes. The bottom of the shirt was unhemmed and little strands of thread hung from the fabric as the weave became loose at the cut edges. The same was true at each of the seams inside. But then, this was the first fitting and Rory still had 24 hours to complete the garment.

“You can change in the bathroom.” Rory said, handing him the work in progress. He glanced up at her, once again failing to meet her eyes.

“Not necessary.” He answered with a smirk, beginning to unbutton the shirt he was currently wearing. Rory was supposedly laying out her tools on the table, but he could see her watching from under her lashes as his chest and abs were slowly revealed. Once all the buttons where undone he slipped the shirt from his shoulders, taking his time to hang it from the rail beside the mirror, before stalking to the table to pick up the unfinished garment. He took a moment to hold it up, identifying where the sleeves were attached before slipping in, first one arm, then the other. A casual hitch of his shoulders settled the fabric in place, and he turned to Rory, thumbs in his trouser pockets and chest on full display.

Ignoring his teasing smirk, she turned him to face the mirror and pulled the two front pieces together, placing a few pins in to hold them shut. Then she moved around him, observing how the garment fit across his shoulders and around his waist.

“You know,” she said after a few moments “just because you got the salesman to look the other way yesterday, doesn’t mean you can drive around on that bike without getting caught. There are cameras everywhere that will check for tax and insurance when you go past them. All it takes is for you to drive past one of them and you’ll have the police coming after you.”

“I’m not too worried.” He replied, nonchalantly as he watched her move around him in the mirror.

“I never thought a mob boss would be so reckless.” She chided.

“Reckless? Not at all. I’ve simply made the necessary adjustments to avoid getting caught.”

“Necessary adjustments? Wait, did you hack into the vehicle database? Ow!”

Sylus turned at her protest to see her gingerly clutching her index finger, a small drop of blood forming at the tip. She turned, likely to find something to clean the blood, but Sylus reached out and gently gripped her wrist, guiding her back to him. Holding her hand up, he watched the small red bead on her finger grow before beginning to slowly roll down her skin.

“Sylus…” She gasped as he pulled her hand closer again and slipped the tip of her finger into his mouth, closing his lips around her first knuckle. With the position of his hand on her wrist, he could feel the pulse of her heartbeat increase. Slowly, gently, he began to lathe his tongue across the pad of her finger, tasting the copper of her blood on his tastebuds.

Her breath hitched and his eyes flicked up to hers. She was staring, slightly hazy eyed, at her finger between his lips, her mouth parted slightly. He could almost feel her quivering beneath his touch. He began to wonder what other reactions he could pull from her and the thought caused the corners of his mouth to twitch up. The movement seemed to break through her daze and her eyes instantly met his.

She quickly looked away and pulled her hand away from him. He allowed her finger to slip from his mouth but tightened his hold on her wrist. He had seen a hint of something in her eyes before she looked away and it bothered him. He wanted to see it again. He wanted her to look at him again and again and again. He pulled her towards him, wrapping his free arm around her waist. She resisted his hold, pushing against his chest but still refusing to look up.

“You seem to have a habit of running away from me, sweetie.” Sylus commented. “I can’t believe it’s because you’re scared of me.”

He released her wrist and brough his hand up to her chin, intending to lift her face, but she turned her head away from him.

“Look at me, Kitten.” He encouraged.

“So, you can get in my head again?” She snapped, her voice quivering slightly. Sylus frowned, caught off guard by her accusation. In his moment of confusion, she slipped from his grip and stepped away.

“Do you have any idea,” She challenged, taking deep breaths, “how it feels to hear voices in your head and not know if they’re real or not? Do you even care?”

His insides churned and his chest constricted. She was scared of him. He had ruined his chances again. He had to fix this. He had to make it right.

“Kitten,” He stepped towards her, but she turned and fled towards the door. If she left, he would lose this chance. With a flick of his wrist a spark of his evol shot towards the door, closing it and pushing the lock into place.

She stopped, her back to him, and began to visibly tremble.

“You can’t keep me here.” She sobbed. “You can’t just take what you want all the time. I’m not an object to be used…I’m a person.” Her voice rose with each sentence. “I have feelings, I have rights and you…you can’t do this…” As her voice trailed off, she crumpled to the floor, her cries muffled by her hand.

Sylus stared at her trembling form, terrified, confused, lost. He had been so callous with his actions, so focused on his own desires. She hated him. She loathed him. A burning rage filled his veins, and he took a step back. It was foolish of him to think that a monster like him could be anything but cruel. He thought she had loved him once, shared her soul with him, taught him about beauty and music and adoration. But this…this was his curse. He was bound to her, to live as long as she existed, and yet be reviled, rejected, abhorred. This was always going to happen. After all, he was still a dragon. And dragons couldn’t show love or kindness.

He turned away from the weeping woman and flicked his wrist again. At the faint click of the door, Rory’s sobs quietened. He heard the rustle of her clothes as she stood and the soft steps as she approached the open door.

“If you still wish to win our bet, you should finish what you started.” He called; his voice devoid of the wild emotions swirling in him. “But it’s your choice.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. Sylus refused to turn around. He could just hear her stuttering breaths from the doorway so he knew she hadn’t left, but any movement from him could send her running. He waited, trying to calm the storm within him. He was so focused on calming his emotions that he missed the soft sound of her steps approaching him. When she reached up to tug at the shoulder seam of the shirt, his breath caught. He barely managed to stop himself turning to face her. Not only could that scare her off, but he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself if he caught sight of her tearstained face.

She worked silently, her hands running softly over the fabric as she adjusted and pinned. After a few tense moments, she stepped back.

“I’m done.” She said quietly, turning away to clear up her things. Sylus carefully removed the shirt, laying in on the table, being sure to keep a distance between them. As he slipped his other shirt back over his shoulders, he couldn’t help but make one more attempt to fix his mistakes.

“I know what I want. If I win the bet.”

“I’m not sure-“ She started

“You’re forgiveness.”

He saw her turn to stare at him from the corner of his eye but refused to look round.

“I’ll ask Rafayel to judge. To make it fair. Just…” He took a breath, swallowed and shut his eyes. “Just don’t hate me.” He whispered.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Chapter Text

I was losing my mind. That was the only explanation I could think of. I knew my stress levels had been rising but I honestly thought I was managing it. I knew I was on edge when I went shopping with Zayne; being surrounded by so many people was intensely nerve-wracking, but I was sure I’d kept composure to hide it. It was only when Zayne kissed me so unexpectedly that the grip on my composure vanished. The whole situation had become so ridiculous I couldn’t help but laugh.

And then Sylus…well, Sylus had literally unravelled the last shreds of my sanity when he’d licked the blood off my finger. And what was left? Nothing but the darkness in my soul, the memories I’d buried, the fear I’d done my best to control over the last five years. I was broken, vulnerable and hopeless.

But when I had the chance to run I didn’t. It was like a cord of warmth, of something resembling security, pulled me back. A tether, a thread, that pieced me back together. An anchor to my soul, tied to the man I was about to leave behind. And yet, when I’d looked back at him, I could no longer see the light in his eyes. It was like something inside him had shattered along with me. Like I’d stolen something from him.

It was his parting words, however, that had made me realise just how wrong I had been. It’s true that I had built walls around myself, to keep me safe, to protect my battered and scarred heart. But I had built another wall between myself and Sylus without even realising it. This wall was made of fear and desire and pain. And it had blinded me to the truth. But those three words; don’t hate me, I could feel that wall collapsing, brick by toxic brick.

The realisation had left the burning pain of revulsion at myself coursing through me. I couldn’t handle knowing how badly I had messed up. And then I felt it, the gentle brush of fingers, wiping away my tears, the warmth of an embrace, filling me with a sense of compassion, and a voice; soft and gentle and so, so familiar.

You are strong, you are kind, and you are loved.

I knew that voice, my voice and yet the words were so foreign. Sienna. From within my body, my soul, she was reaching out, filling me with hope and comfort and strength. She was the glue now holding me together. With her…with her I could move forwards.

* * *

I stood in the living room, wringing my hands and focusing on my breathing. I could see Zayne watching me from the sofa next to the fireplace. He knew something was wrong. But my focus was on the man to my left, the length of the coffee table between us. I watched Sylus out of the corner of my eye, trying to read his expression, the minute movements of his face, his body. But it was like his emotions had shut down.

In front of us, Rafayel examined the shirt I had spent all night completing. The main body was a soft dove grey, while the collar and cuffs were black on the outside with the hint of deep wine red showing underneath and small red buttons holding down the cuffs. The placket was the same red, running down the centre of the shirt with round obsidian buttons fitted neatly through the holes. Embroidered on the body, in the same dove grey as the fabric, were feathers. As Rafael moved the garment, the thread caught the light, revealing the simple pattern.

The artist ran his hands along the fabric, testing its quality, then did the same to the shirt on the table in front of him, the one my work was being compared to. He hummed to himself, then turned to Sylus.

“Let’s see how it fits.”

Without preamble or fuss, Sylus removed his red jumper and simple white shirt, slipped his arms into mine and quickly buttoned it.  Rafayel then moved around him observing how the fabric hugged his frame, how the cuffs settled just over his wrists and how the collar sat neatly around his neck. After a few moments he stepped back and nodded.

“Well, I think it’s conclusive. Considering design, material and fit, I declare Rory to be the winner.” He beamed at me and clapped. I tried to smile but I could feel my heart stuttering in my chest. I glanced at Sylus and discovered he was already removing my shirt and sliding his arms back into his white one.

“Congratulations.” He drawled, still not looking at me. “It seems you’ve won my obedience…Rory.” He tripped over my name, so unused to using it. For a moment he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, turned and walked away.

“Wait, Sylus.” I reacted, reaching out. He stopped at the edge of the sofa and tuned to look back over his shoulder, waiting for me to continue. “Will you stay, please.” I begged.

He turned to me, brows drawing together slightly but no emotion showing in his eyes. I turned to the others, trying to hide the turmoil inside me.

“Could you give us a minute?”

Zayne watched me, a calculating look in his eye but Rafayel looked between me and Sylus, confusion clear on his face and rested his hands on his hips.

“What’s with all the tension? We should be celebrating so why do you both look like someone died?”

I exchanged a pleading look with Zayne who pursed his lips slightly before pushing himself up off the sofa.

“I don’t think this concerns us.” The doctor said, gripping the artist’s arm and dragging him out the room. Rafayel whinged the whole way out but once they were gone the silence became oppressive. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Sylus again, so I focused on the floor instead.

“Since I won are you prepared to do whatever I tell you?”

“That was what we agreed to.” He drawled.

“Then the first thing I want you to do is forget everything I said to you yesterday.”

The silence stretched out between us again. I could feel him staring at me but couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“Why?”

His voice was so quiet I almost missed it.

“I…” My throat closed as I thought of the words I wanted to say. Then I heard his footsteps approaching.

“Look at me and tell me why.” He commanded. Slowly, hesitantly, I lifted my eyes to his.

“I didn’t mean it.” I whispered. “Any of it.”

“So, you want my forgiveness? And yet, we’ve already determined that I’m not deserving of yours.” There was dark intensity in his eyes as he stared down at me.

“No, we haven’t.”

His eyes narrowed as he considered my words.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice.” I shrugged looking down again and fiddling with my cardigan.

“Notice what?”

“That I never completed the bet.”

He blinked, the darkness from his gaze fading away as he turned to look down at the shirt I’d given him.

“You told me to make something better than that shirt and tie.” I said pointing. “But I only made a shirt. I never finished the tie. So that means I missed the deadline.” I glanced back up at him.

I could see the cogs turning in his head as he looked between the shirt I’d made and the one it was compared against, specifically the tie wrapped under the collar. Then he turned back to me.

“You didn’t have to point that out.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Slowly, Sylus reached towards me, hesitating slightly. I held still, wanting him to know that I wouldn’t run from him, that I would never run from him. His warm hand came to cup my cheek, and I turned my face into it.

The moment he saw my acceptance, he pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight against him. I circled my arms around his waist, returning the hug.

“I wish I’d never said those things.” I muttered into his chest, ignoring how my voice caught.

“Shh. It’s ok, sweetie.” He cooed, pulling back and lifting my face towards him with a finger under my chin. “I’ll forgive you, if you promise to do the same for me.”

“It’s what we agreed to.” I smiled up at him.

* * *

Some time later, having left Sylus to flick through the vinyl records I had recommended, I turned my attention to another of my guests, Xavier. Over the past couple of days, the hunter had been rather elusive, showing up for meals before disappearing. I had a few ideas of where he might be hiding and decided it was time to check on him.

As I suspected, I found Xavier in the den, although surprisingly he didn’t have his nose buried in a book. Instead, he was sat at the end of the sofa, legs crossed and one elbow on the arm rest, staring into space. There was a small crease between his brows and the corners of his mouth were pulled down slightly.

As I slid the door open to step inside, Xavier glanced over, then quickly looked away again. Clearly, something wasn’t right. I stepped towards the sofa, leaning towards him in the hope that he’d look at me.

“Xavier, is everything ok?”

“Fine.” He answered quietly, still refusing to look round.

I narrowed my eyes and stood up straight again.

“You seem upset.” I observed

“It’s nothing.”

I crossed my arms, feeling like it was dealing with a toddler rather than a practically immortal deepspace hunter. And honestly, I didn’t feel like dealing with a temper tantrum.

“Well, clearly you’d rather be alone, so I’ll leave you be.” I said, slightly irritated. I turned back towards the door and made to leave. Before I had taken a single step, strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled be back. I landed squarely in Xavier’s lap, his warm chest pressing into my back as his arms tightened around me and his forehead came to rest on my shoulder.

“Don’t go.” He whined into my shoulder, his voice muffled.

I squirmed in his lap, trying to get my breath back after the brief shock.

“Xavier, let go.”

“If I let go, you’ll leave.”

“I won’t leave.”

He lifted his head and ran the tip of his nose up the side of my neck. A shiver ran down my spine and I felt goosebumps all over my legs.

“Xavier!”

“You always push me away when I get close to you. But this time I won’t let you.”

I struggled more against his hold, but he didn’t budge, just continued to run his nose up and down my neck.

“I don’t push you away. Xavier, stop, please.”

“I won’t stop until you admit it.” He breathed just below my ear. I felt his lips on my neck and a warm, wet spot between them as he began to run the tip of his tongue over my skin. I squirmed harder, trying to escape from the sensations running through me at his gentle caresses.

“Xavier, please.” I whined but he ignored me, starting to leave open mouthed kisses up and down my neck, his arms tightening even more.

“You pushed me out of your bed that first day.” He breathed between kisses. “And then you pushed me away the other morning.” His bought his mouth down to the place where my neck and shoulder met and gently nibbled at my skin.

I yelped and twisted desperately, finally managing to lever myself out of his grip. He was up in an instant, turning me to face him before wrapping his arms around my thighs and lifting me off the ground. I gripped his shoulders, desperately trying to balance while ignoring the feel of his abs pressing into my thighs.

“Xavier, don’t. I’m going to fall.”

“You’re fine.” He said, his voice hard as he stared up at me. “I’ll let you down once you admit that I’m right.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” I could feel myself blushing under his cerulean gaze, so much sharper than before.

“You worked on your designs with Rafayel, you went shopping with Zayne, you even made a bet with Sylus, but every time I get close to you, you push me away.” He snapped. I stared down at him, suddenly realising what this was all about.

“Xavier, are you…jealous?”

In response, he hitched me even higher in his grip, making me squeal and grip his shoulders even harder.

“So, what if I am?” He said quietly. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m sorry, OK? I didn’t mean to push you away.” I whimpered. Never before had I been nervous of Xavier, but this was I side of him I didn’t know how to deal with.

“You don’t sound very sincere.”

“I am. I’m sorry. Really.” I babbled, the backs of my thighs beginning to ache where he was holding me.

He watched me for a moment, eyes narrowed.

“Prove it.” He said at last.

“How?”

“Make it up to me and I’ll put you down.”

I stared at him. I knew exactly what he was asking for, but the thought made my stomach twist. Being kissed was one thing but initiating a kiss? I wasn’t sure if I could.

“Would it help if I closed my eyes?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed and nodded, watching as he lowered his lids, face still turned up towards me.

I licked my lips and hesitantly reached up to run my fingers across his brow, trying to ease the frown he still wore. My fingers brushed through his fringe at the touch, and I was surprised at how soft and silky his hair was. At my touch his mouth parted slightly as he inhaled sharply. Gingerly, I leant down, feeling his grip on me adjust as my balanced shifted. I cupped the side of his face with my hand and gently pressed my lips to his cheek in a quick, chaste kiss before pulling away.

His eyes snapped open, once again looking like the innocent boy, a blush racing across his ears and cheekbones. He swallowed and quickly lowered me back to my feet and stepped back, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger. He looked so shy and innocent now I had to press my lips together to stop from smiling. Instead, I reached out and rested my hand on his arm, pulling his focus back to me.

“Xavier, I really am sorry about how I’ve treated you. I’ve just been trying so hard to come to terms with the whole situation I didn’t even notice. I just need a bit of time. And it would be easier if you warned me before you grab hold of me. I’m not good with surprises.”

He smiled softly down at me, cupped my face in his hand, like I had done to him moments before and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. When he pulled back there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“I promise to warn you from now on.” He teased.

Chapter Text

200 years. That’s how long he waited. It may have seemed like nothing compared to the life span of those native to Philos, but for Xavier, it had felt like an eternity. While living in Philos, he had met her time and time again. But on Earth? Her presence had been absent for so long he had convinced himself she didn’t exist in this world. Then the wanderers had appeared, and the Chronorift Catastrophe started. And there she was. Not the woman he knew but a child, an innocent young girl caught in the battlefield and targeted by the wanderers.

He'd saved her then but kept his distance. She existed, she was real, but he still needed to find a way to stop history, his history, from repeating. And now there were others who wanted her for the aether core in her heart. So, he began to search for an alternative. Something others could use without putting her in danger. For fourteen years, he searched. But nothing was good enough. Nothing could rival an aether core.

Then he met her again.

For three days he’d been stuck in that warehouse, battling the luminivores that came for him. He’d fallen so easily into this trap. But it wasn’t constant. The wanderers came slowly, leaving gaps between their attacks. And the less he used his evol the slower they found him. He’d taken the opportunity during a quiet few hours to sleep but the soft hum of voices had woken him. She was there. Right in front of him. Wearing the uniform of a hunter.

His heart had lurched, seeing her like this. Didn’t she realise how much danger she was in? He’d felt the overpowering need to protect her, to keep her safe. And yet, she had proved to be his salvation. It was then that he noticed it; she was different.

The incarnations of this woman he had met on Philos had been so similar, not just in their appearance but in their behaviour as well. This incarnation, Sienna, was different. She was reckless, stubborn, compassionate and driven. She was also perceptive. And a little too suspicious. Xavier had tried to distance himself, fearful that he was being watched by those who called him traitor. Those that wanted her aether core.

But fate was clearly not on his side. Again and again, they met, even discovering they lived in the same apartment block. So, Xavier had decided to accept the inevitable. If he couldn’t avoid her, he would be sure to protect her.

The last thing he had expected was to meet another incarnation of her so soon. But he knew, the moment he’d laid eyes on Rory, he knew it was her. He’d met so many versions of her now, the details that never changed were obvious to him. And, once again, she was different. More fearful, more cautious. Xavier was hopeful that the lack of enemies searching for her in this world would keep her safe, even if the leader of Onychinus was living in the same house as her. Xavier was just glad the man hadn’t yet recognised him as Lumiere.

Xavier had even entertained the thought of a life, here in this world that might actually be safe for her, for them. Maybe changing his history had been the wrong approach, maybe this was the answer he was looking for.

Or maybe fate was still against him.

* * *

The morning of their sixth day in Rory’s world started the same as the others. Xavier dragged himself off the sofa bed, throwing on the comfiest clothes he could find in the pile on the floor before trapsing sleepily down to the kitchen. Zayne and Rory were both busy preparing breakfast together while Sylas sat in the living room, watching the morning news on the large screen tv.

“Good morning.” Xavier mumbled as he entered the kitchen. Rory turned to him and smiled. The sight was radiant in Xavier’s eyes. More beautiful that the sun rise. He smiled back. As much as he wanted to wrap Rory in his arms and kiss her, he remembered his promise to warn her first, and he had an inkling that she wouldn’t be as receptive with any of the others around. So, he held back, keeping his distance slightly to avoid being tempted.

“Can I help at all?” He asked, wanting to keep his hands busy.

“You could set the table for us? Breakfast is almost done.” Rory answered as she began pulling plates out of the cupboard. She directed him to the table mats and cutlery before returning to the coffee machine and kettle.

Less than ten minutes later, they settled down around the table, Rafayel having been woken by Zayne moments earlier looking the worse for wear. They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the eggs and bacon the doctor had cooked along with the coffee Rory had made. Xavier had been sure to grab a few extra slices of bacon, receiving a spatula to the back of his hand before he could escape with them. Zayne’s reflexes had surprised him, but he’d still managed to save the bacon.

“I have some work I need to get done this morning.” Rory announced, standing as she finished her plate. “Play nice and don’t break anything.” The small smile on her lips ruined her stern tone.

“We’ll be fine.” Zayne replied and she ambled off towards the stairs. After her departure, silence filled the room. They may all have grown closer to Rory over the last week but not to each other.

After a few moments, Zayne sighed and stood, although he remained by the table, looking around at the others.

“There’s something I think we need to discuss,” he stated. “Away from prying ears.” His meaning was clear to all of them; they needed to speak somewhere Rory wouldn’t be likely to hear them.

“The library?” Xavier suggested. Zayne nodded his agreement and the four of them made their casual way through the house into the den. Xavier beelined for the spot at the end of the sofa where he’d been sitting the previous day when Rory had found him. Rafayel took the spot at the other end of the sofa, while Sylus leaned casually against the bookshelves on the other side of the room, arms crossed over his chest, crimson eyes taking everything in.

Zayne glanced up the stairs quickly before sliding the doors to the room shut and turning to face the others.

“I think it’s clear that we all have rather strong feeling towards Rory.” He started.

“Is this the part where you suggest a competition between the four of us with her as the prize?” Sylus rumbled in amusement. Zayne frowned at him.

“Quite the opposite. I believe a competition between us would be detrimental to the situation rather than conclusive.” He replied pointedly. Sylus’ signature smirk faded slightly as he considered this. Zayne looked from the gangster to Xavier and Rafayel before continuing.

“Surely, I’m not the only one that’s noticed her behaviour?”

“You mean the way she uses anger to hide her fear when she loses control of a situation?” Xavier piped up.

“You noticed that?” Zayne asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“I’ve seen it before.” Xavier averted his eyes, memories of those first few years on earth with the Backtrackers filling his mind’s eye. After the crash he had tried to encourage them, rally them together. But the fear of never getting home had slowly eaten away at even his most resilient crew members. Only those that had been close with him before their journey had continued to trust him.

Having made it clear he wasn’t going to elaborate further, Xavier waited for Zayne to continue.

“That’s certainly part of it.” The doctor said slowly. “She also seems to have a fear of being in public.”

“She’s agoraphobic?” Rafayel asked, frowning in disbelief.

“Not exactly. She was fine once she was in the craft shop. I believe it’s more a fear of being exposed.”

“Isn’t it normal for people to have things they’re afraid of?” Xavier cut in again. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

Zayne sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. As he tapped the screen a few times he wandered further into the room.

“Take a look at this.” He said, turning the phone to show the screen to them. They crowded around to look at what appeared to be some kind of social media page. Multiple photos were visible on the screen, all of them showing Rory at some social event, parties, gigs, and the like. In all the photo’s she was surrounded by people, and she was happy. Happier that Xavier had seen her for certain.

“Aurora Delaney?” Rafayel asked, having noticed the name at the top of the page.

“She told you her full name?” Sylus raised his eyebrow as he looked back up at the doctor.

Zayne cleared his throat, a slight blush touching his cheeks.

“No, it was written on her prescription. The point is the woman we know is not the same as the woman in the photos. This woman in the pictures is regularly seen in a public environment, during events where there is often little control, and she seems to be enjoying herself. These accounts haven’t been updated in six years.”

“So, you think something happened to her to change her.” Sylus enquired, leaning back against the shelves.

“You know, that guy she did a fitting for mentioned something like that.” The artist mused, tapping his chin in thought.

“What did he say?” Zayne asked.

Rafayel shrugged.

“Just that he didn’t expect her to date again because of what happened ‘before’. He didn’t elaborate.”

“We should speak to him again.” Zayne suggested.

“Don’t bother. That guy’s half in love with her already. If she won’t tell you herself, he’s not gonna say anything.”

“I’m still not sure why this is important.” Xavier cut in. He remembered her smile this morning. The first genuine smile she’d shown him. He didn’t want to ruin that.

“It’s important, because the doctor thinks someone might be targeting our girl.” Sylus stated a hint of condescension in his voice. Xavier stiffened, looking between Sylus and Zayne. Someone was after her? But she was supposed to be safe here. How did they know? What had they seen that he hadn’t? Or was this just another trick by the Onychinus leader? He looked back at Sylus with narrowed eyes.

Seeing the distrust, Sylus chuckled before motioning back to the phone in Zayne’s hand.

“These pictures show her with multiple friends but since we’ve arrived, she’s only mentioned the woman she lives with. She rarely goes out and is nervous when she does.”

“She also no longer speaks to her family.” Zayne added.

“So, you think she’s hiding from someone? An ex-boyfriend, maybe?” Xavier asked, quickly putting the pieces together in his head.

“My hope is that’s all it is. But the measures Rory has gone to in order to avoid this person…I can’t help but feel there’s more to it.” The doctor looked again at the pictures on his phone before putting it away again.

Xavier considered what all this meant. Someone from her past, from six years ago had made her feel like she had to hide, to cut communication with her friends and family? What happened that made her so afraid of being found?

“What did she say to you?” Rafayel asked, cutting into Xavier’s thoughts. He looked up to find the artist staring at Sylus.

“I’m sorry?” the mafioso asked, a blank look on his face.

“Yesterday, she told you to forget what she said because she didn’t mean it. What did she say?”

Sylus blinked at him, a slight tick in his jaw.

“You were eavesdropping?”

“You really thought I’d leave it alone when you two looked so dour?”

“Now I understand why there’s a bounty on your head.” Sylus muttered closing his eyes and pressing a finger to his temple.

“Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?” Xavier snapped; his calm borne of the belief that this world was safe quickly dissolving.

“She became distraught. Accused me of treating her like an object to use rather than a person with feelings.” Sylus shrugged. Three pairs of eyes narrowed at him.

“And what did you do to cause such a response?” Zayne asked, the chill of his evol clear in his voice. Sylus pushed himself upright and glared back at the doctor.

“Nothing I did would have elicited that sort of response from someone who wasn’t already traumatized.” He retaliated. “Something I was unaware of at the time.”

Tension sparked between them all, but Xavier was more concerned about the plan ahead. Since they’d arrived, they’d all been silently competing for Rory’s attention. But now there was something more important to all of them: her safety.

“We can’t go back to Linkon.” He exclaimed. “We can’t leave her here while she’s in danger.”

“We also can’t let on that we know anything.” Sylus warned, turning to the hunter. “Rory’s kept this very close to her chest. She doesn’t want us to know. If we let on that we suspect, she may become even more obstinate towards us.”

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Rafayel demanded.

“For now, we should simply keep an eye open.” Zayne suggested. His own calm demeaner slowly returning.

“I’ll do some research.” The mafia boss offered. “See what I can…” His voice trailed off as his eyes glazed over slightly. He tilted his head frowning, like something had caught his attention, something he couldn’t understand.

“Sylus?” Zayne called. But Xavier’s attention had been caught by something else. A small red symbol had begun to glow on Rafayel’s chest, right over his heart.

“Rafayel, what’s that symbol?” Xavier asked cautiously, pointing.

Rafayel looked down, his eyes going wide and quickly gripped his chest over the symbol. There was a moment of silence as everyone waited, before Rafayel and Sylus both looked at each other, alarm widening their eyes.

“Rory!”

Chapter Text

Rory

I spent the first few minutes in my workroom that morning looking through the items I still needed to work on. There was a skirt alteration for the lady down the road, and I still needed to hem and finish the seams of the dress for the little girl who was going to be a bridesmaid at the end of the month, also the adjustments to that shirt the elderly gentleman wanted. I liked to plan out what I was going to focus on each day. I laid out the skirt and the shirt on the table, deciding the dress wasn’t as urgent.

 As I turned to check for the threads I would need in my desk, I felt a slight pressure on my temples and absentmindedly rubbed at my forehead. The pressure quickly faded, and I moved on with my task. Finding the threads I needed I began to set up my sewing machine. I decided to make the alterations to the skirt first as it was more straightforward. I slid the fabric of the skirt under the foot of the sewing machine and took a deep breath, then gently pressed my foot to the peddle and guided the fabric through the machine.

As the fabric slipped out the other side, I lifted my foot off the peddle and pulled the thread up to the blade on the side of the machine. For a brief second my vision blurred slightly, small dark spots flaring in my eyes before quickly disappearing. Maybe I was more tired than I realised, although after the first few nights with my visitors, I’d been sleeping a lot better.

I decided to grab myself a glass of water, sure that it would help to refresh me. Turning off the sewing machine and placing the skirt back on the table in the middle of the room, I ambled my way downstairs. I glanced around as I moved towards the kitchen but there was no sign of the men. I wondered if I should feel anxious. It wasn’t unusual for two or even three of them to be holed up somewhere out of sight, but all four? I decided I wouldn’t dwell on it. Despite the few altercations that had occurred over the last week, they all seemed to have calmed down. I was just being paranoid in my worry.

I reached the cupboard and pulled out a glass, turning to the tap and filling the vessel with water. Turning off the tap I paused, a slight light-headedness coming over me. I closed my eyes and waited for the feeling to pass. Bright lights flashed behind my eyelids, and I quickly opened them. It was nothing. Just paranoid again.

I turned to leave the kitchen and stopped. My head felt like it was spinning and the edges of by vision began to darken. My stomach flipped as I began to feel like I was floating, a feeling like ice cold air rushing down my throat and into my chest. Ok, so not paranoia. This was happening. As the aura intensified, I rushed to put my glass of water down, but my limbs were no longer responding. The glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the tiles.

I shut my eyes again trying to control the seizure before it overwhelmed me. I could feel the world around me tilt back and forth, like I was on a boat in the middle of a storm. Another feeling, like something bubbling up from inside me filled my senses. It slipped under my skin like water and burst forth. The sound of rattling filled my ears, and I opened my eyes again.

I was on my knees on the tiled floor. When had I ended up on my knees? I couldn’t remember. How long had I been here? Lights began to flash across my vision again and images raced through my mind like an old film tape, too fast to identify anything. I gasped, that same feeling of water under my skin filling me. Then a soft golden light burst forth like a wave from my body. The tiles beneath my hands cracked, the glass shards on the floor vibrated and the ceramic bowls and containers on the counter rattled against the surface.

I had to call out to someone; I had to get help. I opened my mouth but a feeling like electricity raced through my nerves, and I felt my body flinch. Another wave of golden light exploded around me and the ceramic containers shattered, the cupboard doors shaking on their hinges and more cracks appearing on the floor beneath me. This wasn’t right. I didn’t…it wasn’t…I couldn’t make sense of anything, noises and sights and sensations all blurring together, overwhelming my mind and destroying any chance of coherent thought.

Something soft and warm gripped my hand and I looked up. Crystal blue orbs stared down at me framed by light blond wisps of hair. Xavier. He was saying something, at least, his mouth was moving. Could I hear his words? Were they there in the mix of sounds I could hear? If they were I couldn’t distinguish them.

I felt the hunter pull me into his embrace, his warm, soft jumper a stark contrast to the cold floor. My eyes closed as the golden light began to fill me again. I felt it breach my skin but this time a warmth filled me, and my vision turned white. My body jerked in Xaviers hold and I felt the jumble filling my head vanish, the sudden sensation of being empty, devoid of anything, pressed down, the pressure of nothingness almost painful. Then darkness consumed me.

* * *

Zayne

Zayne shot from the den and followed Rafayel and Sylus towards the kitchen. Before they had reached the middle of the hallway, a wave of golden light flowed towards them and passed through them, stopping them in their tracks. A shiver ran down Zayne’s spine as he recognised Sienna’s resonance evol as the light passed through him. Never before had it felt so raw, so out of control. Ice crystals formed along his fingers and hung in the air around him, then disappeared again. Rafayel and Sylus seemed to be having the same experience with their own evols, small flames and wisps of red and black mist flickering in and out of existence in the air around them.

Looking past them into the kitchen, Zayne could see Rory on her hands and knees in the middle of the kitchen, tiles cracked under her hands and shards of glass across every surface. There was a large crack in the window and the cupboard doors were vibrating on their hinges. Rory opened her eyes as another wave of resonance escaped her, flowing into everything around her.

Before it reached them, another flash of light shot past them, landing beside Rory as bowls and containers on the kitchen surfaces began to shatter. Zayne grit his teeth against the next wave, trying to keep his evol under control. This time less crystals formed around him before melting away. Sylus seemed to have gained better control as well, but Rafayel seemed overwhelmed, dropping to one knee as flames flickered around him before going out again.

Turning back to the kitchen, Zayne could see Xavier pulling Rory into his arms, red smears marking his white jumper and trousers where her hands touched. The hunter wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and released his evol, bright light surrounding them, just as another wave of her resonance pushed out of her.

Seeing the danger, Zayne jumped forwards and unleashed the ice in his veins, forming a large, thick wall before them. Blinding light filled the space around them, hitting the wall of ice and leaving deep cracks in its surface. The sound of wood splintering and concrete breaking filled their ears and the building around them groaned. Slowly, the light dimmed and the sounds of breaking quietened.

After a moment more, Zayne removed the wall before them, leaving a large wet puddle where I had been. But there was no time to worry about that. Xavier was still knelt on the kitchen floor with Rory’s prone body held in one arm. His other hand gripped his neck, partially hiding a red band that flickered before disappearing. As the three of them rushed forwards, the hunter’s eyes rolled up and he began to tip sideways, his grip on Rory going lax.

Rafayel reached the hunter first, gripping his shoulders and pulling him back to avoid the man landing face first in the sea of glass shards on the floor. Zayne managed to catch Rory’s head before it hit the broken tiles and Sylus quickly appeared beside him, red and black mist slipping from his fingers to brush the glass away from her body.

“Anybody know what the hell just happened?” Rafayel asked, trying to hold the unconscious hunter upright.

Zayne was busy listening to Rory’s pulse in her neck, the steady beat being the only thing that would calm him down. He sighed in relief and brushed some hair away from her face.

“I believe Rory just had an epileptic seizure causing the resonance evol she gained from Sienna to react.”

“Rory has epilepsy?” Sylus asked, frowning.

“That’s what her medication is for.” Zayne explained as he reached for her hand, lifting it palm up to see the cuts in her skin caused by the broken tiles and glass. He could also see from his position at her head that there were tiny rips and tears in her jeans, little spots of blood seeping through the denim material.

He reached for Rory’s other hand and stopped. An orangey band with red and gold sparks circled her wrist, moving fluidly through the air. A line of the same colour reached from the band around her wrist to a matching one around Sylus’ wrist. The silver-haired man followed Zayne’s gaze, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

“Ah,” he started, lifting his wrist slightly. The line between their wrist stretched slightly before Rory’s wrist began to lift off the ground. “Well, that’s poor timing.”

“What is that?” Zayne asked.

“That,” Sylus hesitated slightly. “That is an energy linkage. It happens occasionally…between us. Most likely due to the aether cores in our bodies.”

“You have an aether core?” Rafayel shot. “Where?”

Sylus frowned but tapped next to his eye.

The artist’s face morphed into a look of realisation.

 “So that’s how you can manipulate people! I thought it didn’t fit with your evol. How the hell did you get an aether core in your eye?”

Zayne ignored the other men’s ramblings as he considered this new development. Sienna had merged with Rory but until this point the only thing that Rory had been able to access was her memories. But now she had, not only Sienna’s evol, but her aether core as well? Was this part of their initial merge, or had Rory only just gained these additional things? Did that mean Sienna and Rory were still merging? If so, what would be the end result? How long could they wait to return to Linkon before it was too late for Rory and Sienna to separate again?

“We need to get them both upstairs.” Zayne cut in, interrupting whatever dispute the other two were having. “Sylus, take Rory. Rafayel and I will carry Xavier.”

With a little manoeuvring and the help of Sylus’ evol they managed to lift the two unconscious figures out of the kitchen. Sylus carried Rory bridal style, his arm connected to hers wrapped under her shoulders, while Zayne and Rafayel each had one of Xavier’s arms over their shoulders. They settled Xavier in the guest room at the end of the hall while Sylus took the woman into her own room.

Rafayel then, uncharacteristically, volunteered to tidy the kitchen a bit while Zayne fetched the first aid kit from the utility room. When he entered Rory’s room, he found her lying on her bed, the gangster next to her, reclining against the headboard. He looked up as the doctor entered but Zayne didn’t miss the soft, worried look in his eyes before it disappeared. He put the first aid kit on the bed and entered the ensuite to collect a damp cloth.

When he returned to the bedroom, Sylus had begun to clean the wounds on Rory’s hand, the one connected to him, using a bottle of alcohol and a cotton swab.

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” Zayne murmured as he sat on the edge of the bed and began working on Rory’s other hand.

“I’ve patched up a fair few injuries in my time.” Sylus replied casually. “Although, I’m more used to the type that are caused by bullets or knives.”

The fell into silence again as they cleaned and bandaged the woman’s hands before Zayne turned to her legs. He would have to cut her jeans away to deal with the wounds there. He hoped Rory wasn’t too attached to this pair of trousers. He worked methodically, cleaning each wound, removing any small glass shards he found and applying plasters or bandages where they were required. He didn’t realise he was frowning until Sylus spoke up again.

“What’s wrong, Doc? You look more upset than you usually do.”

Zayne paused and glanced at the woman’s peaceful, sleeping face.

“This changes everything.” He muttered.

“How so?”

Zayne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I agree with what Xavier said earlier, we can’t go back to Linkon unless we know Rory is safe here. But if she has the aether core in her heart…” He shook his head. “Protocore syndrome isn’t even known of in this world. None of the doctors here could treat her. And I don’t have access to the equipment or tests I would need. If we don’t separate Sienna and Rory soon, it could mean more than her safety,” He looked up at the other man.

“It could mean her life.”

Chapter Text

The sun shone down on my face, warm and comforting as the slight, gentle breeze pulled at the strands of my hair. The tarmac was solid beneath my slip-on shoes and the smell of burning rubber and hot metal filled the air. All around me, men and women in brown leather jackets with the DAA insignia hurried back and forth, some heading for one of the many one-man planes filling the area while others headed towards the collection of buildings around the airfield.

Beside me, walked Caleb, fresh from a flight, wearing the same uniform as those around us. It was my first visit since he’d passed his exams and become a fully-fledged pilot.

“I’ve been holding down the fort at home now that you’re gone. Especially in the kitchen. Grandma’s been praising my braised pork. She says it’s better than yours.” I ribbed as I smiled up at him.

“You and your tall tales. How do you even come up with this stuff?” His light voice settled against me so familiarly. A sound I had missed hearing at home.

“From the master himself of course. Don’t you know the saying ‘you are the company you keep’? Don’t believe me? Next time you come home we’ll settle our braised pork debate in a cook-off.” I challenged.

“So, you said all that because you miss me. It’s tough to set aside time for you. Once things settle down, I’ll be back to cooking for you every day.”

I smiled at his promise and wrapped my arms around one of his.

“Speaking of which, Grandma misses you too. Just saying.” I shrugged, trying to seem uninterested.

“Hold up, did you just say ‘too’?” He asked, turning to me with a cheeky smile and mischievous glint in his purple eyes.

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Whoa there, you have secrets? What’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?” His tone became more serious, although his mouth still twitched with a smile.

“Forget it. You don’t need to know everything. I’m an adult now. Adults need some privacy.” I rebuffed.

“But for the big stuff, you can still come to me. I’d be worried sick if I couldn’t help you with the important things.” I looked up at the sincerity in his voice. His eyes locked with mine and I could see the worry already building in him. I turned away quickly and waved my hand in the air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He pulled his arm from my grip and slung it over my shoulders.

“Come on, pip-squeak, we’ll get some lunch at the cafeteria and watch the planes while we’re eating.”

I giggled, thinking back to all the times we’d watched planes together as kids.

“I remember when you first took me to see airplanes. It was summer-“

“Spring.” He interrupted.

“Huh?”

“It was spring. Mid-March and constantly raining for some reason. You were always grumpy. Gran was working so it was just the two of us at home. I thought it wasn’t right, and I couldn’t let a good kid like you turn into a grump because of me. Watching the plane ascend like that, you suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. Your smile that day…I think…” He trailed off, his smile disappearing as he looked down at me endearingly.

“What? Where you about to call me cute? Go ahead.”

For a moment he just watched me. Then he exhaled heavily before turning away and shrugging.

“You were a cute kid; I’ll give you that. But now you’re all grown up.”

“So, being an adult means you can’t be cute anymore?”

“Sometimes.”

I watched him as we approached the building, thinking about his reaction. Just as we reached the door, the sounds of an engine reached our ears. I turned back, slipping out of Caleb’s hold to watch one of the planes line up alone the runway. I thought about the years of training Caleb had gone through to end up here. The place he’d always wanted to be. I felt motivation building in my chest and turned back to my foster-brother who was a few feet away now.

“I’m gonna ace this hunter’s exam. I’ll make Grandma proud, and I’ll make you proud too.” I shouted over the sound of the engine.

“You already have.”

I blinked, wondering if I’d heard him right before grinning.

“Caleb is such a dummy.” I laughed.

“What was that, pip-squeak?” He shouted over the noise.

“I said, in the next life I still want to be Caleb’s childhood friend.”

Suddenly a force pushed at my back, sliding me across the tarmac into my brother’s hold.

“Caleb, don’t use your evol on me!” I snapped, thumping his chest. He gripped my wrist, his other hand wrapping around my waist to hold me against him and he leaned down slightly.

“Did you just say you’d be my childhood friend in the next life?” He asked, his soft, serious voice audible over the fading engine noises.

“You…you heard that?” I spluttered

“What if I don’t want to be your childhood friend anymore?”

I wrapped my arm around Caleb’s warm, broad chest, wanting to reassure him. It took me a moment to realise I could no longer hear the planes on the runway or the chatter of people around us. Then I noticed the warmth on my legs was a blanket, not the sun. A soft gravelly chuckle reached my ears, and I opened my bleary eyes.

“Good morning, Kitten.” Sylus crooned from above me. “Who were you dreaming about that you were hugging them so affectionately?” I looked down at my arm, wrapped over his chest as my head rested on his shoulder.

Realisation finally hit and I tried to push myself up, but the gangster’s arm, which had been wrapped around my back, tightened, pulling me even closer to him.

“No need to run away, sweetie.” He teased, smirking at my flustered reaction. I tried to use my other arm, beneath me to push up and away but resistance around my wrist halted my attempt. I looked down towards my hip where my hand was resting to see a glowing orangey-red band connecting my wrist to Sylus’ hand at my waist. I knew what it was immediately. Recognising it from the game. But that meant…

My gaze drifted slightly to my hand, more specifically, the bandages around my hand. I looked at the one still resting on Sylus chest. That too was wrapped in bandages. I could also feel a slight ache on my palms which flared when I flexed my hands. I looked back up at Sylus. His smirk was gone, and he was gazing sadly at my hands.

“What happened?” I breathed. His brows furrowed as he tilted his head, searching my face.

“You don’t remember?” I sifted through my mind, attempting to piece together the gaps but everything remained clouded.

“I remember going to the kitchen to get a drink.” Realisation clicked and I closed my eyes, sighing. “I had a seizure, didn’t I?”

“You did.” The soft voice came from my doorway, and I opened my eyes again. Zayne stood just inside my open door, his eyes drifting from Sylus’ arm around my back to mine over his chest before drifting up to meet my eyes. There was a slight frown between his brows and his lips were pressed into a thin line. I felt a blush rise on my cheeks and struggled to push myself up again.

This time, Sylus helped, supporting my shoulders as I rose into a sitting position, although he kept his arm wrapped round me. As I moved, I felt a similar ache from my shins as the one I felt in my hands. I didn’t miss the brief, meaningful look the two men shared when they thought I wasn’t looking.

“How do you feel?” Zayne asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He held his hand out to me, and I placed my free one in his. Slowly, he began to unwrap the bandages.

“Not bad, surprisingly. Normally after a seizure I feel sick and disoriented. But then I’ve never passed out after a seizure before. Or actually hurt myself.” My last words came out on a breath as the last length of bandage was pulled away from my hand. Long jagged cuts intersected across my palm, the edges smeared with dried blood. I flexed my fingers slightly and felt the twinge of pain as the movement pulled on the wounds.

“Careful.” Zayne whispered. “The wounds aren’t too deep so they should heal quickly. In the meantime, you’ll need to be careful how you use your hands.” He reached over to a first aid kit on the bedside table I hadn’t noticed and pulled out a bottle of antibiotic ointment, a cotton swab and fresh bandages.

“What happened?” I breathed, watching as he began to clean the edges of the cuts with the ointment. His gaze flicked up to me before returning to focus on his work.

“Do you often get amnesia with your seizures?” He asked.

“A little.” As we spoke a faint memory surfaced. “My glass broke. Is that what caused these cuts?”

“You broke more than a glass, Kitten.” Sylus rumbled from beside me. Despite the amused tone in his voice, I could hear a slight strained note, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes when I turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Do you know what this means?” Zayne asked, tapping my wrist caught in the energy linkage with his pinkie finger. I turned back and glared at the glowing band.

“It means I have Sienna’s aether core.”

“And her evol.” Sylus added. I could feel my heart sink at the implication.

“But that doesn’t explain how I broke more than the glass I dropped. Resonance evol is passive.”

“Only when controlled.” Zayne explained. “You’re capable of resonating with any object, living or inanimate. Usually, it requires extensive training and skill to be able to resonate to the level of causing damage. However, during an epileptic seizure, brainwaves exhibit abnormal, rhythmic bursts of electrical activity, often appearing as spikes or sharp waves, which are indicative of excessive neuronal firing.”

“And resonance evol is controlled by brain waves.” I sigh, finally joining the dots. “How bad is it?”

Zayne finished rebandaging my hand before lifting his head to look me in the eye.

“The kitchen will need extensive repair work.” He stated matter-of-factly. “However, I believe some of the damage is from Xavier’s evol when he resonated with you.”

I sat up, eyes wide and pulled my other hand from Zayne’s reach.

“Is he ok? I didn’t hurt him, did I?”

Zayne’s gaze flicked from my hand to my face, momentarily distracted.

“He’s unconscious, but his vitals are normal. I believe his body just needs rest to deal with the force of the resonance.”

“Where is he?” I asked, trying to shuffle off the bed.

Zayne’s hand clamped down on my thigh while Sylus gripped my arms.

“Slow down, Kitten. Let the doctor take care of you first.”

“Once I’ve checked the rest of your injuries, I’ll take you to see him. Perhaps Sylus would be kind enough to order us some lunch, since he’s no longer linked to you.” He finished pointedly. I looked down, suddenly realising, where our hands were. Of course, if the linkage had still been active, I wouldn’t have been able to evade Zayne’s hand earlier. And Sylus wouldn’t have been able to grip my shoulder while my hand was still on the bed. Sure, enough the band of energy that had connected us had disappeared.

Despite a moment’s hesitation, Sylus took the hint. He released my shoulders and lifted his large frame from the bed before turning back to me. I couldn’t help but notice a distinct coldness settle against me where he’d been, instantly missing his warmth.

“Fancy anything in particular, sweetie?” He asked. I shrugged, settling back against the headboard.

“Pizza?” I suggested.

“A perfectly healthy choice.” Zayne muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Sylus smirked at the doctor before turning towards the door.

“Pizza it is.” He hummed as he left the room.

I turned back to Zayne to find his hand held out to me expectantly. Silently, I offered him my other hand, allowing him to remove the bandages and examine the cuts.

“What did I actually cut my hands on?” I asked after a while.

“Broken tiles.”

“I broke the floor tiles?” I asked, incredulously and dropped my head back against the wall. “Phoebe is going to kill me.”

Zayne chose not to reply to this and continued to work on cleaning and rebandaging my hand.

“I’ll need to check the cuts on your legs as well.” He explained once he was finished. I nodded my acceptance, and he pulled the blanket back off my legs. The collage of bruises, bandages and plasters across my shins shocked me for a moment before I realised, I was no longer wearing the jeans I’d put on. Instead, my appearance was kept modest by my pyjama shorts. I opened my mouth to comment, then shut it again. If I had been alone during this seizure, how badly would things have turned out? I decided, in this case, I wouldn’t make a fuss about being changed while I was unconscious.

“Did you forget to take your tablet this morning?” Zayne asked as he cleaned one of the cuts on my shin. It took a moment to understand his meaning.

“Oh, no, I took it. I’ve been known to have breakthrough seizures sometimes when I get particularly stressed.”

Zayne froze and his free hand fisted briefly before he turned to look at me. I instantly reached forward and gripped his fisted hand, hating the look of guilt in his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I asserted. “Don’t blame yourself. I knew the danger and I kept it to myself. You aren’t responsible for what happened.”

Despite my assurances, Zayne didn’t seem any less contrite once he’d finished treating and rebandaging my injuries. Once he was done, he fetched my dressing gown from the end of the bed and held it open for me to slip my arms through. He also slipped Phoebe’s fluffy slippers over my bare feet before helping me to shift off the bed. My legs felt slightly weak under me, but I was still able to walk unaided so Zayne led me across the hall to the guest room where Xavier lay motionless under the blanket.

His top had been removed and there where no marks or injuries on his body that I could see. I wondered over and perched on the edge of the bed next to him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I clasped his palm within both of my own, wishing desperately for any response, but his fingers remained limp and unmoving. I reached up and brushed the fringes of his hair away from his eyes before placing my hand back over his.

Time seemed to slip away as I kept my silent watch over Xavier's still form. The pale morning light filtering through the curtains gradually shifted across the room, casting gentle shadows that danced across his peaceful face. My thoughts drifted aimlessly while I absently traced small circles on the back of his hand with my thumb, willing him to wake up. The quiet was broken only by his steady breathing and the occasional distant sounds from elsewhere in the house. At some point during my vigil, I vaguely registered the soft click of the door and Zayne's quiet footsteps retreating down the hallway, leaving me alone with my troubled thoughts and the unconscious man before me.

My vigil was eventually interrupted by a gentle knock at the open door. I turned, momentarily startled from my daze, to find Rafayel leaning against the doorframe. His purple waves caught the mid-day light, creating an almost ethereal glow around him as he gazed down at me with an unusually gentle expression, his dual-coloured eyes filled with concern. The familiar scent of roses and sea salt drifted into the room, a comforting presence that somehow made the weight of my worry feel a little lighter.

“Hey, Cutie. How you feeling?” He asked stepping into the room. I tried to smile but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m fine.” I said quietly, before turning back to Xavier. A moment later, Rafayel kneeled down in front of me and pulled one of my hands towards him, clutching it in both of his.

“I don’t believe you.” He breathed, brushing his lips softly against the bandages, his deep-sea eyes sparkling up at me.

I pulled a face at him, and he smiled.

“Well, I guess it’s not every day I find out I’m a destructive evolver. And I have no idea how I’m going to cover the cost of the kitchen repairs. I don’t even know how to explain what happened to Phoebe. Having a seizure doesn’t usually break anything.”

Rafayel watched me as I rambled, his thumbs stroking the back of my hand soothingly.

“Why not just tell her the truth?” He suggested

I huffed derisively. “Sure, I’ll just call her up and say, ‘Hey Phebs, sorry but I managed to destroy the kitchen during a seizure because it turns out I have resonance evol, oh and the Deepspace Hunter your head-over-heals for resonated with me and made it even worse.’”

Rafayel pouted dramatically.

“She’s head-over-heels for this guy?” He asked, jutting his chin towards Xavier.

I chuckled quietly. “Yep. She’s even got a picture of him as her background on her phone.”

Rafayel’s face looked comically disgusted. I smiled and leaned towards him conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered, “you’re her second favourite.”

“Well, that’s just going to have to change. When’s she coming back?”

“Hey,” I snapped, tugging gently at his hands. “Don’t go breaking my best friend’s heart. I won’t forgive you.”

His dramatic attitude disappeared, and he looked up at me affectionately.

“Don’t worry, Cutie. You’re the only one for me.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling and looked back at the sleeping man.

“Would it be so bad if she knew?” Rafayel asked after a moment.

“It would be a disaster. She’s been playing Love and Deepspace since it came out. If she found out you guys were here…It’s just not a good idea.”

“But she’s your friend, right? Don’t you trust her?”

“Of course I do, but–“

“Then what are you afraid of?”

I paused, unsure how to answer that question. Phoebe had been like a sister to me since we reconnected five years ago. Through all my trials and struggles, she’d been there for me. She’d fed me, clothed me, housed me, taken me to my hospital appointments, even helped me start my seamstress business. She even refused rent until I had a steady income. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for her.

My fear slowly solidified into a concrete thought. Would she hate me if she found out about the boys? Would she regret all the help she’s given me? I couldn’t tell that to Rafayel, so I simply shook my head and looked away. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear, but he didn’t push.

“Come on,” he said, standing, without releasing my hand, “dinner’s here. I’m looking forward to watching you eat pizza without getting sauce on those bandages

Chapter Text

Xavier

The room was dark and quiet when Xavier finally opened his bleary eyes. A small amount of light seeping past the curtains helped him to recognise the guest room that first Sylus, then Rafayel had occupied. He looked up at the blank ceiling and pendulum light as feeling returned to his body and he automatically assessed himself of injuries. Nothing hurt. Everything seemed okay. Just the usual fatigue pulling at his muscles and thoughts.

He slowly became aware of something warm and soft wrapped around his hand and rolled his head to the side. Lying on the bed next to him, bandaged hand wrapped in his, was Rory. She was wrapped in her dressing gown, legs mostly bare, showing the assortment of bandages, plasters and bruises along her legs. Her free hand rested on the bed just below her chin and her mouth hung open slightly as she breathed slowly, deep in sleep.

Xavier watched her for long moments, enraptured by her sleeping form, so innocent, so vulnerable, so fragile. He turned to lie on his side, trying not to shake the bed, then reached up and traced a finger along her hairline, moving the loose strands away from her face. When she didn’t stir, he got bolder, running the tip of his finger over her fine eyebrows, down the side of her face and across her cheek.

As he reached the corner of her mouth he hesitated. Her full soft lips looked so inviting. He imagined leaning over and pressing his lips to hers, slipping his tongue between her teeth, swallowing each breath and sound she made. He wondered how she would taste. How she would feel as he pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together.

He swallowed, his chest heaving at the images running through his mind. But he’d promised her he would warn her. He couldn’t warn her while she was asleep. And he didn’t want to wake her. Not right now. So instead, he simply ran his finger gently over her bottom lip, feeling the soft silky skin against his pad. Another thought slipped into his mind, her lips wrapped around him, eyes hazy and love drunk as she swallowed him down.

He pulled his finger away and fisted his hand, trying to control his rising libido. He rolled onto his back again, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Clearly, his girl didn’t realise how much of a dangerous situation she’d put herself in. He glanced across the room to see the door open very slightly. Probably a good thing.

Rory mumbled next to him, her fingers twitching in his, and nuzzled further into the pillow. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he watched her. He shifted his hand against hers, interlocking their fingers and pulled the back of her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against the bandage. She mumbled again and one eye cracked open slightly.

“Xavier?” She murmured groggily.

“Hello, beautiful.” He whispered back. For a long moment she just stared at him, her mind still waking up. Then, suddenly, she pushed herself up, both eyes opening wide.

“Xavier, you’re awake!” She threw herself over him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh my god, I was so worried.”

After a moment of surprise, Xavier wrapped his own arms around her back and held her close, breathing in her honey and vanilla scent as her hair tickled his cheek. His fingers tightened against her back as he noticed the feel of her chest pressed against his and he felt his member twitch slightly. It was fortunate her lower body remained beside him on the mattress instead of straddling him. He doubted his restraint would hold if she were positioned entirely above him.

“How come I have to warn you before I hug you, but you don’t have to warn me?” He prodded. She pushed herself up slightly, hands either side of his head and swatted his shoulder.

“Don’t tease. I was really worried.” She scolded frowning down at him. He stared up into her eyes, sparkling with unshed tears. As the seconds ticked by her frown faded away and a slight blush rose in her cheeks. Xavier grit his teeth, tightening his arms still wrapped around her back. She was so damn beautiful when she blushed. Her eyes flicked between his, no doubt seeing the desire in them, and she swallowed.

Then she caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth and Xavier’s control snapped. He flipped them over, his desire turning feral, and allowed his weight to press her down into the mattress. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders as she gasped.

“Xavier-“ He did give her time to continue, silencing her with his lips pressed feverishly to hers. The kiss wasn’t sweet or gentle but hungry and desperate. He sucked at her lips, licking and biting, one hand sliding up her back to hold her head. His other hand tugged at the tie of her dressing gown until it gave way, and he slipped his hand under the material to find the fabric of her pyjama’s. He rubbed against her hip before sliding his fingers up under her top brushing against flesh.

She gasped against him and his tongue instantly invaded her mouth. Damn, she tasted divine. Like satay sauce. A mix of savoury and sweetness. He explored her mouth with his tongue as she whimpered, his hand at her waist stroking up her side. As he reached her ribs she dug her nails into his shoulders, pulling a groan from him.

Suddenly, something blisteringly cold pressed against his exposed lower back and Xavier jerked up, trying to escape the extreme temperature. As he pulled away from Rory the object disappeared, but his skin was still noticeably cold. He dropped onto his backside on the bed next to Rory and stared at the culprit.

Zayne stood beside the bed, having come in unheard. A large cube of ice sat in his hand threateningly as he glared at the hunter.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” The doctor drawled, spite clear in his voice. “But I’m sure you can find other, more productive uses for your energy.”

“What are you? Her gatekeeper?” Xavier shot back, scowling. He glanced back at Rory, but she had covered her face with her hands, clearly far too embarrassed at the whole situation. Xavier looked away, shame-faced at his lack of control.

“It’s nearly time for breakfast. Wash up and come downstairs.” Zayne ordered. “Rory, come with me. I need to check your injuries again.” He reached down and gripped one of Rory’s wrists, pulling her from the bed and dragging her from the room.

Once they were gone, Xavier growled, running his hands through his hair before dropping back onto the bed. He began to replay the kiss in his mind, remembering her taste, the sounds she made, the twitches of her muscles as he ran his hand across her skin. A smile crept onto his lips as he considered how responsive she’d been. For once she hadn’t pushed him away. If he had to guess, he’d say she actually enjoyed it.

Feeling his heart swell at the thought, Xavier pushed himself off the bed and headed for the room’s ensuite.

* * *

Rory

I allowed Zayne to lead me across the landing, feeling far too humiliated to stop him. I’d been so caught up in the feel of Xavier’s lips and hands, even just the weight of him on top of me, I hadn’t even heard the doctor come in. Neither had Xavier, clearly. But I could tell from the strength of Zayne’s grip and the coldness of his skin that he was mad.

“I thought you were going to check my injuries after breakfast?” I asked, trying to do something to break the tension.

“I was. But I wasn’t going to leave in that room alone with him.” He snapped, not looking back.

“O-oh.” I stammered, not sure what else to say.

Zayne slowed at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look at me, his face stormy. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched me. Then his eyes dropped to his hand still gripping my wrist and he quickly let go. He let out a long exhale and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did you want him to continue?” He asked, exasperated. I tugged at my sleeves before pulling my dressing gown tight around me again as I thought about his question. When he looked back at me, I shrugged.

“I don’t know.” I admitted.

“Well, I’d advise you to make up your mind soon.” I looked up at him questioningly. His features softened slightly, and he looked away.

“You could find yourself facing more situations like that the longer we’re here.” He explained before continuing his journey to the living room.

I watched him go, thinking about his words. Then I took a shaky breath and followed him.

* * *

The state of the kitchen after yesterday’s events was, honestly, dire. Broken floor tiles, loose cabinet doors, cracks in the window and a pitiful number of surviving glasses in the cupboard was bad enough. Add to that the missing glass oven door, the cracks in the microwave window – plastic, not glass – and the many dents and scratches on the fridge freezer made the room look like the aftermath of an explosion. Well, I guess it was.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Cracks in the wooden archways around the kitchen were obvious and the similar cracks in the paintwork that I was sure went right through to the plaster and brick in the walls made me worry for the structural integrity of the room. Looking at the additional cracks in the ceiling I wondered how long it would be before Phoebe’s room ended up downstairs instead. And to top it all off, the missing cupboard door under the sink showed the extensive damage to the pipe work, most of which was currently wrapped in a thick layer of ice to prevent the broken pipes from flooding the already ruined kitchen. I didn’t look forward to explaining that little detail.

Repairs were going to cost a fortune!

Phoebe was going to kill me!

Not to mention the scorch marks on the hallway floor from Rafayel’s evol. Thankfully the large puddle of water left from Zayne’s evol had been moped up the day before and the shards of glass and ceramic pottery had been cleared up and disposed of. I suppose I should be glad it was Xavier that resonated with me and not one of the other guys. I pictured what the kitchen might look like if I had resonated with Rafayel, Zayne or Sylus and shivered. Rafayel and Sylus would probably have destroyed the entire house, and Zayne would have just left a frozen wasteland in its place.

I stared at the spiderweb-like cracks in the tiles, spreading out from two specific points, where my hands had been. The cuts on my palms throbbed as I thought about how much damage those broken tiles had done. Zayne had efficiently cleaned and rebandaged my hands and legs again before breakfast, which had been nothing more than cereal and toast. He’d given me an estimated total recovery time of 2 weeks, with the minor scrapes and bruises healing over the next 3-7 days. Unfortunately, the wounds on my palms were the worst, meaning I was limited in the use of my hands for the next fortnight.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of wheels rolling against the wooden floors. I turned to see Sylus entering the hall from the garage, a large backpack slung over his shoulder and two more hanging from one hand, the other rolled a medium sized hardback suitcase with small plastic wheels along the floor.

“What’s all this?” I asked, approaching.

Sylus glanced round at the sound of my voice just as Rafayel followed him out of the garage spinning a set of keys around his finger.

“Something to pack our new clothes into.” The gangster said as if it were obvious.

I frowned. “Why do you need to pack your clothes?”

“Because we’re moving of course.” Rafayel explained, exuberantly.

“Uh, no we’re not.” I protested.

“Yes, we are.” Rafayel shot back, copying my tone. “No way are we staying here without a working kitchen.”

“I can’t just leave.”

“You’re the one that told us to stay out of sight, Kitten. How are we supposed to do that with tradesmen coming in to do repairs?” Sylus reasoned, his trademark smirk on his lips.

I glared at Sylus, hating him for being right. But I still wasn’t prepared to give in.

“I can’t leave.” I emphasized again.

“Why not?” Xavier asked, approaching from the living room. “Don’t people do it all the time when they go on holiday?”

“Holiday, yes. Moving house, no.”

“So just view it as a holiday.” Rafayel suggested. “It’s only for a month.”

I stared at the artist, blinking.

“What’s only for a month?” I asked, cautiously.

“The villa. I only rented it for month. That should be enough time for the workmen to finish the repairs, don’t ’cha think?”

“You rented a villa?”

“Yep. Looks really nice. Open plan, plenty of bedrooms, and” he leaned forwards, eyes glimmering excitedly. “It overlooks the sea.”

The sea? The coast was over two hours away! But then…I’d never actually seen the sea. Rafayel smiled as a slightly wistful look entered my eyes and I mentally shook myself.

“No, no. I can’t go on holiday. I have…work.”

“Not right now you don’t.” Zayne’s voice echoed from the balcony above and I looked up to see him leaning on the banisters looking down at us. “You’re not to touch that sewing machine for at least a week, preferably two.”

“But my clients-“

“Will understand if you explain your injuries.”

Why did I suddenly feel backed into a corner?

“A holiday would be good for you.” Xavier encouraged in his soft voice.

“Plus, there’s enough room for you to set up your sewing stuff for when you can work again.” Rafayel added.

I looked between them all, mouth agape, desperately trying to find a reason not to go.

“I don’t have a suitcase.” I lied.

“There’s one on top of your wardrobe.” Sylus offered.

Bugger. So much for that plan. I sighed heavily.

“Fine.” I groaned.

“Don’t worry, Cutie. You’re gonna love it!”

“When are we leaving?” I huffed.

“Check-in is tomorrow at 3.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket as Sylus handed out the backpacks and suitcase, no surprise the hardcover was for Rafayel. 3:27pm. I would have to wait until the morning to contact Phoebe. At least I had time to figure out exactly what I was going to tell her.

“Oh, and Rory,” Zayne called down, “No heavy lifting. You’re to pack light items only. We’ll look after the rest.”

I rolled my eyes without looking up as I muttered under my breath.

“I think I preferred it when you guys hated each other.”

Chapter Text

I sat staring at the screen of my phone on the desk in front of me. My fingers tapped a drumbeat like the sound of rain on a window as my knee bounced uncontrollably under the desk. I had one task left. My clothes were packed, my clients called and Xavier and Rafayel were currently packing up my sewing tools and projects under my supposed supervision. But my mind was fully focused on this one last phone call I had to make and what I was actually going to say.

I flicked my eyes up to the laptop screen, showing the listing for the villa Rafayel had booked before glancing back down at the phone. What would she think? Would she be mad about the damage? Or happy I was finally taking a holiday? Should I tell her about my injuries? No, bad idea. Phoebe had very strong maternal instincts, despite not having children. She would make such a fuss. What about the guys? Should I tell her about them? She’d probably book a flight home before I’d even finished explaining if I did that.

“Damn, Cutie. I never realised sewing required so much stuff.” Rafayel moaned as he pulled a box from one of the cubby holes in the base of my centre table. It was piled to the brim with ribbons, lace, sequins, applique and scrap fabric from previous projects that I was saving in case I could find a use for them. Waste not, want not after all. The tabletop was covered in an assortment of things including a small box of clothing patterns, a small sewing box I used for emergencies containing a few basic items, a collection of tailors chalk, pins, fabric weights and cutters. My sewing machine had already been packed away and added to the pile of bags in the hallway for Zayne and Sylus to try and fit in the car along with a few of my personal projects I was hoping to work on, once I could use my hands again, including the outfits I’d promised to make for the guys and still not finished. The one thing that definitely wouldn’t fit was my dressmaker’s mannequin. Guess I would just have to manage without for a while.

“That box can stay, Rafayel. It’s just scraps and decorations, nothing important.”

“What about all this?” Xavier asked indicating the items laid out on the table. He’d been pulling them out of the drawers just under the top of the table. I pushed out of my chair and approached.

“Well, there’s no point taking all of it.” I looked over the collection of items appraisingly before selecting one pack of chalk, one pot of pins, five weights and my best cutter. “These will do. The rest can go back in the draws.”

“What about the patterns?” Rafayel asked, flicking through the collection thoughtfully.

“I’ll leave those. I don’t have the material for any new projects so there’s no reason to take them.”

I turned back to help Xavier put away the rest of the items on the table and froze. He’d opened a drawer I used for accessories to go with the outfits I made and pulled out an intricate silver mask.

“What’s this?” He asked, a small frown creasing his brow. Damn it, he recognises it! I reach out and grabbed it from his hands, stuffing it in another drawer.

“It’s nothing, just something for a job someone asked for.”

“What job? I thought you’d cancelled everything?” Rafayel asked.

“It was from before. I forgot to include the mask when they picked it up. I forgot I even had it.” I rambled, trying to laugh it off. Even I could tell it wasn’t convincing. I certainly wasn’t going to mention that the outfit to go with it was amongst the projects I had packed to take with me. It was practically finished but needed a little bit of altering.

“And this one?” Xavier asked pulling another mask out of the draw. Whereas the silver mask was meant to cover just the eyes, this mask was designed to fit over the nose and mouth. It was made from a hard black plastic with the shape of a mouth full of long sharp teeth moulded into it. Before I could snatch that one from him as well, Rafayel and reached out and taken it. His face took on a look of confused astonishment before he turned to me, one brow raised.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, accusingly.

“I don’t remember.” I lied, circling the table to take the mask back. As I reached out, Rafayel skip backways away from me, holding the mask out of my reach. I scowled at him but didn’t give chase. I’d learnt my lesson from the sketchpad incident. And yes, the matching outfit for that mask was also in my WIP pile. Now they’d found the masks, however, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the courage to work on the outfits with them around.

My phone began to ring out on the desk, interrupting my plotting to get the mask back from Rafayel.

“Just put it back.” I begged as I approached the desk. The name flashing on my phone screen made me pause. Phoebe Benson. Yikes. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say. Even worse, she was video calling me! Why was she video calling me? Don’t panic! I told myself. She hasn’t seen you in three weeks. It’s probably nothing serious.

“Guys, it’s Phoebe. Keep it down.” I said as I picked up the phone. I turned my back to the desk and swiped across the answer button. Long strawberry blond hair and baby blue eyes filled my screen, full red lips pulled into a pout under a small button nose.

“Hey, Phoebe.” I smiled, trying to sound casual.

“What the hell is going on, Rory?” She snapped. I winced as my phone speakers crackled at the volume of her voice.

“Going on? I don’t-“

“You told me there was one guy visiting not three! And you didn’t tell me they looked like the LADS boys!”

I gaped at the phone, my mind spinning manically. Rafayel and Xavier had both stopped what they were doing and looked up curiously.

“Phoebe, what are you talking about?”

“The video!” She exclaimed. “It’s trending all over the internet! Don’t act like you don’t know about it.”

“Phoebe, what video?”

She growled her frustration and turned away from the phone screen for a moment.

“There, check your emails. I sent you a link.” She said, turning back.

I turned back to my desk, perching the phone on the edge of the laptop screen and pulled up a new internet page, logging into my emails. I opened the link she’d sent and sat down. The minute the video started playing my heart sank. It was from the market square the day Zayne and I had gone shopping. There was Sylus on his bike and Rafayel posing for photos. A second later Zayne and I appeared from the crowd. The screen zoomed in to get a close up of Sylus’ face before Zayne blocked their view. The camera moved up to see the doctor glancing over his shoulder briefly before turning away. The image then moved to me, a clear side profile of my face as I expostulated at Sylus before moving to look at Rafayel and the many poses he was pulling. The video continued until the four of us drove away before the screen went blank.

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t you!” Phoebe warned, but I wasn’t listening. This video was all over the internet. It was trending so much it had even reached Phoebe in Hong Kong! How long would it be before people started showing up in the area just looking for a sight of these guys? What if Sylus and Rafayel had been spotted when they went out yesterday? Had they been followed back? Were people watching the house now?

Had he seen it?

A jolt of fear went through me, quickly burning into anger. I told them! I said to stay out of sight. I knew something like this would happen! I warned them! Why didn’t they listen. I didn’t realise I’d clenched my fists until sharp pain broke through my thoughts. I hissed at the discomfort, slowly unclenching my hands. Instantly, Rafayel appeared beside me.

“Hey, take it easy.” He said. “You don’t want to open your wounds again.”

I glared at him, pulling my hands out of his reach.

“This is your fault!” I snapped, standing to poke his chest. “I told you to stay out of sight.”

“My fault?” Rafayel pouted at me. “It was Sylus’ idea. Besides you said they’d think we were cosplayers so it would be fine.”

Phoebe started squealing down my phone, making the speakers crackle again, but I wasn’t paying attention.

“Well, it’s not fine, is it? This video has made it all the way to Hong Kong! In a week. How long do you think it will take before the whole world has seen this?” I was practically shouting at this point.

“Is it really that bad?” Xavier asked, still over by the table. I turned my fuming gaze to him to find that he’d gone and retrieved the silver mask from the drawer I’d buried it in.

“Xavier, I told you to leave that alone!” I snapped, storming over to grab the mask back out of his hands. But before I could reach it, he gripped my wrist, holding the mask out of reach and pulled me closer. Leaning down he stared at me, making sure I was paying attention.

“Calm down.” He said quietly. “I know you’re upset but getting angry isn’t going to solve anything.”

I stared back at his brilliant blue eyes, feeling like they could see right into my heart. My anger sizzled out and I swallowed, trying to bury the fear that was now rising. It was only then I realised Rafayel was chatting away behind me. I looked over my shoulder, wrist still in Xavier’s grip and groaned. Rafayel had not only introduced himself to Phoebe, but he had actually picked up my phone and turned the screen to face us.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” Phoebe chanted, the picture on the phone pixilating with the speed she was moving. Bouncing up and down in excitement, I guessed. This was not going well. I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead onto Xavier’s chest, wishing I could simply disappear.

“Hang on,” Phoebe suddenly said, sounding much calmer. “Girl, what happened to your hand?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I responded automatically, trying to pull away from Xavier. He kept his grip on my wrist and looked down at me with raised eyebrows.

“Hmph, a bit more than nothing.” Rafayel scoffed, walking around the table so Phoebe could see my whole body. Xavier quickly pulled my wrist, spinning me around so my legs were on show to the camera.

“AURORA DELANEY, YOU TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED RIGHT NOW!” Phoebe shouted down the phone. I flinched at the sound of my full name. I hated when she called me that.

“Okay, okay.” I conceded, finally managing to pull my hand from Xavier’s grip. I walked over and snatched the phone from Rafayel’s grasp before heading to the door.

“Can you take the last few things down for me?” I asked over my shoulder. “And put those masks away.”

I left the room and headed down the hall to my bedroom. Sat on my bed at last I lifted the phone and began to explain the events of the past week to my friend. I told her about waking up to find the four men in the house. Rafayel’s intrusion on Daniel’s fitting, my bet with Sylus and subsequent shopping trip with Zayne and my recent seizure along with the state of the kitchen. I told her about Sienna and how she had somehow become a part of me. How I could remember her whole life as well as I could my own. How her evol and aether core had somehow become mine. I didn’t tell her about any of the intimate moments I’d shared with any of the guys. Those were private.

“Rory, why didn’t you tell me you were going through all that? I thought you knew you could talk to me.”

“I did. I mean I do. I just…didn’t think you’d believe me. And really, it’s not been so bad. Sure, the first few days were hard but once everyone got used to the situation things have actually been pretty good. They guys are all really helpful. Especially Zayne. I think it would be chaos without him around to keep the others in line.”

“I can’t believe he bought you a jasmine necklace.” Phoebe sighed. “Do you think he knew what it meant?”

I shook my head.

“He just said it reminded him of me and thought I’d like it.”

“Ah, poor guy. I guess you haven’t told him. You know, about his myths.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not gonna subject him to that.”

“What about the others? Do they know?”

“I don’t think so. When they first got here, they didn’t seem to know each other at all. I think they’ve all figured out that I know their pasts but none of them have said anything in front of each other, as far as I’m aware.”

We sat in silence for a moment, considering everything we knew about the four men.

“I think I should come home.” Phoebe finally concluded. “With that video out and everything, it would be better-“

“No, Phoebe. No. Your work is important. You only have one week left. Besides, I told you. We’re going to a villa on the coast for a while. I’ll be fine. And the guys have all offered to cover the repair costs. I even messaged Daniel asking him to come and feed Chester until you get back.”

“But I really think-“

“You need to focus on work.” I said firmly. “We’ll be fine without you for a week.”

“Hmm.” She pulled a face at me, not convinced.

“I’ll send you the address of the villa if you promise not to come home early.” I coaxed.

Her eyes widened slightly, and I could see the sparkle of her imagination as she considered actually meeting the boys in person.

“Well…okay fine. But you know I’m not gonna be able to focus all week.”

I smiled at her. “Of course not.” In truth, Phoebe was one of the most responsible members in her firm. She held a managerial role for a major department in the company, the youngest in the business history to reach such a high position. It’s one of the things I loved about Phoebe. She could be really childish sometimes and loved to mess around and make jokes but when it came down to it, she was one of the most mature and responsible people I knew.

“And tell the guys not to worry about the kitchen. I can cover it. I’ll contact some of the people I’ve used before and ask Daniel to arrange a key for them.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Go and enjoy your holiday. And promise to tell me if anything else happens.”

“Promise.”

We said goodbye and ended the call. I sighed. The news of the video still worried me but having spoken to Phoebe I felt a lot calmer. She always was good at talking me down from my fears and paranoia. And now that the issue with the kitchen was sorted, I found myself actually looking forward to the holiday. It would be nice to get away.

With a small smile on my face, I stood and left my room. And proceeded to walk right into Zayne. I stumbled back slightly and caught myself on the doorframe.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” I said before looking up into his face. He hadn’t moved since I’d opened the door, a strange look I couldn’t place covering his face as he stood stock still.

“Zayne?” I asked, reaching forward to place my hand on his arm.

“What does the jasmine necklace mean?” He asked quietly.

I pulled back like I’d been burned. “You heard that?”

“What does it mean?” He asked again.

I shook my head, trying to think of an excuse for explaining.

“Rory, why did you cry when I gave you that necklace.” His voice was hard, but he spoke quietly. Then I saw a flicker in his eyes, one I recognised too well. Fear. He was afraid of what he didn’t know, because it made me sad. I reached up and cupped his face.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

He hesitated, then nodded.

“The jasmine flower has significance from your past. It’s not something you remember and…it’s not…good. If you really want to know, I’ll show you when we get to the villa. But you need to be absolutely sure. Knowing what I know, it could change everything for you.”

He stared down at me for a moment, thinking hard about what I’d said. Finally, he gave a small nod.

“I’ll think about.”

Chapter Text

Sylus swerved along the wide coastal roads, feeling the heat of the mid-afternoon sun through his black leather jacket. In the distance the sea sparkled like diamonds stretching from the horizon. He could see the villa at the summit of a hill ahead of him, it’s sandy cream walls standing proudly above the trees and vegetation. A pang of regret filled him that he wasn’t there to see his Kitten’s face when she first saw the view. But he'd had more important matters to take care of.

He was glad to discover, as he approached the villa, that it was a gated lot. The large wrought iron gates would be difficult for anyone to climb without the right equipment, and the high stone wall around the perimeter would be just as difficult. He also noted the camera on the wall, perfectly positioned to detect anyone approaching. At least homeowners in this world had some understanding of security measures.

As he approached the gates they began to open, and he frowned behind his helmet. Were they on a sensor? Would they open for anyone? But when he looked up the steep driveway, he could see Rafayel standing with his hands on his hips, staring down at him. Clearly his approach had been noted. He reeved his engine to push his bike up the hill until he reached the artist where the land levelled out.

The end of the driveway was covered by a sturdy roof held up by pillars on the left and a brick wall on the right, the same side as the villa. At the end of the roofed section was a wall with a large garage door in it’s centre. The convertible was parked just under the roof, it’s top down and boot open. Zayne and Xavier were busy lugging the many bags and boxes into the villa.

Sylus pulled up at the edge of the driveway, narrowly avoiding one of the many lights planted along the edge of the paved area. As he parked the vehicle and turned off the engine, the artist approached, looking peeved.

“Where the hell have you been?” He demanded as Sylus removed his helmet, swinging his leg over the bike.

“Thought I’d run an errand on the way here. Seeing as it’s such nice weather I thought we might enjoy a barbeque for dinner.” He opened the seat of his bike and pulled out a bag full of burgers, sausages, chicken fillets and kebab sticks. In truth, his trip to the shops had been an afterthought. He’d separated from the others an hour into their journey when he’d identified the same car behind them that he’d seen shortly after they left the house. Allowing some distance to grow between himself and the convertible the others were travelling in, he took a detour, leading their tail through the houses before loosing them. Not that he was going to say that out here where Rory might overhear. She didn’t need to know.

“Where’s the Kitten?” He asked, closing the seat and locking it. Rafayel jerked his head towards the villa.

“Inside taking a look around. No way were we gonna let her do any heavy lifting with her hands like they are.”

“And how are your hands?” Sylus smirked as he headed past the artists.

Rafayel spluttered in shocked frustration before responding.

“Far better cared for than yours, that’s for sure.” He snapped at Sylus’ retreating form. The gangster chuckled but didn’t respond. “Did you bother to get any baps?” The artist called again after a moment.

Sylus held up his hands, still not looking back. “I’ve only got so much storage in the bike. You want baps, go get them yourself.” He could hear the artists muttering behind him and chuckled again, lowering his hands and allowing the bag of meat to hang by his leg again, tucking the thumb of his free hand into the pockets of his trousers.

The villa itself was built higher than the garage, although they were still connected. The ground floor of the villa was another level up from the garage and a winding set of paved stairs were built into the side of the hill leading up to the front door. The banisters on the stairs were made from thick black metal bars with matching black metal plates between them. As he ascended the stairs, Sylus reached out and tapped one of the plates experimentally. Thick enough to prevent a fall down the hill but not enough to provide any real protection.

He paused mid-way up to scan the area in front of the villa. Despite the height of the stone walls from the outside, the incline of the land around the villa made the drop inside the wall negligible. On the plus side, there were clear sight lines from the road approaching in both directions and sheer cliffs either side of the walled land beyond that. It would be difficult for someone to approach unnoticed.

Reaching the open front door, he was please to notice another security camera in the roof of the small porch area, although the glass double doors bordered by large windows either side were not as comforting. The hallway beyond the door was unusually wide and ran the full length of the villa, a similar set of glass doors and windows in the wall at the far end leading out into the garden. Mid way down the corridor was a large wooden dinning table and chairs with some sort of ornamental silver carving in its centre. On his left a wall ran the full length of the corridor, three doors evenly spaced and a staircase just past the second door leading to the first floor. Looking up, Sylus discovered the main part of the villa was open to all three floors. The first and second floor were built in what appeared to be an L-shape over the larger ground floor, waist-high walls acting as banisters along the edges of the landings.

On Sylus’ right was another wall, one floor high and reaching some 15 feet ahead of him before ending. There were hanging plants fixed to its top, clearly fake, with a thin table holding decorative bowls and ornaments pushed up against it. Above the table hung a garish looking abstract painting. Sylus grimaced at the bright colour and undefined pattern before turning away. As he moved further into the villa, Xavier exited the first door on his left and paused. He glanced over his shoulder briefly before approaching the gangster.

“Did you get the plates?” He asked quietly. Sylus raised his brow curiously.

“Plates?”

Xavier glared at him. “From the car.”

Sylus was taken aback, though he really ought to have learned that this seemingly drowsy hunter noticed more than he let on. His mouth curved into an entertained smile as he cocked his head at Xavier.

“What do you take me for, hunter? An amateur?”

Xavier stared at him for a moment, pressing his lips together before giving a sharp nod and moving past him to collect more luggage from the car. Sylus watched him go for a moment, reconsidering the value he’d placed on the other man before turning to the still open door in the corridor. Peering inside he discovered a bedroom with the twin beds pushed lengthways against the wall to serve more as a long sofa. A desk near the outer wall supported Rory’s sewing machine and the woman in question was manoeuvring a number of clothes into the room’s wardrobe. Once the clothes were hung, she turned and spotted him in the doorway.

“Sylus, you made it.” She smiled and he felt his heart warm at the sight. “Isn’t this place amazing!”

“I’ve only just arrived, sweetie. I’ll judge it once I’ve had a look around.” He teased, smirking. She pulled a face at him before turning to another box on the bed and pulling out a pile of folded clothes.

“Where did you go anyway? One minute you were behind us and then you were just gone.”

Sylus stifled a sigh. She was a complete contrast to the hunter when it came to observation. But maybe that was for the best. Instead, he lifted the bag of meats in his hand.

“I stopped by the shop for some things for a barbeque tonight. The listing did say this place had a barbeque, didn’t it?” He didn’t really need to ask but Rory was clearly enamoured with this place and hearing her gush about it was almost as addictive as seeing her in a temper.

“Yep, it’s on the balcony on the top floor.” Sylus looked up to see the top of another staircase on the level above leading to what appeared to be a hallway on the second floor with a wall of large windows just visible.

“Here, let me put that in the fridge for later while you have look around.” Rory said, dumping her pile of folded clothes in a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe before approaching and lifting the shopping bag from his grip.

He considered keeping hold of the bag, not sure if it would hurt her hands, but he didn’t want to limit her anymore than she already was. So, he allowed her to take the bag, pleased to note that she wrapped her hands around the contents rather than holding it by the handle – less strain on her palms that way. He followed her further into the house, pausing by the end of the wall opposite as she rounded the corner.

The first thing he noticed was the triple storey of floor to ceiling windows in the outer wall. With the sun still high in the sky, the ground floor was filled with light. Sylus grimaced slightly, wishing the builders hadn’t gone overboard with the glass. But there was little he could do about it now. In front of the excessive number of windows was a large area of flooring a few steps lower than the rest. Pushed to the edges of this lowered section was a collection of chic looking sofas and a large coffee table. Pots with more fake plants were placed in each of the corners of the area with steps down to the lower level at either end. At the far end of this section, on the same level as the rest of the ground floor was a large plasma screen tv mounted to the wall behind it.

Looking to the right, Sylus discovered a large stylish kitchen behind the single floor wall next to him. With soft grey cupboards and marble worktops it gave a level of class to the villa he hadn’t expected. Someone had clearly spent a small fortune on this area alone. Between the kitchen and the lowered living room was a breakfast counter with four bar stools against it. The dinning room in the centre of the corridor was in line with the living room, making the main living area of the villa the brightest no matter the time of day.

Heading off to explore the rest of the house, Sylus discovered the second door at the base of the stairs led to a small library, no doubt a bonus in Xavier’s mind but not particularly interesting to Sylus. The room at the end and the one opposite, the one behind the wall the TV was mounted on, were both bedrooms. Looking out the back doors, Sylus could see a large patio and swimming pool in the garden surrounded by six-foot-high fences. Not for the first time he mourned the lack of his mechanical crow, Mephisto for surveillance.

The first floor had much the same layout as the ground floor, except for the living space, with three doors on the left and one on the right. Three of these were bedrooms, and the last one on the left, closest to the front of the house was a study. He found his bag of clothes behind the middle door on the left and took the chance to strip out of his biking leathers and change into a pair of tailored trousers, a tight-fitting white t-shirt and a pair of comfy leather shoes. He also fetched his sunglasses from the bag, figuring he was going to need them in this house full of windows.

It seemed all the bedrooms were set up to a similar standard, including a double bed, desk, shelving unit and wardrobe. Each room also seemed to have its own ensuite. He briefly wondered how much the artist had paid to rent this place before quickly deciding he didn’t care.

Investigating the top floor, Sylus discovered the landing he’d identified earlier stretched from one side of the house to the other, a couple of two-seaters placed at an angle on the far right. The wall in front was again full of windows with two sets of doors at either end. Beyond them was a large balcony with a barbeque and benches on the left and a collection of high-end garden sofas and chairs on the right.

The corridor on this floor had only one internal door which led to a room that reached right back to the front of the villa. It was set up as another living room, but Sylus could already see where furniture had been moved aside and spotted the artist’s sketchpad on the nearby coffee table. Clearly Rafayel was intending to use this room as a studio.

As the afternoon wore on, Sylus discovered that Rory and Zayne had claimed the bedrooms on the ground floor while Rafayel and Xavier had the other two rooms on the first floor. He used the opportunity of everyone settling in and unpacking to do some research, lifting Rory’s laptop that she’d brought with her while she wasn’t looking.

In the privacy of his room he quickly hacked into the vehicle database again and looked up the plates for the car that had been tailing them. It led back to some 60-year-old office worker, but a notice quickly flashed up with a report of the vehicle being stolen. So much for that lead. He then considered the conversation the four of them had had in the den back at Rory’s house before she’d had her seizure. He still hadn’t taken the time to look into their suspicions. Maybe now was a good time to do so.

* * *

The evening proved to be relatively enjoyable. Sylus took the time to demonstrate his grilling skills on the barbeque, Xavier almost salivating over his shoulder at the abundance of meat, before they settled down to watch the sun set over the sea. Rafayel regaled them all with tales of his travels to find inspiration and items he could turn into paint for his work. Xavier quickly drifted off, his head on Rory’s lap as she listened intently to the artist. Sylus was simply content watching his Kitten finally enjoying herself. But he didn’t fail to notice the doctor’s uncharacteristic silence. Clearly, there was something playing on his mind.

Once the sun had set, they all meandered their way to their rooms. Sylus was in desperate need of a shower and didn’t hesitate to strip and hop under the cool water once his door was closed. He took his time soaking under the constant stream as his mind replayed the days events. Despite the large number of windows in the building, he had to admit the villa was relatively secure. Due to the cliffs around the perimeter, the only way to access the building was from the front which had clear sight lines from all directions. He’d also discovered the gate was rigged with an alarm in case anyone tried to climb it, as well as the alarm inside the house to warn of a break-in.

Finally finishing his shower, Sylus wrapped a towel around his waist and ran his hands through his wet hair. What he really needed right now was a drink. He wondered if the artist, who had eventually gone out to get the baps he so desperately wanted, had thought to pick up any alcohol. He decided to investigate and ambled out of his room. Considering how late it was he didn’t expect to see any of the others wandering around so didn’t bother getting changed. Reaching the kitchen however, he was both please and slightly disgruntled to find Rory pouring herself a glass of water.

A wicked gleam reached Sylus eyes as he watched the woman, who clearly hadn’t noticed him. On silent feet, he approached her slowly, waiting for the moment she turned around. By the time she did notice him he was barely a few feet away. She gasped as she nearly crashed into him before he wrapped his arms around her to steady her. Once she was over her initial shock her eyes took in his lack of clothing, tracing down the planes of his chests, over his abs and down to his v-line just visible over the top of the towel. A deep blush covered her face and she backed up against the counter, trying to avert her eyes.

“See something you like?” He purred, resting his hands on the counter either side of her and leaning down slightly. Her blush darkened at his words.

“What are you doing wandering around like that?” She asked, clearly flustered.

“What are you doing up so late?” He countered. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I was just getting a drink.”

“Don’t let the doctor see. He’d scold you for walking around in such…thin clothes.” He leaned even closer, whispering in her ear, letting her feel his breath against her skin, but still not touching. He noticed her slight shiver at his proximity but her tone of voice when she responded was unexpected.

“I don’t think he’d even notice right now.” His brow furrowed as he caught the slump in her shoulders, the downcast eyes, and the slight tremble in her lower lip. Taking a step back, his crimson gaze searched her face.

“Whatever do you mean, Kitten?”

She looked up at him, the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. Then she looked past him, up at the top floor.

“I told him something, about his past. I didn’t want to, but he insisted. I don’t think he took it very well.”

Sylus turned to follow Rory’s gaze. He could just make out the shadow of Zayne’s head and shoulders against the night sky. Being the man that he was, Sylus had wasted little time upon meeting the others to do what research he could into them. He had found the information online explaining each of their pasts, so he figured he had a fairly clear idea of what Rory had explained to the doctor to put him in such a mood. He sighed. Rory was clearly upset about the whole situation. He knew what he had to do.

Turning back to the woman in front of him he stepped back from the counter.

“Get some sleep, Kitten. I’m sure things will feel better in the morning.”

She looked doubtful but nodded all the same. With a quiet good night, she scurried back to her room. Sylus approached the fridge and opened it to discover a six pack of beers on the bottom shelf. Not his first choice but it would do in a pinch. He grabbed two before returning to his room and sliding on a clean set of clothes. Then he escalated the stairs to the second floor and pushed through the doors on the right.

Zayne sat on one of the garden sofa’s staring up at the stars. When he noticed Sylus approaching, he sat forward but didn’t say anything. Reaching the sofa Sylus offered him one of the beers. The doctor looked between the drink and the gangster before shaking his head.

“No, thank you.” He muttered. Sylus shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” He placed the second bottle on the table and approached the wall around the edge of the balcony. Using the edge of the brickwork, he quickly knocked the cap off the bottle before turning around and leaning against the wall. He took a swig of his drink before levelling a look at the doctor.

“You’ve been preoccupied all day, doc. Our girl’s worried about you.”

Zayne exhaled deeply and ran his hand through his hair, leaning forward on his knees.

“It wasn’t intentional.” He muttered. Obviously, Sylus thought.

“Care to talk?”

Zayne looked up at him sceptically.

“Talk to you? You want me to believe you’re here to help?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, doc. I’m worried for the Kitten and right now she’s worried for you.”

Zayne leaned back in his seat again. “I doubt you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

The doctor watched him for a moment before sitting up slightly straighter.

“Have you had much experience with curses?” He asked. Sylus stifled a laugh but couldn’t stop the twisted smile.

“More than most.” He replied. Zayne seemed to perk up slightly at this, tilting his head as he stared at the man in front of him.

“How so?”

Sylus leant his elbows back on the wall behind him and looked up at the dark, starry sky. Once upon a time he had flown through a sky like this, revelling in the freedom he felt whilst airborne. He was hesitant to share his own past, but he knew Zayne needed a connection, something to ground him to reality long enough to process what he’d learnt.

“I was fated to kill the love of my life.” Sylus muttered, lost in the memories of a time long gone. After a moment he turned back to the doctor. “Then I was cursed to meet her again, and yet she didn’t know me. She didn’t even like me.”

“You’ve met Rory before. Before Sienna?”

“Centuries before.” Sylus confirmed.

“Did you kill her?”

Sylus frowned and took another swig of his drink.

“I would have thought you’d know the answer to that, doc. No matter the circumstances, I could never hurt her. I loved her, even when I didn’t think I was capable of love.”

“So, what happened?”

 He looked back at the seated man, the look in his eyes full of the pain he once felt.

“I made her kill me.”

Zayne’s face took on a look of awed understanding.

“It seems we’re more alike than I realised.” He stood from the seat and approached the wall, placing his hands on its surface. Sylus turned around to stare out at the dark sea, his elbows still resting on the wall.

“How many times have you met her?” Zayne asked.

“Sienna was the second, Rory is the third. I spent a long time searching for her before I found her again. What about you?” The research Sylus had uncovered hadn’t mentioned that detail and he was curious.

Zayne took a deep breath and released it before replying.

“How many jasmines can you fit in a field?”

Chapter Text

Rafayel stared at the view in front of him in awe, wondering how he had been so fortunate to arrive at such a perfect moment. He had woken late, as always. Too many nights staying up to paint had permanently altered his body clock. Breakfast had been an animated affair, the change in venue seeming to have improved everyone’s moods. Even Zayne smiled a few times during the meal.

Rafayel had then announced his intention of going to get supplies, hoping Rory, out of all of them would offer to join him. But his luck was out. Despite a concerned glance, she made no noise about his plans while the others listed off things they wanted him to get, none of which he had paid attention to. She had spoken up just before he left however, insisting he wear a hat and glasses while he was out. He pouted and complained about getting hat hair but in truth he’d always intended to wear them. Despite his nonchalant attitude the threat of ‘fans’ coming to kidnap him and then discovering he was in a video that was trending across the world had rattled him slightly. He could see the need to hide his face.

The mall was only a short drive from the villa and Rafayel was soon striding through the shops collecting canvases, brushes, a high-end collection of paints and an easel. He picked up a few other non-descript items before hurrying back to the car. He’d had an image forming in his head and wanted to get it down on paper as soon as possible. However, when he returned to the villa and scaled the stairs to the top level, he was struck motionless by the view in front of him.

Beyond the window, staring out at the glistening sea, was Rory. Her knee length summer dress of white with small orange flowers flowed around her legs in the gentle breeze. A wide brimmed summer hat covered her head, her long hair drifting across her back below the brim. One hand reached up to keep her hair out of her face. In the distance, clear blue sky stretched to the horizon while the midday sun shone on the calm sea, creating pinpricks of reflective light, sparkling like diamonds.

Unable to contain himself, Rafayel slowly lowered his bags to the floor at the top of the stairs and slid his phone out of the pocket of his trousers. He selected the camera and raised the phone. The window frame perfectly outlined the scene like the edges of a canvas.

Click.

He turned the phone landscape and-

Click.

At that moment, something caught her eye, and she turned, catching sight of him on the landing. He noticed her dress had a line of buttons down the centre and wide straps over her shoulders, fitting perfectly to her figure.

Click.

Click.

A small smile graced her lips but the faint blush on her cheeks gave away her embarrassment. She turned away again, hiding her face behind the brim of her hat. Rafayel wasn’t fazed. He pushed through the balcony doors and approached the wall, still aiming his phone camera at her. He started far enough away that he could get her whole body in the picture.

Click

Click

With each picture he took he stepped closer. From this angle he could see the cliff face of the coast reaching to the horizon behind her.

The sea in front of her and the land behind her; a goddess of two worlds.

Click

Click

Click

When he was just a few feet away, she turned to him again, pulling a face.

“Don’t you think you’ve taken enough photo’s now?” She asked. He smiled at her over the phone, taking another step closer.

“You can never have too many photos.”

Click.

She reached her hand up and covered the camera lens on the back of the phone.

“Enough.” She chided, although her lips twitched with a smile. He reached up and hooked his fingers under hers, pulling the phone out of her grasp before lifting her fingers to his lips. She tensed slightly and looked away. He smiled. It was so easy to throw her off balance.

“I would happily fill my phone with pictures of you, Aurora.” He flattered, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

She turned back to him, scowling and pulled her fingers from his grip.

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped.

Interesting.

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, a small smirk on his lips.

“Call you what? Aur-“ His voice was cut off as she covered his mouth with her hand.

“Yes, that. I hate that name.”

The feel of her soft palm against his face had caught him off guard and he simply stared at her for a moment, more focused on the heat of her skin against his, the slight twitch of her fingers on his cheek as her eyes met his. He could tell the moment she decided to pull her hand away and quickly reached up to grip her wrist. He turned her hand palm up and pressed a gentle kiss against her skin.

“I think your name is beautiful.”

“It’s…princess-y.” She muttered, “It doesn’t suit me.”

Rafayel’s smile grew. She’d given him exactly what he needed, and she didn’t even realised.

“Come with me.” He said, turning and pulling her back inside the house before she could protest. He paused on the landing to collect his purchases before leading Rory into the large room he’d claimed as his studio.

Closest to the door, he’d left a sofa and coffee table where they were but further into the room, all the furniture had been pushed against the walls. He let go of Rory’s wrist to start unpacking his bags. The large easel that he’d hooked under his arm he placed in the centre of the room. A barstool he’d nicked from the kitchen the evening before was placed in front of it and his new collection of paints went on the small end table next to it.

He then picked up another of his bags, gripped Rory’s wrist again and led her to a table against the wall. Dropping the bag on the floor, he pulled her closer and moved his grip to her waist, lifting her and seating her on the table.

“Ahh, Rafayel! What are you doing?” She cried, trying to wriggle off the table. He placed his hands either side of her legs and leaned forwards, caging her in.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to paint you.” He smiled.

“Paint me? I thought you didn’t paint people.” She argued, trying to push him back.

“Maybe that’s because no one has ever inspired me like you.”

She stopped struggling and stared at him, her slight blush from earlier returning. He reached up and stroked her cheek with his fingers.

“You’re my muse, Aurora.”

She slapped his hand away, scowling again.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Then let me paint you.”

She paused, indecision clear in her eyes.

“Pose for one painting, and I promise never to call you Aurora again.” Rafayel insisted.

She frowned, glancing around at the room, the high windows, the closed door.

“What sort of painting?” She asked warily.

He smiled, knowing he’d won and stepped back, reaching down for the bag beside him.

“No need to sound so suspicious. It won’t be anything indecent.” He said as he pulled the items from the bag and placed them on the table beside her.

“Makeup?” She asked, looking at his purchases.

“Of course.” While she was distracted, he gripped her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the table. She gripped his shoulders to balance herself before glaring at him. He smiled cheekily and pulled the hat off her head, throwing it on the sofa nearby. “Now hold still.”

He picked up the foundation first. Covering the pad with powder, he lifted her chin with the fingers of his free hand and began to pat at her cheeks. She watched him, still uncertain.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Would I be doing this if it wasn’t?”

“That depends. Sometimes you’re harder to read than Sylus. When you do stuff like this, who knows what you’re planning.”

He laughed.

“Maybe I like to keep you guessing.” He patted her nose with the pad, and she scrunched her face. “But this time, there’s no secret agenda. Makeup can be used to accentuate your natural features which makes it easier when painting.”

Rory looked at him sceptically but didn’t argue.

Rafayel continued to add varying layers of blush, eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. He couldn’t resist running his thumb along her lower lip before applying the soft pink colour, causing her to blush enough that it was visible through the powders on her skin. Finally, he capped the lipstick and held up the small mirror he’d also bought.

Rory gazed at her reflection, clearly awed. Rafayel hadn’t focused on colours to stand out but instead had used colours to contrast and highlight her natural skin tone. He’d also purchased makeup with a slight shimmer to it, creating an enchanting aura around her face when the sun caught it.

Rory swallowed and looked up at the artist.

“It’s beautiful.” She murmured.

“Did you think I’d do a bad job?” He teased, holding his hand out to help her off the table.

“Just because you’re a painter doesn’t mean you’d be good at makeup.”

“You still let me apply it though.” He pointed out, leading her to a sofa pushed against one of the high windows.

“I could always remove it if I didn’t like it.” She shrugged, a cheeky glint in her eye as she looked at him again. He pouted playfully.

“Sit down. I still have a masterpiece to paint, and you have a promise to keep.”

“I never actually agreed to it.” She pointed out but sat all the same. He’d guided her to the centre of the sofa where the sunlight shone through the window, highlighting the hint of red in her hair and the shimmer in her makeup. He positioned her so she was turned slightly sideways, her ankles tucked together, and her left hand placed elegantly on the seat beside her.

“And now for the finishing touch.” He pronounced. Closing his left fist, palm up, he focused on the part of himself that was always tied to the sea, to the depths of the ocean, to his people. A gentle blue glow surrounded his hand, and he opened his fist. A small, partially transparent, glittering blue fish swam through the air above his hand. It swam in circles a few times before floating up towards the window.

Rory watched the fish move, entranced. As it turned towards her, she reached her fingers towards it gingerly and it swam over, giving the tip of her middle finger a quick fish-kiss. Rafayel watched the interaction and glanced at Rory to see her reaction. The sight burned him to his very core.

Rory’s face glows in the sunlight and not because of the makeup. A wide smile is spread across her lips, her eyes sparkling with the same joy as she watches the fish. Rafayel found himself unable to look away from her delighted countenance. Never before had he seen such a genuine smile on her face, no fear, no caution, no anger. Just pure delight.

He was oblivious to the passing of time as he stared at her, but the seconds ticked by all the same. Eventually, Rory became aware of his attention and turned her face towards him. But her eyes were quickly draw down to his chest and he heard her sharp inhale as her eyes landed on the brand he had no doubt was visible.

“Rafayel…” She breathed, her eyes flicking back up to his. He reached up to cup her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Smile for me, Rory. Like you did just now. Keep smiling like that.”

He tiled his head and pressed his lips gently against hers. The kiss was delicate, serene, full of all the lifetimes he’d held her in his heart. He wished time would stop. That they could stay like this, joyful in the sunlight, the muffled sound of waves surrounding them. He cupped her face in both his hands, deepening the kiss, trying to express the depth of his devotion in that one action. He would worship her, his goddess, for the rest of his existence. Just let him savour this one moment. Let him etch it into his memory like the history of his people.

A buzzing cut through the enchantment and Rory pulled back slightly. She stared into his eyes, her own full of so many emotions it was impossible to name them. They breathed heavily, breaths mingling in the space between them. But the buzzing continued.

Rory pulled away further, fishing her phone out of a hidden pocket in her dress. Slightly shaken by the depth of his emotions, Rafayel turned away, prepared to hide behind his canvas as he composed himself. He heard her answer the phone, her voice unsure. The response made him pause.

A voice, clearly male was shouting down the phone line. His words were unclear to the artist, but their tone was unmistakable. Rafayel turned back to the woman and his heart clenched at the look on her face. Her eyes wide and terrified, her skin pale beneath the thin layers of makeup, her free hand gripping the edge of the sofa so tight her knuckles were turning white.

He took a step towards her, but she quickly stood, rage coving the fear in her eyes for a moment.

“You stay away from me you lunatic!” She shouted “Don’t ever show your face to me again.” She smashed the red button on the phone and stared at it, seething with rage and horror. Rafayel took another cautious step forwards, his hands held out.

“Rory?”

She didn’t respond but a second later her head shot up and she began frantically searching the room.

“Rory, what are you looking for?” It was like she could no longer hear him, trapped in the cage of her own mind.

Not finding what she was looking for, Rory raced for the door, the sparkle of tears visible to Rafayel for just a second before she charged out of the room. Rafayel followed, calling after her. He had a horrible suspicion about who had called her, and he needed to help her, to comfort her if he could, at least stop her falling apart.

He followed her down both sets of stairs still calling her name, but she was deaf and blind to everything but her mission. As she moved, he could see her fiddling madly with the phone in her hands.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rory headed straight for the kitchen, where Sylus was currently drying his hands, his shirt and trousers covered in motor oil from working on his bike. As Rory reached the counter she spilled the contents of her hands, the many parts of her phone, across the countertop and quickly pulled the sim card from its slot.

“What’s going on?” Xavier called from the backdoor as Sylus approached Rory, trying to get her attention. Xavier and Zayne, having obviously been out by the pool hurried into the living space. Rafayel ignored the hunter’s question, still trying to reach Rory through the fog of her emotions.

Paying no attention to anyone, Rory spun round and grabbed a knife from the knife block. Then, before anyone could reach her, she brought the hilt of the knife down once, twice on the exposed sim card, smashing it to pieces.

Silence filled the villa. No one moved, no one spoke. A deathly chill raced up Rafayel’s back as he stared at Rory. Zayne had been right. Whoever was after Rory, they had done something so severe it had changed the very foundations of who she was as a person. And now they were back, and they were closing in.

Slowly, Rory took a step back from the counter, her grip around the knife relaxing. Sylus, being the closest, reached forward and slipped the knife from her hold. She didn’t even seem to notice. But when he gently gripped her arm with his free hand, she jumped, as if just realising they were all there.

“Don’t.” She whimpered, pulling out of his hold. Sylus looked like she’d just burned him.

“Rory,” Zayne started, but she shook her head vigorously and pushed her way past them.

“Leave me alone.” She cried as she ran for her room and slammed the door behind her. Rafayel stared after her, rattled by her behaviour. His attention was only caught by the deadly tone of Sylus voice when he called his name.

The artist turned back to the kitchen to see the Onychinus leader fiddling with the broken bits of sim card, knife still in his other hand. When their gazes locked, Rafayel at last grasped why this individual had struck terror into so many hearts alone. His crimson irises blazed with infernal light and his tone emerged as an otherworldly snarl, scarcely restrained by his mortal facade. Because that’s what it was, the artist realised. Sylus may appear human, but something else, something deadly, existed beneath the surface.

“What happened?”

Chapter Text

Xavier

Xavier stood outside Rory’s bedroom door, listening intently. He’d been asleep on one of the sun loungers outside following his morning workout when Rafayel’s shouts from inside the villa had woken him. The scene that followed had cut him to his core. True, Rory had been wary of them all when they first arrived, possibly even scared of them that first night they met. But never before had he seen her like this. And he had no idea how to help. What could he do?

After Rory had shut herself in her room, the inhuman rage flowing off Sylus put them all on edge. Xavier had watched him carefully as the artist had explained about the phone call. If Sylus lost control and let the beast out, Xavier would do everything in his power to stop him. It may have taken a while to join the dots, but he never forgot the tales his people told of the undying man who escaped Philos’ most secure prison. Xavier no longer had any doubt that Sylus was this man.

Surprisingly, however, the mob boss showed unparalleled restraint. Once Rafayel had finished explaining, Sylus simply placed the knife in his hand back in the knife block and made his way across the room and up the stairs to his bedroom. The air of tension his presence had caused slowly evaporated.

“What do we do?” Rafayel asked eventually.

“We give her space.” Zayne said, matter-of-factly, although he too looked furious.

“I meant about him!” Rafayel cried, gesturing up the stairs. “Didn’t you see him just now! There’s no way he just some mob boss!”

“We give them both space.” Zayne said firmly, before moving into the kitchen to gather up Rory’s abandoned phone parts.

Xavier had tried, he really had. But sitting around and waiting after seeing Rory in such a state just didn’t sit right with him. To his credit he’d lasted most of the afternoon. By the time his patience gave out the sun had begun to sink towards the horizon. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to make sure Rory was ok.

He listened closely to the door but could hear nothing from the other side. Was that a reason for him to worry? He wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d just fallen asleep. Or maybe not. He raised his hand and knocked. No response. He knocked again.

“Rory? It’s Xavier. Can I come in?”

Still nothing.

He glanced around, not seeing any of the others, before reaching for the doorhandle and pushing the door open.

The room was shrouded in darkness, heavy curtains drawn tight against the fading daylight outside, casting everything in deep shadows. No artificial light penetrated the gloom, making it difficult for Xavier to adjust his vision as he entered. Quiet, heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the still air, but their source remained elusive for several moments as his eyes scanned the dimness.

Finally, he spotted Rory's small form on the far side of the bed, curled into herself as if trying to disappear entirely. She had wedged herself into the narrow space between the bed and wall, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her fingers were tangled desperately in her brown hair, knuckles white with tension as she gripped at her scalp. Each shuddering breath wracked her entire body, shoulders trembling violently as she tried to muffle her crying. The sight of her so broken and vulnerable made Xavier's chest tighten with concern.

A wave of guilt and anguish washed over Xavier as the reality of the situation struck him. She had been suffering here for hours, trapped in her own dark thoughts, sobbing alone while fear consumed her. His cerulean eyes clouded with regret - he should have noticed sooner, should have checked on her earlier instead of giving her space. The weight of his negligence pressed heavily on his shoulders as he quietly pushed the door closed, wincing slightly at the soft click of the latch.

Moving with deliberate care to avoid startling her, Xavier made his way around the large bed, his footsteps whisper-soft against the plush carpet. The darkness seemed to press in around them both as he lowered himself into a crouch before her hunched form, close enough to offer comfort but maintaining enough distance to avoid overwhelming her in her vulnerable state. His ash blonde hair fell forward slightly as he tilted his head, trying to catch her downturned gaze.

“Rory?” He called quietly, reaching out a hand to rest gently on her shoulder. Her shaking steadied slightly under his touch, but she continued to cry silently.

“Rory, it’s going to be ok.” He said, quietly. “We won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with us.”

“It won’t stop.” She mumbled between sobs.

Xavier lowered himself onto his knees, lifting his other hand to stroke along her hair.

“What won’t?” He asked.

“The memories. I can’t…they won’t go away…I can’t stop…”

“Shh.” Xavier breathed, leaning forwards to wrap his arms around her. He wasn’t sure what to say to comfort her, but he could do this much at least. He’d expected her to remain immobile in his embrace but a moment later, her hands left her hair and slid around his neck, pulling him even closer.

Xavier shifted slightly to slide one arm under her knees. Then he stood, cradling her in his arms before turning and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He lowered her onto his lap as she continued to cling to him before wrapping his arms around her again.

“It’s ok.” He soothed, gently stroking her hair. They stayed like that until Rory’s sobs gradually eased. He pulled away slightly and cupped her face in his hands, encouraging her to look up at him. Her eyes were red and still overflowing with tears, salty tracks lining her cheeks, and her skin flushed from the heat of her sadness.

“You’re ok, Rory. You’re safe here. I promise.” He assured before leaning forwards to kiss along her cheeks, cleaning the tear tracks from her face. He could feel her hands fisting in his gym shirt as a few more tears escaped her eyes. As he moved to kiss along her other cheek, her head turned in his hands and her lips met his. She pulled him closer by his top and kissed him insistently. After a moments hesitation, he kissed her back, moving one hand to the back of her head and the other to her hip, pulling her as close as he could.

She opened her lips invitingly and his tongue slid in twisting and sliding against hers. Her arms snaked up to wrap around his neck again and her fingers slid into his hair. He groaned as her grip tightened and she swallowed the noise. Her hips shifted and she lent her weight against him more, moving her legs to straddle him. She settled back on his lap and he could feel her hot core press against his hardening member.

As she pushed against him more, he hesitated, pulling away from the kiss and holding her hips still. Their breaths came heavy, their eyes both dilated as they stared at each other.

“Please, Xavier.” She whimpered.

“Are you sure?” He breathed.

“I don’t want to think anymore. Please, I want this.”

“Rory,” he said more firmly, and her eyes focused slightly. “You have to be sure. If we do this…I don’t think I can stop.”

One of her hands left his hair and caressed gently across his cheek down to his mouth. Her eyes followed her finger as she ran the tip across his kiss-swollen lips before she looked up again.

“I want this.” She said, her voice surer than it had been before. “Xavier, I want you.”

* * *

Rafayel

The paintbrush hung limp between Rafayel's fingers, its tip dry and unused against the pristine canvas before him. Moonlight filtered through the studio's bay windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. His other hand clenched and unclenched rhythmically against his thigh as he replayed the scene from earlier.

The terror in Rory's voice when she'd answered that call haunted him. The way her hands had trembled as she'd torn apart her phone, the wild look in her eyes - it was a side of her he'd never seen before. Someone had hurt her, badly. The thought made his chest tight with an unfamiliar ache.

He lifted the brush, then lowered it again without touching the canvas. The night air carried the salt-sweet scent of the sea through the open window, but even that brought him no peace. Instead of painting the waves as he'd intended, his mind kept circling back to questions about Rory's past.

Rafayel set the brush down with a quiet click and rose from his stool. His bare feet made no sound as he crossed to the window. The moon hung low over the water, its reflection rippling across the dark surface like scattered pearls. Usually, the sight would calm him, remind him of home. Tonight, it only emphasized how far they were from understanding what was really happening.

A muffled sound from downstairs made him tilt his head. Footsteps? A door closing? He couldn't tell if it was just the villa settling or if someone else was awake at this hour.

His fingers traced idle patterns on the cool glass as he considered his options. As a god, he could simply command her to tell him everything. But the thought of using his power that way left a bitter taste in his mouth. No, if Rory was going to trust them with her secrets, she would have to do it willingly.

The question was: how much time did they have before whoever was hunting her caught up?

Rafayel turned back to the canvas, the memory of earlier that day washing over him. The way sunlight had streamed through the villa's windows, catching the red hints in Rory's hair as she'd sat on the sofa. Her grey-blue eyes had sparkled with delight at the small fish he'd conjured, its translucent fins casting prism-like shadows across her cheeks.

He picked up his brush again, dipping it into the cerulean blue. The first stroke flowed onto the canvas - not the seascape he'd planned, but the curve of that ethereal fish suspended in afternoon light. Another stroke captured the way Rory's fingers had reached out, almost but not quite touching the magical creature.

The scene built slowly under his careful strokes as the night wore on. The soft cream of the sofa, the golden warmth of sunbeams, the subtle blush that had coloured her cheeks when she'd caught him watching her. He mixed colours with practiced ease, trying to capture that fleeting moment of pure joy before everything had shattered.

His brush hesitated over her expression. How strange that someone could look so carefree one moment and so haunted the next. The contrast between her smile then and her terror later made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

The painting took shape beneath his hands - not just a girl and a fish, but a snapshot of innocence. The way she'd tucked her feet together, how her hair had fallen forward when she'd leaned closer to the fish, the gentle curve of her lips as she'd watched it swim through air as easily as water.

Rafayel stepped back from the canvas, studying his work with critical eyes. Something was missing. He added a few more touches - the shadow of lashes against her cheek, the subtle gleam of the jasmine necklace at her throat, the way her hands had settled on the sofa next to her.

There. Now he had captured it - that precious moment when she'd forgotten to be afraid, when she'd simply existed in the joy of the present. Before whatever demons haunted her past had come calling again.

His fingers tightened around the brush as early morning light seeped through the windows. He would paint a thousand such moments if it meant keeping that terror from her eyes.

Chapter Text

As my consciousness seeped back into my body, I became aware of bright sunlight glittering through the gap in the curtains. I grumbled and pulled the duvet higher, trying to block out the light. My mind rebelled against the morning and my muscles protested my movements. I was still so tired. Why couldn’t I have slept longer?

I rolled over, intending to snuggle closer to Xavier and try to get back to sleep, only to discover that I was alone. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cold. I blinked groggily, looking around the room for my missing companion. But there was no one else there.

Then I became aware of a sound that seemed to be coming from outside. It was a metallic sound, not constant but irregular. I couldn’t place it. What had I seen outside that could make such a noise? I drew a blank in my mind.

My curiosity outweighing my fatigue I pulled myself slowly from the bed, grabbing my dressing gown off the chair next to the desk and wrapping it around me. Then I approached the curtains and pulled them back. For a moment, the sunlight blinded me. I blinked a few times until my eyes adjusted and then looked around for the source of the noise.

My heart jumped into my throat and my breath caught. In the middle of the garden, weapons bared, Xavier and Rafayel were facing off against each other. The artist lunged in, aiming his daggers at Xavier’s chest before the hunter parried, barely avoiding a hit. Then he practically disappeared. Rafayel spun around and jumped back just as Xavier reappeared behind him and lunged. The hunter’s light sword was caught between the daggers, the two men struggling to overpower the other, before they separated again.

I dropped the curtain and grabbed my shoes from the floor. I had to stop them, or they were going to kill each other. Struggling to force the shoes on my feet, I hopped and scrambled to the door, finally pulling it open and running the short distance to the back doors.

“Stop!” I shouted as I pushed through the doors and into the cool morning air. “Stop it!”

I rushed towards them but a firm grip around my waist pulled me back.

“Careful, Kitten.” Sylus cautioned, as his evol dragged me back into his embrace. He’d been standing against the wall by the back door, watching the duel take place. “You should know better than to run into a fight like that.” He continued as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Sylus, let me go. I have to stop this.” I cried, struggling against his hold. My breath caught as I watched Xavier’s sword slice through the air a hair’s breadth from Rafayel’s neck. “They’re going to kill each other.”

“Don’t underestimate them, sweetie. They know what they’re doing.”

“There was no avoiding this.” The softer voice came from Zayne, stood against the wall on the other side of the back door. He watched the duel closely as he spoke. “When Rafayel caught Xavier leaving your room this morning he wasn’t going to let this go. But there’s no need to worry. We’ve identified rules of engagement that they both agree on. This is little more than a bit of friendly sparring.”

I turned back to the fight in time to see Rafayel dodge another swing from Xavier’s light sword and land on the thick layer of ice covering the swimming pool, using his momentum to slid back on the slippery surface. A wide grin was spread across his face as he watched his opponent with joyful determination.

Turning to look at Xavier I noticed the corner of his lips also turned up slightly. Despite the situation, his stance was relaxed. He spun his sword a couple of times before spreading his feet and raising the weapon in front of him, a clear invitation to his opponent.

As I watched the two men in front of me leap and dodge and swing, Sylus leant forward slightly and whispered in my ear.

“Maybe you should spend less time worrying about them and focus on the real issue here.” His voice carried an unsettling edge that made me uneasy, prompting me to peer up at his face. His expression had turned stony, and his eyes held an unfamiliar, dangerous gleam.

“Rory,” Zayne cut in as he approached. “Why don’t you go inside and get changed before you get too cold. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

I glanced at the duel still continuing a few metres away, then glanced back up at Sylus. The mafioso was glaring at Zayne but he removed his grip from me.

“Okay.” I muttered, hurrying past the pair and back into the house. There was definitely some unspoken conversation going on between the two of them back there.

I slipped back into my room and rooted through the wardrobe for a comfortable pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. Then I moved into the ensuite to wash and change before returning to the bedroom. Grabbing a hairband from the bedside table I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and secured it in place. Then, quickly swallowing my usual medication, I headed for the main living area.

I could see Zayne in the kitchen serving up what looked like a plate of bacon and eggs before making his way over to the dining table. I sat down at the table as Zayne placed the food in front of me. I quickly thanked him and began to eat. Instead of moving away, the doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet of medication. Placing it on the table next to me he caught my eye.

“I assume I don’t have to insist?” He asked, a tight note in his voice. I read the cover of the packet and felt the blush rise quickly to my cheeks. Plan B tablets. How embarrassing! I swallowed my mouthful of food and shook my head, reaching for the packet.

“Please tell me you didn’t go out specifically to get these for me.” I begged as I popped one of the pills from its packaging.

“Okay, then. I won’t.” Zayne shrugged and headed back to the kitchen to clean up. I groaned in humiliation before swallowing the pill and washing it down with a sip of water. Then I continued to eat breakfast.

Just as I was finishing up, Rafayel and Xavier came in from the back garden, their duel clearly over.

“Who won?” I asked as they approached. Despite trying to sound calm, I eyed them for injuries as they joined me at the table, Rafayel opposite me and Xavier in the seat beside him.

“I did, of course.” Rafayel announced, raising his chin proudly.

“Only because I slipped on the ice.” The hunter muttered as Zayne collected my empty plate and carried it to the kitchen. I watched him for a moment. A hunter like Xavier would have known how to be aware of his surroundings, so how could he make such a rookie mistake as slipping? Xavier noticed me watching him and smiled. That’s when I knew, he’d done it on purpose.

Since arriving in this world, all the boys had been on equal footing in regard to my relationship with them. Until last night. Allowing Rafayel to beat him in a dual was probably Xavier’s way of restoring that equilibrium between them. I began to realise how much they had come to know each other. They were no longer strangers, or even just acquaintances. They probably saw each other as friendly rivals.

“How are you feeling?” Xavier asked, breaking through my thoughts.

“Feeling?” I asked, blushing slightly. Was he really asking about that here?

“After the phone call yesterday.” He clarified.

“Oh,” I swallowed, trying to hold back the memories of the previous day, the phone call, the fear. “Fine.” I said, trying to smile convincingly.

“You didn’t seem fine yesterday.” Rafayel pointed out. “You seemed seriously freaked out.”

“It just caught me off guard. It was nothing, really.”

“Is that so? Then, I guess you don’t mind explaining this to us?” Sylus asked, stepping up beside me and placing a document on the table. It was a printout of a criminal record. The name and photo in the top left and the individual’s details in the top right. Below that was a list of offenses and dates. I stared at the document, my own face staring back at me.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, reaching out to touch the document, wanting to check that it was real.

“That’s not important.” Sylus responded.

“Not important?” I looked up at him, incredulously. “How is that not important?” My voice rose in volume as I stood. “Hacking into the vehicle database is one thing but this is the police! Don’t you realise how dangerous this is?”

“I’m the leader of Onychinus. My whole life is dangerous.” Sylus shot back, looking less than impressed. “Are you going to explain or not?”

I simply glared at him, pressing my lips together.

“No? Then maybe you’d like to tell us about him, instead?” He asked, placing another document on the table. Like the first it was a printout of a criminal record. But this time, the face that looked up at me chilled me to my very core. This man that had completed upended my life, changed my very existence. I felt the icy dread of fear in my veins and the burning of unshed tears in my eyes. His voice still rang in my ears from the phone call yesterday. But I had changed in the last five years. I wouldn’t let him control me anymore. Not him, and not Sylus. I glared up at the gangster.

“Screw you.” I muttered and turned on my heal. Before I’d taken two steps, red and black mist wrapped around me and forced me back into my chair.

“Sylus!” I cried in shock and rage.

“That’s enough.” Zayne snapped. Sylus ignored him, placing a hand on the back of my chair and leaning in towards me.

“I’m done playing games, Kitten. I want the truth. And if I have to be the villain to get it then so be it.”

My gaze swept across the room, searching for allies, but found none. Though they were all tense and poised to step in, each remained motionless. Their eyes flickered between Sylus and myself, anticipating the next development. The realization hit me then - while Sylus alone had the nerve to force the issue, everyone present craved answers. My spirits plummeted as my posture wilted in defeat. My gaze met Sylus's burning red stare, his jaw set like granite.

“Fine.” I muttered, dropping my gaze to the floor. Sylus moved back and the mist still swirling around me disappeared. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I could be anywhere else right now. I didn’t want to think about this, but I also couldn’t run from it. Sylus knew it, and honestly, so did I. A part of me had known since yesterday that I couldn’t ignore this, but I had refused to accept it.

I looked back at the paper with that man’s face. Cole Murphy. My own personal demon. I took a deep breath, preparing myself. Best to start at the beginning.

“I met Cole in college.” I began, my voice slightly unsteady. “My dad had left years ago, and I didn’t get on well with my mum. He was…nice. He was the first person to make me feel…wanted…appreciated. I guess that’s why I allowed him to manipulate me. I was angry at the world. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. He told me I didn’t have to belong. If the world didn’t have space for me then I simply didn’t have to conform to their rules. I believed him.

I started small. Pulling pranks at school, skipping class for days, sometimes weeks. We got fake I.D.’s and started spending our nights in bars or nightclubs. Then came the vandalising and petty theft. The first time we got arrested we got community service. The second time, I got six months in prison. It probably would have been less, but I’d just turned 18 so legally, I was an adult.

While I was in prison, I got a message from my mum. She told me she no longer considered me her daughter and she never wanted to see me again. She’d always wanted a perfect daughter, a little princess. That’s why she named me Aurora. She hated me for not being the perfect daughter she wanted.

When I left prison, I moved in with Cole. It was great…at first. It felt like we were soul mates, destined for each other. I was so caught up in the excitement I didn’t notice the red flags. Or maybe I did, I just…didn’t want to accept it. He was such a big part of my life I couldn’t imagine anything without him.

It took a year before I discovered the truth. Cole was in a gang. He was regularly dealing drugs and getting into fights. I was mad. Sure, I wanted to rebel but not to the extent of actually hurting other people. So, I confronted him about it. That was the first time he hit me. Everything just got worse after that.

He started getting jealous, possessive. If I even looked at another guy, he’d get mad. Then it was talking to my friends. Soon, he’d get upset if I didn’t do what he wanted. One time I tried to leave. That was one of the worst. After that he wouldn’t let me leave the house on my own. My perfect life had turned into a living hell.” I could feel hot tears sliding down my cheeks at the memories.

A glass of water appeared in front of me and a cool hand began to gently rub my back. I took the offered drink and sipped at it.

“How did you get away?” Zayne asked quietly.

I scoffed and shook my head.

“A twist of fate. I don’t really remember it myself but apparently, Cole had hit me again and I’d fallen against the corner of the coffee table. I guess some part of him must have still cared about me because he took me to the hospital, thinking he’d killed me. Of course, the doctors found the scars and bruises from all the beatings he’d given me before.

I was in a coma for two weeks after that. When I woke up, the doctors said I’d received some minor brain damage. It wasn’t life altering but…it’s what caused my epilepsy. They also called the police. Turns out they’d stopped Cole from visiting me since they’d found all my other injuries.

Two detectives turned up and I told them everything. I knew it was my only way out. Without my testimony there was nothing they could do. After that they arrested Cole, and I was put into witness protection until the trial was over. He got five years. His sentence ended last month.”

“So, we should contact those detectives again.” Rafayel suggested. “They can arrest him again.”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing they can do. There’s no proof that he’s committed a crime.”

“He’s harassing you!”

“That would only make a difference if I had a restraining order against him. But to do that I would have had to submit my address and contact number. I move in with Phoebe specifically because Cole didn’t know her or where she lived. Phoebe and I went to school together, but her family moved away a couple of years before college. We met again by chance when I was being discharged from the hospital. She gave me her number and I contacted her when my witness protection ended.”

“So, you’ve been staying under the radar.” Zayne mused. “You have no car or drivers’ licence, I’m guessing no passport either, and you’re not a homeowner. So how did he find you?”

“Most likely his gang was looking for you while he was locked up.” Sylus suggested.

“Would they really go that far?” Xavier asked.

I nodded. “I caused problems for all of them when I got Cole arrested. He’d been talking about a big deal with another gang that was happening soon. If it went well, he was going to get a big pay-out from it. After he was arrested there were reports of shootings between his gang and the one he was supposed to deal with. Cole getting arrested ruined the whole deal and started a small gang war.”

“Is that why he’s after you now?” Xavier asked. “To punish you for ruining the deal?”

I sighed, thinking of the words he’d shouted at me after the trial.

“I guess you could say that. He’s after me now because he wants me dead.”

Chapter Text

That afternoon found Zayne sat on one of the comfy sofas in the villa’s main living room, legs crossed, glasses perched on his nose and a book open on his lap. Around him, the house was silent.

After Rory’s retelling of her past that morning, she had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, how she felt about Sylus’ treatment of her. It had been clear to Zayne that her outburst was simply an attempt to regain control of her emotions after recalling the person she feared the most, once again using anger to hide her fear. But he wasn’t sure that Sylus saw it like that. Rory had disappeared up to the balcony and Sylus had quietly withdrawn to the garage, the two, once again, at odds with each other.

Zayne, frustratingly, was left in the position of understanding both parties’ feelings and the reason for their actions. The reason, of course, being some form of fear for both of them. Of the others, Zayne could only say that Xavier was incensed at the man, Cole Murphy, and Rafayel was full on murderous. It had taken the doctor well over thirty minutes to calm the two men down enough to spare their current home from another explosion. Although, in Rafayel’s case, it was more like a change of focus than actually calming him down.

Which is what led to Zayne sitting alone in the living room while Rafayel and Xavier went out to ‘make plans and purchase the necessary supplies’. Staring down at the page in front of him, Zayne realised he had once again read the same paragraph without taking any of it in. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. He was slowly losing his grip on his control. He had kept it together earlier in front of the others but now, sat alone in empty silence, he couldn’t stop his mind from conjuring the images Rory had described.

Zayne had seen his fair share of abuse injuries during his time at Akso so it didn’t take much to imagine the state Rory must have been in when she arrived at the hospital. In his minds eye, he could clearly see the pattern of bruises and scars revealed as the doctors removed her clothes. He imagined her to be thinner than she was now. Paler too, if she was rarely able to leave the house. Her torso, legs and arms painted in blue and greens and purples, intersected by pearlescent lines of scar tissue.

Not to mention the blood.

Head wounds, even minor ones, bled profusely. To receive an injury that could cause brain damage, the bleeding must have been extreme. It would also be the sort of injury that would most definitely leave a scar, meaning it was most likely on the back or side of her head, hidden by her hair, otherwise he would have noticed it by now. The thought of her hair slick and matted by her blood, caused his stomach to churn and his heart to pound loudly against his ribs.

He shivered as the images in his head dug cracks into his control, the sound ringing in his ears. Zayne opened his eyes and looked down at the book in his hand. Thick, sharp spikes of ice wrapped around the pages in his hand turning it more into a literary sculpture that an actual article for reading. He slowly pulled his hand away from the book and attempted to withdraw the ice, but his focus wouldn’t hold, and his emotions wouldn’t still.

Giving up on his pursuit uncharacteristically soon, Zayne rose from the sofa and deposited the frozen book in the kitchen sink. It would simply have to thaw in its own time. Meanwhile, he needed something more practical to do. An idea occurred to him and he did a quick hunt through the kitchen cupboards. Finding most of what he was looking for he began to pull bowls, scales, spatulas, a baking tray and an electric whisk from the cupboards and spread them across the countertops.

Deciding the missing ingredient wasn’t a showstopper, he stepped quickly from the kitchen towards the stairs, his long legs carrying him up to the top floor in less than a minute.

Rory was sat on one of the garden chairs, knees drawn up to her chin, staring out at the glistening sea in silent contemplation. As Zayne pushed through the double doors she looked around and gave him a small smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was better than the rebuttal he had half expected.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, lowering himself into the chair next to her. She sighed and turned back to the ocean.

“I thought this place was paradise when we arrived. Everything was so…peaceful at first. But I guess there’s really no way of escaping our demons.”

Zayne reached over and pulled one of her hands into his, drawing her attention back to him.

“It’s true we all have things to face in our lives that can hurt and damage us.” He began, focusing on the crisp white of her bandages. “And from what you’ve told us it seems like you’ve faced worse than most. But allowing our fears to become our demons is a personal choice.” He looked up and met her eyes. “Cole Murphy may have hurt you in ways no one should experience. But he’s just a man. And right now, he’s not here. The only power he has over you in this moment, is the power you give him.”

The skin around her eyes tightened as tears filled her waterline. She swallowed and looked away again.

“I don’t know how to stop.” She said with a shaky voice. “He’s…all I can think about.”

“I know. Which is why you need a distraction.”

She turned back to him, confused and he smiled at her, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had escaped her eyes.

“Come on.” He gently pulled her to her feet and led her back down to the kitchen, only releasing her hand once they were among the countertops and utensils. She looked around at the items he’d pulled out earlier as he pulled an apron from it’s hook on the freestanding wall.

“Baking?” She asked as he slipped the neck of the apron over her head and turned her around to the tie the strings at the back.

“Why not?” He asked, smiling as he fetched another apron for himself. Rory raised her bandaged hands in question.

“Do you usually get your hands dirty when you bake?”

“Don’t you?” She responded

“Not usually. That’s what the spatula’s are for.”

He gathered the ingredients from the cupboard and pulled up a simple cupcake recipe on his phone. He would have preferred to make macarons but unfortunately, they didn’t have the necessary ingredients for those. All the items in front of him now had been pilfered from Rory’s kitchen before they came to the villa.

“Why don’t you look after the icing while I mix the sponge.” He suggested, placing a set of scales, a bowl and the electric whisk on the countertop next to her. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any vanilla extract so I might add a little more sugar to the sponge instead.”

She eyed him for a moment before a grin twisted the corner of her lips. Placing her hands on her hips she tilted her head slightly.

“And am I putting in the recommended amount of icing sugar or do you have a different amount to suggest?”

“I certainly think it wise to be generous with the quantity, but I’ll leave that up to your discretion.” He teased, smiling back at her.

The two got to work measuring out ingredients into their respective bowls before Zayne decided to touch on a subject he had been ruminating over.

“You seemed rather upset at Sylus earlier.” He said, nonchalantly.

“Wouldn’t you be if he did that to you?” She retorted, a little more sharply than he’d expected.

“Perhaps. I find understanding the motive behind someone’s actions can be rather important in knowing how to respond.” He answered as he cracked a couple of eggs into his bowl.

“Are you going to tell me he was being cruel to be kind?”

“No. I don’t believe that was it. But I saw how he reacted yesterday when you pushed him away. He looked hurt. And for a man like Sylus, that is not an emotion he would willing express.”

There was a slight pause and Zayne glanced over to see Rory staring into her bowl of butter and icing sugar as she slowly mixed it with a spatula.

“That still doesn’t give him the right to be mean to me.” She eventually responded, quietly. Zayne watched her a moment, before deciding to continue. Turning back to his own bowl he said:

“No, but I believe, since arriving in this world, Sylus has experienced emotions he’s mostly unfamiliar with. Back in Linkon, he has a reputation and most people, including those who work for him wouldn’t dare to go against him. If there was something he wanted, I’ve no doubt he would have people falling over themselves to get it for him, or to get out of his way. Since he’s been here, however, I’ve seen him show a level of restraint I never expected from someone with his reputation.”

“What do you mean?”

Zayne glanced back over his shoulder to find Rory staring at him, her own bowl momentarily forgotten. Turning more to face her he continued.

“It’s true, is it not that you’ve shared intimate moments with Xavier, Rafayel and myself?”

“Yes.”

“Have you shared similar moments with Sylus?”

“Similar…?” Her eyes drifted away as she considered, a small blush rising to her cheeks.

“Has he tried to kiss you?”

“No.” she said, uncertainly. The single syllable was so quiet, Zayne almost missed it.

“Then he’s shown more restraint than the rest of us. Now try and imagine how he felt when a single phone call caused you to push him away, when you were finally starting to get comfortable around him?”

Rory bit her lip as she considered his words, one hand coming up to grip her apron. Zayne put his spatula down in the bowl and took the two short steps to the woman in front of him. He gently eased the apron out of her grip and took both her hands in his.

“I believe Sylus is scared of losing you because of this man from your past, and in such feels threatened by him. He pushed you this morning because without knowing who he’s up against and why, there’s nothing he can do to protect you.”

Rory looked him in the eye, a range of emotions flickering behind her gaze. After a moment she pulled her hands out of his grip and turned back to her bowl, pulling the electric whisk towards her.

“I doubt Sylus has ever felt threatened by anything.” She retorted, but there was no edge to her words. Zayne’s shoulders relaxed a little. He may not have changed her mind completely, but he’d done what he could to repair the situation. Hopefully she would think on what he’d said.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged returning to his own bowl. “It’s only my opinion after all.”

Having dealt with the Sylus situation, another matter rushed into his mind demanding an answer. He ummed and erred with himself for a moment, decided if and how to broach the subject. As the sound of the electric whisk started up behind him, he decided the direct approach would be best.

“Out of curiosity,” he started, “did you choose Xavier because it was him or simply because he was there at the right time?”

There was a gasp, a clatter and a yelp. Zayne turned to find white icing spread across the kitchen counter, splattered on the floor and even a few drops on the ceiling. The whisk hung off the end of the counter by its cord, white icing dripping from the blades. Rory was covered. It was on her face, in her hair, across her apron. She’d raised her hands to protect herself but had clearly been too slow.

Zayne pressed his lips together to stop from smiling as she slowly looked around at the mess before turning her eyes to him.

“You’re timing is appalling.” She snapped, but the slight twist of her lips and the glint in her eyes ruined the tone she was going for. Zayne tried to look contrite, but it was nearly impossible when another drop of icing fell from the ceiling and landed right on her nose.

Rory reached up to wipe the icing away, but Zayne caught her wrist.

“Careful or you’ll get your bandages dirty. Here,” He pulled her over to the sink and lifted her up to sit on the countertop beside it before reaching for a cloth.

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one in need of a distraction.” She said pointedly. Zayne looked back to find her eyeing the half-thawed book still in the kitchen sink. He returned to her side and flicked the bit of icing  of her nose with it before lifting her chin with a finger.

“Don’t be a brat.” He scolded and smirked as she pouted at him. Then his eyes dropped to the icing covering her skin and his fingers twitched. Unnoticed until now, a small patch of icing had landed on her neck, just beside her throat. He reached forwards with the cloth but hesitated. An internal war began to rage between desire and control and neither side seemed to gain the upper hand. Instead, he simply stood, cloth raised, staring at the icing on her neck.

“Zayne?” Rory called finally, watching him with worry in her eyes. That one look tipped the balance, and he lowered the cloth.

“I asked you a question.” He said, his voice slightly husky. “I told myself I would respect your choice, if that’s what it was. That I wouldn’t get in the way. But I’m tired of waiting. I’m going to fight for what I want. And this time I won’t apologize.”

He gripped her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the worktop, wrapping one arm around her back and sliding his other hand around her jaw. He tiled her head to the side and leaned in, pressing his tongue against her skin and wiping up the icing along her neck in one long stroke.

“Zayne!” Rory gasped, flailing against him, but he simply tightened his grip and following the icing trail along her jaw and up to her cheek. The sugar ignited his tastebuds and rushed to his head as the feel of her pressed against him as he held her tight sent the blood rushing south. He slid his hand from her jaw and around to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair as he changed from licks to open mouthed kisses and gentle nibbles along her cheek and back down to her jaw line.

He could feel Rory’s hands gripping his shoulders, her fingers tense against his shirt. He pulled back and looked her in the eye, their noses almost touching.

“I love you Rory and I will remind you of that every single day if I have to.”

Her breath hitched and he pulled her closer again, locking his lips with hers. He pressed his tongue into her mouth and heard a small gasp escape around their lips. He deepened the kiss further, exploring her mouth with his tongue and relishing in the feel of her sweet, icing covered lips brushing against his own. He felt her thighs tense slightly around his, her heels wrapping slowly around the back of his legs. At the same time, her hands began to inch up his neck, her fingers gliding into his hair.

Rory began to tighten her grip around him, trying to pull him even closer as she swiped at his tongue with her own. She pressed her body against him, and he groaned, raising his hand from her lower back to behind her shoulders and fisting his other hand in her hair. Her legs rose higher, wrapping around his waist, her feet linking together behind him, trapping him in her embrace.

The parted for a moment, both breathing heavily as they stared at each other with dilated eyes.

“What about the cupcakes?” Rory whispered, breathless.

“Forget the cupcakes.” He replied, leaning forward to claim her lips again.

A click and a beep announced the front door opening and the two lovers froze.

“We’re back.” Called an angelic voice from the doorway. “Hello? Anyone here?”

Zayne groaned quietly and dropped his head onto Rory’s shoulder, bracing his hands on the counter either side of her. He felt her legs drop away but her hands continued to stroke his hair as he grumbled curses into her shoulder.

“Whoa, what happened here?” Rafayel’s voice drifted over from the other side of the kitchen and Zayne lifted his head to look over his shoulder.

“Can we help you with something?” He snapped at the artist who simply looked him up and down, a raised eyebrow and knowing look in his eye. Xavier, next to him, coughed into his hand and Zayne thought it sounded remarkably like the word ‘karma’. He glared at the hunter before sighing and stepping back from the counter. He reached out to help Rory down and noticed her face had turned a deep shade of pink, although there was a small smile playing around her mouth.

“I think we might both need to change.” She muttered, indicating his apron. He looked down to find the icing that had covered her front now, also, covered his. He cleared his throat and looked away.

“Clearly.”

Rory placed a reassuring hand on his arm before stepping past him.

“I’m going to take a shower and wash this stuff out of my hair, then I’ll come help clean up down here.”

“Wait, wait, Cutie, before you go.” Rafayel cut her off before she could leave the kitchen. “We go you some stuff.” He presented the long coat cover he’d had slung over his shoulder and indicated the shoe box in Xavier’s hands.

“You got me clothes?” She asked, suspiciously.

“Yep. For tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“We’re all taking you out to dinner.”

Chapter Text

Sylus stood at the front door, key to the convertible in his hand as he watched the sun dip closer to the horizon through the glass entryway. He wore the shirt Rory had made for him along with a crimson red tie and ebony black suit jacket. His fitted trousers and dark leather shoes matching the ensemble. A small crease was nestled between his brows as he glanced at his large silver watch. The table was booked for 6:30pm and the minute hand was creeping closer and closer to 6pm. Maybe if it moved a bit faster and crept past the hour he could cry off, claiming they would never arrive in time.

After his blunder the previous morning, Sylus had done his best to stay out of Rory’s way. The more she’d told them of her ex the more similarities he had seen between himself and that man. Both involved in organised crime, both dealing illegal goods, both quick to take a life. Rory’s reactions to him since he’d arrived in this world all started to make sense. He wondered how often she had looked at him and seen the man that ruined her life, her happiness. And he had only gone and forced her to be vulnerable, just like Cole Murphy had done so many times before.

Why was everything so unpredictable in this world? Back in Linkon, in the N109 zone, Sylus could predict the outcome of every situation, every confrontation. He was always prepared for every conclusion. But here, with Rory, things kept happening that he wasn’t the slightest bit prepared for. One more wrong move like yesterday and he wouldn’t blame her for calling the police, giving him over to that fate she had so clearly laid out for him their first morning together. It would be nothing short of what he deserved if he couldn’t fulfil his promise to protect her. And that was all he could do for her now. There was nothing else he could give her, nothing else he deserved.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentle click of a door, and he glanced down the hall to see Rory approaching. He watched her from the corner of his eye, relishing in her beauty while he still could. Her dark hair was pinned up behind her head, a dusting of blusher and cherry red lipstick highlighting her soft, exquisite features. Her dress, gifted to her by Rafayel and Xavier the day before, was a pristine white, a delicate collar and short cap sleeves framing the top of the wrap-around fabric, creating a modest V-neck. The dress was held in place by a wide white belt with a gold buckle and below that the fabric flared out to create an elegant A-line skirt with a wavy hem just above her ankles. Collections of orange and pink roses were printed on the bottom of the skirt surrounded by olive green leaves. Wide strapped high heeled sandals adorned her feet, another gift from her admirers.

Silk white gloves covered her hands to just above her wrists, hiding the bandages she still wore. A gold bangle with inlaid crystals wrapped around one wrist and the jasmine necklace Zayne had bought her before hung delicately from her neck, sitting perfectly in the neckline of the dress. As she reached the living area of the villa the fading light of the sun hit her through the large windows, and she sparkled. Sylus breath caught as she neared him. If he didn’t know any better, he would think he were in the presence of a goddess.

As she stepped past the wall beside the kitchen the light faded, and Sylus was released from her spell. He turned his gaze away, swallowing and cleared his throat.

“Where are the others?” Rory asked, looking back down the corridor as if they would just pop up when called.

“It seems they’ve abandoned us.” Sylus commented. “Zayne said he had a headache, Rafayel claimed some new inspiration that he had to paint before it faded, and Xavier was…tired.” Sylus frowned as he finished. Even he could tell how pathetic each of their excuses had been.

Rory sighed, turning back to him.

“So, you’re saying they set us up?” She asked, her voice sounding tired.

“It appears so.” He responded, not in the least surprised that she had come to the same conclusion he had. He glanced sideways at her and noticed the worried frown twisting her features as she looked out the front door. Of course she would be worried. She was expecting to be surrounded by four men who could protect her in the dangerous world beyond this door. And now all she had was him.

“We could always cancel, if you’d rather stay home.” He offered. Her eyes flicked up to him and then back out the door. She shrugged and shook her head.

“Rafayel said the restaurant was a few towns over so it should be fine.” She didn’t sound completely sure, but Sylus couldn't help but silently applaud her courage. Then she looked back at him. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“What makes you think I don’t want to?”

She shrugged again. “You’ve been pretty adamant about avoiding me recently.” There was an accusing glint in her eye. She was still mad at him then.

He lowered his eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. It seemed like you’d be happier if I stayed out of your way.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her open her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. After a moment she closed it again. Not wanting to make the situation any more awkward, Sylus turned and pushed the door open, standing aside to let her pass through.

In silence they descended the steps to the driveway and settled into the plush seats of the convertible. The restaurant was a half hour drive away and, as they raced down the roads in the light of the setting sun, neither of them spoke. Rory stared out the window at the passing scenery, seeming to forget that Sylus was even there at all. He thought she seemed relatively calm, except that she continually fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist or plucked at the edge of her gloves.

By the time they pulled up outside the restaurant, the sun had set, and the stars twinkled in the sky above them, nothing but the lights either side of the entrance to guide their way. Sylus parked in a bay across the road with his usual precision and hoped out the car. He reached the passenger door just as Rory began to open it. He held it open and offered a hand to help her out, shutting the door behind her. Then he offered her his arm. Maybe he was just a stark reminder of the man that hurt her, but this night he would show her chivalry. Being a mobster didn’t stop him from being a gentleman.

After a moments pause, she slid her hand through his, stepping imperceptibly closer. He placed his free hand on top of hers, drawing her attention to him.

“You look beautiful tonight, kitten.”

She blushed slightly and looked away, a muttered thanks leaving her lips. Sylus guided her across the road and pulled open the door, allowing her to enter ahead of him.

Inside the restaurant whispered with well-aged elegance. The walls were a soft basil green with pillars of dark wood placed at regular intervals. Hanging golden lights were interspersed among the pillars and old vintage photos dotted the walls between them. Elegant, yet simple chandeliers hung from the whitewashed ceiling and slats of mahogany formed a herringbone pattern across the floor. Built into the wall on the left of the room was a long wide bar with a marble top and gold bars along its length. On the opposite side of the room was a stage, a small group of musicians filling the room with gentle classical music. The floor in front of the stage was free of tables and a few couples stepped gracefully across the space in a romantic waltz. The rest of the room was filled with tables, large ones nearer the walls and smaller ones closer to the dance floor.

As the two moved further into the room a waiter appeared, a polite smile on his lips and enquired if they had a booking. Sylus gave the man Rafayel’s name, and he motioned them to follow him. Grabbing two menus on the way, the pair were led to one of the small two-people tables near the edge of the dance floor. Sylus barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes as the waiter stopped at their table. Of course Rafayel only booked a two-person table. This whole situation had been a set-up after all.

Reaching the table first, Sylus held a chair out for Rory to take, sliding it in as she sat. Then he removed his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair opposite and took his seat. He took the offered menu from the waiter and ordered a bottle of their finest red. The waiter nodded and disappeared as the two perused the menu. When he returned a few minutes later, he removed the cork from the bottle and poured a small amount into a glass. Sylus swirled the liquid, sniffed its delicate fruity scent and took a small sip. After he approved the choice, the waiter left the bottle on the table as directed and asked if they were ready to order. Sylus ordered a steak, medium-rare and Rory ordered the carbonara. The waiter collected the menu’s and disappeared once again.

“Wine?” Sylus asked, picking up the bottle and motioning to Rory’s glass.

“Just a small one.” Rory said, moving her glass across the table. He poured a small amount until she indicated for him to stop then poured a more generous amount into his own glass.

As they waited for their food, they watched the few couples on the dance floor, enjoying the gentle pace of the music. Neither offered a topic for conversation and little was said beyond the odd comment on the music, the ambience or the decoration. Eventually their food arrived, and they both turned their focus to their meal. Through it all, Sylus couldn’t help but notice how well Rory seemed to fit within the high-class environment of the establishment. It was so far from the life she had led before, frequenting nightclubs and late-night concerts, and yet she just seemed to blend in so naturally with the elegance and glamor of their surroundings.

As they neared the end of their main course, Rory finally spoke up.

“Did you get to try any of the cupcakes Zayne and I made yesterday?”

Sylus glanced up from his meal surprised by the casual question.

“I wasn’t aware you’d made any.”

“It took a couple of attempts to actually finish them.” She explained, scraping up the remaining pieces of spaghetti and sauce in her bowl. “The first attempt sort of went…everywhere.”

Sylus raised a brow, a shadow of a smirk on his lips.

“Did it now? I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Maybe we’ll make some more that you can try.”

Sylus watched her. She hadn’t looked at him as they’d been talking and he had a feeling she was leading up to a point. He lowered his fork with the last bite of his steak and gave her his full focus.

“That’s a nice offer, sweetie, but I’m not overly fond of sweet foods. Though I’m sure they tasted wonderful, I’ve no doubt our resident doctor got more joy out of eating them than I would.”

“Either way, I think Zayne just planned it all as an excuse to enlighten me on the motivations of behaviours.”

“Oh?”

Rory finished her last mouthful of food, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin before placing it on the table and leant back in her chair before finally looking up at him. The look in her eyes was searching, almost challenging.

“Zayne thinks your behaviour yesterday was because you’re afraid of losing me.”

Sylus tensed slightly, unprepared for this frontal attack, before composing himself and turning his attention back to the remainder of his dinner. Swallowing his last mouthful, he lowered his cutlery onto the plate and leant back in his own chair, picking up his wine glass and swirling the liquid remaining in it.

“Zayne should stick to his specialty. He wouldn’t do well as a shrink.” He answered, watching the red liquid twirl in his glass.

“Is he wrong?” Rory asked, clearly refusing to let the subject go.

“Sounds to me like he’s projecting.”

“Or you’re deflecting.”

To hide his rising irritation, the gangster downed the rest of the wine and reached for the bottle. As his hand closed on the cold glass, Rory’s gloved hand settled gently on his wrist. He looked up into her shinning eyes; a blue so light they were almost grey.

“Sylus, please.”

He watched her, conflicted. It was not in his nature to expose himself, life in the wasteland that was his home had purged him of that human peculiarity. But something about this woman disarmed him so thoroughly. The truth was Zayne was right, and it stung that he’d been read so easily. But then, Rory had masterfully worked cracks and holes into his armour without his even realising it. He couldn’t continue like this. But the look in her eyes as she waited for him to speak…he couldn’t shut her out.

The sound of a familiar tune starting reached his ears and he took his chance. Placing his empty glass back on the table he turned his wrist to take Rory’s hand in his and stood, pulling her to her feet along with him.

“Dance with me.” He whispered and started to lead her to the floor. She hesitated, pulling back against his hold.

“Wait, Sylus, no, I…I can’t dance.”

He stepped closer to her again and gently placed his finger beneath her chin.

“Then it’s a good thing you have me here to guide you.” He smirked, but his eyes begged her to trust him, just this once. Hesitantly, she nodded.

They stepped onto the dance floor and Sylus directed Rory on where to put her hands.

“Now, just follow my lead.” He said, stepping forward. He directed Rory will little bits of pressure on her hand, held in his, or against her back, where he placed his other hand. He used the odd word or count to help her keep up at first until she got used to the rhythm. Slowly, her steps became more confident and her movements more sure until she was anticipating each step, trusting Sylus to lead her in each turn and weight change.

As the music rose and fell, the couple traversed the floor, along with a few other couples, Sylus gazing at the woman in his arms the whole time. When the music changed ever-so-slightly, Sylus realised the song was nearing it’s end and knew that now was his moment. Settling into the feeling of control the dance gave him; he lifted his gaze slightly over Rory’s head.

“There are many types of people that exist around us.” He started, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music but soft enough not to reach the other dancers around them. “Some blunder through life, ignorant of the dangers around them. Some see opportunity in the failures of others. And some notice the machinations of those who prey on the weak. I’m not in the habit of tormenting the innocent. I like to think I shape my actions according to whom I’m dealing with. But it’s possible I overstepped in my behaviour…yesterday…with you.” He frowned at the hesitancy that slipped into his voice at the end and grit his teeth before dropping his eyes back to the woman before him. She was gazing up at him with a strange look in her eyes that he couldn’t place but it made him feel unnervingly transparent.

“I understand that dragons aren’t used to showing kindness or consideration for others.” She responded at last, keeping her voice as soft as his had been. “But you’re no longer just a dragon. At least half of your soul is human which means you’re capable of human emotions. I get they may be unfamiliar to you but that’s no excuse to ignore them. I’m not one of your thugs or informants that you can boss around and I’m not your enemy. I need you to show that you understand that. Not just with what you say but what you do.”

Sylus gazed down at her, awestruck, aware of the fact that they had stopped dancing. In the space of a few seconds, she had well and truly unravelled him. Breaking through the millennia of torment and sorrow to find the true heart of the matter. Sylus didn’t know how to be human. Despite all the years he’d been in this form, he had never learnt to control or even understand the alien emotions that now plagued his soul, choosing instead to bury them beneath layers of wit and dark humour.

“You are truly an amazing woman, Rory Delaney.” He breathed, reaching up to brush his fingers across her cheek. “I can only hope I’m fortunate enough to earn your forgiveness a second time.”

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

“You may be a criminal, Sylus, but I’ve never seen you as a villain. So, stop trying to be something you’re not. And, maybe,” She continued, more hesitantly as she stepped back and averted her gaze. “I’ll consider this evening as the first step towards earning my forgiveness.”

Sylus fought against the desire to pick her up and spin her around, knowing he wasn’t yet absolved of his guilt. He still had a long way to go. Despite that, he couldn’t help the love that filled his eyes and his smile as he felt his heart swell and delighted in the way Rory blushed when she noticed.

“I’m…ah…just going to get another drink. I’ll just be a minute.” She stuttered, pulling out of his hold and making her way, faster than necessary, towards the bar. Sylus watched her go, the smile still etched on his face, before making his way back to their table.

Sitting down he poured the last of the wine into his glass and sipped it, considering everything they’d discussed. He wasn’t forgiven for his forceful treatment of her the day before, but at the same time, he hadn’t been cut off for good. She had given him a chance, a small seed of a possibility. But it required Sylus to allow himself to feel things he hadn’t acknowledged in centuries. Not just to feel them but to own them, control them, understand them. He glanced back at Rory, standing at the bar, waiting, her back to him. Could he do it? Could he be weak for her?

Leaning forwards, he stared down at the dregs in his cup. She had never seen him as a villain. How was it, all of the N109 zone feared him, all of Linkon recoiled from him, he’d made it to the top of the most wanted list in less than a decade, and yet, this simple, quiet seamstress who had suffered at the hands of man who could easily have been one of the many men under his command, could see the true motivations behind his acts of wrongdoing? True, he was no good Samaritan, and he had no desire to be, but he knew who the true villains were, and he always made sure his sights were set on them and not the fools who simply didn’t know any better.

He glanced back up at the bar, his mind still reeling and froze. Rory no longer stood by the marble countertop. He sat up straighter, looking around the room for her dark hair, bright eyes and elegant white dress. His heart began to beat faster the longer he looked without spotting her. Finally, he stood and turned on the spot, checking every face in the room. She wasn’t there.

Bathroom. Maybe she went to the bathroom. He looked around frantically for the sign to the toilets and saw it in the far corner, pointing down a corridor away from the main room. He hurried over, crossing the space in a matter of seconds with his long stride.

Turning down the corridor, he saw the dark doors indicating the male and female bathrooms before the corridor continued around the corner. He stopped before the door with the small female symbol on it and hesitated. Should he just walk in? Or maybe knock? He raised his hand, still not sure what to do, when the door opened and a petite blonde woman stepped out, almost walking right into him.

“Oh, sorry.” She said, her voice trailing off as she looked up and up and up into Sylus’ vermilion eyes, her own going wide and her mouth forming a silent ‘o’

“Did you see another woman in there? Dark hair, white dress?” He asked hurriedly, trying not to grip her shoulders and shake the poor woman.

“Um…no…there’s no one else in there.” She answered quietly. Sylus stepped back, his heart racing. He thanked the woman absentmindedly, quickly forgetting her as he turned down the corridor. He sniffed tentatively. Rory’s perfume had surrounded him during their dance, lavender and apple. A fresh, floral scent that stuck in his mind. Could he still smell it? He inhaled deeply through his nose. There. Faint and some-what indistinct, but it was there. She’d been here. But she was gone. He’d lost her. He promised to protect her, but she was gone.

He'd failed.

Chapter Text

I glanced back at Sylus, staring into his wine glass, before I turned the corner heading for the bathroom. The bartender had been efficient at producing the drink I ordered, and I had downed it in one. Probably not the best thing to do but the burn as it ran down my throat helped to clear my head somewhat. Only it hadn’t been enough. My body felt hot, too hot. Maybe I just needed to splash some water on my face. Surely that would cool me down a bit. So, I turned the corner and headed towards the bathroom door.

The music and chatter of the restaurant followed me down the corridor, but an odd silence filled the space in front of me, as if I was stepping out of this glamourous elegant world Sylus had brought me to. It a way it was calming, the sounds around me being muffled by the dark walls. I reached the door to the bathroom and placed my hand against its cold surface.

Before I could react, a large, clammy hand covered my mouth and the cold, metal nuzzle of a gun brushed against the side of my neck. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears.

“Not a sound or you’re dead.” A deep voice whispered in my ear. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted past my nose as he spoke, making my stomach churn. I glanced back towards the main room, but I was too far out of anyone’s sight to expect help. The hand left my mouth and gripped my upper arm in a bruising grip, the muzzle still pressed to my throat as a warning. I was half dragged, half pushed further down the corridor, away from the crowds and the noise and Sylus. Had he noticed yet?

I could feel my body shaking as adrenaline rushed through my veins. What should I do? What could I do? It would take less than a heartbeat for the man behind me to pull the trigger. I was helpless, my heart begging as I kept my mouth sealed shut.

Past another corner was the back door to the restaurant. Without waiting the thug pushed the door open with his shoulder and shoved me out onto the cold hard ground of the dim alleyway outside. I caught myself on my hands and knees, feeling my knees jar on the impact and small stones dig into the gloves over my hands.

“Keep watch.” Another cold voice said from in front of me and my blood turned to ice. That voice had echoed through my nightmares for the past five years. I heard the door shut behind me as a pair of dark booted feet stepped into my view. Heavy leather boots with a thick rubber sole. The sort that often contained steel toe caps. Slowly, my eyes drifted up, past the baggy trousers and the dark tank top to the round face and cold eyes half-hidden under a mess of muddy brown hair. The thin lips twisted in a menacing smirk.

“Long time no see, baby.” Cole sneered at me. He had more piercings and tattoos since the last time I’d seen him, and chunky metal rings covered most of his fingers. He held no weapon as far as I could see but then he’d never needed one against me before.

I felt my body quiver in fear, my mind filling with memories of his beatings. He stepped forwards again and I screamed at my body to move, to run, but it wouldn’t. I was trapped; I was going to die here. I was powerless against this man, and he knew it.

Just as panic began to fill my mind, a sooth, calming sensation washed over me. I felt my heartbeat slow and my breathing balance out.

Be brave. You are not alone.

Sienna.

She was here. She was with me. She wasn’t afraid of this man. She fought wanderers and criminals on a daily basis. In comparison to them, Cole was nothing. He was no one. With Sienna’s strength, I could stop this. I could get out. I could survive.

Cole bent down in front of me, resting his arms on his knees. I could tell by the look on his face I wasn’t getting out without a fight. I watched his eyes rove up and down my body, taking in my dress, my gloves, my jewellery.

“You’ve really done well for yourself if you’ve got that pansy taking you to a place like this. Did he buy you that fancy dress or was it one of the other assholes you’re shacking up with?”

As he spoke, I slowly began to pull the gloves from my hands. I snorted at his suggestion, trying to hide the fear that still gripped me.

“Of course, you would insult men who actually know how to treat a woman. I’d like to see you call them that to their faces.”

Cole reached up and gripped my face in one hand, his fingers digging painfully into my cheeks. I gripped his wrist with my still gloved hand, trying to pull free from his grip. He pulled my face closer, until our noses were almost touching. The humour was gone from his face.

“That’s the thing, baby. I don’t need to say anything to them. All I need to do is leave your lifeless body outside the villa’s gate.”

My stomach dropped at his words, images of Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier and Sylus when they discovered me dead at their doorstep.

“I should really thank you for making the trip out tonight.” Cole continued. “When you moved to that villa, I couldn’t figure out how to get to you without setting off the alarm, but now, out here,” he brushed his free hand across my hair, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper “I can take my time.”

Just as his grip tightened in my hair I reached up with my other hand and dug my nails into his face, dragging them down with all the force I could muster. He cried out and released my face, standing and dragging my head up by my hair.

“You bitch!” He spat, blood dripping down his cheek. The pull on my hair brought tears to my eyes but I refused to close them. Then the back of his hand connected with my cheek, his rings digging into my flesh. The shock made me gasp and the taste of copper filled my mouth. “You’ll pay for that!” He shouted, throwing me to the ground. My vision blurred slightly before returning to normal.

A heavy boot impacted with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I tried to roll away but a large dumpster beside me blocked my path. Cole kicked me again, this time connecting with my hip. I cried out at the pain and tried to pull my knees up to my chest. The pain radiated out from my mid-section, and I began to seriously regret that last drink.

“I’ll make you regret everything you did to me, you slut.” He cried as his boot connected with my stomach again. This time I wrapped my arms around his calf and pulled myself towards him. With all my strength I bit down hard on his muscle, clamping my mouth shut. Cole cried out again and pulled at my hair. I refused to let go, even as I felt strands being pulled from my head. He gripped the sleeve of my dress with his other hand, and I heard fabric rip. Still, I refused to let go, until that moment that he lost his balance and fell backwards.

Quickly I released his leg and tried scrambling to my feet. I made it a few short steps before my insides revolted and I vomited, the burn in my throat far less pleasant than the one earlier. I gripped the dumpster to try and pull myself along, but strong hands gripped my leg, and I heard more tearing as Cole pulled on the skirt of my dress. Clinging to the dumpster I kicked out behind me blindly, refusing to let up for even a moment.

Finally, my heel connected with something solid, and Cole cried out again, his grip on my leg weakening. I twisted my foot from his grip and forced myself forwards. I had to escape, before he recovered. Unfortunately, as good as high heels could be in defence, they made escape much harder. I made it less than ten feet before a hand gripped the collar of my dress and threw me sideways. I crashed into the brick wall, the thud echoing in my skull and pain flaring behind my eyes as my head collided with the hard surface.

Suddenly, strong, calloused hands wrapped around my throat and pressed against my windpipe. I gasped as my airways closed off and pried my eyes open against the pain in my head. Cole glared down at me, his teeth bared, blood dripping from his nose and the scratches on his cheek. In a last ditch attempt I raised my hand and pressed my thumb hard into his eye. He stepped back out of my reach, releasing me as he growled in pain again. I took a deep breath, sucking oxygen back into my lungs. But Cole was too fast. His hand connected with my cheek again, snapping my head to the side and a moment later his hands were around my throat again. I scrambled against his grip, clawing at his fingers but my strength was rapidly running out.

The edges of my vision began to blur and a pressure in my head joined the pain already there. I could feel my body weakening as the seconds ticked by and my senses began to dim. There was nothing more I could do. I was going to die here. I wished I could see Phoebe one last time. Tell her how thankful I was for her help these last years. How much her friendship meant to me.

I wondered if my mother would find out I had died. Would she mourn for me? Or would she be glad she rid her hands of me before things gotten this bad? And what about the boys? How would they get home without me? Would they be stuck in this world once I was gone? I wished so much that I could see them all one last time. Tell them…tell them…

My eyes closed as the burning in my lungs became unbearable. There was no point fighting, no point wishing. This was the end. At least death would be peaceful.

The grip on my throat vanished and my knees buckled. My body sucked in great lungfuls of air before I realised what had happened. Was this death? Was it finally over? But then why did it still hurt so much?

As the burn in my lungs eased, I became aware of a ringing in my ears and a voice, slightly muffled. Warm hands eased the hair away from my face and cupped my cheeks. The touch was soft, gentle and the voice came again, this time clearer.

“Rory, look at me.” That deep rumble sounded like Sylus. I forced my eyes open slightly, wincing even at the dim light of the alleyway. Sylus vermillion eyes stared back at me, showing more emotion than I’d ever seen on his face. I realised I was lying on the ground, Sylus leaning over me. Everything seemed tinged with red. Maybe there was blood in my eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Sylus muttered, pulling me upright. The change in orientation made my head throb again and I shut my eyes. Warm arms circled me, and I felt the gentle touch of lips against my forehead. The pain subsided as if blown away by a cool wind and I opened my eyes again.

Looking up at my saviour I noticed Sylus was examining the tears and boot prints on my dress, not to mention the large dirt smears from crawling across the ground. Then his eyes moved up to my neck and face, large red marks across both cheeks and around my throat and the layer of blood I could taste on my lips turned his eyes deep crimson, all warmth and kindness gone from his expression.

Slowly, the mafioso stood, tucking his thumbs into his pockets and turned. Without Sylus blocking my view I could see further down the alleyway and spotted a large ball of swirling red and black mist. In its centre was Cole, struggling against the power surrounding him, eyes wide in terror. A single strand of mist covered his mouth, muffling his cries. I realised the red tinge in my vision wasn’t me but the light of Sylus evol shining in the dark.

“Was it these hands that made those marks on her neck?” Sylus voice was unearthly. It was calm and quiet, but also loud and rageful. A deep growl echoed off the walls around us with each word, like the roar of a wild animal. It was only then that I noticed the tendrils of mist swirling around the man before me, collecting and solidifying.

Sylus took a slow step forward as the mist became long jagged horns on his head, large leathery wings sprouting from his back and a long, armour-plated tail ending in a sharp point extending from the base of his spine.

Cole began to struggle wildly against his bindings as Sylus slowly approached him.

“Do you know how many bones there are in the human hand?” Sylus continued, the otherworldly rumble in his voice vibrating through me. “Twenty-seven.”

This wasn’t the Sylus I knew. This was a fiend, a creature from a history that didn’t belong to this world. This was the dragon that had slumbered beneath the surface for centuries. And now it was free. I had to stop him, snap him out of it, before someone else saw. Before he went too far.

“Three in each finger.” Sylus said calmly.

Crack! The sound filled my ears as Cole’s muffled screams filled the air

“Sylus!” I tried to call out, but my voice was little more than a croak, drowned out by the dragon’s roar echoing around us.

“Five in the palm.”

Crack!

I began to cough at the strain on my bruised throat but tried again all the same.

“Sylus, stop!” Still, little more than a whisper escaped my lips. All the while, Sylus continued to approach the man suspended in front of him

“And eight in the wrist.”

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Cole’s screams were unending as tears of pain leaked from his eyes. Finally, Sylus came to stop before him.

“I should rip you to shreds for what you’ve done to her. You should be thankful that I wouldn’t distress my woman by forcing her to witness your murder. But if I see you again, I won’t hesitate.”

The mist holding Cole disappeared and the man dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. His hands were horrendously disfigured, fingers bending where they shouldn’t, broken bones poking through the skin of his palms and his wrists mangled beyond belief. Cries and whimpers escaped his mouth as he scrambled backwards, away from the dragon still staring down at him.

“Don’t give me a reason to come looking for you.” Sylus growled, then raised his hand and threw a ball of mist at the cowering man, throwing him backwards across the length of the alleyway until he crashed into another dumpster at the far end and slumped to the ground.

I stared at the man for long moments, looking for any sign of life. Sylus had said he wouldn’t kill him, but could he have survived that impact. Then I saw his chest rise, just slightly, and descend again. He was alive. Sylus hadn’t killed him. The head of Onychinus, the ancient dragon, had spared a life simply so I wouldn’t have to watch him die.

I turned to the man who had saved me to see his fist tight against his sides, his eyes hidden by his silver hair. His dragon features hadn’t disappeared, and I wondered if they ever would.

Desperate to see his face, to look into his eyes, I tried to pull myself to my feet. Leaning against the wall I pushed myself up, ignoring the pounding in my head as I got my feet under me. Finally, upright I turned to my dragon and reached out. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and my eyes closed again. My hands contacted warm, strong arms and then darkness descended.

Chapter Text

Rafayel

The bright lights in the living area lit the villa up like a beacon in the dark night as Rafayel paced back and forth between the sofas. Sylus and Rory had been gone nearly four hours, and he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Zayne was sat on the sofa in front of him, legs crossed and book in hands. Xavier sat at the dinner table his head resting on his arms crossed in front of him and eyes closed.

“They should be back by now.” Rafayel said for the third time, crossing his arms and tapping his foot on the hard wood floor.

“I’m sure everything’s fine. If there was a problem, Sylus would call.” Zayne responded calmly, turning the page of his book.

“Really? The unofficial ruler of the N109 zone calling us for help?”

“This isn’t the N109 zone. Onychinus doesn’t exist here.”

“So what? What difference does that make?”

“In this world we’re his backup.” Xavier mumbled from the table. Rafayel blinked in momentary surprise, not realizing the hunter had been awake and listening. Then he marched over to the table and nudged Xavier’s chair with his foot.

“What do you mean backup?” The artist asked, a slight pout on his lips.

The hunter sat up and stretched, yawning before replying.

“In the N109 zone he has all his subordinates he can call on if he needs to. He doesn’t have that here, like Zayne said. Instead, he has us.” As he mumbled his explanation, slurring his words ever so slightly, he pushed himself up and began to shuffle towards the kitchen.

“Well, I’m not backup! I organised this, the least they can do is keep in touch. I knew we should have gone to keep an eye on things.”

“They needed the time alone.” Zayne sighed, still not looking up from his book. “The fact that their still not back probably means they’re getting along.”

“Like she got along with Xavier the other night?” Rafayel asked impishly. Zayne flinched slightly but didn’t respond. Instead, he shut his book, sighing and turned towards the kitchen, probably expecting some smug comment from the man in question. But none came.

“Xavier?” The doctor called after a moment. Rafayel turned to the hunter. He was stood at the sink, glass in hand, but his focus was on something outside, blue eyes wide in astonishment. A moment later he dropped the glass on the side and hurried back out the kitchen. His sleepy demeanour had disappeared and there was a tension in his movements. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafayel saw Zayne stand, prepared for whatever threat or danger Xavier may have seen, and hurry up the steps of the lounge area.

Before any of them could react further, red mist swirled around the doors and a moment later they flew open. The figure that stepped through was both unmistakable and unfamiliar. The silver hair and red eyes were well known to the men watching the figure amble into the villa but the sight of the jagged horns protruding from his head and the large leathery wings extending from his back kept Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne rooted to the spot.

Xavier muttered something under his breath. Rafayel spared him a momentary glance, but his wide eyes were quickly pulled back to the dragon standing before them, his large, pointed tail swishing absently behind him. The shock the lemurian felt towards the ancient beast was only overruled by the dread he felt when he turned to the figure in Sylus’ arms.

Tucked against the man’s chest, Rory lay motionless in his arms, eyes closed. Half-dried blood smeared across her forehead and matted in her hair, most of which had fallen, or been pulled from the clips and bands. Both cheeks were bright red, not the red of a blush but of pain and hurt. Small purpling marks on her cheeks suggested the impact of something small and solid. Similar purpling marks ringed her neck, looking far too much like finger marks for Rafayel peace of mind. Her dress was torn and filthy, one sleeve ripped almost completely along the seam and long rips in the skirt. Smears of dirt and something vaguely like vomit covered her front and a few dirt marks that were clearly from the tread of a boot were dotted around her mid-section and hip. One of her gloves was missing and there were clear signs of blood under her nails while the other glove was also torn and stained with filth.

The dragon came to a stop in front of the doctor and stared down at him.

“Take her.” He said, an unnatural growl echoing under his words. There was a heartbeat hesitation before Zayne stepped forwards and took the unconscious woman from his companion.

“What happened?” He asked as he settled the girl in his arms.

“Cole Murphy happened.”

The heat of anger broke through Rafayel’s shock, and he stepped forwards.

“You let that psycho get to her?” He shouted. Sylus rounded on him; eyes full of the fire burning in his veins.

“I was waylaid by his thugs. I got to her as fast as I could.”

“Did you kill him?” Xavier asked, the features of his face hard as he watched every move Sylus made. The dragon turned to him before averting his gaze.

“No.” His voice was calmer but that strange growl still echoed around them. “I couldn’t. Not in front of her.” He looked back at the unconscious woman and Rafayel noticed that he’d stepped away from the doctor and his charge.

“She’ll be ok.” Zayne declared. “She’s alive, which means she can heal.” With a pointed look at the dragon, Zayne turned and carried Rory back towards her room.

Sylus watched them go but Rafayel kept his eyes on the man in front of him. He was still trying to come to terms with what he was seeing. His eyes moved from the horns to the wings to the tail and back to the horns. It was only then that he noticed their form seemed to flicker slightly, as though they kept changing from solid to gaseous and back to solid. Was this due to Sylus’ evol? Was he losing control?

The dragon became aware of the eyes on him and turned to Rafayel.

“What’s wrong? Shocked to find a deity like yourself has been living with a fiend?” He asked mockingly, stepping closer to the smaller man. “Does it disgust you to be so close to a creature like me? Go ahead. Strike me down. Show me what a Sea God can do.”

Rafayel stared up at the dragon, his mind reeling from all these new revelations. Sylus was a dragon, a fiend. He could change his form. He knew Rafayel was a lemurian and the Sea God. Trying to process all this new information, Rafayel was frozen with indecision. Sylus was powerful, more powerful that he’d realised. As the Sea God, he could take him, easily. But at what cost? Ever since Lemuria had fallen, the power of the Sea God had become harder and harder to control. If he called on it now, he could lose more than his restraint, he could lose his sanity. Then he would be more of a danger than anyone. Not just to Rory but to this whole world. He had no doubt his lack of control was a punishment from the Sea for choosing the woman he loved over the survival of his people. And he knew the cost of his atonement.

Rafayel was suddenly pulled back as light flashed beside him. Xavier  stood before him, sword drawn and held as a barrier between them and the creature seething before them.

“If you want to blow off steam I will readily fight you.” Xavier said calmly. “But not here. Not where Rory could see.”

Sylus seemed to retreat slightly at that, glancing towards the back of the villa.

“I suggest you find somewhere to cool off, Stayrus.”

The dragon glared at the hunter, his eyes narrowed. For a moment, no one moved, tension so thick the air seemed to hum with it. Slowly, a smirk twisted Sylus’ lips. He reached into his pocket, then shoved his hand against Xavier’s chest, before turning and heading for the stairs, his long tail swaying behind him.

The pair watched the dragon manoeuvre up the staircase and disappear into his room, the door closing with a loud bang.

After a moment, Xavier turned around, his sword disappearing in another flash of light. The item Sylus shoved at him rested in his open palm. It was the keys to the convertible. Xavier stared at them frowning before glancing up. Rafayel had no idea what the look on his face was but whatever it was caught the hunter’s attention.

“What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to ask? About what Sylus said about me?”

Xavier watched him for a moment, then shrugged.

“Would it change anything?”

Rafayel blinked at him, surprised by his response.

“Well…no…not really.”

“Then it’s fine. I’d rather figure out exactly what Sylus did to Cole Murphy.”

At that moment a bellowing roar echoed around the house, making the windows rattle and the floor vibrate under their feet. The sound of wood breaking could be heard before everything went quiet again.

“Feel free to ask.” Rafayel said, motioning to the stairs. Xavier looked at him like he was insane.

“You first.”

Rafayel snorted. “Not a chance.”

Xavier looked back down at the keys in his hand.

“What are you thinking?”

“Sylus flew back with Rory, so the convertible is still at the restaurant. Maybe Murphy is too.”

Rafayel shivered slightly at the dark tone that entered the other man’s voice.

“Maybe we should go find out?” He suggested.

“Rory won’t be happy if she finds out we went after him.” Xavier mumbled, clearly fighting an internal debate with himself.

“So, we just make sure he can’t identify us.” Rafayel responded, a smirk twisting his lips.

* * *

Zayne

Zayne frowned as he worked on the unconscious woman. He’d laid her out on the bed and settled beside her, removing her shoes and lone glove. He’d managed to find most of the pins in her hair and done his best to clean the wound on the side of her head, but her hair was still caked in dried blood. He’d also cleaned the blood from her face and removed her jewellery but had delayed in removing her dress. He knew it needed to come off but felt unsure about the propriety of removing it while she was unconscious.

Instead, he fetched a hand towel from the bathroom and, creating a few cubes of ice, created a makeshift cold compress to drape over her throat. Then he collected a wet flannel and Rory’s nail kit and began to clean the blood from her under her nails. As he worked, he did his best to ignore the clear boot treat marks on her dress. The less he thought about it the calmer he could be. That was the theory anyway. It was only when he heard Rory gasp, that he realised small ice crystals had been forming along his fingers.

He stopped what he was doing as Rory cracked her eyes open slightly and gingerly reached up to feel the compress over her throat. Her mouth opened like she was going to speak, and Zayne placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention.

“Take it easy. You’ve got some bruises on your throat so it’s best not to speak too much right now. Do you want to sit up?”

She nodded and he supported her as she lifted her torso, removing the compress before it landed in her lap. Once she was upright, Zayne shifted her pillows to support her before nudging her to lean back again. As he sat back on the bed she reached out and took his hand.

“Sy…” She croaked out before a fit of coughs interrupted her. Zayne pressed his fingers against her throat, knowing the cool touch would help.

“Sylus is…ok.” He started once her coughing had stopped. “I think he’s a bit worked up but otherwise he’s fine.” He’d honestly been surprised that the roar that shook the house not long ago hadn’t woken the seamstress. “Let me get you some water.” He got up then hesitated. “Do you think you can change out of the dress on your own?”

Rory looked down at the state of her outfit and winced, then gave a small nod. Zayne fetched her pyjamas from the draw and left them on the bed before leaving the room and heading to the kitchen. There was no sign of Xavier or Rafayel in the main living area which Zayne found slightly surprising. He just hoped they weren’t doing anything stupid.

Pouring a glass of water, he returned to the bedroom to find Rory changed and tucked under her duvet. He passed her the glass and sat down on the edge of the bed again as she drank. Once she’d downed half the glass, he took it from her and placed it on the bedside table.

“I’ve cleaned the cut on your head.” He said turning back. “But there’s still blood in your hair which needs washing out. First, are you hurt anywhere else? Does anything hurt?”

Rory’s ears turned red as she pointed.

“Hip.” She rasped.

Zayne gritted his teeth, remembering the boot print on her dress but kept his voice calm.

“May I have a look?”

She averted her eyes but gave a small nod. Zayne moved around the bed and pulled the covers back slightly. He had to slide her pyjama shorts down slightly to reveal the large purple bruise spreading across her hip, but his gentle touches revealed no broken bones. Rory hissed at his touch, and he apologised. She smiled slightly and shook her head.

“Fingers…cold.”

Zayne felt himself blush slightly and apologised again before pulling back.

“It doesn’t feel like anything is broken. I imagine its just bruised. The best thing is to keep using a cold compress on it for the next 48 hours to prevent swelling, then switch to heat to increase blood flow which will speed up the healing process.”

He moved to get up, but Rory grabbed his hand.

“You, okay?” She rasped.

Zayne smiled and sat down again.

“That should be my line.” He teased but Rory just raised her brows at him. The smile slipped from his face, and he looked away.

“I should have anticipated this. We should all have been there to keep you safe. I’m upset that I didn’t think it was necessary. But I’m also glad that Sylus was there to protect you. I’m not sure I could have held back from killing him like Sylus did.”

“You’re…doctor…not-“

“Not a killer?” Zayne looked at her again. “Being a doctor means I save lives, yes. But it also means I know the best ways to cause pain. Trust me, I’m just as capable of taking a life as I am of saving one.”

Rory frowned and opened her mouth to speak again but Zayne reached forward and gripped her face, partly to provide some cold treatment to the bruises on her cheeks and partly to stop her from straining her voice more than necessary.

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say but it won’t change how I feel right now. Besides, you need to rest your throat as much as possible so the less you talk, the faster you’ll recover.”

Rory pouted and rolled her eyes at him but didn’t try to speak again.

“I also think it will be best if you stick to soft food for the next couple of days.”

She pulled a face but nodded slightly. Zayne smiled again.

“Now, do you want me to help you wash the blood out of your hair? The cut has stopped bleeding, but you still need to be careful not to aggravate it.”

Rory nodded and allowed Zayne to help her out of the bed. She wobbled slightly on her sore hip and Zayne also spotted some slight bruising around one of her ankles but chose not to saying anything at that moment. Supporting her on one arm he helped her into the bathroom and settled her on the toilet while he fetched the desk chair from her room. Placing this up against the sink, he had her sit and lean back so her hair was under the tap and began to gently clean the blood away. He used a little bit of shampoo to get the worst out but made sure not to get any in the cut. He was hoping it would continue to heal by itself, and he wouldn’t have to bandage it, but it depended on whether it opened again.

Once the blood was gone, he used a towel to gently dry her hair before leading her back to the bedroom and using the hair dryer to finish the job.

“You should try to get some rest.” He suggested, once he’d put the hair dryer away. He turned back to Rory to find her watching him worriedly.

“Stay?” She croaked and he smiled.

“Of course.”

She slid under the covers and settled down in the bed watching as Zayne settled himself beside her, propped up by the headboard. She reached out and took his hand before closing her eyes.

Zayne realised she must have been tired as her breathing quickly evened out and deepened and her grip on his hand went slack. He stayed watching her sleeping form for what seemed like an eternity. The sight of her peaceful face calming the raging storm inside him. Finally, with a sigh, he tore his eyes away and gently slipped off the bed. Then, as quietly as he could he slipped out of her room, shutting the door behind him.

He was about to head to his own room when he caught sight of Xavier and Rafayel near the front door and paused. Xavier was dressed in a long white jacket with white trousers and boots with a blue sash across his chest and blue straps hanging from his waist. A wide black belt circled his middle, and a dark grey band wrapped around his upper arm, with an intricate silver mask covering his upper face. Rafayel in contrast was all in purple and black with a black jacket, trousers and boots with multiple buckles and straps and a long, hooded purple coat over the top. A black mask covered the bottom half of his face. Both of them had splashes of blood across their unusual clothes.

As they caught sight of him, they froze, looking only slightly guilty.

“What…” Zayne started then closed his eyes and shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Just make sure Rory doesn’t see you like that.” Then he turned and entered his own room.

Chapter Text

John Gallagher

Captain John Gallagher sat at his desk staring at the ever-expanding pile of folders, the overwhelmingly long list of unopened emails on his pc screen and the collection of sticky notes covering his desk with call back requests scribbled on them. Leaning back in his chair he rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. Two years ago, he’d been offered the promotion to Captain of the department and jumped at the offer, having been a detective for the last 25 years and a damn good police officer for 15 years before that. The promotion was exactly what he’d been aiming for.

Two years in however, and he was sorely missing the leg work, the puzzles of evidence, the battle of wits with witnesses and suspects. Even the satisfaction of a case closed was no longer available to him. Being Captain was all about politics and desk work. Sure, the pay was better but what good was more money when he’d go home to an empty house every night. Work had been his life since he joined the force in his twenties. Now in his early sixties and nearing retirement he found himself staring at a void. His personal life had been non-existent, he had no family, no hobbies and all his friends were colleagues in the force. Retirement would get him out of the boring monotony of desk work but would leave him with nothing to fill the gap. Talk about a rock and hard place.

He steeled himself to dive back into the unending workload just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.” He called.

The door opened and a tall, auburn haired man with kind grey eyes stepped into the office. He wore a dark shirt with black trousers and standard issue boots; his gun and badge clipped to his belt.

“Got a minute, Captain?” The young man asked, holding up the case file in his hands. John motioned his subordinate to come in and the detective shut the door behind him.

“What do you need, Rhodes?”

“Do you remember that domestic abuse case we worked together about five years ago? The victim was in a coma when the hospital reported it?”

Matthew Rhodes had been the captain’s junior partner for three years before he’d taken the promotion. They’d worked well together, and Rhodes had become a fine detective in his own right.

“Something Murphy, was it?” The captain responded, thinking back.

“Cole Murphy.” Rhodes nodded. “The victim was Aurora Delaney.”

John quickly recalled the case. One of the easier cases they’d worked. Once the victim woke up, she’d told them everything without hesitation. Even agreed to testify. Discovering her abuser was in a gang and responsible for organising a smuggling trade with another gang in the area was just a bonus.

“What about it?”

“Well, I got a call from my old station, down on the coast. They got a call last night about an assault. The guy was found behind a restaurant and was rushed to hospital. They’re saying he’s still in surgery.”

“OK, what’s that got to do with the DA case?”

“The guy was Cole Murphy.”

The captain’s eyebrow’s shot up and Rhodes passed him the case file.

“The officers sent these photos through once they’d connected him with one of our cases.”

John took the file and opened it, examining the photos of the scene of attack and the victim. His stomach twisted slightly at the excessive amounts of blood. Sure, he’d been on the job a long time, but he rarely worked homicide cases, so this level of gore wasn’t his every day.

“Any witness statements of the attack? Do we know what he was doing on the coast?”

Rhodes shook his head. “It was called in by one of the restaurant staff who spotted him in the alleyway after they closed. Since his release three months ago we’ve had no news about Murphy’s whereabouts. He attended all his check-ins with his parole officer until two weeks ago when he went AWOL.”

John recalled the trial, and the threats Murphy had screamed at the victim as he was sentenced.

“Do we know where Aurora Delaney is?”

“Not currently but I think she went to live with that school friend she met at the hospital. You think she’s involved?”

“I think Murphy isn’t the sort to let go of a grudge. Contact the officers on the case. Tell them we want regular updates. And find Miss Delaney.”

* * *

Sylus

Sylus stared up at the night’s sky, enjoying the peace and privacy of the villa roof. The sun had set less than half and hour ago and he had been up here ever since. The night before he had been so caught up in his rage it had taken most of the night before he was able to resume his human form. It was the first time he had struggled to shed his dragon persona but then it was the first time he’d taken it in such an uncontrolled state. Fearing Rory’s reaction to his dragon form he’d made a point of avoiding her. And this time he held no hope of reconciliation. She could forgive him when she was angry, but nothing would help if she was scared.

So, early that morning he’d left the villa to scout the surrounding area and run a few errands. One being the purchase of a new sim card for Rory’s phone. The same phone he was currently flipping in his hands. Once it was late and he was sure she’d be asleep he would go down and leave it in her room.

A flash of light had him summoning his mist and turning sharply. Stood at the edge of the roof was the blond hunter, hands up in a placating gesture but eyes calculating.

“Oh, it’s you.” Sylus drawled. There was no direct access to the roof. Sylus thought that would ensure his privacy, but he forgot about the hunter’s teleport ability.

“Where you expecting someone else?”

“What do you want, hunter?” He allowed his mist to disappear and turned back towards the sea view.

“Just wondering if you were planning to rejoin us anytime soon? Rory’s been worried about you.” Xavier responded, tucking his hands into his pockets and stepping away from the roof’s edge.

“You think I’ll come when you call. You may not be a prince anymore, but you still have the attitude of royalty.” Sylus mocked.

Xavier flinched and glared at the mobster.

“How do you know about that?”

“Information is my business. I know what I need to know.”

“You’ve not said anything about it.”

“Why would I? Information is power. I don’t like to share. But it seems you gained some information on me.” Sylus said pointedly, tilting his head to look at the hunter. “You called me Stayrus.”

Xavier shrugged, watching the sea.

“I read about you. In the Philos University library. Of course, I didn’t realise it was you until last night.”

“Philos was a dead planet before your ancestors resurrected it. How could you have any knowledge of its history before then?”

“The planet may have been dead but there were still traces of the previous civilisations. It took a while, but historians were able to translate the old texts that were found. Including a journal about the fiend from the abyss. The journal was written by the last dragon.”

“I was the last dragon.” Sylus challenged. Xavier’s voice remained calm.

“No, the last dragon was a woman who mourned her mate. He’d saved her from the abyss and helped her get revenge on the people that put her there. He’d told her the best way to punish someone was to make them live forever. I didn’t understand that at first. But I get it now.” Years of grief shone in his eyes as he stared out at the sea. Sylus watched him for a moment, processing what the hunter had told him, before turning back to the view.

“Your ancestors have a lot to answer for.”

“I won’t let them use her again.” Xavier snapped, pure determination laced through every word. Then he sighed and walked back to the edge of the roof.

“You should go and see Rory. She’s worried about you.” He said over his shoulder. Then, in a flash of light, he was gone.

* * *

It was close to midnight when Sylus finally entered Rory’s room and approached the bed. She was lying with her back to him, the bruising around her neck clearly visible even in the dark. He sat on the edge of the bed, listening to her steady breathing for a moment. Then he pulled the phone from his pocket and placed it on the nightstand.

“Sylus?” The sound of her voice pulled his attention back to her form. She was peering over her shoulder at him.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I got a new sim card for your phone. Its prepaid so it should be harder to trace than your last one.”

“Thank you.” She smiled slightly, sitting up in the bed. There was still a slight raspiness to her voice. He looked away not wanting the anger he still felt to show.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean for saving my life. Thank you. I owe you one.”

At the sincerity in her voice, he glanced back at her, but she was looking at her hands as they fiddled with the blanket. Just as he thought.

“You don’t owe me anything. Get some rest.” He said, standing and heading for the door. As she spoke up again, he stopped but didn’t turn around.

“If the roles were reversed, he would have killed you without hesitation, but you didn’t kill him. Why?”

“I didn’t want to traumatise you more than you already were. I scare you enough as it is. The last thing you needed to see was a monster rendering a man soulless.”

“You think I’m scared of you?”

He glanced back over his shoulder at her.

“There’s no need to pretend, Sweetie. You’ve barely been able to look me in the eye since we arrived in this world.”

“And you think that means I’m scared of you? Well, you’re wrong. You never scared me.” She snapped, jumping out of bed and stepping towards him. “Sure, you can be annoying and real pain in my ass but that’s different. I can’t look you in the eye because…because…” Her tirade died off as a blush covered her cheeks.

Sylus turned to look at her crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow. She glanced at him before looking away.

“Because I’m embarrassed.” She muttered.

Sylus frowned. That certainly wasn’t what he expected to hear.

“Embarrassed about what?”

She sighed, running her hands over her face. Then took a deep breath.

“I like you, Sylus. I’ve always liked you. But it was a lot easier when you were just a character in a game. I spent so much time watching and rewatching your chapters just because I liked hearing your voice or seeing your face. I fantasized about you all the time. Sometimes I even dreamt about you. But then you became real, or it turned out you always were real. And then I looked at you and all I could think was all the things I used to say to you or think about, and I felt so embarrassed. Then of course you had to go and use your aether core on me, and I thought you knew what I was thinking about then. I felt so humiliated. But then you didn’t act like you knew anything and I got so confused and then I couldn’t look at you because I thought you’d figure it all out or…or...” Her words faded away as her oxygen began to run out and she took another deep breath. Her face was bright pink now. Sylus stared at her in disbelief. She liked him. She actually liked him. She had always liked him. She was never scared, never reviled, never hateful. Could it be true?

“What about that time in your workroom? You seemed pretty scared then.”

Rory frowned. “I was, but not of you. When you came to this world, I started to wonder if my feelings for you were the same as the feelings I’d had for Cole. You’re both gangsters so maybe I was just attracted to dangerous men. Maybe history was just going to repeat itself. I was still struggling with that feeling when you confronted me about avoiding you. But when I got scared you stopped. He never did. I quickly realised you and he are nothing alike.” She turned to look up at him and this time she held his gaze. “You are a good man, Sylus. No matter what others think of you, I will always believe that.”

He watched her for a moment, working through everything she’d said. Then a smile began to creep onto his face.

“You like me?”

She glared up at him and pouted before looking away again.

“No need to look so smug.” She muttered.

He took a step towards her and his smile turned into a smirk.

“You fantasized about me?”

“Oh, shut up. It’s so humiliating.” She moaned, covering her face in her hands and turning away.

Before she could go far, he reached out and gripped her elbow, pulling her back towards him. Her hands dropped from her face to brace against his chest and he cupped her jaw with his free hand. His lips met hers like fire on kindling. Centuries of desire and longing pouring from his heart as he held her close, devouring her, tasting her, burning himself into her soul. His arm circled her waist and pulled her even closer, his hand on her jaw moving to the back of her head. He tightened his grip, lifting her onto her tiptoes as his tongue invaded her mouth and her arms reached up to wrap around his neck. Her fingers slipped into his hair and her nails scratched against his scalp, causing him to moan into her mouth. He pulled back slightly, taking deep breaths as her fingers continued to card through his silver locks. He wrapped his fingers around her hair and gently tilted her head back, running his lips along her jaw and down the side of her neck. She whined into his ear, shivers running down her spine. When he reached the base of her neck he pressed his teeth into her soft flesh, drawing a moan from her, before lathing his tongue along the tender spot.

“Sylus.” She murmured, a slight tremor in her voice.

“Hmm.”

“Stop calling yourself a monster.”

“I’m just being honest, Kitten.” He replied, between the licks and kisses he was peppering along her neck. Her hands moved to his shoulders, and she pushed him away slightly to meet his eyes.

“That’s not honest. You’re a dragon, a powerful, wonderful creature. That doesn’t make you a monster. Cole was a monster. You’re not like Cole.”

He stared at her for a moment, caught in the seriousness of her gaze before a smirk twisted his lips.

“Is that so? How about we make a deal then.”

He spun her around and pulled her back against his chest, one arm around her waist as his other hand came up to cover her eyes.

“I’ll stop calling myself a monster,”

He nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her scent, then bit gently on her earlobe as her breathing hitched. He lowered his voice to a velvety purr as he whispered in her ear, his hand around her waist slipping under her top to brush against her bare skin.

“If you tell me about these fantasies, and we’ll see how many we can turn into reality tonight.”

Chapter Text

As my consciousness returned to me the next morning, I could feel a cocoon of warmth wrapped around me, making me wish I could just drift off again. I could sense the gentle rise and fall of Sylus’ chest in front of me as his warm breath brushed against my hair with each exhale. I opened my bleary eyes and looked up at the peaceful face of my lover as his sleep continued. Despite his angled jaw, high cheekbones and straight nose there was a gentleness to his face as he slept. His delicate eyelashes dusted against his cheeks and his brow, for once, was not twisted or wrinkled. His full lips were slightly parted, and his skin felt like silk beneath my fingers as I reached up to brush away a loose eyelash.

The longer I stared at this man in front of me the more angelic his features seemed. True, none of the boys could be considered average in looks, but there was almost something celestial about him. And yet, of all of them, he was the one considered a fiend and a devil. I trailed my fingers gently down his face to his jaw, admiring the sharp angles, then down his throat, feeling the vibrations as he grumbled.

“That tickles, kitten.” He mumbled as his arms tightened around my back, pulling me even closer. My lips twitched in a smile, but I didn’t respond, continuing to drag my fingers down to his chest where I explored the contours of his pecs. Scratches lined his skin across his chest and over his shoulders from my nails and I was pretty sure there were more on his back from what I can remember. I smiled as I considered the fact that Sylus could heal the scratches with little more than a thought but had chosen not to. As my fingers brushed against the top of his abs, I felt him flinch slightly.

“Go much further, sweetie, and I might think you were after something.” He purred huskily. I lifted my eyes back up to his face to find his vermillion orbs watching me from beneath half-closed lids.

“Maybe I am.” I teased quietly, a smirk of my own dancing on my lips. He smiled wolfishly and tightened his hold, pulling me up to press his lips firmly against my own, his tongue pushing past my lips like a wild fire through a forest. I pressed my palms flat against his chest as I felt my bones melt, tasting his scent of spice and cedar. As the kiss deepened, Sylus rolled us over until he was on top of me, his weight on my body making me moan into his mouth.

Finally, he pulled away, allowing us both to catch our breath as he gazed down at me.

“I’m impressed, kitten. I didn’t think you’d have the energy for another round after last night.”

I opened my mouth to give a witty reply when an almighty, high-pitched scream echoed around the villa. For a split second neither of us moved, both staring at the door wide-eyed. Then, in a flash, Sylus had rolled away from me and thrown the duvet back.

“Stay here.” He ordered, jumping out of bed and reaching for his trousers. I ignored him, throwing the covers off and rolling out of bed myself. As soon as I stood, my legs gave way beneath me and I landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, suddenly aware of the deep ache running down my thighs.

“What’s wrong?” Sylus asked, panicked as he dropped down beside me. I groaned as he helped me sit upright again.

“Damn it, Sylus. What the hell did you do to me last night?”

His look of worry turned into his trademark smirk and his eyes narrowed seductively.

“Would you like a reminder?” He purred.

At that moment another high pitched sound echoed around us, this time sounding more like a squeal that a scream.

“That sounds like…Sylus, help me up.”

He passed me my dressing gown from the end of the bed and I threw it over my shoulders, tying the belt tight around my waist before reaching out to grip Sylus’ shoulders as he wrapped his arms around my waist and hoisted me to my feet again. More prepared this time, I was able to keep my legs under me but every step I took caused my muscled to throb painfully. Sylus kept tight hold of me as we headed for the bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor.

Xavier and Rafayel stood near the front door, a tall, strawberry blonde woman between them. Before we could say anything, she squealed again and threw her arms around Xavier who froze, his eyes wide, arms outstretched as though he didn’t know what to do with them. Rafayel covered his mouth, desperately trying to smother his laughter and failing miserably. Zayne, stood by the table, a book open beside him, simply sighed. As Xavier looked around for some kind of escape, his eyes fell on me and Sylus, and he mouthed one desperate word; help.

“Phoebe?” I called out from the spot near my door, Sylus arm still around my waist holding me up. The blonde head shot up and blue eyes grew wide as she took in the scene before her.

“Oh. My. God.” She breathed as her arms went loose, and Xavier quickly scurried out of reach. She shot down the corridor and threw her arms around my neck, ignoring the man behind me.

“It is soooo good to see you again, girl!” She cried, literally in my ear before pulling back. “I’ve been calling you since yesterday and it kept saying the number wasn’t available! I was so worried.”

“Sorry, Phebs, my phone sort of…broke.”

She pouted at me, her eyebrow raised.

“But Sylus fixed it last night. It’s all good now.”

Her eyes flicked to Sylus for a moment before turning back to me. She looked me up and down, her pout turning into a crooked smile.

“Looks like you had a very eventful night.” She giggled.

“Uh…well…I…it’s…” I couldn’t get my tongue to form the right words, too many responses popping into my head and none of them any good. Sylus then leaned down and whispered in my ear.

“I think she’s referring to the necklace I gave you.”

Confused I turned to look at him.

“Wha-“ My words were cut off as he pressed a rough, passionate kiss to my lips and I felt myself melting again. If his arm hadn’t still be around my waist I would most definitely have ended up on the floor at that point. When he pulled away, I felt breathless and hot once again, blushing heavily when I remembered our audience. Looking around I saw three pairs of dark looks and one pair of baby blue eyes that, honestly, if it was physically possible, would probably have turned into literal love hearts by now.

“Not a word.” I warned my friend as she began to squeal again.

“Perhaps it would be best for the two of you to get changed.” Zayne suggested, approaching. “Although, Rory, might I suggest a hot bath first? I can see your legs shaking from here.”

I blushed again and looked away, far too embarrassed with the situation.

“Um. Yeah. Think I might do that.”

“Once you’re done, we’ll have lunch.” The doctor offered. Lunch? I turned to peer out the back door and, sure enough, the sun was high in the sky already. As Sylus helped me back into my room and Phoebe told me to take my time, I could hear Xavier offer to help with lunch behind her.

“Xavier, stay out of the kitchen!” Zayne called, hurrying towards the hunter before he could cause damage to one of the many appliances.

As the bedroom door closed behind us, Sylus hooked his free hand under my knees and lifted me princess style as he carried me into the bathroom and placed me gently on the worktop next to the sink. Then he turned to the large tub and flicked the taps on.

“Want me to join you?” He asked, coming to stand before me again.

“You really like tempting fate, don’t you.” I chided. His large hands came up to rub against my thighs and I hissed as his digits pressed against my sore muscles.

“I don’t know what you mean, Sweetie.”

Gritting my teeth against the pain in my legs as he continued to massage my sore muscles I smirked, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

“That kiss just now? I think the others were all about ready to murder you. If you stay much longer, they’ll probably come and drag you out.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“I wouldn’t. I don’t want you all fighting to be the first thing my best friend sees.”

He leaned forward into my space, and I felt his warm breath against my ear.

“I could always send her away.” He whispered.

“Don’t you dare!” I cried, smacking him on the shoulder.

Sylus leaned back and chuckled.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I was only joking. Do you want me to stay until you’re in the bath?”

“I can manage.” I said, still a little peeved.

He quickly stepped back into the bedroom before returning with my newly fixed phone.

“Call if you need help. All our numbers are in there already.”

I took the phone from his grip and placed it on the worktop beside me, thanking him. His hand came up to cup my face and my eyes lifted to meet his again.

“Thank you, kitten. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.” He gave me a quick, chaste kiss before disappearing out the door.

Hopping off the counter I turned around to check myself in the mirror. A deep blush covered my features as I realised what Phoebe had spotted earlier. From the side of my neck, all the way across my collar bone and up to the other side of my neck were small bruises, looking, as Sylus had described it, like a necklace. I stared in horror at the pattern, trying to remember when last night he had given me this collection of love bites. I covered my face with my hands as I realised the others had seen them as well. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Sylus would want to leave his mark on me. Its probably the same reason he didn’t heal the scratches I gave him.

Once the bath was run, I quickly hopped in and sighed as the heat soaked into my aching muscles. There truly was nothing better. However, I couldn’t help but strain my ears for some noise or sound to suggest what was going on outside my bedroom. Either everyone was being very quiet, or these rooms were made nearly soundproof. I began to feel a little nervous about what Phoebe might be experiencing with the deepspace boys, or what they were experiencing with her, and spent far less time in the bath than I should have. Quickly washing and shaving, I pulled the plug from the bath and grabbed a towel, rubbing myself dry in a matter of seconds before diving back into my room to find clothes.

I chose a sleeveless polo neck top, to hide both Sylus’ love bits and the slowly fading bruises from my run in with Cole, paired with a casual pair of blue skinny jeans before quickly taking my usual tablet, as well as one of the plan b tablets, sliding my phone into my pocket and heading out into the living space. I was unsurprised to find my friend surrounded by the boys, but I was surprised to find them all focused on her phone.

Phoebe was sat on the sofa closest to the windows with Rafayel on one side and Xavier on the other. Zayne was crouched down on the floor between the sofa and window watching from over Phoebe’s shoulder while Sylus was stood in front of Rafayel, leaning over to peer at the screen, hands tucked into his pockets. Thankfully, he too had changed and now wore a dark button-up shirt with smart tailored dark trousers and dark leather shoes.

I was just about to ask what they were looking at when Xavier made a noise of protest.

“That’s cheating.” He whined pointing at the screen. “You can’t do that.”

“That’s what you get for falling asleep in the middle of a game.” Phoebe laughed. Xavier pouted and turned away, catching sight of me. He pushed up from the sofa and shuffled over, wrapping his arms around me and dropping his head over my shoulder.

“Rory, she’s being mean to me.” He whinged, like a child. I rubbed his back soothingly, while trying not to laugh.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” I soothed, catching Phoebe’s eye over the hunter’s shoulder. She was staring at me a bit wide-eyed, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she watched our interaction. I pulled a face at her in question, and she shook her head, turning back to her phone.

“What are you doing anyway?” I asked, trying to pull myself out of Xavier’s grasp. Instead of letting go he lifted his head off my shoulder and circled me. Once he was behind me, his arms still wrapped around my waist he dropped his chin back onto my shoulder and watched the others. I couldn’t help but wonder if this sudden clinginess was caused by Sylus’ display earlier.

“Playing Kitty Cards with Xavier.” Phoebe explained as she continued to focus on her screen. My head shot up and I stared at her.

“It still works on your phone?” I asked, confused.

“Of course. Doesn’t it on yours?” She asked, looking up at me. I shook my head, trying to understand the implications of this.

“Let’s sit down and eat before we loose more of the afternoon.” Zayne cut in, standing from his place by the window. While he and Sylus headed for the kitchen to collect the food, the rest of us made our way to the table. Xavier finally released me and reluctantly took a seat opposite me, recognising that I would want to sit next to Phoebe. Rafayel took the seat next to him.

Once the bowls of crips and snacks, along with the trays of sandwiches, meat platters, which Xavier had tried to horde for himself, before Zayne moved it out of his reach, and cheese platters were laid on the table, Sylus took the seat between myself and Xavier, and Zayne took the seat at the other end of the table.

As everyone began to help themselves, I raised the question on my mind.

“I wonder why the game still works for you but not for me?”

“Maybe each person’s game leads to a parallel universe?” Rafayel suggested.

“Could it be because of your connection with Sienna?” Phoebe asked.

“It’s possible. Maybe the connection between our worlds only existed for Rory because she’s another reincarnation of Sienna?” Xavier theorised.

Various theories were throw around but with little evidence to support any of them, the conversation quickly moved on.

“So, Phoebe, Rory tells us you’ve been in Hong Kong recently. Was that for work?” Zayne asked.

Phoebe nodded, her mouth currently full of food.

“Phoebe is a manager for a finance company, and they were arranging a new contract with a company in Hong Kong.” I explained while my friend quickly chewed and swallowed.

“I wasn’t responsible for the negotiations, but my department will be directly involved in the contract.” Phoebe explained once her mouth was empty. “My involvement was more a formality than anything else.”

“When did you get back?” Rafayel asked, waving his fork around with half a sausage on the end. I could see Xavier eyeing the piece of meat, waiting for his chance to steal it.

“My flight came in yesterday evening so I got home about nine last night.”

“You only got back last night and yet you chose to come here this morning?” Zayne asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course. I haven’t seen my girl in a month, and I missed her.” Phoebe beamed, bumping her shoulder against mine.

“Nothing to do with the rest of my company then?” I enquired, giving her a look. She ignored me completely and continued.

“Besides, I wanted to make sure Rory was okay after what happened.” She smiled as she buttered a biscuit before layering a thick slab of cheese on top. The rest of us watched her silently, digesting what she’d just said. It was Sylus who eventually asked the question we were all thinking.

“And how is it you know what happened?” He queried, a hard look in his eyes. Phoebe froze, the cheese and biscuit stuffed in her mouth, her eyes widening slightly.

“Phoebe, what aren’t you telling me?” I asked. She pulled the food out of her mouth again and put it down, turning towards me slightly with a guilty look on her face.

“I was gonna tell you as soon as I got here but you seemed so happy, and I didn’t want to ruin it.” She confessed, loosing eye contact as she finished.

“Phoebe.” I said, warningly, glaring at her. She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“You remember those detectives that were in charge of your case against Cole five years ago?” She began. I nodded.

“They turned up at my door this morning.”

“What did they want?” Xavier asked, frowning.

“They were looking for you.” She responded, meeting my eyes again. “Apparently, they’d had a call to say that Cole had been attacked, and they wanted to make sure you were safe.”

My heart thundered in my chest, and I felt the heat of anger rise inside me.

“Safe? The man who abused me and threatened to kill me gets attacked and now they want to make sure I’m safe?” I snapped. A warm hand placed gently on my wrist pulled my attention around to Sylus. I met his eyes and understood his unspoken message instantly. It wasn’t fair of me to take my anger out on Phoebe. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Phoebe, however, hadn’t seemed to notice our silent conversation.

“I know, I said the same thing.” She exclaimed. “But they were really insistent.”

“Did you tell them where Rory is?” Zayne asked. She shook her head.

“No absolutely not. I mean I was thinking about it but then…” Her words trailed off.

“Then what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Well, then they told me about his injuries, and I realised what happened.” She shrugged. I frowned.

“You decided not to tell them where I was because of his broken hands?”

She looked at me and blinked, looking a bit confused.

“And the rest. They said he had burns and lacerations all over his body and there was irreparable damage to his retinas. If he hadn’t been found when he was, he probably wouldn’t have made it.”

My whole body stiffened, and I pulled my wrist from Sylus grip before he could react. Slowly I turned to the other side of the table.

“Burns?” I asked, glaring at Rafayel. His ears turned bright pink, and he swallowed, averting his gaze.

“Damaged retinas?” I asked again, turning my focus to Xavier. The hunter seemed to shrink into himself under my glare, his head dropping and his eyes downcast.

“Did you two seriously go and find him?” I snapped, failing to keep my voice calm.

“Technically we went to get the car. He just happened to still be there when we got there.” Rafayel explained, shrugging like it was no big deal.

“The car was out the front. Cole was round the back.” I cut in, almost growling at the artist in my frustration.

“Ok fine, yes, we went looking for him.” Rafayel protested. “But, come on, Cutie, after everything he did to you we couldn’t just leave him with a few broken bones.”

“You nearly killed him.” I cried, jumping to my feet and slamming my hands down on the table.

“But he survived. So now he gets to suffer like he made you suffer.” He argued back.

“We made sure to wear disguises, so he won’t be able to identify us.” Xavier added quietly.

“What…” I started, then paused. A worrying suspicious occurring to me. “Tell me you didn’t take the outfits I made.” I asked, my voice going dangerously quiet. Rafayel flinched and pressed his lips together while Xavier seemed to shrink even further under the table.

“And the masks I told you to leave at home?” I enquired. Neither of them responded. Neither of them met my eye.

A quiet gasp beside me had me turning to my friend.

“What’s 'oh'?” I snapped. Phoebe jumped, startled from her thoughts at my harsh tone.

“Uh…well…apparently he woke up from the surgery yesterday and started screaming about the Devil coming out of hell and marking him for death and the Grim Reaper and the Angel of Death punishing him for his sins.” She rushed, wincing at my expression. I stared at her for a moment, breathing deeply. The Devil? The Grim Reaper? The Angel of Death? How had this happened? How had things got this far.

I turned back to the others who flinched slightly, waiting for my next outburst. But I had nothing. What more could I say? Feeling lost and frustrated and overwhelmed I shoved my chair away from the table and stormed out the back door.

Chapter Text

I stood in the midday sun, hands on hips, breathing deeply. I told them to stay out of sight. I told them not to use their evols around others. Now three of them were implicated in, at best, assault, at worst, attempted murder. The only saving grace of the situation was that Cole’s outburst probably had the doctors questioning his sanity. But there was no denying his injuries. If the detectives met the deepspace men…what would happen then?

“Rory?”

I turned at the sound of Phoebe’s voice behind me. She smiled slightly but the look of worry on her face stayed. I tried to smile back but the pit in my gut was too deep for it to be convincing.

“I’m sorry, Phoebe. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.” I sighed, my hands dropping from my hips and my gaze turning to the floor. She shook her head as she stepped closer.

“It’s fine. I know it’s not me you were upset with. Besides, I can’t remember the last time you showed so much emotion. Maybe it’s a bit contradictory but it made me happy to see you expressing yourself so freely.”

I looked back up at her, surprise and confusion mixing inside me. Her look was gentle as she took my hand and squeezed it.

“You’ve been closed off emotionally for the last five years, Rory. Today, I finally saw you, the friend I went to school with. These boys have been so good for you. I can see it in the way you interact with them.”

I opened my mouth to reply but she held up her hand to stop me.

“I know your stressed, I get it. Its…a complicated situation. But those boys love you. They were just as scared for you as you are for them.”

“It’s not that simple, Phebs.” I said, pulling my hand from her grip and starting to pace. “There’s just…so much that go wrong.”

“Like what? It’s not like there will be any evidence to show they were involved. Maybe back in Linkon, someone could get in trouble because of their evol but not here. And the weapons Rafayel and Xavier used aren’t just lying around.

“It doesn’t matter.” I protested, turning back to face her. “If the detectives even suspect them…if they investigate them at all, they’ll realise they have no identities in this world. No paperwork, no records, nothing. That will make them even more suspicious. And the vehicles…” I gestured towards the garage. “Sylus hacked into the vehicle system to make it look like they had all the necessary documents. They don’t. The detectives will realise that, and they’ll arrest him for fraud. I can’t send them home if they’re in prison!”

Phoebe stepped forwards and gripped my shoulders, an uncommonly hard look in her eyes.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” She insisted. “The detectives don’t know where you are. Stop worrying about things that may never happen. You have a good thing here, enjoy it.”

I felt tears prick my eyes as the reality of the situation, the one thing I had tried to ignore, took centre stage in my mind.

“But it won’t last.” I muttered, my voice quivering just slightly. “They have to go back to their world. Sienna has to go back. How can I enjoy my time with them knowing that…” a sob cut through my words. “That it will…will end.” The floodgates opened and my tears spilled down my face as my chest heaved with deep sobs. Phoebe wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close and rubbed a hand up and down my back, silently allowing me to release my emotions.

I began to realise just how much I had missed my friend. She was like my safe haven, my lifeline in hard times. Always there, always ready to help. I may not have always shown it, but I trusted her wholeheartedly. And now she had helped me voice my deepest fears, accept my darkest worries, understand the root of my anger.

My sobs slowly died down and I pulled back slightly from Phoebe’s embrace, wiping the wet tracks from my cheeks. When I met my friend’s eyes again the smile I gave was far more genuine than the last one.

“Thanks.” I croaked, my voice still thick from the tears. “I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” Phoebe replied, giving me another quick hug. “And to answer your last question, you enjoy your time with them by focusing on the present not the future. Be in the moment. I propose drinks.”

I huffed a laugh at her sudden idea and pulled a face. “What?”

“Drinks, games, music. Let’s have a party. Celebrate. Have fun.”

Smiling at my friend’s exuberance, I followed her back into the villa to find Rafayel and Xavier waiting just inside. Xavier was fidgeting nervously and fiddling with the edge of his jumper while Rafayel had his arms crossed and a clear pout on his lips. As we approached Xavier turned to me with his big blue eyes and reached out timidly.

“We’re sorry, Rory. We shouldn’t have gone after Cole.”

I glanced at Rafayel who refused to meet my eyes and Xavier elbowed him.

“Fine. Same. What he said.” Rafayel mumbled, still pouting. I shared an amused look with Phoebe before stepping forwards and taking Xavier’s still outstretched hand.

“I’m not upset because you went after Cole. Not really. I’m just worried about the sort of trouble you could get into because of it.” I noticed Rafayel turning to watch me out of the corner of his eye but kept my gaze on Xavier. “Even if what you did can’t be proved, it only takes one incident for the police to realise you have no records here. That alone could get you in trouble.”

Xavier nodded solemnly. “I understand. We’ll be more careful in the future.” He promised. “Right, Rafayel?”

The artist sighed and ran his hand through his mauve locks.

“Yeah. I guess that’s fair. But really, Cutie, would it have been so bad if we did kill him?”

“I don’t know what it’s like in Linkon,” Phoebe cut in, “but in this world murder is worse than assault and it gets a lot more attention.”

“Honestly, I don’t care what happens to Cole,” I added. “What I care about is what happens to all of you. I don’t want you getting in trouble on my behalf and ending up on the run or in jail.”

Rafayel lifted my chin with the tip of his finger and caught my gaze fully with his.

“You really care that much about us?” He asked quietly.

“Of course I do. I always have. That why-“ My words were cut off as he pressed his lips firmly against mine drawing a gasp from Phoebe and a low growl from Xavier. The hunter quickly pushed his rival away and wrapped me up firmly in his embrace, causing a surprised squeak out of me, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

My hysteria at the whole situation seemed to be the only thing that had prevented a fight between the two men. Once I’d calmed down, Phoebe quickly distracted from any further squabbles by charging Rafayel with the task of taking her shopping for party supplies, which he seemed more than happy to do.

* * *

When Phoebe and Rafayel returned from the shops, laden with purchases, my friend hurried to my side with a bag in her hands.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the bag and peering inside.

“It’s your party outfit, obviously.” She bubbled. I pulled the black fabric from the bag and held it up. She’d bought me a simple romper with a sweetheart neckline covered by a width of lace that wrapped around the top of my arms but left my shoulders bare. I looked back at her and raised one eyebrow.

“Really? Don’t you think there’s enough testosterone in here without showing this much skin?” I had already seen Xavier’s eyes light up at my new outfit and the mischievous smirk on Rafayel’s face as he’d watched me receive my gift.

“But that’s the fun bit. We get to test their control while we have fun.” Phoebe whispered conspiringly with a huge grin across her face. Her eyes were dancing with excitement.

“Oh sure. Take four guys who pretty much want to eat me, put me in a skimpy outfit and load them up with alcohol. What could go wrong?” I replied, my voice thick with sarcasm.

“It’s not a party without some kind of mayhem.” Phoebe teased. “Now go get changed.” She pushed me towards my room and turned to help Rafayel unpack the rest of their purchases. I sighed and did as I was told, wondering how much trouble my friend was going to cause tonight. When I pulled my polo neck over my head, I caught sight of the bruises dotting my collarbone again and frowned. Had Phoebe intended for them to be on show tonight? Pulling the romper out of the bag again in consideration, I noticed a small box in the bottom I had missed earlier. Pulling it out, I smiled. Phoebe had also bought concealer. The perfect thing for hiding the bruises.

Once I was dressed, concealer applied and hair pulled into a high ponytail, I stepped back out of my room. Phoebe had already set up the music on her phone, Imagine Dragons blaring in the large open space. Rafayel stood behind the breakfast bar with a collection of alcoholic drinks and garnishes laid out around six cocktail glasses, Sylus sat on a stool the other side of the bar, watching him mix some concoction. Zayne was emptying an assortment of crisps and snacks into bowls in the kitchen and Xavier and Phoebe seemed to be setting up some odd version of kitty cards on the coffee table using mugs and a set of playing cards.

As I reached the living area everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me. I looked from one set of wide eyes to the next, suddenly feeling very exposed. I glared at Phoebe when she bit her lip, trying to hide her impish grin. The silence was broken by a low whistle from Sylus as his lips twitched into his usual smirk and he appraised me from under lowered lids.

“Looking good, kitten.”

“You should definitely wear it more often.” Rafayel added, crossing his arms against the counter and leaning forwards, head cocked to the side slightly. “Don’t you think, Xavier?”

The hunter’s eyes flashed, and he quickly looked away, simply humming in reply, his lips pressed together. Oh dear, I thought, jealous Xavier is not good.

“It’s a little inappropriate to wear so little.” Zayne intoned, stepping out of the kitchen and slipping his cardigan off his shoulders. “What if she were to catch a chill?” Approaching me he offered the cardigan which I gratefully slipped over my own shoulders.

“Smooth, Zayne.” Phoebe snickered, her voice laced with sarcasm. The doctor blushed and looked at my friend.

“What point is there in looking good if she’s going to get sick later?” He snapped.

“So, you think she looks good?” Phoebe asked, eyebrows raised. Zayne flushed darker and opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. After a moment Phoebe shrugged and turned back to the cards in her hand. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” She muttered. The doctor stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat and returning to the kitchen.

I stormed over to my friend and gave her a not-so-gentle kick on the shins.

“Stop trying to wind them up.” I growled when she looked up at me. She rolled her eyes and pulled me down onto the seat next to her.

“Relax, Rory. It’s just a bit of fun.”

Recognising I had even less control over my friend than I did over the boys I gave up trying to temper her behaviour and settled in to watch her game with Xavier. At some point I was handed a cocktail which I slowly sipped at. It was sweet and fruity with only a slight hint of alcohol.

The evening stretched on, the light outside fading to darkness as drinks came and went and the games moved from card games to charades to truth or dare. I’d stopped after my third cocktail, but I could feel the warm buzz from the alcohol I had consumed, causing me to discard Zayne’s cardigan. Phoebe and Rafayel had both become even more extreme the more they’d drunk, although the artist seemed to be holding his alcohol remarkably well, as did Sylus. Xavier looked about ready to pass out and Zayne, having touched no alcohol at all, was the only truly sober one amongst us.

Things reached a climax when it came to Xavier’s turn, and he choose truth. Phoebe leaned closer, a dangerous glint in her eye and said;

“How far have you gone with Rory?”

“Phoebe!” I hissed, elbowing her.

“What? It’s a fair question.”

I turned back to the hunter to see a worrying look in his eyes. He smiled slightly and turned back to my friend with a smug look.

“All the way, of course.”

Phoebe’s mouth dropped open and she stared at me.

“You mean you…and he…OH MY GOD!” She began squealing uncontrollably and I pressed my hands over my ears, glaring at Xavier’s smug look as Phoebe wrapped her arms around me and began shaking me in her alcohol induced hysteria.

“Can we move on?” I finally snapped when Phoebe squeezed me a bit too hard. She let me go and bit her lip, trying to control herself, with only minimal success.

“Looks like it’s your turn, Cutie.” Rafayel smiled. “Truth or Dare?”

I thought for a minute, wondering which option would be safer.

“Truth.” I finally said, turning to Xavier for the question. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, and I instantly regretted my choice,

“Who was better?” He asked.

Nope. No way. Not a chance in HELL was I going there. I reached forwards to my fourth, untouched cocktail but a strand of red mist plucked it from my fingers.

“I think I’d like to know that answer to that one, as well, sweetie.” Sylus drawled, one irritatingly perfect eyebrow raised in question.

“I’m not going to compare you.” I snapped, standing to reach for my cocktail again but Sylus shifted it out of my reach.

“What if you had to pick one of us?” Xavier asked, linking his fingers through mine and brushing his lips over the pulse point in my wrist. I yanked my hand back.

“I’m not…that’s not…I’m forfeiting, okay? Give me my god damned drink, Sylus.”

“Surely, if you refuse to answer the question, that means you have to perform a dare, right?” The gangster asked, a challenge in his eyes. I stared at him, worried about what he might ask, until Zayne came to my rescue.

“It’s probably better to stop here. After all, I don’t think any of us want Rory to have another seizure because we’ve caused her too much stress again.” He said pointedly.

The room went silent except for the steady beat of the music. My cocktail slipped back between my fingers by Sylus refused to meet my eyes, fiddling with his cuffs instead. I turned to Xavier whose head was lowered. He glanced up at me, then away and I could almost see the droopy puppy ears hanging from his head. I slowly sat back down, noticing Phoebe frowning at Zayne. Rafayel looked between everyone before pushing himself to his feet.

“Who wants another cocktail?” He asked enthusiastically. Phoebe shot her hand in the air and Sylus and Xavier agreed.

“Not for me.” Zayne said, unnecessarily.

As Rafayel went to the make the drinks, Phoebe turned to the doctor.

“Do you really never drink alcohol at all?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Would you drink a mocktail?”

Zayne thought for a moment. I could see the debate behind his eyes until he sighed.

“Very well.”

Phoebe smiled and jumped to her feet to help Rafayel. A few moments later the drinks were handed out and the game continued. I watched Zayne fiddle with the stem of his glass, eyeing the drink uncertainly. Finally, I tuned back into the game just in time to hear Rafayel dare Sylus to sing one of the songs that had just been playing.

I was just about to jump up to intervene when Zayne began coughing violently. He dropped his barely touched drink down on coffee table and sat up to glare at Phoebe, on hand over his mouth.

“That was no mocktail!” He muttered before jumping to his feet and disappearing at record speed into his room.

I turned to stare at Phoebe who was watching the whole thing with wide eyes.

“Did you spike his drink?”

Phoebe burst out laughing, shaking her head.

“Don’t blame her. It was my idea.” Rafayel said over her uncontrollable giggles. I turned my gaze to him.

“How could you?”

“I just wanted him to loosen up.” The artist shrugged, completely unfazed.

“I can’t believe he’s so intolerant to alcohol.” Phoebe laughed between deep breaths as she began to calm down. “I just thought he didn’t want to let go of his control.”

“You’re terrible.” I snapped at her. Then turned to Rafayel. “Both of you.”

I got up and followed after Zayne, giving a gentle knock on his door. There was no answer, so I knocked again. Still nothing. I wanted to make sure he was ok, so I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Zayne?”

It was only then I noticed the small white crystals glittering in the air around me. I was so awed at the scene I let go of the door, hearing it slid shut behind me. I slowly stepped into the room staring at the glittering snowflakes hovering around me, like tiny charms hanging in mid-air. One such snowflake twirled slowly in front of me, and I reached towards it, wondering if it would melt at my touch. Just before my fingers reached it a sound behind me caught my attention. I turned to find Zayne standing in the doorway to his ensuite, shirt open, glasses perched on his nose and water dripping from his hair that trickled slowly down his exposed chest. There was still a slight flush to his face and his eyes seemed hazy, unfocused.

“Your evol…” I started, not sure what I was trying to say.

“I know.” He responded, his voice quiet and ever so slightly slurred.  “It’s out of control again.” He shifted from the doorway and stepped towards me, seemingly unaware of his own actions, like he was being unconsciously drawn towards me. “Will you hate me for it?” He asked in a whisper as he reached me.

I frowned up at him, wondering where the question had come from.

“Of course not.”

Before the words were out of my mouth, he cupped my cheek and pressed a deep kiss to my lips. Despite the cold water dripping from his hair, I could feel the heat pulsing from his body, but his hands were cold, like they were coated in a layer of ice that kept melting and refreezing. When I felt him push further into the kiss I pulled back and cupped his face, trying to meet his eyes.

“Zayne...You’re flushed.”

“It’s the alcohol.” He muttered, almost robotically. Could it be…was its possible Zayne was drunk? I knew he avoided alcohol, but I never imagined his tolerance was so low.

I stepped back and turned towards the door, planning to fetch some medication for him.

“Let me-“

Zayne gripped my wrist and yanked me back towards him, sealing his lips against mine again. His free hand slipped into my hair as he forced my lips open, invading my mouth with his tongue. His pine and jasmine scent filled my nose, and a buzzing echoed inside my head from the alcohol in my own system. For a moment I lost myself in the sensations of his hands and lips and tongue, until a slight dizziness reminded me of my need for oxygen. I pushed back against his hold again, breaking free and stepping away quickly.

“Zayne, stop. Let me get you some tablets.” I insisted, turning to reach for the doorhandle. Just as the bolt released from the frame a large, slightly scarred hand landed on the door above my shoulder, holding it shut. I felt the heat of his body against my back and the brush of his deep breaths against my shoulder. My heart began to beat harder, realising he had cornered me against the door.

“Are you afraid of me?” His whispered voice reached my ear, but there was a different tone to before, darker, more dangerous.

“No.” I responded quietly, hearing my voice quiver, not entirely convinced by my own answer in this moment.

“Then why do you keep wanting to leave?” He asked as his other arm circled my waist, and his lips came to brush against the exposed skin of my neck. “You chose to come here.”

Any response I could have given was lost to the sensations filling my mind as he began to run his hands across my body, pressing hot kisses to my neck and shoulder. I realised in that moment that I was in trouble. Each of the boys were different in their attentions, their touches and the sensations they created. Zayne, unlike the others, was precise in his treatment. He knew exactly where to touch, exactly how much pressure to apply to cause a reaction. Gasps and whimpers escaped my lips as my core tightened and I felt Zayne smile against my skin, a pleased huff escaping his lips.

“Zayne.” I gasped, trying to remember what I was doing. The pressure inside me was building but the doctor’s touches stayed light, just enough to create a desire in me, but not enough to relieve the tension it created. I knew then, he was going to drag this out. Whereas Xavier and Sylus had given me orgasm after orgasm, Zayne was going play me like a harp, push me to my limits in ways I’d never experienced.

A nip to my ear made me jerk and I twisted out of Zayne’s hold, stepping back into the room and backing away slightly.

“I’ve never seen you like this before.” I breathed, trying to calm my pounding heart as I watched him. He followed my movements with eyes that were no longer hazy but dark, almost predatory. My gut twisted with anticipation, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to escape this man in front of me. The corner of his lip twitched slightly

“There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line.” The husky tone in his silky voice sounded like the rumble of a big cat about to catch its prey and I stepped back again, hitting the edge of the desk behind me. Zayne wasted no time reaching me and lifted me onto the desk, closing me in. His glasses slid further down his nose as he bent towards me and he quickly removed them, tossing them onto the desk beside me. He reached up to cup my face again and I braced against his shoulders. Meeting his eyes in earnest.

“Are you sure…” I asked, not knowing how much of his behaviour was the alcohol and how much was him. He leant his forehead against mine; our breaths mingling and closed his eyes.

“Because of you everything is spiralling out of control.” He groaned breathlessly. “How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

I slid my hands from his shoulders up to his face, encouraging him to open his eyes again.

“I never said I wasn’t.” I breathed and pulled him into another burning kiss.

Chapter Text

John Gallagher

The station was buzzing with noise and activity when John arrived that morning, nodding good morning to a few of his detectives and officers as he marched through the corridors. Entering the bull pen he caught sight of Rhodes chatting with his junior partner.

“Rhodes, I want an update. My office.”

“Yes, Captain.” The detective called back.

John entered his office and dropped his bag beside his desk, shrugging his coat off his shoulders. As he turned to hang the garment on the coat rack in the corner a knock came from his door.

“Enter.” He called, lowering himself into the chair behind his desk. The door opened and Rhodes stepped in, a file in one hand and shut the door behind him. “What do we have?” John asked.

“Honestly, Captain, not much.” He said, opening the file and looking at a couple of pages. “I pulled Miss Benson’s phone records and checked all the numbers. She made a video call last week to a number that’s showing as no longer in service. I pulled the records for that number, and it turns out it went out of service five days ago directly following a call from a withheld number.”

“You think that was Miss Delaney’s number?”

“Most likely. I’m guessing the withheld number was Cole Murphy and she trashed the phone straight after to stop him contacting her again. Unfortunately, all of the numbers on Miss Benson’s log since then are identifiable and none belong to Miss Delaney.”

“So, we still have no way of contacting her. Anything new on Murphy’s wounds? Can we tell what caused them?”

Rhodes flipped a page in the file and rubbed the back of his head.

“Well…yes and no.”

“Explain it clearly, Rhodes. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Ok, well, the burns he had, they’re extremely severe. Definitely third degree. But they’re precise. Normally, anything that would cause that sort of burn would be messy, but these are all straight and they follow some of the lacerations. What’s more the doctors say the burns are present within the wounds as well. It’s almost like someone lit a knife on fire and then used it to attack him, but that would require some sort of propellant and there was none present in the wounds. Not to mention his clothes were barely singed. Something hot enough to cause third degree burns would have been hot enough for his clothes to catch fire but they didn’t.

Then the retina damage; it would have taken an incredibly bright light to cause that. The doctors said they usually only see that level of damage in soldiers who got hit by flash bombs. But if a flash bomb went off behind that restaurant, no one saw it and there was no evidence of one at the scene.

And then the broken bones in his hands; each bone was broken in half exactly. I mean that’s…practically impossible to do. Especially with some of the bones in the wrist. Even the doctors can’t understand how it happened.”

Rhodes looked up from the file, a look of confused exasperation on his face.

“Long story short, none of these wounds should be physically possible.”

“Damn it, Rhodes, you’re a detective.” John snapped, jumping to his feet. “The wounds are there so something must have caused them. I want to know what.”

“Yes, Captain. There is just-“

A knock at the door interrupted the detective.

“What?” John shouted. The door opened slightly and Rhodes’ junior partner, Owen Copper poked his head in.

“Captain, I think I’ve found something on Miss Delaney.”

“Well, what is it?”

The detective fully entered the room, an open laptop balanced on one arm and approached the desk.

“Detective Rhodes asked me to use the facial recognition software to look for any sightings of Miss Delaney and I got a hit on a social media site.”

John resumed his seat as the younger man circled the desk and placed his laptop down in front of the captain. Rhodes circled the desk to watch as Cooper hit play.

The scene was a local marketplace John recognised. It wasn’t too far from the station. There was a crowd of people near the road focused on a large motorbike and red convertible parked by the marketplace entrance. A tall man with silver hair wearing dark leathers leant against the bike and a slimmer man with dusty purple hair wearing what was clearly designer brands stood by the convertible posing for pictures that a couple of young girls were taking.

A moment later two more figures entered the view, quickly approaching the man on the bike. One was tall and dark haired, with wireframed glasses. He quickly moved in front of the man on the bike, blocking the camera’s view of him and glancing over his shoulder at the crowds. The figure next to him was a young woman but her face was blocked by her companion.

The captain watched as she expostulated at the man on the bike for a moment before the tall man beside her made a gesture at the vehicles. Then the woman turned, eyeing the crowds and phones around them. John recognised her at once as Aurora Delaney. She said something inaudible to the recording before storming over to the other individual by the convertible and pulling him down towards her by his ear. Within moments Miss Delaney, the purple hair man and the tall one with glasses were piled into the convertible. The motorbike revved to life and the two vehicles disappeared down the street.

John rubbed his chin as the screen went dark. The silver haired man on the bike certainly looked capable of breaking bones. And the dark haired man had given quite a menacing look to the individuals behind him. But what had attracted the crowds to them in the first place?

“Who are they?” He asked the young man beside him.

“W-well…um…I…”

“Spit it out Cooper.”

“I don’t know…sir. Facial recognition isn’t finding any results.”

“None at all?” Rhodes asked. Cooper shook his head.

“No, but I think…I mean it’s possible…well they might be cosplayers.”

John turned and glared up at the young man.

“I-I though they looked a bit familiar.” Cooper stuttered. “And I remembered this game…well…my girlfriend plays it…I just caught glimpses.”

“Cooper.”

At the warning tone in John’s voice, the junior detective leaned down and pulled up another web page. It was a google search for something called ‘Love and Deepspace’. At the top of the page were a collection of image results including profile pictures of four men, three of which looked uncannily similar to the men from the video.

“They look identical.” Rhodes muttered. “But if their cosplayers, surely they would have shown up on the facial recognition software.”

“Not if their profiles were private.” Cooper responded.

“As cosplayers? They wouldn’t keep their profiles private. Besides they would still have shown up on other peoples profiles. There would be some record of them at least.” Rhodes argued.

“This is all conjecture, and I need facts not theories. Cooper, find out who they are. Rhodes, figure out what caused those injuries.”

“Yes, Captain.” They chorused. Cooper picked up his laptop and headed for the door but turned just as he reached it.

“Oh, and I’ve sent out that BOLO, captain.”

“What BOLO?”

“That’s what I was trying to say earlier, sir.” Rhodes said, turning back to his captain. “The surveillance detail called. Phoebe Benson hasn’t been home since yesterday.”

* * *

Rory

I leaned back in the café chair, closing my eyes and allowing the sun to soak into my skin as I waited. Despite the many protest from all the boys this morning, Phoebe had whisked me away to the city for a girl’s day. I’d been somewhat nervous at first but soon discovered, knowing Cole was strapped to a hospital bed somewhere, I didn’t feel as worried about who might be hiding around the next corner, or watching me from a dark alley, just biding their time.

I heard the sound of cups being placed on the table beside me and the scape of a chair being pulled out.

“Girl, you look exhausted.” Phoebe commented.

“It’s not like I’ve exactly had much sleep lately.” I grumbled, still refusing to open my eyes.

Phoebe giggled. “I guess the doctor took good care of you last night then.”

At that I opened one eye and glared at her. She was leaning on the table with one arm, head propped on her hand as she watched me, her other hand slowly stirring her coffee.

“What?”

“You were pretty mean to him last night.” I accused.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I sat up, opening both eyes and leaning forward on the table.

“You know exactly what I mean, Phoebe.”

“Ok, fine so I baited him a bit.”

“You spiked his drink.”

“Rafayel spiked his drink.”

“Right because you weren’t there encouraging him to do it.”

Phoebe sighed.

“Ok, fine. I got a bit carried away. But honestly, I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I just…wanted to make sure he cared about you too.”

“What made you think he didn’t?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean when I arrived you were with Sylus, so it was pretty obvious how he felt. Then I found out that Rafayel and Xavier had actually gone out to hunt down your ex and…well…you know.”

I raised an eyebrow at her but kept quiet, allowing her to continue.

“I guess I just didn’t see anything to suggest that Zayne really cared for you until the party.”

“Phoebe, when Sylus got me back to villa after Cole attacked me, it was Zayne that stayed by my side. He treated my injuries and kept me company until I fell asleep. He shows how much he cares in different ways to the others.”

“Yeah, I can see that now.” She looked up at me with sad puppy eyes. “Guess I was a bit of jerk to him. Will you tell him I’m sorry?”

Normally I would have made her tell him herself but since she had to work early tomorrow, I would be getting a taxi back to the villa while Phoebe would be heading straight home. So, instead, I smiled and reached out to grip her hand.

“Of course. As long as you promise to stop drinking so much.”

“Fine.” She mumbled, pouting dramatically before a smile twisted her lips, ruining her fake annoyance and she giggled. “So, what was he like?”

I rolled my eyes at my friend and lent back in my chair again.

“Let’s just say Zayne has a bit of a dark side.”

Phoebe frowned.

“You’re not talking about Dawnbreaker, are you?”

I shook my head.

“Oh no. Doctor Zayne has a dark side all his own.”

Phoebe raised her eyebrow and gave me a ‘go on’ look. I glanced around at the few others sat outside the café or wandering past as they shopped. No one was looking our way or seemed to be paying any attention to us. I leaned forward, knowing what I was about to say would probably cause Phoebe to make a scene. I also knew she wasn’t going to drop this subject unless I gave her something. She leaned towards me conspiratorially, clearly eager for details.

“He’s well versed in…sweet torture.” I whispered, feeling my face heat as the words left my mouth. Phoebe’s eyes widened and her mouth split into a huge grin as she squealed her excitement. I kept my head down, taking a sip of my coffee and refusing to look up in case the crowds around us had turned at the commotion Phoebe was making.

As my friend continued to squeal and giggle and gush at my confession, I felt a small smile creep onto my face as I recalled the night I’d shared with the dark haired man. But my thoughts quickly turned melancholy and the smiled dropped from my face. Fate could be so cruel sometimes. Every good thing I had with the deepspace men was now tainted. My future, in reality, looked bleak. It was like these men had bought colour back into my life, but it was slowly being washed away.

“Rory?” Phoebe called, gently, touching my wrist as her voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “What’s up?” Her excitement and exuberance had been replaced with worry.

I gave her a small smile and turned back to my coffee.

“I’ve really enjoyed having them here. I almost can’t imagine life without them now.” I felt my eyes prick and gritted my teeth. I refused to cry. “I honestly think I love them. All of them.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Doesn’t that just mean you’re polyamorous?”

“Yeah, I figured that a while ago. But it doesn’t make a difference. They need to go home.”

“Well, sure but you still need to figure out how. It could take ages yet-“

“I know how.”

Phoebe stared at me slack-jawed.

“I figured it out. After Cole attacked me, the memories became clearer. I know how Sienna opened the rift in the first place. I know how to send them back.”

“You haven’t told them.” It wasn’t a question, but I shook my head anyway.

“I don’t-“ My throat closed, and my eyes stung. I grit my teeth until they hurt, trying to push the overwhelming sorrow away. Phoebe gripped both my hands and pulled them towards her.

“I’m sorry, Rory.”

 I shook my head.

“It’s not your fault, Phebs.”

“But I didn’t exactly help with my whole party idea.”

I shook my head again. “You didn’t know.” I muttered. I pulled my hands away and took another sip of my coffee.

“What are you going to do?” She asked quietly. I watched the remaining foam in my cup swirl around on top of the hot, bitter liquid.

“I don’t know.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

I looked up at her, feeling like I knew what she was going to say.

“Tell them. They have a right to know.”

Chapter Text

The sun was low on the horizon when the taxi pulled up to the gates of the villa. I quickly paid the driver and thanked him before hoping out the vehicle. As he pulled away, I pressed the intercom beside the gate, knowing Zayne, at least, would be ready to answer. A moment later the gates opened, and I made my way up the hill to the door.

Zayne opened the door as I reached it and smiled at me.

“Welcome home.” He said in his soft voice as I stepped across the threshold.

“Thanks.”

“Did you have a good time?” He asked as he shut the door and followed me to table where I dumped my bags.

“It was good.” I hoped my tone of voice was convincing. In truth, my stomach was twisted with nerves and my heart pounded slightly faster than usual.

They have a right to know. Phoebe had said. And she was right. But how…when should I reveal what I know? Should I say something now? Or wait?

Zayne tilted his head slightly, observing me. Maybe I hadn’t been as casual as I’d hoped. I should tell him. But what about the others? If I tell Zayne now, I’ll have to tell them later. I didn’t think I could go through this more than once. I should wait until they’re all together. Dinner, I’ll tell them at dinner.

Zayne was still watching me, so I focused on another issue.

“I’m really sorry about how Phoebe behaved yesterday. She’s sorry too. She would have told you herself, but she had to get home.” I apologized.

Zayne raised an eyebrow but a small smiled hovered over his lips.

“Indeed? Normally I wouldn’t forgive that kind of behaviour, but, as she is your friend, I’ll let it go this once.”

“Thank you.”

Zayne turned to look out the large windows, his smile faltering and a small crease marking his brow. He reached up and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. I had been about to pick up my bags again but at his clear display of nervousness I waited. It didn’t take long before the doctor spoke up again.

“Rory, about last night-”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to-“ I quickly interrupted, but Zayne continued despite the interruption.

“I don’t regret it.” He turned back to me. The sincerity of his words, clear in his eyes. “I would have preferred not to be inebriated, but I don’t regret what happened. Do you-“

“No.” I breathed. Then smiled. “I don’t regret it either.”

He smiled back, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“I’m glad. Why don’t you put your things away. I’ll start dinner.”

He turned towards the kitchen and my smile faltered. It was all so routine, so domestic. We had all become so comfortable together. If they knew I could send them home, would they want to leave? Would they be as sad to leave as I would be to lose them?

They have a right to know.

“Zayne?”

The doctor turned to me.

“Yes?”

I swallowed. I‘d called out impulsively but once again I couldn’t bring myself to form the words. I hunted around for something else to say and jumped on the first clear thought I had.

“About last night…are you normally so…devious?” I could feel my cheeks burn as the question slipped from my mouth.

Zayne gave a light chuckle, a lopsided smile twisting his lips.

“Devious? I’m not sure.” He tilted his head again, his voice dropping slightly. “Would you like to find out?”

“Uh…I think I could do with at least one night of proper sleep.” I quickly grabbed my bags and hurried towards my room before I exposed any more of my embarrassing thoughts. I could hear Zayne’s breathy chuckle following me down the hall.

Once safe inside the privacy of my bedroom, I dumped my bags on the floor and took a few, slow, deep breaths. I would tell them at dinner. One time. Then I would be free of the guilt and the secrets.

* * *

An hour later I emerged from my room, draw by the smell of cooked chicken and pastry. I had spent the time since I got home soaking in a hot bath while obsessing over the best way to share my big reveal. I’d decided, once dried off, to simply change into my pj’s and dressing gown, not wanting the hassle of having to change again later.

Sylus and Xavier were already lounging at the table, the gangster teasing the hunter over his love of meat as the blond salivated over the smell of the chicken. I took a seat next to Sylus, ignoring his heated gaze as he observed me, as Zayne approached the table with a large, steaming chicken pie in his gloved hands. I caught his frown as he noted my choice of outfit, but he chose to keep quiet as he placed the pie in the middle of the table and began to serve the meal. That’s when I noticed the number of placemats on the table and the absence of one particular individual.

“Where’s Rafayel?”

Zayne passed me a plate of food as he explained.

“He claimed he wasn’t hungry. I must admit he didn’t look well earlier. I would check on him, but he made it clear he wanted to be left alone.”

He wasn’t coming to dinner? But I needed them all here! Should I go get him? But Zayne said he didn’t look well. What if he was sick? Maybe now wasn’t the best time to share my news. Maybe I should wait until Rafayel was feeling better.

“I’ll take him some food after we’ve eaten and make sure he’s ok.” I offered, hoping the artist would be more inclined to accept my company.

“I appreciate it.” Zayne nodded as he took his seat.

* * *

The sun had set, and the table cleared by the time I approached Rafayel’s door with a plate of covered food. I knocked and waited. Only silence answered me. I knocked again, calling out to the artist but still got no response. So, I reached for the door handle and twisted it carefully, allowing the door to slide open enough to stick my head through.

The room beyond was dark, the light seeping in from the hallway revealing the stillness. I spotted Rafayel, laying prone on the bed, half-exposed chest rising and falling slowly. His head was turned away from me, the light catching his mauve hair, highlighting faint streaks of blue amongst the purple I hadn’t noticed before. I debated whether to wake him or not. If he was sick, he probably needed the rest. Maybe I should just leave the food for him to find when he woke up.

I pushed the door open a little further and stepped into the room. Creeping towards his desk as quietly as I could I slid the plate onto it’s surface before turning back to the door. Whether due to the noise of my movements or the light peeking through the gap in the doorway, Rafayel began to stir slightly. He grumbled in his sleep and his head turned to face me, eyes still closed, mouth slightly open. A glint in the light caught my attention and I froze.

Staring at the unconscious man before me I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was his skin…shining? Small flickers of light across his cheekbones, down his cheeks and along the curve of his neck danced in my eyes. Slowly and quietly, I approached the bed, lowering myself to kneel on the floor once I’d reached it. Now, I could see the source of the light. I hadn’t been imagining it, although I still wasn’t sure I could believe what I was seeing. A collection of small blue and silver, smooth stones dotted his skin, some no more that glittering dots, others the size of the tip of my finger.

Not stones, I realised. Scales. These were Rafayel’s lemurian scales.

Eyes wide with wonder, I reached up and ran my finger softly against the scales along his cheekbone. They were smooth and cold, a stark contrast to the heat of his skin.

“Don’t.”

I flinched, pulling my hand back as Rafayel’s eyes opened slightly, and his blurry gaze turned to me.

“Touching me wherever is rude.” He mumbled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ve just never…your scales are…” I fumbled, unsure how to explain. The Lemurian groaned and draped one arm over his eyes.

“Today’s just not my day. I wanna be alone right now.” He grumbled again. However, despite the distraction, I hadn’t failed to notice the pink flush on his cheeks and ears, or the unnatural heat emanating from his skin. It had been painfully obvious against the cool surface of the scales.

“Rafayel, you have a fever. I can’t just leave you alone knowing you’re sick.” I reached out to place my hand on his arm but the moment my fingers touched him, my wrist was caught in a burning grip.

“Humans truly are greedy.” His voice was a low growl. “Always exploiting other species, once you discover their weaknesses.”

I stared at him, stung by his accusation. Is that really what he thought of me?

“How…how can you say that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even despite my throat tightening and my eyes getting sore. He lifted his arm slightly and eyed me from beneath lowered lids. Then he sighed as if he was done with the all the drama and fuss of the situation, his arm dropping back down to his side.

“I can’t even run away…do whatever you want to me.” He huffed, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

I couldn’t understand him. Ever since he’d arrived in this world, he’d taken every opportunity to spend time with me, the gentle touches and yearning looks that I’d always noticed ever present. But now? Now it was like I was nothing more than an irritation, an annoyance.

“Rafayel, please. I’m just trying to help. Why are you pushing me away?”

“I said you can do what you want.”

“Just tell me what’s going on. Please?”

He sighed again and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Every year there’s a day when the tide is low and flows in the opposite direction. It’s when the Lemurians are at their weakest. Even the most feeble human could kill us once they know of this. If you want to push me away…kill me even…I can’t stop you.”

Ebb day. I thought. I remembered Phoebe telling me about it. A day when Lemurians were weak and vulnerable. She’d said Rafayel had been different than usual in that card, almost cruel. He didn’t trust humans, she’d said. Humans had hurt his people. That’s what this was. He was vulnerable, he was scared of being hurt.

“Do you really not trust me?” I asked, my voice calmer now that I understood. I reached towards him again. “I only-“

My words were cut off as he tugged sharply on my wrist he still held. My world spun and the soft mattress hit my back making me gasp. Instantly, Rafayel was above me, one hand beside my head, the other pinning my wrist down, knees either side of my thighs and dark eyes glaring at me

“You don’t know how dangerous this is do you?” He growled. Then he lowered his head, hot breath against my neck and he breathed deeply in and out.

“What are you…”

“You smell so sweet.” He groaned, the tip of his nose brushing against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “Maybe I should devour you.” He whispered. “Then I can get strong again.” Hot wetness dragged up the side of my neck, raising goosebumps down my legs, then the sharp pain of teeth digging into my skin made me yelp.

“Wait, Rafayel, stop.” I shoved against his shoulder, pushing his upper body away from me and twisted my other wrist from his grip. That in itself showed how weak he truly was right now. I placed my hands on either side of his face and forced his eyes to mine.

“Look at me.” I ordered. I kept his gaze intensely with my own, watching as he registered my sincerity and worry. The aggression and anger fading and revealing the pain and vulnerability.

“I will never hurt you.” I emphasised each word. “Never.”

He stared at me a moment, the fever making his eyes hazy and his breaths deep.

“Promise?” His voice was small and almost pleading when it came.

“Promise.”

He closed his eyes, his mouth opening as he took more deep breaths before practically collapsing on top of me, his arms wrapping around my middle as he laid his head on my shoulder. I reached up to stroke his hair gently and he nuzzled into me even more.

“I don’t feel so good.” He murmured after a while.

“Let me get you some medicine.” I offered, trying to wriggle my way free. His arms tightened around me, and he intertwined his legs with mine, clinging to me in every possible way.

“Please…don’t go.” He begged. I sighed and stopped trying to free myself.

“What can I do?”

“Share your warmth with me.”

I reached up with my free arm and brushed the strands of his hair away from his face, running the back of my fingers across his temple. His skin burned against mine. He was truly overheating. Even his lips were beginning to look chapped.

“Rafayel, your fever got worse.”

“Water.” He mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“I’ll run you a bath, but you need to let me up.”

He whimpered a protest but his grip on me loosened, and I slipped from the bed. I hurried into the en-suit and turned the taps, the sound of the water hitting the smooth surface of the tub sounding like a waterfall in the otherwise silent room. I returned to the bedroom, find Rafayel once again on his back, tugging pathetically at his shirt.

First closing the bedroom door so the light wouldn’t bother him, I approached the bed again and helped him to remove the offending article of clothing. Then, with a great deal of effort on my part and not much on his, I managed to half-guide half-carry him into the bathroom. Before I could stop him, Rafayel pitched headfirst into the half-filled tub, sending water everywhere. I yelped as water splashed down the front of my dressing gown.

An extended sigh of relief echoed around the tiled room from the tub as Rafayel settled himself comfortably. Well, almost. He was still wearing his designer trousers which he quickly undid and tried to kick off, but the wet fabric refused to be part from his skin. Rolling my eyes I reached into the water to help peel the clothing from his body, glad he was still wearing pants, before dumping the soaked fabric into the sink to drain.

By this point the bath was mostly filled so I turned off the taps, noting the water was warm but not hot. Hopefully that worked for the lemurian. Or would he prefer it cold like the sea? But a cold bath wouldn’t be good for his fever.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Rafayel muttered from the other end of the bath, peering at me with one eye before closing it again. “Let me guess, you wondering why my legs didn’t turn into a tail?”

“I wasn’t but now that you mention it…”

“It doesn’t happen automatically. I chose when to change. It’s awkward in a bathtub.”

I smiled as I noted his usual demeanour returning slightly before rising back to my feet.

“Stay with me.” He begged, opening both eyes suddenly and reaching towards me.

“Of course I will.”

I knelt down beside the tub, grabbing a flannel from the cupboard and began to wash the man’s chest and neck, trying to cool him down as best as possible. His eyes closed again on a sigh as he settled back down.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there gently wiping at Rafayel’s heated skin. My fingers began to run soothingly through his hair and my fingers brushed against his scales each time I wiped the flannel along his neck. After a while his breathing began to slow and the flush on his face lessened.

I dropped the flannel into the sink with the trousers and reached up to feel his temperature against his forehead, cheek and neck. As my hand moved, Rafayel’s brow furrowed, and he groaned.

“Are all humans idiots?” He grumbled.

“If you’re going to start insulting me again, I’m leaving.” I warned, standing. Before I could step away, Rafayel’s hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist with more strength than he showed earlier. He then pulled my wrist to his face running his nose along the soft skin as he inhaled my scent. A small lick tickled my senses followed by a collection of gentle kisses.

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone,” Rafayel mumbled against my skin, “all our senses are committed to perceive them without question.”

He moved my wrist to nuzzle his face into my palm. Then, without warning, he bit down on the soft flesh at the base of my thumb.

“Ow. What-“

Before I could pull my hand back a harsh tug on my wrist pulled me off balance. I felt my feet slip on the tiled floor and felt coldness invade my senses as I landed in the bath with a loud splash, water flooding over the sides. I struggled in the shock of the moment, trying to right myself. I gripped the sides of the tub, pushing myself up until I got my legs under me. A strong arm wrapped around my back, preventing my further escape. I inhaled a lungful of air, my heart pounding from shock as the water stopped sloshing everywhere.

“Damn. It’s cold.” I gasped. I was sure I’d made the bath at least lukewarm. Why was it so damn cold now?

The arm around my back tightened as Rafayel pulled me down towards him. When I looked down at him, I noticed his eyes had a dark, intense look in them as they drifted down my body, taking in my soaked pj’s and dressing gown. Movement below the surface suddenly made me aware of the fact that I was straddling one of his legs.

“You should get out of those wet clothes.” He smirked, one hand pushing the dressing gown off my shoulders. He lent forwards and placed a line of soft kisses from my now bare shoulder up to my neck. A shiver, not due to the cold, raced down my back and settled in my gut. A moment later, Rafayel’s leg bent up and nudged against me, just hard enough to knock me off balance once again. I landed fully on top of the artist this time.

He reached one hand up and tilted my head towards his.

“Don’t worry, Cutie. I’ll warm you up.” He vowed before sealing his lips against mine.

Chapter Text

Rafayel

A loud banging on the door roused Rafayel from his slumber. He was laying on his stomach, head buried in his pillow and duvet draped across his legs. Despite the bare skin of his back exposed to the air, he felt comfortably warm. Not hot like he had the night before. He could tell his fever had gone. His semi-conscious mind drifted back to the previous night, the ecstasy his body had experienced in claiming his bride. He remembered the music of her voice, the silky touch of her skin, the sweet taste of her lips.

The obnoxious banging started again, and the man groaned his irritation. Stretching his arm out behind him, he reached for the woman who held his heart, but his hand met cold, empty sheets. Grumbling, he lifted his head on the pillow and turned to the other side of the bed, peeling one bleary eye open. Sure enough, he was alone in the room. The light creeping through the curtains and shining from under the bedroom door suggested it was later than he expected.

At the third round of banging on his door, Rafayel rubbed his hand down his face and called out.

“What?” His hoarse, sleepy voice cried.

“Get up, Rafayel.” Zayne’s voice penetrated the door. There was an edge to it the artist hadn’t heard before that pulled him further to wakefulness.

Something was wrong.

Kicking away the duvet wrapped around his legs, the artist pulled on a pair of trousers and shuffled to the door, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. He could hear muffled voices outside, but when he wrenched his door open, only Zayne was visible on the landing.

“Get dressed and come downstairs. The police are here.”

“What?”

A trill ring filled the villa once, twice.

“Hurry up, there’s no time discuss this.” Zayne snapped, his usual calm ruffled, as he turned and headed back down the stairs.

“Why are we inviting them in?” Rafayel called after him.

“Because if we didn’t it would make us look even more suspicious.” The deep rumble beside him was Sylus, having just closed the door to his own room. Crimson eyes observed him for a moment, before the gangster stepped closer, almost invading Rafayel’s personal space.

“I’m aware you’ve evaded detection before,” Sylus said, his voice dropping in volume. “So, I’m trusting you not to mess this up.”

“I’m not the one you need to worry about.” Rafayel hissed back before slamming his door shut. He quickly rummaged in his wardrobe for a shirt and threw it over his shoulders. Checking his appearance in the mirror he ran his hands through his hair, untangling the mess of bed head into something slightly more styled. Deciding it would have to do he returned to his bedroom door and stepped out into the brightly lit landing.

At the same time, Zayne's voice called up the stairs.

“Rory?”

“Coming.”

Rafayel’s head snapped to the voice only a few feet away. Rory stood with Xavier and Sylus outside Xavier’s room.

“Please, can you do it?” She asked the men before her in a hushed, slightly strained voice.

“But you said-“ Xavier started but she cut him off.

“Forget what I said.”

“They’ll see.” Sylus offered, warningly.

“It doesn’t matter.” Rory claimed, shaking her head.

Rafayel glanced down the stairs. Zayne was leading two men towards the living space, one older gentleman with a thin face and greying hair and another younger, auburn-haired man, slightly shorter than the first. A glint of metal drew the artist’s eyes to the badges clipped to their belts or hung from their necks by a chain. He could hear the doctor offering them drinks and the detectives declining. Then Zayne turned to the stairs again.

“Rory?” He called again.

“Please promise me.” She begged quietly.

There was a moments pause, before Xavier nodded.

“Promise.”

“Of course, Kitten. If it comes to it.”

* * *

John Gallagher

Captain Gallagher shared a look with his partner as the man, who had introduced himself as Zayne Li, called up the stairs a second time. After being greeted at the door and being invited in, Rhodes had started subtly tapping away at his phone. John had caught his slightly perplexed and rather suspicious glance at the smartly dressed, six foot stranger with wire framed glasses and a collection of faded scars on his hands and forearms. It had taken less than a heartbeat for him to recognise this stoic but polite individual from the social media video. A shadow of the dark look he had given the crowd still present in his hazel eyes.

As Zayne turned to call up the stairs again, Rhodes showed his phone screen to his captain. The search results for the name ‘Zayne Li’ listed, primarily, the same game Cooper had mentioned. Other results of the search where simply forum discussions or fanfiction entries of the character. John frowned, a feeling of distrust settling in his gut. Who were these men? And what where they doing with Aurora Delaney?

Rhodes swiped his phone into his pocket as Zayne turned back towards them.

“Apologies for the delay. We’ve had a busy few days and none of us were in a rush to get up this morning.”

“It’s no trouble.” John replied gruffly. Honestly, the longer this took the more time his officers outside would have to check the garage, which had been conveniently left open, and external bins. If they managed to find anything remotely incriminating, he might be able to encourage an internal search or possibly even a confession. But he wouldn’t get too hopeful.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew the captain’s attention. Aurora Delaney descended towards them dressed in a casual t-shirt and cardigan with faded denim jeans and thin plimsol shoes. A less experienced detective may have missed the tightness around her eyes as she approached them, or the nervous tick as she tugged at the hems of her cardigan sleeves, but John caught it. There was a cautiousness about her that only deepened that feeling of distrust within him.

His attention was quickly drawn to her entourage. Directly behind her, so close he almost expected them to trip, was a blond man with vibrant blue eyes whose soft, round features made his age difficult to place. He seemed to be a similar height to Zayne, but the bagginess of his clothes made his figure hard to judge. His cerulean eyes darted from the woman in front of him to the detectives waiting for them, his long fingers barely brushing against her elbow in a half-successful attempt not to grip hold of her. John didn’t recognise this man from the video, but his face had been among the images Cooper had shown them of the game characters. It added an edge of confusion to the emotions festering in his gut.

The next man to descend the stairs was the lean, purple-haired individual from the video. Much like at the market, this man wore clothes that looked too high-quality to be common high street brands. His intricate, crisp white shirt, tailored trousers and neatly manicured nails suggested a vanity indulged by wealth. The clearly dyed, unusual colour of his hair and the unnatural polychrome hue of his eyes, most likely contacts, along with the clear distain painting his features at their presence marked him, in John’s eyes, as an eccentric. The captain stifled a groan. He hated dealing with eccentrics. They were unpredictable and often unreasonable. His unease grew at the recognition of this man also looking a great deal like one of the characters from the game. There was a theme here, but with what significance?

The last individual to make his way down the stairs was the man who gave John the strongest feelings of suspicion and distrust. The tallest, and largest of the men, his silver hair framed a sharply featured face with piercing red eyes partially hidden under lowered lids. Compared to the biking leathers he had been wearing on the video, he now wore a dark shirt pulled tight over his muscular frame, dark trousers hugging his slim waist and polished leather shoes. One thumb tucked into his pocket, his other hand sliding down the banister, shoulders relaxed, and head tilted back to look lazily down his nose at the visitors, this man walked with a sense of superiority and boredom that made John’s skin itch. The slight tilt of his lips was as mocking as his gaze was calculating.

John had faced all manner of individuals in his role as detective over the years, but never once had he felt unsure of himself. Faced with these four, tall, clearly attractive men each giving off a somewhat imperious demeanour, John felt, for the first time in his career, slightly intimidated and just a little unprepared. Thankfully, his first task pertained solely to Miss Delaney, an individual he was confident he could handle.

“Miss Delaney.” He said in greeting as she reached them.

“Detectives. It’s been a long time. Is there something I can help you with?”

* * *

Rory

I would never forget the faces of the men that saved my life. I’d always felt that detectives Gallagher and Rhodes were godsends, not that I deserved any kind of divine deliverance after the hell I had gotten myself into. But, standing before them now, seeing the extra lines and wrinkles on detective Gallagher’s face, the confidence borne of experience in detective Rhodes’ stance, I wished these men had never entered my life. It was a strange feeling, to owe your life to someone who now threatened those closest to you. I didn’t want to lie to these men, but I knew I couldn’t tell them the truth. At least, not all of it.

“Would you mind introducing us to your friends?” Detective Rhodes asked with a polite smile.

I indicated the three men behind me, giving each of their names in turn. Rafayel and Xavier, on my left simply nodded. Sylus dipped his head and rumbled the word “Pleasure.” Even I noticed the detective’s shoulders tense at his voice and struggled to resist the urge to elbow the large man in the ribs. The detectives introduced themselves in return before the eldest of the two turned to me.

“Miss Delaney, I wonder if I could have a word? An incident has occurred and I have a few questions I would like to ask you.”

“An incident?” I asked, feigning ignorance. If I played this right Gallagher would tell me what they knew before I could accidently give anything away.

“Involving Mr Murphy.” He replied, his voice slightly softer.

“I see. Of course.”

Gallagher’s eyes flicked to the men around me before resting on me again.

“I believe Detective Rhodes has some questions for your friends in the meantime, if that’s ok?”

“I’m sure they can speak for themselves, Detective.” I responded instinctively, before pressing my lips together. I couldn’t let my ire get the best of me.

“I’m not sure we can be of much help.” Zayne spoke up, “But feel free to ask.”

While detective Rhodes directed my men to the dinner table, Gallagher motioned me towards the kitchen breakfast bar. Indicating for me to take the first stool, he perched on the one beside me, leading me to be facing away from the rest of the room. He lent his elbow on the bar and leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Miss Delaney, I’m aware this may be difficult for you, but I need you to be honest with me.”

“Of course, detective.” I responded, my brow furrowed. What had I done to already suggest I had something to hide.

“We spoke to Miss Benson a couple of days ago, following which she left home and didn’t return. Am I right in assuming she came here, to visit you?”

“Yes, she did.” I had anticipated that line of questioning. After all, Phoebe had denied knowing where I was when they spoke to her.

“Then I take it you know why we’re here? And that we were looking for you?”

“Yes, Phoebe told me about that. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner, my phone broke, and I’ve only just managed to get it fixed.”

“I understand.” He nodded, pulling a notepad out of his pocket a jotting down a few notes. When he looked back up, there was a questioning look in his eyes.

“Those bruises on your neck,” he started, indicating the marks that had faded to a pale green but still visible, “they look to be a few days old. Did Mr Murphy give you those?”

I bit my lip. So much for denying any knowledge of the situation. Averting my gaze, I gingerly touched the marks on my neck and nodded.

“Yes, he gave them to me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

I took a deep breath. Don’t lie, just omit where necessary.

“Sylus and I had gone to dinner at a restaurant a few towns over.” I began, going on to mention the man that had threatened me with a gun and dragged me from the restaurant when I had stepped away to use the bathroom. Then the fight with Cole, my attempted escape and how he had eventually trapped me. I told Gallagher about thinking I was dead but pushed the truth ever so slightly. I claimed I had passed out and when I woke, Sylus had found me, but Cole had disappeared.

“I guessed he thought he’d killed me and left. I had no idea he’d been attacked until Phoebe told me.”

Gallagher watched me silently when I finished my story. He fiddled with the binding of his notepad as he eyed me. I assumed he was trying to deduce how much of my tale was true and did my best to keep a neutral expression on my face. Finally, Gallagher sighed and looked away, placing his notepad and pen on the bar before looking back to me.

“Miss Delaney, are you close to these men? Are you safe with them?”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Cole Murphy was found in the alleyway behind the restaurant by a member of staff after the restaurant closed. I find it hard to believe you didn’t see him when you came to. It sounds like you’re trying to protect someone. If they’re threatening you to keep quiet-“

“Detective Gallagher.” I interrupted sharply. “I understand a crime has been committed but making baseless accusations is uncalled for. It sounds to me like you are trying to excuse the fact that you failed to do your job in the first place. After all, you where there when Cole threatened to kill me. You knew he was a threat to me. And yet I was left to face Cole by myself. So, if there was someone that saved me from death by his hands then I owe them my life, and he got what he deserved.”

I stared unflinchingly at the detective, watching his jaw flex and twitch as my words sunk in. I had clearly hit a nerve and a small part of me felt guilty for hurting this man, but I wouldn’t let anyone suggest my men were anything like Cole.

“Captain?” The voice behind me made me turn. A man in the blue uniform of a police officer stood in the foyer.

“Excuse me a moment, Miss Delaney.” Gallagher said, his voice hard and strained. He rose from the stool and approached the officer.

* * *

Sylus

As the older detective led Rory towards the kitchen bar, Sylus and the others took their seats around the dinner table. Detective Rhodes chose to stand by the remaining two chairs. Sylus lent back, arms crossed over his chest as he watched their unwelcome visitor pull a notepad and pen from his pocket. Dealing with police was something Sylus had done countless times, less so in recent years. Unlike Rafayel, Sylus was not trying to maintain a lawful citizen persona. Not in Linkon, anyway. Thankfully, the mafioso had taken the time to familiarize himself with the laws and rights in this world in case of just such a situation as this.

“Perhaps we could start with your full names?” Rhodes asked, his polite smile from earlier still plastered on his face. Since Zayne had given his full name earlier, the detective skipped him and instead turned to Xavier.

“Xavier Shen.” The hunter replied, no hint of the soft sleepy prince in his countenance. Sylus smirked as he considered how this seemingly harmless looking man could switch to one that was no doubt capable of intimidating others.

“Rafayel Qi.” The artist answered next, a clear scowl on his face. Being worshiped as a god had left it’s mark on the lemurian and Sylus wondered how he had existed for so long without some poor, insulted upstart trying to clock him. But the detective was made of strong stuff it seemed and didn’t even flinch.

When the detective turned to the gangster, Sylus lazily tilted his head back and lifted his eyes to the man. Despite the twitch of his brows, Rhodes stood firm, his smile firmly in place.

“Sylus Qin.” He drawled.

And now began the game of wits.

Rhodes nodded, making notes on his notepad and thanked them.

“Is it possible for me to see some form of ID for each of you?” He asked looking up again.

“Do you believe we’re lying about our identities, detective?” Sylus asked, a single brow lifted in challenge.

“It’s just procedure.” Rhodes responded, a minute crack in his smile.

“Unfortunately, we left our ID’s at Miss Bensons house.” Zayne cut in. “We didn’t believe we’d need them for such a holiday as this.”

“I see.” Rhodes responded slowly. Clearly, he didn’t see but he was too even tempered to admit such a thing. “Can you tell me how you all met Miss Delaney?”

“I bumped into her at a craft fair.” Rafayel piped up. “She was looking for material for a sewing project and I was admiring some of the paintings on display.”

Rhodes nodded as he took notes. “And the rest of you?”

“We were all gifted with exclusive tickets to an all expenses paid trip.” Sylus offered. “There’s were we all met. Then Rafayel introduced us to Miss Delaney after their meeting.”

“What company provided the tickets?”

“Linkon Express.”

Rhodes frowned. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of them.”

“They’re very exclusive.” Sylus remarked, the look in his eye daring the detective to call his bluff. Rhodes met his gaze for a moment before glancing away. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a portrait photo of Cole Murphy, the same one from his criminal record.

“Do any of you recognise this man?” He asked, showing the photo to each of them in turn. Sylus spotted the twitch in Zayne’s jaw as the tension in his shoulders increased but his voice was perfect even when he spoke.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen him before.”

Rafayel and Xavier both shook their heads. Sylus tilted his head in contemplation.

“I can’t say he looks familiar. But then he doesn’t look very memorable. Who is he?”

“His name is Cole Murphy. He was…in a relationship with Miss Delaney a few years ago.”

“That’s the bastard that hurt her?”

Rhodes flinched at the growl in Sylus’ voice but recovered quickly, his smile all but gone now.

“I see Miss Delaney informed you of her past experience.” He said, placing the photo back into his pocket.

“Why are you asking us about him?” Xavier queried.

“Mr Murphy was attacked a few days ago.” Rhodes explained, slowly. “It would be understandable if an individual, or multiple individuals, close to Miss Delaney, stepped in to protect her when threatened.”

“It sounds like you’re insinuating something, detective.” Sylus growled. “Speak plainly.”

Rhodes cleared his throat, a small frown appearing on his forehead.

“It’s clear you all care about Miss Delaney. I’m simply asking if you have any knowledge of who might have attacked Mr Murphy.”

“We have nothing to hide.” Zayne snapped, his ‘chief of surgery’ authority showing clearly.

“Then would you allow our officers to search the premises?”

“Do you have a warrant?” Sylus challenged.

Rhodes turned back to him, lips pressing together. Just as he was about to speak again his partner barked at him from across the room.

“Rhodes, a word.”

“Excuse me.” The detective muttered, stepping away from them. As he approached the other officers at the front door, Rory shuffled over to the table, stopping between Xavier and Rafayel. She wrapped her arms around herself, the corners of her mouth pulled down and a worried glare in her eyes as she observed the officers.

“Are you ok?” Xavier asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her eyes flicked down at him and she tried to smile but it wasn’t very convincing.

“I’m fine. I just don’t understand why they’re trying so hard.”

Sylus observed the woman for a moment before turning back to the detectives. They had stepped outside the door to speak to yet another officer. An officer with three transparent plastic evidence bags in his hands, each bulging with their contents. He growled, drawing the attention of the others.

“Things are about to get complicated.”

Chapter Text

Matthew Rhodes

“What is it?” The captain growled at the officers once they’d stepped outside. Rhodes frowned. Clearly something had upset his superior.

“We found these in the general waste, captain.” One officer replied, holding up the evidence bags.

Each bag was stuffed full of what looked like clothes. The first was a white material with what looked like a flower design on part of it. There were marks of dirt and blood on it as well as a number of tears in the fabric. The second bag also contained a white material as well as blue and black. It looked more intricate than the first and there were many blood stains across the fabric. The third bag held clothing in black and dark purple with zips and buckles. Despite the darker colour of this material a similar number of blood stains to the second item were visible.

Gallagher took one of the bags, examining the contents, a small satisfied smile replacing his earlier frustration.

“Good job. Perhaps now they’ll allow us to search the rest of the house.”

“I doubt it, sir.” Rhodes spoke up. “That man, Sylus Qin, already brought up the issue of a warrant.”

Gallagher grumbled as he scratched his head. The circumstances weren’t ideal. Even if these clothes had Cole’s blood on them, without a matching DNA sample from the men inside to the epithelia’s on the clothes, they would have no basis for a warrant.

“What information did you get from them?” The captain asked.

“They answered all my questions, but I doubt any of it was true. They all denied knowing Cole Murphy, but I saw recognition on more than one of their faces. They claimed to be on an all expenses paid holiday together when they met Miss Delaney, but I’ve never head of the company that gave them the tickets. And they got defensive when I suggested the person responsible for the assault on Murphy might have been trying to protect Miss Delaney.”

The captain hummed thoughtfully. Placing his hands on his hips, he surveyed the property around them.

“This is a holiday villa, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get on the phone to Cooper. Have him contact the owner, tell them their guests are persons of interest in a case and ask for permission to search the premises.”

As the captain grabbed the evidence bags from the officers and headed back into the villa, Rhodes pulled out his phone and fired off a text to his junior partner before pressing the dial button. Two rings later, the call connected.

“Cooper speaking.”

“Cooper, it’s Rhodes. I’ve just sent you a text with an address for a holiday villa. I need you to get in touch with the owner and ask for permission to search the premises.”

“What reason should I give.”

“Tell them their current guests are persons of interest in our current investigation. Don’t tell them more than that. If they ask for more information just say the investigation is ongoing.”

“Got it. I’ll let you know when I’ve spoken to them.”

“Once you’ve done that, look up a company called Linkon Express.”

Wrapping up the call, Rhodes turned to the officers and instructed them to collect the forensic kits from the cars before re-entering the villa himself.

Miss Delaney had joined the men at the table and stood between the blond man, Xavier and the eccentric, Rafayel. Rhodes could tell from the way her left hand was entwined with Xavier’s and her right rested on the shoulder of Rafayel, covered by one of his, that their relationship was more than platonic. The five of them together looked almost like a close-nit family. The realisation settled sharply in his gut. The last time they’d seen Miss Delaney, she’d been open and co-operative, exceptionally so. Now she seemed so closed off it was like she was a different personal all together.

The captain dropped the three evidence bags on the table, breaking Rhodes from his thoughts. He observed how each of the men at the table had frozen at the sight of the ruined clothes.

“Could you explain these to me?” Gallagher asked the group, hands resting on his hips.

“You went through our rubbish?” Rafayel exclaimed.

“Don’t you need a warrant for that?” Zayne asked, his eyes sharp as he glared at the captain.

“Not when there’s a risk of evidence being destroyed before a warrant can be obtained. As your bins are due for collection tomorrow, we were able to apply this clause.” Gallagher responded.

Rhodes could almost hear the grinding of teeth from his position near the door.

“The dress is mine.” All eyes turned to the woman as she pointed to the bag with the white stained outfit with the flower prints. “It’s the one I was wearing when Cole found me. The others are outfits I was making. I got blood on them when I injured my hands.” She held her hand up, palms out, revealing red jagged scars across her pale skin. They looked barely a week old.

“So, you’re saying, if I take these back to the lab and test the blood it won’t come back as Cole Murphy’s?” Gallagher challenged, leaning forwards on the table.

“The blood is mine.” Rory reaffirmed, her jaw set and eyes hard. It was a lie. They all knew it. Injuries like hers wouldn’t have left blood patterns like those on the clothes. But without evidence to prove her wrong they couldn’t refute her. Not yet.

Gallagher sighed his frustration and turned back to the first item, the dress.

“You say you wore this when Murphy attacked you?”

“Yes.”

“You were also there that night?” Gallagher asked the silver haired man. Rhodes wondered how his captain could seem so composed under the glare of those vermillion eyes.

“I was.” Sylus responded slowly. “Though I don’t recall seeing anyone else besides Rory.”

“Can we see the clothes you wore that night?”

Sylus lips twitched into a smirk.

“Now, that, you will need a warrant for.”

A harsh jingle cut through the tension in the room at that moment and Rhodes fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Rhodes.” He answered. As he listened to the voice at the other end of the line, he was aware of the pressured focus trained on him from all other occupants of the room.

“Thanks, Cooper.” He said before ending the call. Turning back to the captain he gave a small nod of acknowledgement before indicating the officers outside to come in.

“It seems a warrant won’t be necessary.” Gallagher explained to the group. “We’ve contacted the owner of the building, and they’ve given their permission for us to do a full search. If there’s anything you’d like to tell us, now would be the time to do it.”

A tense silence filled the room as the captain looked at each individual in turn. They all kept silent, meeting his gaze with defiance and poorly hidden animosity. Seconds ticked by, but when no one was forth coming, Gallagher turned to his team and nodded his approval to begin the search.

* * *

Zayne

As the officers moved further into the building, Zayne closed his eyes, schooling his features into something calmer as he took a few deep breaths. His hands, shoved under the table, were coated in small ice crystals and he had to wrestle control of his emotions quickly, before he lost control of his evol. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. The frigid touch of ice slowly melted down his fingers as his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened out again.

Opening his eyes, he lifted a hand from his lap, confirming the absence of crystals before placing both hands back on the table in front of him. His movements seemed to catch the attention of the aged detective in front of them. His dark eyes dragged slowly along the doctor’s exposed hands and forearms, tracing the scars in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.

“How did you get the scars?”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, meeting the man’s eyes. “Is that relevant?” He asked, deadpan.

Gallagher’s lip twitched. “Humor me.” He responded.

Zayne sighed, leaning back in his chair and spreading his hands, exposing the extend of the pearlescent lines across his skin.

“I’m a qualified doctor. I spent a few years after my internship working in remote locations. There was an accident. I got injured.” He turned his eyes back to the detective, making it clear he was not going to expand on his answer.

“A doctor?” Gallagher’s eyes narrowed slightly in contemplation. “Where do you work?”

“I’m between jobs. Plans are in motion to start my own practice. After this holiday, of course.”

The detective grunted in response, his arms crossing over his chest. But he left his inquiry at that, instead turning to the man at the other end of the table.

“What about you, Mr Qin? What do you do for work?”

“I run a wholesale business. Import, export. Supply and demand.”

“What do you supply?”

“Fruit.”

Gallagher blinked at him, caught off guard by his answer.

“Fruit?”

Sylus raised his eyebrow at the detective as if daring him to doubt his answer.

“You seem to have done rather well for yourself in such a…specialised field.”

“It’s surprisingly lucrative.” Sylus replied. His expression showed his mocking humour at the idea, but his voice was calm and even. Gallagher didn’t believe him, that was clear. It was also clear that Sylus didn’t care. In fact, Zayne was sure the larger man enjoyed taunting the captain.

Gallagher ran his hand over his face, grumbling something unintelligible in the process. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen a few time before placing the device on the table in front of them.

“Are you aware of this?”

Zayne leaned forward slightly to see the home page of the ‘Love and Deepspace’ game they had originated from.

“Yes.” Xavier answered in his quiet voice. “Rory told us about it. And Phoebe showed it to us when she visited.”

“Are you aware of your resemblance to the main characters? Including sharing names with them?” The captain was beginning to sound just a little hysterical in his questioning.

“It truly is a strange coincidence.” Zayne attested.

“A coincidence?”

“Well, it’s not like we’re actually game characters.” Rafayel interjected, rolling his eyes.

“Are you cosplayers?”

“Detective, you have already identified that is not the case.” Sylus snapped, finally tiring of the incessant questions. “I am a businessman, Zayne is a doctor, Rafayel is an artist, and Xavier is a fitness instructor.”

Sharp blue eyes snapped to the gangster as the blond flinched slightly.

Zayne sighed and rubbed his forehead. In truth, these questions were pointless. They had no relevance to the situation and did not help the detectives in their investigation. The bigger issue was the search the other officers were conducting. Zayne tried to think if there was anything that could give them away stashed in the house somewhere.

The younger detective answered the question for him.

“Captain.” He called from the bottom of the stairs. He stood, holding a few sheets of  paper in one hand and a canvas in the other. Zayne’s stomach dropped as the captain approached his partner. They spoke in lowered tones, but the doctor didn’t need to hear them to know that the paper Rhodes passed to his captain were the criminal records Sylus had printed when confronting Rory about her past. The ones he had stolen from the police database. The ones that refuted their lies that they didn’t know who Cole Murphy was.

* * *

Rory

I knew when Rafayel caught sight of the canvas in Rhodes hands as I felt him move, prepared to jump to his feet. Thankfully, I’d anticipated his actions and was just about able, with my hand on his shoulder, to hold him in his seat. But when Rhodes turned the stretched fabric to show his captain, I couldn’t contain the gasp that rose unbidden. It was a beautiful scene of light pouring in from an open window, the sea glistening in the background. A sofa sat in front of the window with a figure in a white and orange dress, smiling with a hand raised. At the tips of her fingers was a glittering blue fish with a large fan like tail and tendrils of shining starlight in the air around it.

I couldn’t believe he’d finished it. The painting that had been interrupted by Cole’s re-entry into my world. I’d been so caught up in everything else I’d actually forgotten. But Rafayel hadn’t. Not a single detail was missing. The painting that represented the joy I had found with these men in this place, like a memory caught in a snapshot of time, was a bittersweet reminder, and a worry. As unrealistic as it was, the detectives had connected my men to the game they had managed to escape from. Would they believe the presence of the fish, which could be seen in many of Rafayel’s portraits from the game, was a simple addition? A nod to their resemblance? Or would they see it as something more?

Tearing my eyes from the exquisite artistry of the painting I glanced at the paper in Gallagher’s hands and froze. The criminal records, the proof that the men knew about Cole, knew what he looked like, as well as the fact that one of them had hacked the police database, was the final nail in the coffin. With this evidence, the deepspace men would be dragged to the station, locked away, interrogated. They would discover the vehicles were not legal. That the blood on the clothes was Cole’s and that Xavier and Rafayel had been wearing them. They would take their fingerprints and DNA. Would their DNA be different? Would it show their evol? Would it register as inhuman for Sylus and Rafayel? Maybe even Xavier?

I turned to the hunter beside me. Squeezing his hand to get his attention. We had only one choice left.

“Now.” I whispered, before releasing my hold on both him and Rafayel and stepping towards Sylus.

Xavier nodded once and reached out to grip the hands of the lemurian and doctor beside him, ignoring the men’s looks of confusion. A flash of light and they were gone.

Sylus had stood at my movement and reached out to me but I held him back with a hand to his chest and turned to the detectives. The flash of light had caught their attention, and they were both staring open mouthed at the empty chairs.

“Where…where-“

“I sorry, captain.” I called, drawing their attention to me. I could feel Sylus’ arm wrapping around my waist. “It’s nothing personal. I promise.”

Before they could respond, red and black mist surrounded us. I turned into Sylus, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest, feeling his arms tighten around me as the floor fell away. I had expected to feel the wind whip through my hair and pull at my clothes, but the sensation was more like floating, like we were drifting in space or sinking into the ocean. A peaceful, serene awareness of moving. A moment later I felt uneven ground press against the thin soles of my shoes.

Opening my eyes, I discovered we had landed deep in the forest that covered the hill on the opposite side of the road to the villa. A few feet away, Zayne was helping a tired looking Xavier up from the floor, the effort of transporting two extra people seeming to have taken a toll on him, and Rafayel was pacing between the trees, hands on his hips.

“We ran away?” the lemurian asked, baffled. “We ran away! How is that helping?”

“They had enough evidence to arrest you, Rafayel. They can hold you for 48 hours without charge and that would have been long enough for them to test the blood and know it was Cole’s then they could get a warrant for your DNA and they would know it was you and Xavier wearing those clothes. You would have gone to prison!” I snapped.

“So, what? We just go on the run?”

“No. Now I send you all home.”

Silence stretched out as each of them turned to me with wide eyes. I took a deep breath, feeling my chest constrict. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready. I wanted – needed more time. But we couldn’t wait. I couldn’t risk them getting caught.

“You’re sending us back?” Xavier’s soft voice questioned.

“You know how?” Zayne queried.

I nodded, feeling the itch of tears in my eyes.

“I remembered how Sienna opened the rift. I know how to reverse it.”

“How long have you known?” Sylus asked.

“A few days.”

I looked between them. Xavier looked confused, stubbornly so, like he didn’t want to accept the facts. Zayne, reaching the same conclusion I had, was resigned, but in the way he would feel when a time of death was called on a patient – nothing more could be done. Sylus’ brows were pulled together in a frown but behind his irritation was a yearning he knew he couldn’t fulfil. And Rafayel looked furious, at me, at the detectives, at the whole reality of the situation. I wasn’t sure which, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except their safety.

“I’m sorry.” I cried, my voice breaking as tears escaped my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Everything was so wonderful…we were all so happy…I didn’t want to ruin it…I didn’t know how to tell you without ruining everything.” Hands reached out to me, smoothing back my hair, rubbing gently up and down my back, brushing the tears from my eyes and tangling with my hands.

“It’s ok, Rory.” Xavier murmured, lifting my chin gently to look into my eyes. “Please don’t cry.”

“We all knew this was coming eventually.” Zayne added. “As much for your wellbeing as for us.”

“And you’re safe now. No one’s coming after you anymore.” Sylus offered, although he sounded almost disappointed at this fact.

“Just make sure they give you back that painting.” Rafayel ordered softly. “It was always meant to be yours.”

I sniffed and hiccupped, smiling gratefully at the artist.

“I will. Thank you.”

“And Rory,” Zayne said, more firmly. “Once we’re gone, make sure you tell the detectives the truth. Tell them we forced you to lie if you must. Just make sure you don’t get in trouble for any of this.”

“I can’t-“

“You can. Promise me.”

“I’ll never blame you for any of this.”

Zayne gripped my arms, leaning towards me.

“Your safety, your freedom is more important that what they think of us.”

“You can even tell them we are those characters from the game.” Sylus suggested, smirking slightly. “After the show we just gave them, they’d probably believe you. Not that they could put that in their report.”

I reached out to take his hand, gratefully for his attempt at levity.

“I’m gonna miss you all. So much.” I took a moment to share a kiss with each of them. One final moment of bittersweet joy. Soaking in the colours and textures and tastes of these men that had buried themselves so deep in my heart. I wasn’t sure how I was going to survive without them. But that was a problem for later. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy this final moment with all of them.

Stepping back out of their hold I shared a deep, meaningful look with each of them in turn.

“I love you. I will always love you.” And with that I closed my eyes, raising my hands to my chest and reaching inwards for the power nestled in my heart.

As the aether core pulsed at my call I turned my thoughts to my final farewell.

Thank you, Sienna. Please keep them safe.

I felt a warmth, like an embrace encircle me.

Always.

As the warmth faded, I allowed my restraint on the energy inside me to fall, allowing the power to escape the confines of my skin and fill the space around me. Opening my eyes, I found the forest filled with a brilliant light that spilled from every part of me, burning away the shadows and completely surrounding my lovers as they watched with awe. As the light grew brighter and my vision failed, I whispered one final word.

“Goodbye.”

* * *

Phoebe

Phoebe stretched her arms above her head, easing the ache in her shoulders from being hunched over her desk all morning. The new contract was a big one and there was a lot of documentation to work through in the initial stages. Checking the clock on the office wall, the woman decided she’d earned a break and lunch was sorely needed. Pushing away from her desk she fished her lunchbox, phone and earbuds from her bag and slipped out of her cubicle.

The cafeteria downstairs was already buzzing with noise as the firm’s employees ambled around or sat at the long tables chatting with their co-workers. Normally, Phoebe would be in the thick of these social circles but today she was looking for a bit more privacy. Working through the crowds she pushed the large glass doors open, exiting into the central courtyard. The sun was bright and warm today and a few employees were gathered around the garden tables, but all the same it was much quieter out here.

Finding an empty bench, Phoebe sat, placing her lunch box beside her before pulling out her earbuds and sliding them into her ears. Unlocking her phone, she pulled down the notification panel and selected the one she had seen pop up earlier that morning – a YouTube notification from ‘Love and Deepspace’. Infold had been teasing a new update to the main story and Phoebe was beyond excited as the new trailer filled the screen.

Heavy breathing filled her ears, followed by a cry of pain as the black screen gave way to an image. A small gasp escaped her lips as a face was revealed and the haunting music playing quietly in the background grew louder. The quiet jingle of jewellery and the steady beat of footsteps drew her in further to the video as bubbles of excitement filled her. The sound of a gunshot, followed by a gentle, familiar voice had her hand stealing to her mouth as a smile spread across her face. The voice dropped, a hint of danger sliding in, and her stomach flipped.

When the screen went dark, Phoebe instantly squealed her excitement. Her finger danced across the screen as her mind replayed the images from the video. She tapped open her messages and pulled up the new number Rory had given her, quickly typing out her message.

Infold just release a new update. Guess who the new LI is!!!!

End of Act One

Chapter Text

Act Two

Sharp boot heels clicked against polished floors as the Colonel strode down the pristine white corridor of the Farspace Fleet headquarters. His dark uniform cut a striking silhouette against the sterile surroundings, the silver insignia at his collar catching the fluorescent lights. Behind him, his Adjutant's voice droned on about the latest expedition findings.

"The patrol encountered unusual energy readings in Sector 7, sir. Initial scans suggest a possible breach point, but we've been unable to establish a stable connection for further investigation."

The Colonel's purple eyes narrowed slightly, but his face remained impassive as he continued his measured pace towards his office. The scent of industrial cleaners and recycled air filled his nostrils - a familiar reminder of the artificial environment they maintained up here, so far from Earth's surface.

"And the temporal readings?" His voice carried both authority and a hint of something darker beneath the surface.

"Inconsistent, sir. We're detecting fluctuations similar to those recorded during the First Contact event, but on a much smaller scale."

They reached the reinforced door of his office, and the Colonel paused, turning slightly to fix his Adjutant with an intense stare. "Have the analysis team focus their efforts on those fluctuations. I want hourly reports on any changes, no matter how minor."

"Yes, sir." The Adjutant's tablet chirped as he made notes.

Papers rustled beneath his fingers as he sorted through the latest reports, the Colonel's movements precise and controlled. As he sat, the filtered light from the window cast shadows across his desk, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes from too many sleepless nights.

"That will be all." His voice carried the quiet authority that had earned him his rank at such a young age.

"Sir, there is one more thing..." The Adjutant's hand moved with practiced efficiency, drawing a blade from within his uniform sleeve.

Steel glinted as it sliced through the air - but never reached its target. The weapon froze mid-strike, suspended by an invisible force that crackled with barely contained power. Purple eyes lifted slowly from the paperwork, regarding the frozen blade with mild interest.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" The Colonel's voice remained eerily calm as he stood, chair sliding back without a sound. The air in the office grew heavy, pressing down on the would-be assassin until his knees buckled. "The way you've been watching. Waiting. Looking for an opening."

Sweat beaded on the Adjutant's forehead as he struggled against the crushing gravity. The knife clattered to the floor, his arm trembling with the effort to remain upright.

"I've already died once." The Colonel circled his desk slowly, each step measured and deliberate. The pressure in the room intensified with each footfall until breathing became a desperate struggle for the man on his knees. "I don't intend to repeat the experience."

Metal flashed as the Colonel drew his sidearm in one fluid motion. The sound of the gunshot echoed off pristine walls, followed by a wet thud as the body hit the floor. Blood splattered across white tiles in a crimson constellation.

He studied the cooling corpse with clinical detachment. Another fool who'd thought they could catch him off guard. The body would need to be disposed of before it stained his flooring.

The intercom buzzed, its harsh electronic tone cutting through silence. He lifted his thumb to wipe away a warm droplet of blood that had landed on his cheek, leaving a smeared red streak across his pale skin.

His finger pressed the intercom button. "Yes?"

"Sir, Lieutenant Chen is here regarding the Eve project." The secretary's voice crackled through the speaker, crisp and professional.

Purple eyes flickered to the spreading pool of red beneath his former Adjutant's head. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he considered the timing.

"Send them in." His voice remained perfectly steady, betraying none of the dark satisfaction that coursed through him.

He tucked his gun back into its holster with practiced ease, the metal still warm against his thigh. His gaze swept over the scene before him, calculating. The cleaning crew would need to be summoned, but first he had other matters to attend to. More important matters.

The door handle turned with a soft click.

Lieutenant Chen's eyes widened for a fraction of a second at the corpse sprawled across pristine tiles, but his military training kicked in quickly. He stepped carefully around the spreading crimson pool, maintaining perfect posture as he approached the desk.

"Sir." He extended a plain manila folder with steady hands. "Surveillance has located her."

The Colonel's fingers brushed the folder's edge, a deliberate slowness to his movements that made the lieutenant's pulse quicken. Inside lay a series of grainy photographs - street camera captures and long-range surveillance shots. Purple eyes studied each image with laser focus, drinking in every detail of the woman's features.

"Do we know where she's been?" His voice carried a dangerous undercurrent beneath its smooth surface. The scent of gunpowder still hung in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fresh blood.

"No, sir. The trail goes cold several weeks back. We're still working to piece together her movements."

Silence stretched between them as the Colonel continued examining the photos, his expression unreadable. A drop of blood from his earlier clean-up had dried on his cheekbone, stark against his pale skin.

"That will be all, Lieutenant." He placed the folder on his desk with precise care. "Have someone arrange clean-up for my office."

"Yes, sir." Chen bowed slightly, relief evident in the loosening of his shoulders as he turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the Colonel alone with his thoughts and the cooling body of his would-be assassin. His fingers traced the edge of one photograph, purple eyes softening almost imperceptibly as they lingered on the woman's face.

"Found you," he whispered, the words carrying both triumph and something darker - a possessive hunger that would have made even his most hardened officers shiver. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he committed every detail to memory.

This time, she wouldn't slip away so easily.

* * *

Xavier

The silvery-white sand shimmered beneath Xavier's feet as his vision cleared. Gentle waves lapped at the pristine shoreline, their rhythmic sound a stark contrast to the chaos of moments before. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the beach, painting everything in soft golden hues.

Relief washed over Xavier as he took in his companions' familiar forms beside him. Zayne adjusted his glinting glasses with steady hands, while Rafayel's purple locks danced gently in the welcoming sea breeze. Even Sylus seemed to relax imperceptibly, though his crimson gaze remained trained on the horizon. The sight of Linkon's distinctive skyline rising behind them - those familiar towers reaching toward the clouds - filled Xavier with comfort after their jarring displacement from the English countryside mere moments ago.

Art galleries and upscale cafes line the promenade, their windows reflecting the sunset's amber glow. A handful of couples stroll along the boardwalk, pausing to admire paintings displayed in shop windows or take photos of the spectacular view. The scent of salt water mingled with hints of grilled seafood from nearby restaurants.

Further down the beach, Xavier brightened at the sight of Sienna's familiar form, her hunters uniform a welcome sight against the shimmering sand. But his smile faltered as she turned in a slow circle, her dark hair whipping around her face. Zayne and Sylus exchanged concerned glances - her movements were hesitant, almost mechanical, lacking her usual fluid grace. Xavier watched as she held herself with an uncharacteristic stiffness, her posture rigid and unnatural.

The air felt charged with an electric tension, like the moment before a storm breaks. Small waves continued their endless dance with the shore, oblivious to the weight of the moment. A seabird wheeled overhead, its cry echoing across the empty stretch of beach between them and their clearly disoriented companion.

Xavier noticed how the others had unconsciously shifted closer together, forming a loose semicircle as they watched her. Their stances betrayed their unease - Rafayel's fingers twitching at his sides, Zayne's shoulders pulled taut, Sylus's jaw clenched tight. Something about this homecoming felt wrong, distorted, like a familiar painting hung slightly askew.

The setting sun threw Sienna's shadow long across the sand, stretching it until it nearly touched their feet. As they watched, she finally stopped turning and faced them fully. Her expression, when Xavier could make it out clearly, made his blood run cold.

"Where are we?" She asks, her voice shaking.

"Whitesand Bay," Rafayel said, his voice gentle as sea foam. "Remember when we came here together?"

Her dark eyes dart frantically along the coastline, skimming over the familiar white-silver sands and gentle curves of the bay as if they were alien terrain. There's a disconnect in her gaze, a hollowness that makes Xavier's chest tighten with worry. The salt-laden breeze caught her dark strands, whipping them around her face in a chaotic dance that seemed to mirror her internal turmoil. Each sweep of her gaze grew more desperate, searching for something - anything - to anchor her to this place that should feel like home. The wind continued its relentless assault, making her hair writhe and twist like living shadows against her increasingly pale complexion.

"This is... Linkon?" Her voice cracked on the name, uncertainty bleeding through.

"Yes." Sylus's confirmation came out sharp with concern, his usual confidence wavering as he studied her rigid posture.

She started shaking her head violently, the motion growing increasingly erratic until her dark hair whipped around her face like a frenzied halo. "No, no, no." Her voice rose with each denial, cracking at the edges. Her fingers clutched desperately at her arms, nails digging so deeply into the reinforced fabric of her hunter's uniform that Xavier could see the material strain at the seams. Her knuckles bleach white with the force of her grip as she continued to mutter, "This wasn't supposed to happen. This can't be happening." The raw terror in her voice echoed across the pristine beach, a jarring discord against the peaceful setting of Whitesand Bay.

Her breathing turned ragged, each inhale shorter than the last. The panic radiates off her in waves that Xavier can almost feel against his skin. The others tense, ready to move forward if needed.

"I have to go back." The words tumble from her lips, raw and desperate. Her hands pressed against her chest, right where Xavier knows the aether core pulses beneath her skin.

"Sienna!" Zayne's shout pierces the air as he lunged forward, medical instincts taking over. His fingers wrapped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from her heart with careful but firm pressure. Her legs gave out and she crumpled against him, dark hair spilling over his arms like ink across paper.

Gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body as Zayne slowly lowered them both to their knees in the sand. Her fingers clutched desperately at his shirt, twisting the fabric as she pressed her face into his chest. Each broken cry tore at Xavier's heart, making his own chest ache in sympathy.

"Please," she begged between gasping breaths, "I can't... I need to..." The words dissolved into more tears.

The pieces clicked into place - her strange movements, the lack of recognition, the mounting terror. This wasn't the composed hunter they've known for years. This was someone else entirely, someone who never expected to find herself on this beach.

"That's not Sienna." He exclaimed.

The others turn to him sharply, but he kept his eyes fixed on the trembling figure before them.

"That's Rory."

They all watched helplessly as Rory continued to sob against Zayne's chest, her fingers twisting desperately in his shirt. The sight of Sienna's familiar form wracked with such unfamiliar anguish sent a sharp pain through his chest. Her dark hair spilled over Zayne's arms, the strands catching the dying sunlight like liquid obsidian.

"Please, I have to go back. I can't stay here," she choked out between ragged breaths. "They need me. My work, my home, my life-"

"Rory." Zayne's voice remained steady despite the tension visible in his shoulders. "Using the rift again could kill you both. The aether core is already unstable."

Her sobs quietened to hiccupping breaths, but her grip on Zayne's shirt didn't loosen. The sea breeze carried the salt-tang of her tears, mixing with the familiar scent of jasmine that always clung to Sienna's clothes.

Sylus's sharp gaze swept the beach, taking in the few tourists who had started to notice their group. "We need to move. This scene is drawing attention we don't need."

"My place is closest," Rafayel offered, his usual playful tone subdued. "Just past those galleries on the boardwalk."

Xavier steped forward, crouching beside Zayne and Rory. "Can you stand?"

She nodded weakly, though her legs shook as Zayne helped her up. Her face - Sienna's face - was streaked with tears, the familiar features twisted with an expression Xavier had never seen there before. The disconnect made his heart ache.

"I've got her," Zayne murmured as she swayed against him. His arm wrapped securely around her waist, steadying her trembling form.

They made their way up the beach in tense silence, Rafayel taking point while Sylus brought up the rear. Xavier couldn't help but notice how differently she moved in Sienna's body - none of the hunter's fluid grace remained, replaced by hesitant, uncertain steps.

The late afternoon light filtered through Mo Art Studio's tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floors. Xavier watched silently as Zayne and Rafayel guided Rory's unresponsive form up the spiral staircase, her dark hair swaying with each careful step. The gallery's white walls seemed to close in around them, making the space feel more confining than it should.

"Something went wrong." Sylus's voice cut through the heavy silence. He stood near the entrance, arms crossed, his silver hair catching the dying sunlight. "The aether core should have separated them."

Xavier's fingers traced the cool metal railing of the staircase, his mind racing through possibilities he didn't want to voice. The scent of oil paints and turpentine mingled with the salt air drifting in from the bay, grounding him in this moment even as his thoughts spiralled toward darker conclusions.

Upstairs, a door clicked shut. The sound echoed through the gallery space like a gunshot.

"Xavier." Sylus' tone sharpened with impatience. "You understand this technology better than any of us. What happened?"

The weight of Sylus' crimson gaze pressed against Xavier's shoulders, but he kept his eyes fixed on the top of the stairs where Rory had disappeared. His throat felt tight, constricted by the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

Footsteps sounded above them - Zayne's measured tread, then Rafayel's lighter step. They moved back and forth across the ceiling, a restless dance that matched Xavier's churning thoughts.

"If you know something-" Sylus started.

"It might be too late." The words slip out before Xavier could stop them, barely more than a whisper. He turned to face Sylus finally, forcing himself to meet that piercing stare. "The longer two consciousness share one body, the more integrated they become. If we waited too long..."

He let the sentence hang unfinished, but Sylus's sharp intake of breath suggested he understood the implications. The crimson of his eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment, like embers stirred by a harsh wind.

Zayne's footsteps echoed down the spiral staircase, followed by Rafayel's lighter tread. Their expressions were grim as they re-joined Xavier and Sylus in the gallery's dimly lit lobby. The setting sun streamed through the tall windows, painting stark shadows across their faces.

"She needs rest," Zayne said, running a hand through his dark hair. The motion betrayed his exhaustion. "And time to adjust to..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

Rafayel leaned against one of the pristine white walls, his purple hair catching the dying light. "Why didn't it work? The aether core should have separated them, right?"

Xavier's fingers traced the cool surface of a nearby sculpture stand. The scent of paints and sea air did nothing to calm his racing thoughts. "I think..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We might need something stronger than an aether core now."

Silence fell over the group, heavy with unspoken implications. The only sound was the distant crash of waves against Whitesand Bay's shore, drifting in through the gallery's open windows.

Sylus straightened from where he'd been leaning against the entrance. His silver hair gleamed as he moved into a shaft of sunlight. "I need to go. I've been away from the N109 zone too long already." His crimson eyes fixed on each of them in turn. "My absence will have been noticed."

"I should leave too." Xavier pushed away from the sculpture stand. "The Hunter's Association will be wondering where Sienna and I have disappeared to." His chest tightened at using her name - it felt wrong now, knowing who really inhabited that body upstairs.

"What will you tell them?" Zayne's question hung in the air, sharp with concern.

Xavier shrugged, but the motion felt stiff, unnatural. "I'll think of something." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. In truth, he had no idea how to explain their absence, or the changed woman wearing their fellow hunter's face.

Rafayel's voice cut through Xavier's thoughts. "I'll stay with her. My studio's as good a place as any to recover."

"I'll remain as well," Zayne added. "She'll need medical supervision while she adjusts."

Sylus nodded once, sharply, then turned toward the door. The last rays of sunlight caught his silver hair, creating a momentary halo effect that made him look almost otherworldly. He paused with his hand on the handle. "Keep me informed if anything changes." The words come out as more of a command than a request.

Xavier followed him to the door, but hesitated before stepping out into the dying light. He glanced back at the spiral staircase, thinking of the woman above who wore his friend's face. The weight of what they'd done - what they'd failed to do - settled heavy across his shoulders.

As he stepped out into the cooling evening air, he couldn't shake the feeling that they'd made everything infinitely more complicated.

Chapter Text

I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling, my heart thrumming against ribs that feel too close, too tight. The mattress beneath me is softer than anything I've felt before, and the silk sheets whisper against skin that doesn't quite feel like mine.

Everything's wrong. The length of my legs, the weight of my arms, even my bloody fingerprints are different. I lift my hands—Sienna's hands—above my face, flexing fingers that are shorter but stronger than my own. The nails are perfectly manicured in a deep wine red that I'd never have chosen.

My throat closes up as reality crashes in. I'm trapped in another world, in another woman's body, while the police hunt for me back home. God, what must Phoebe be thinking? She'll be frantic by now. I grab my phone from my pocket, but of course it's not my phone; it's Sienna's. No way to contact Phoebe. No way to let her know I'm safe.

Safe. The word catches in my throat and I almost laugh. Am I safe? I'm in a world where magic is real, where people can control minds and elements. Where a damaged heart beats in my chest that could kill me at any moment.

I roll onto my side, curling into myself. The room smells of rose water and sea salt—Rafayel's scent. It should be comforting, but right now it only reminds me how far from home I am.

Something cool brushes against my neck. I reach up and my fingers find a delicate chain. My heart skips as I pull it out—the silver dog tag with its tiny apple charm glints in the low light.

Caleb's necklace.

The red gem at the apple's centre catches the light, and suddenly I'm back there—no, Sienna is back there—watching flames consume her grandmother's home. The necklace lying on the pavement outside the burning building. Her trembling hands scooping it up, clutching it to her chest as sirens wailed in the distance.

I trace the engraved words with my fingertip: 'When you come back.'

The dreams make more sense now. Each night I've lived Sienna's memories of him—his laugh, his woodsy scent, the way his purple eyes crinkled when he smiled. But it's more than just memories. The raw ache in my chest when I think of him isn't just sympathy for Sienna's loss. Somehow her feelings have become tangled with mine, like two hearts beating the same broken rhythm.

Pushing myself up, I catch sight of my reflection in a nearby mirror. Sienna's face stares back at me—familiar from the game, yet utterly foreign. Dark blue eyes instead of grey-blue. Straight dark brown hair instead of my reddish waves. Even my expressions look different on her features.

"Get it together," I whisper, but the voice that comes out isn't mine either. It's higher, clearer, with a slight lilt I can't place.

I press my palms against my chest, feeling the steady thrum of the aether core. The thing that's keeping me alive, or killing me slowly—I'm not sure which. And now I can't even try to go home without risking both our lives.

"Sienna?" I lean closer to the mirror, searching those dark blue eyes for any hint of their original owner. "Are you in there?"

My reflection offers no answers, but something stirs in the back of my mind—like catching movement in peripheral vision, gone when you turn to look.

"Please. I know you're there. I have your memories, your feelings." I press my palm against the cool glass. "I heard you before, when I needed strength."

You didn't need me for strength. You already had that.

The voice in my head is clear as a bell, with that same musical lilt I heard in my—her—spoken words. My heart leaps.

"Where have you been? Why haven't you spoken until now?"

I've always been here. Watching. Learning. You needed time to adjust without me confusing things.

"Confusing things?" I bark out a laugh. "I'm wearing your body like a costume. How could this be more confusing?"

You're not wearing anything. We've merged. Become something new.

"So there's no way to separate us?" My fingers press against the mirror, leaving smudges on the pristine surface. "We're just... stuck like this?"

I don't know. This has never happened before.

"Never?" The word comes out as a squeak. "But you must know something. You were there when—when whatever happened, happened. You must remember."

I know what happened but I don't understand how or why.

I slide down to sit on the plush carpet, drawing my knees up to my chest. "What am I supposed to do? I can't stay here forever. But I can't go home either, not with this core in my chest. And the boys..." My voice cracks. "God, what am I going to do about them?"

The silence stretches so long I wonder if Sienna's gone again. The afternoon light streams through gauzy curtains, catching dust motes that dance in the air. Outside, waves crash against the shoreline in a steady rhythm that should be soothing but only reminds me how far I am from everything I know.

Rory? Sienna's voice is hesitant, almost fragile. Will you do something for me?

* * *

I make my way down the curved staircase, my bare feet silent on the polished wood. Strange how even walking feels different in this body—more graceful, but less grounded.

Voices drift from Rafayel's studio, and I pause at the doorway. Through the gap, I can see Rafayel sprawled across one of his white leather sofas, his purple hair falling in his eyes as he gestures dramatically.

"But Thomas, darling, you know I can't possibly do an exhibition right now. My muse is being particularly fickle."

Thomas sits opposite him, his usually neat brown hair dishevelled as if he's been running his hands through it in frustration. "You've been saying that for months. The gallery owners are getting impatient. You can't keep putting this off."

"I'm not putting anything off." Rafayel rolls onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. "I'm simply waiting for the right moment. Art cannot be rushed."

"The right moment?" Thomas shuffles through some papers. "Like the right moment you promised three weeks ago? Or the right moment from last month? Or perhaps you mean the right moment from—"

"Yes, yes, I get your point." Rafayel waves a hand dismissively. "But surely you can see I'm in a... delicate situation right now."

Thomas's eyes narrow. "What situation? You've been completely off the grid. No one's seen you in weeks. I've been making excuses, but—" He cuts off as he spots me in the doorway. "Miss Sienna?"

Rafayel's head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, something vulnerable flashes across his face before his usual playful mask slides back into place. "Ah, perfect timing! Thomas, you remember Sienna?"

I step into the studio, hyper-aware of Thomas's scrutiny. Does he notice the differences in how I move, how I hold myself? Does he see that I'm not really her?

"Of course," Thomas says slowly. "Though I wasn't aware she was... staying here."

Rafayel's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "There's quite a lot you aren't aware of, my friend."

"Thomas." I incline my head in greeting, trying to mirror Sienna's memories of how she carried herself. Chin lifted, shoulders back, every movement deliberate. "It's lovely to see you again."

His scrutiny makes my skin prickle. There's something calculating in his gaze, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "You look... different somehow."

"New hairstyle," Rafayel cuts in smoothly, swinging his legs off the sofa. "Does wonders for the complexion, don't you think?"

I catch Rafayel's sleeve, tugging him slightly away from Thomas. "I need to get to the Bloomshore district," I whisper, keeping my voice low enough that Thomas won't hear. "It's important." As he looks down at me, I'm struck by how much taller he seems now. Sienna is only a few inches shorter than me, but those inches seem to make all the difference.

Rafayel's eyes narrow fractionally. "Bloomshore? Why would you—" He breaks off, understanding flickering across his face. "Ah. Of course."

He turns back to Thomas with an apologetic smile that wouldn't fool anyone who knows him well. "So sorry to cut this short, but we really must dash. Pressing engagement, you understand."

"But the exhibition—"

"Will have to wait!" Rafayel's already steering me toward the door, his hand warm against the small of my back. "I'll call you later. Or you call me. Or better yet, send a carrier pigeon. Much more romantic."

We're through the door before Thomas can protest further. Rafayel doesn't slow until we're in the entrance hall, where he finally lets out a long breath.

"My eternal gratitude for the rescue," he says, running a hand through his purple waves. "Thomas means well, but sometimes he's like a dog with a bone."

"Weren't you just avoiding work?"

His lips quirk up. "Perhaps. But now I get to avoid work and spend time with you. Much more appealing, don't you think?"

I try to ignore how my pulse quickens at his smile. "This is important, Rafayel. I need—"

"To go to Bloomshore." He takes my hand, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. "Then let's not waste any more time. Though I do hope you'll tell me what we're looking for."

I think of Sienna's voice in my head, of her quiet request.

"I don't know exactly what's there," I admit, watching Rafayel's fingers still against mine. "I just know I need to go."

He stops walking, turning to face me with those iridescent eyes that shift between blue and pink like an aurora. "You don't know? Then why—"

"Sienna asked me to." The words tumble out before I can second-guess them. "She wants me to see something there."

His grip tightens on my hand, and something flickers across his face—concern? Fear? "Sienna asked you? You can hear her?"

I nod, unable to look away from the intensity in his gaze. The scent of roses and sea salt wraps around me, making my head spin slightly.

"How long?" His voice drops lower, barely above a whisper. "How long have you been able to hear her?"

"I..." I think back, trying to pinpoint the first time. "Since I was making the shirt for Sylus, I think. When I felt like giving up, there was this voice..." I trail off, remembering that surge of determination that hadn't felt entirely like my own.

Rafayel's free hand comes up to cup my cheek, turning my face so he can study my eyes. His thumb traces my cheekbone, and I fight the urge to lean into his touch.

"Why didn't you tell us?" There's hurt beneath the question, but something else too—a tension I can't quite read.

"I wasn't sure at first," I say. "And then everything happened with Cole, and the police, and coming here..." I gesture vaguely at the world around us. "It didn't seem like the most pressing issue."

His lips quirk up, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "A voice in your head didn't seem pressing?"

"When you put it that way..."

"What else has she said to you?"

I open my mouth to answer, but Sienna's voice whispers in my mind: Not now.

"Look, I promise I'll tell you everything later, but right now we need to get to Bloomshore." I tug at his hand, pulling him toward the door. "Please, Rafayel."

His expression clouds over for a moment, like storm clouds passing across the sun. Whatever memory has caught him seems to darken his usually bright demeanour. But then he shakes his head, purple waves catching the light, and his smile returns—though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"As my lady commands." He gives an exaggerated bow, but his grip on my hand remains firm. "Though I must warn you, Bloomshore isn't the safest district these days."

"I'll be fine." I squeeze his fingers. "I have you with me, don't I?"

Something flashes in those iridescent eyes—pride? Protectiveness? He tugs me closer, his scent wrapping around me like a physical embrace.

"Always," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. Then he pulls back with a wink. "Though perhaps we should take my car rather than swimming there."

We head to the garage where a sleek silver sports car waits. It's different from the one he had at my house—more elegant, with curves that catch the light like liquid mercury. He opens the passenger door with a flourish.

"Your chariot awaits."

The leather seat is butter-soft against my skin as I slide in. Rafayel moves around to the driver's side with that fluid grace that makes even simple actions look like dance steps. The engine purrs to life under his touch.

As we pull out onto the coastal road, I watch his profile against the afternoon light. His jaw is set in a way I've rarely seen—tense, focused. Whatever troubled him earlier still lingers in the slight furrow between his brows.

He knows more than he's saying, Sienna's voice whispers in my mind.

"About what?" I murmur, too quiet for Rafayel to hear over the engine.

But Sienna falls silent again, leaving me with nothing but questions as we wind our way toward the Bloomshore district.

* * *

The charred remains of the house loom before me like a broken skeleton. Even after all these years, the walls still bear the scorch marks of that night, black fingers reaching up toward a sky that offered no mercy. Yellow police tape flutters in the autumn breeze—a warning, a boundary, a reminder that some places should stay buried in memory.

I wrap my fingers around Caleb's necklace, the metal warm against my palm. Through Sienna's memories, I can see this place as it was: a cream-painted townhouse with window boxes full of lavender, wind chimes tinkling on the porch, her grandmother's cookies cooling on the kitchen windowsill. Now there's nothing but ash and silence.

Across the street, Rafayel leans against his car, his purple hair catching the late afternoon light. He hasn't taken his eyes off me since we arrived, watching with that intensity that makes my skin prickle. Ready to step in if I falter, but giving me the space I need.

"Why here?" I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "Of all places, why did you bring me here?"

Do you know what happened here? Sienna's voice echoes in my mind, gentle but insistent.

"Yes." My fingers trace the rough edges of the police tape. "Your grandmother... Caleb..." The memories flood in—not mine, but as vivid as if I'd lived them. The crack of splintering wood, the choking smoke, the way the heat had pressed against her skin like a physical weight.

The world doesn't stop turning because we lose things. There's a steadiness in her voice that wasn't there before. No matter how difficult things get, we have to keep moving forwards. It's the only way things will get better.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the unfamiliar curves of this borrowed body. "How can I move forward when I don't even know which way is up anymore? Everything's different here—the air, the light, even gravity feels wrong."

I know you're scared. Her voice softens. Confused. Living my life, being in my body—it won't be easy.

"That's quite the understatement." I glance back at Rafayel, still watching me with those otherworldly eyes. He tilts his head, questioning, but doesn't move closer.

But it's the only way, Sienna continues. The only way to find a solution, to find your path home.

"And what about you?" I touch my chest—her chest—feeling the steady thrum of the aether core beneath my palm. "What happens to you if I do find a way back?"

The silence stretches so long I think she's gone again. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and distant rain. Finally, her voice returns, barely a whisper:

I don't know. But we won't find any answers standing still.

"I can't do this alone." The words catch in my throat as I stare at the burnt-out shell of what was once a home. "Living your life, trying to find answers—it's too much."

You won't be alone. Sienna's voice wraps around me like a warm blanket. I'll always be here to help guide you.

"But what if I mess everything up? What if I say the wrong thing or—"

You have the boys too, she reminds me gently. They care about you—both versions of you. They'll help however they can.

I glance back at Rafayel, who's now frowning at his phone. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drum against the car door. Always watching, always ready to step in.

For now, Sienna continues, just focus on getting familiar with my home, my routine, my work. Small steps.

"Your work?" I touch the necklace again. "You mean at the Association?"

Don't worry. Xavier will help with the hunter work. Besides, I doubt they'll send you straight out on missions since I've been missing for a while.

Rafayel materialises beside me, his rose-and-salt scent cutting through the lingering smell of ash. "So this is where she lived?" His voice is soft, careful—like he's afraid speaking too loudly might disturb the ghosts that linger here.

"With her grandmother." I let my hand fall from the police tape. "Before..."

"The explosion." He nods, purple waves catching the dying sunlight. "I'd never been here, but I heard about it. The whole city did." His fingers brush against mine, barely touching. "Why did she want you to see this place?"

I don't answer right away. Sienna's words echo in my mind—about moving forward, about small steps. The charred walls loom over us like a monument to everything that's been lost, everything that's changed. But maybe that's the point. Nothing stays the same forever. We either move forward or get trapped in the ashes of what was.

The wind picks up, carrying the scent of approaching rain. Rafayel's hand finds mine properly now, his skin warm against my borrowed fingers. It grounds me somehow, this simple touch—a reminder that while everything else might be foreign, some sensations are universal.

"Rafayel?" I turn to face him, watching those iridescent eyes shift from blue to pink and back again. "Would you take me to her apartment?"

His eyebrows lift slightly. "You're sure?"

"No." I manage a small laugh. "I'm not sure about anything anymore. But Sienna's right—I can't just stand still and wait for answers to fall into my lap."

Rafayel watches me, his iridescent eyes unreadable in the fading light. His hand lifts between us, and something catches the dying sunlight—a delicate scale hanging from a silver chain, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly pearlescence that shifts between blue and pink like his eyes.

"What's this?" I reach out, but stop just short of touching it.

"My scale." His voice is soft, almost reverent. The scale spins slowly, casting rainbow fragments across his pale skin. "Well, a piece of it, transformed into something you can wear."

My breath catches. In the game, a Lemurian's scales were precious—sacred things, given only to those they wanted to protect above all else.

"Rafayel, I can't—"

"You can, and you will." He steps closer, the scent of roses and sea salt wrapping around me. "With everything that's happening, I need to know I can find you if..." He trails off, but I hear the unspoken words: if something goes wrong, if you're in danger, if you disappear again.

"How does it work?"

"It's connected to me." His fingers brush my collarbone as he fastens the chain around my neck. The scale feels warm against my skin, like it's alive. "As long as you wear it, I'll always be able to sense where you are. If you're safe." His hands linger at my neck. "If you need me."

The scale pulses once, a gentle throb that echoes through my chest.

"Promise me you'll keep it on." His voice drops lower, an edge of command beneath the request. "Always."

I touch the scale, feeling its subtle warmth. "I promise."

Chapter Text

[Rafayel] Hey, do any of you know if Rory can talk to Sienna?

[Xavier] What do you mean?

[Rafayel] Like, actually communicate with her. Have a conversation.

[Sylus] Explain.

[Rafayel] She told me she's spoken with Sienna. Actually had conversations with her.

[Zayne] When did she tell you this?

[Rafayel] Just now.

[Xavier] What exactly did she say?

[Rafayel] Not much. Just that she can talk to her. Like she's a voice in her head.

[Sylus] And you're only telling us this now because?

[Rafayel] I thought you knew!

[Zayne] None of us knew about this.

[Xavier] What else did she say?

[Rafayel] Nothing really. She seemed upset.

[Sylus] Of course she's upset. She's trapped in another world, in someone else's body.

[Zayne] We shouldn't have pushed her to access Sienna's memories.

[Xavier] We didn't have a choice. We needed to understand what happened.

[Sylus] If we hadn't, we'd still be stuck in her world.

[Rafayel] But now she's stuck here.

[Xavier] We'll find a way to separate them.

[Zayne] The fact remains - we encouraged her to merge with Sienna's consciousness. Now they're both trapped.

[Xavier] There has to be a way to separate them safely.

[Rafayel] Maybe we should ask her more about these conversations. Could help us understand what's happening.

[Sylus] Or speed up the merge.

[Zayne] He's right. The more she interacts with Sienna's consciousness, the faster they'll integrate.

[Xavier] Then what do we do? We can't just ignore it.

[Zayne] We need to slow it down until we find a solution. She should avoid accessing Sienna's memories or engaging with her consciousness as much as possible.

[Sylus] And how do you propose we tell her that?

[Zayne] Directly. She needs to understand the risk.

[Rafayel] She won't like it.

[Xavier] No, but she needs to know. We can't keep things from her anymore.

[Xavier] I'll talk to her about limiting contact with Sienna.

[Rafayel] She's asked to go back to Sienna's apartment. I'm taking her there now.

[Xavier] Let me know when you arrive. I'll meet you there.

* * *

Xavier watched Rory from the corner of his eye as they approached the Hunter's Association building. Her steps were measured, deliberate, but her fingers kept twisting the hem of her jacket - a nervous tell he'd noticed developing over the past three days.

Three days. That's how long he'd put off having the conversation about her contact with Sienna. When she'd arrived at the apartment that first day, the spark had returned to her eyes. She'd smiled, touched things, asked questions. He couldn't bring himself to extinguish that renewed spirit by warning her away from the very connection that seemed to have restored her.

But now, seeing her steel herself before entering headquarters, doubt gnawed at him. Was he protecting her, or merely delaying the inevitable? The memory of their discussion about merging consciousness haunted him - how could he reconcile encouraging her to access Sienna's memories then, only to warn her against it now?

"Are you certain about this?" He touched her elbow lightly, halting their progress up the stone steps.

She lifted her chin. "I have to live her life until we figure this out. That includes her work."

The determination in her voice didn't quite mask the tremor beneath. His chest tightened. She was trying so hard to be brave, to adapt to this world that must feel like a prison. And here he was, about to tell her to distance herself from the one thing - or person - helping her cope.

"Rory, about Sienna..." he began.

Xavier's words died in his throat as a blur of movement and excited squealing descended upon them.

"Sienna! Oh my god, you're really back!" Tara flung her arms around Rory, nearly knocking them both off balance. "I was so worried when you disappeared like that!"

Xavier steadied them both, watching Rory's face carefully. Her eyes had widened in recognition - likely accessing Sienna's memories of her friend. The slight tremor in her hands betrayed her anxiety, but she managed to return Tara's embrace.

"I heard about the wanderer attack." Tara pulled back, her hands gripping Rory's shoulders as she examined her. "That must have been terrifying! Xavier told us you both lost your memories of the last few weeks."

A muscle twitched in Xavier's jaw. He'd crafted that story carefully, spreading it through official channels to explain their absence. The fabricated wanderer attack involving their displacement for the weeks they were missing provided a convenient excuse for any behavioural changes or memory gaps. But watching Rory navigate this interaction made his chest tight with guilt.

"I'm... still adjusting," Rory managed, her voice steady despite the slight trembling Xavier could feel through his hand on her back.

"Of course you are!" Tara's enthusiasm didn't waver. "But you're safe now, and that's what matters. We should do a reading later - the cards might help you process everything."

Xavier felt a flicker of irritation at the interruption. He'd finally worked up the courage to discuss Sienna's presence in Rory's mind, and now... But perhaps it was for the best. Rory needed to find her footing in this world before he burdened her with more complications.

"We should head inside," he said quietly, guiding them toward the entrance. "The captain's expecting us."

Tara linked arms with Rory, chattering about recent events as they walked. Over her head, Xavier caught Rory's grateful glance. She'd recognized his intervention for what it was - a chance to gather herself before facing whatever came next.

Xavier guided them through the familiar corridors of the Association building, his hand never leaving the small of Rory's back. The gentle pressure served both to steady her and remind her of his presence as Tara's endless chatter washed over them.

"...and then Marcus tried to take over your cases while you were gone, but captain wouldn't let him. Said they were exclusively yours." Tara's animated gestures punctuated each word. "Oh! And you won't believe what happened with the new protocore shipment-"

The elevator dinged, opening onto the alpha team's floor. Xavier felt Rory tense beneath his palm as they stepped out. The space looked exactly as they'd left it - screens displaying mission data, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air, the soft hum of equipment. But to her, it must have felt like stepping onto an alien planet.

His fingers pressed slightly firmer against her spine as they approached the team office. Through the glass walls, he could see Jenna already waiting, her tablet forgotten in her hands as she watched their approach.

The door slid open with a soft whoosh. Jenna rose from her perch on the desk, her usually stern expression softening as she took in Rory's appearance.

"Welcome back, Sienna." Jenna's voice carried its characteristic authority, but Xavier caught the undertone of genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

Rory's shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly under his touch. "Still... recovering. But better."

"The wanderer attack must have been quite traumatic." Jenna's sharp eyes flicked to Xavier briefly before returning to Rory. "Take whatever time you need to readjust. Your cases will be here when you're ready."

Xavier watched as Rory managed a small smile, her response carrying just enough of Sienna's typical determination to be convincing. "Thank you. I'd actually like to review them soon, if possible."

"Of course." Jenna nodded, but Xavier noticed how her gaze lingered just a fraction too long on Rory's face. As if searching for something - or someone - she expected to see there.

His jaw clenched. They would need to be more careful. Jenna hadn't become the alpha team's coordinator by missing details.

"Before you jump back into cases, I want you to spend some time in the training facilities," Jenna said, her tone brooking no argument. "We need to ensure you're fully recovered and combat-ready."

Xavier watched Rory's fingers twist in the fabric of her sleeve. The subtle tell would have gone unnoticed by most, but he caught the flash of uncertainty in her eyes.

"And no solo missions for now," Jenna continued, tapping something into her tablet. "At least until we're confident there won't be any... lingering effects from the attack."

"I can partner with her." Xavier stepped forward slightly, drawing Jenna's sharp gaze. "My schedule's fairly open at the moment. I'll help with her training and accompany her on missions."

Jenna's eyebrows lifted a fraction. "You're volunteering for partner work? That's unusual."

"Given the circumstances, it seems prudent." Xavier kept his voice neutral, though his hand instinctively moved closer to Rory's back. "We were both involved in the incident. It makes sense to work together during recovery."

"Hmm." Jenna studied them both for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. Start with combat training tomorrow. I want a full assessment of your capabilities by the end of the week."

Xavier felt Rory's subtle exhale of relief beside him. One hurdle cleared - but how many more lay ahead?

* * *

Rory stumbled again, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated as she tried to execute the basic combat form. Her foot caught on the training mat and she pitched forward, barely catching herself before face-planting.

"I can't do this." Frustration coloured her voice as she pushed herself back up. "Everything feels wrong. My centre of gravity is different, my reach is shorter. Even my reflexes are all off."

Xavier moved closer, studying her stance. "Try widening your base a bit. You're still positioning yourself like someone with longer legs."

She adjusted her feet but her shoulders remained tense, uncertainty written in every line of her body. When she attempted the sequence again, her movements were hesitant and choppy.

"I feel like I'm fighting against this body instead of working with it," she admitted, dropping her arms. "I keep expecting to be able to reach further or move faster. But then I overcompensate and end up throwing myself off balance."

"That's why we're here." Xavier stepped behind her, gently adjusting her posture. "To help you learn your new limitations and capabilities."

He could have suggested she tap into Sienna's muscle memory - the knowledge was there, buried in her consciousness. But he held his tongue. She needed to learn this herself, to truly inhabit this form rather than simply borrowing someone else's expertise.

"Try again," he encouraged. "Focus on how it feels when you move. Don't think about what you expect to happen."

Rory took a deep breath and started the sequence once more. For a moment, her movements flowed more naturally - until she second-guessed herself mid-strike and stumbled again.

"This is impossible," she muttered, pushing her hair back in frustration. "How am I supposed to defend myself if I can't even get through basic forms?"

Xavier caught the flash of real fear beneath her frustration. She wasn't just struggling with the physical aspects - she was terrified of being vulnerable in this unfamiliar world.

"We'll keep practicing," he promised softly. "As long as it takes. I won't let anything happen to you while you're learning."

Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of gratitude and something deeper that made his breath catch. "Thank you," she whispered. "For being patient with me."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak past the sudden tightness in his throat.

"Again." Xavier kept his voice firm but encouraging. "From the beginning."

Rory shot him a withering look, sweat dampening her temples. "You're enjoying this way too much. Proper slave driver, aren't you?"

"You'll never learn if you don't practice." His lips twitched with amusement. "The basics need to become instinct."

She huffed but took her starting position. This time though, instead of launching straight in, she paused. Her eyes drifted closed, chest rising and falling in measured breaths. Something in her posture shifted, subtle but unmistakable.

When her eyes opened, they held a different focus. Her movements flowed like water as she executed the sequence - each strike precise, each step perfectly placed. The awkwardness had vanished, replaced by fluid grace that could only have come from years of training.

Xavier's heart clenched. He recognized those movements. He'd seen them hundreds of times during training sessions with Sienna.

"Stop." He stepped forward, catching her mid-strike. His hands gripped her shoulders, forcing her to stillness. "This isn't what we're trying to achieve."

Confusion flickered across her face. "But I did it perfectly that time."

"You did. But it wasn't you doing it." He gentled his grip but didn't let go. "You tapped into Sienna's muscle memory. That's not going to help you learn to move in this body yourself."

"What's the difference? The knowledge is there-"

"You'll lose yourself!" Xavier's voice cracked with barely contained emotion. "Every time you tap into her memories, her abilities - you're accelerating the merge."

Rory stepped back, confusion clouding her features. "What do you mean?"

Xavier ran a hand through his ash-blonde hair, his cerulean eyes troubled. "Rafayel told us you can communicate with Sienna now. That you hear her voice, interact with her consciousness."

"Yes, but-"

"Each interaction, each time you access her memories or skills, the boundary between you both grows thinner." He moved closer, his voice softening. "The more you rely on her knowledge, the faster you'll merge completely. Until there's no distinction left between Rory and Sienna."

Rory's eyes widened, her shoulders tensing as she wrapped her arms around herself. She turned away from him and the training room fell silent except for the soft hum of the ventilation system.

"Is that..." Her voice wavered. "Is that why we didn't separate when we crossed over? Because I kept trying to access the knowledge to get you home?"

Xavier's heart clenched at the guilt in her voice. He wanted to lie, to protect her from this truth, but she deserved honesty. "Most likely, yes. Each time you accessed Sienna's memories about Linkon, about the rift - it strengthened the connection between you."

"So I did this to myself." Her laugh held no humour. "I trapped myself here by trying to help you all get back."

"Rory-" He reached for her, but she stepped away.

Xavier watched the emotions play across Rory's face as understanding dawned. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her training clothes, knuckles white with tension.

"How long have you known?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Since we arrived back in Linkon." He kept his tone gentle. "When we realised you were still connected with Sienna... it wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

She turned to face him, eyes searching his. "The others?"

"They know." Xavier ran a hand through his ash-blonde hair. "We've been looking for ways to safely separate you both, but until then..."

"I need to stop talking to her." Rory finished his thought, her shoulders slumping. "While I've been wallowing in self-pity, you've all been trying to help me. And I've probably been making things worse."

"Don't." Xavier closed the distance between them, drawing her into his arms. She felt small against his chest, fragile in a way that made his protective instincts surge. "You've been thrown into an impossible situation. No one blames you for struggling with it."

Her fingers curled into his shirt as she pressed her face against his shoulder. He could feel her trembling slightly, though whether from exhaustion or emotion, he couldn't tell.

"How am I supposed to survive here?" Her words were muffled against his chest. "I can't be a hunter if I can't fight. I can't navigate this world without her memories. I'll be helpless."

Xavier tightened his embrace, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. His heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice.

"You don't need to worry about surviving." He pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in the subtle floral scent of her hair. "I'll protect you. Always."

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Promise?"

"Promise." He brushed his thumb across her cheek, catching a tear before it could fall. "We'll figure this out together."

Chapter Text

 It was dark in the attic, the cheap light hanging from the ceiling doing little to combat the gloom of the storm raging outside. And the worse part? Caleb and I were stuck in here. The door had closed and locked behind us.

"This attic and I just don't get along. I always end up stuck in this place. You were able to rescue me from outside before. But now we're both trapped." I sighed.

Caleb looked down at me briefly before looking around the dingy room.

"I remember there being a set of wrenches in here." He said, approaching a dusty box on the floor. "Let me look."

As he rummaged through the box I shuffled over to the old sofa tucked against the wall and sat down, staring at the rain thudding against the window. Glancing back at Caleb, I noticed a crease between his brows.

"Don't worry," I insisted. "Worse case scenario, Grandma comes back tomorrow to save us."

"I can't wait that long." Caleb stated. There was something odd in his tone, something…desperate?

"Caleb, why are you more anxious than me. Are you afraid of the dark?" I asked. He paused in his search through the box, eyes going distant for a moment.

"I don't want the same thing to happen to you again." He murmured. "I remember everything. From last time. Even how…frustrated you were as you curled up in the corner. Tears streamed down your face." He looked up at me as he recounted my previous experience of being locked in this attic. The look in his eyes was pained.

"You don't need to remember all those details." I shrugged, looking away. "How are you holding up? You finally got a break only to end up trapped in the attic with me. Today's just not your day, Caleb."

"I wouldn't think of it that way. Who knows, maybe I dragged you into some trouble before."

My eyes snapped back to him but his focus had returned to the box.

"What? When?" I slipped off the sofa to crouch next to him as he frowned.

"So…I might have been the reason why you got locked in the attic back then."

"What? How?"

"When we had just moved here…The bullies and I didn't really get along. And one day they showed up at our doorstep. I was afraid they would try to mess with you so I made up an excuse to send you to the attic. You'd be safe at least. And not anywhere near them." The venom dripped from his voice as his eyes became unfocused.

"What? You actually locked me in the attic on purpose?"

"Don't get the wrong idea pipsqueak." He snapped, turned to look at me. There was a hardness in his eyes I wasn't used to seeing. "I planned to let you out after I dealt with those guys. But I got carried away. They insisted I become their leader. We ran into a group of kids from across the street. They were looking for trouble, so I took care of them. It got crazy, I couldn't come home."

I glared at him.

"In other words, Caleb, you locked me in the attic and then you went off into battle? I could have joined the fight too. I always have your back!" He averted his gaze again.

"Why are you always down for a fight? I don't think everyone dreams of brawling with their friends everyday." Standing he walked around me and settled on the floor by the sofa, his search abandoned.

"That doesn't mean I'll loose. Besides, you never let me try. You always treat me like a kid. But I'm an adult now. I can even beat up some of the boys during training."

He looked me square in the eye, all jokes and amusement gone.

"No matter how old you are, I'll always look out for you. What if you get bullied? Or what if there's an emergency?"

I rose to my knees and shoved against his shoulder, positioning myself in front of him.

"You're underestimating me again…I don't need you to protect me."

Caleb's mouth twisted and a quiet huff left his lips. His eyes flickered as if he was caught between anger and doubt. It was like he didn't know if he should laugh or cry at my admission. Then his features settled and he looked back at me with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw.

"Is that so? Well, prove it. If you can beat me, then I'll believe you're capable of standing on your own two feet. And whatever happens to you is none of my business. Come on, let me see what you've learned while I was away. I'll even go easy on you. I'll only use one hand." He challenged, a tiny smirk slipping onto his lips.

"Fine, but you can't whine if you loose." Recalling my training, I formed a fist and threw a punch, aimed right at that smirk. He caught it, his large hand wrapping around mine.

"You're strong. But only to an extent. Now what? You wanna go again?" I pulled my hand from his grip and spread my legs slightly.

"I held myself back because I felt bad that you got locked in here with me."

"Again." He commanded.

I tried a jab at his neck. He blocked. I aimed another punch at his chest. He caught my wrist, holding tight enough that I couldn't escape.

"You!"

"Give up yet?"

"As if." I went to smack him with my free hand but he caught that wrist as well. Holding both wrists in one hand he pulled me towards him, his other hand sliding around my back. "Caleb, you…"

"Scared? Even when you're like this you say you don't need me. You've left home and seen the world. What's next? You're gonna leave everything behind?"

"What are you even talking about? Leave behind what? Ugh, let go…"

"You're stubborn. Remember when you held my hand? You even let me stay by your side. Now you're an adult… Does that mean you're ready to let go of my hand? It wont be long until you're in a faraway place and I'm…I'll be…" The corners of his eyes creased as the darkness in him wavered. I took advantage of the moment and pulled free from his grip. His arms dropped beside him and he scoffed, his face falling.

"Right. I forgot. You're not a little kid who needs to be protected anymore. It's me who can't let go." He pulled his knees up and wrested his arms across them, his voice quiet but somehow desperate. "I…I want to keep you in a world where it's just the two of us…"

I couldn't stand seeing my childhood best friend looking so sad, so hurt. I pushed between his legs and wrapped my arms around his neck. It took less than a heartbeat for his arms to circle me, holding me tight, like he thought I might disappear if he let go.

"I won't lock you in again. This is my promise to you." He whispered into my ear. "The storms that you'll encounter in the future…they shouldn't exist in this world.

* * *

I jolt awake, my heart racing as the dream fragments scatter like broken glass. My hand reaches for my neck, feeling the ghost of Caleb's breath against my skin. These aren't just memories anymore—they're too fresh, too real. The connection with Sienna feels stronger when I sleep, like we're sharing the same consciousness.

The shower helps wash away the lingering unease. Hot water drums against my shoulders as I try to sort through what's mine and what's hers. The uniform hanging on the back of the bathroom door catches my eye—black tactical pants, fitted jacket with the hunter's insignia. It still feels strange, wearing her clothes, living her life.

I slip into the outfit, adjusting the various straps and buckles with fingers that remember movements I've never made. The fabric moulds to my body—no, her body—like a second skin. In the mirror, Sienna's reflection stares back at me, dark blue eyes holding questions I'm afraid to answer.

My muscles ache pleasantly as I stretch, remembering yesterday's training session. A week of drills with Xavier has started paying off—my movements flow smoother now, each strike landing where intended. The basic forms that felt so alien at first have become almost natural.

"Your reach is better," Xavier had said, dodging my roundhouse kick. "You're not fighting against her body anymore."

He was right. I've stopped trying to move like myself and started learning what Sienna's body could do. Her limbs are shorter, her centre of gravity different, but there's a fluid grace to her movements that feels... right.

The new defensive techniques Xavier introduced come easier too. Something about the way he teaches—patient, precise, always finding that sweet spot between pushing me and letting me find my own rhythm.

I trace the fading bruise on my forearm from where he caught me off-guard two days ago. His touch had lingered longer than necessary, fingers ghosting over my skin as he corrected my stance.

"You're getting stronger," he'd whispered, close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath. "But you're still holding something back."

I push through the heavy doors of the training room, the familiar scent of leather and metal greeting me. Xavier's already there, his ash-blonde hair catching the morning light streaming through the high windows. He's stripped down to a fitted black tank that shows off the lean muscles of his arms.

"Ready?" His cerulean eyes scan my face, looking for any hesitation.

We start with basic forms, but Xavier keeps increasing the complexity. Block, strike, dodge—the movements blur together until my lungs burn and sweat trickles down my spine. Every time I think I've got the rhythm, he changes it up, forcing me to adapt.

"Faster," he commands, his soft voice hardening with authority. "Your enemies won't wait for you to find your footing."

His palm strikes my shoulder, sending me stumbling backwards. I recover, spinning into a counter-attack that he easily deflects. The dance continues—his movements fluid and precise, mine increasingly desperate.

Finally, he calls a break. I collapse onto a bench, gulping water from my bottle. Xavier sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush.

"You're improving," he says, "but you need to learn how to handle multiple threats."

I follow his gaze to the control panel on the far wall. "The simulation interface?"

"It creates hard-light projections of wanderers." He stands, offering his hand. "They're not real, but they'll help you prepare for actual combat situations."

My stomach knots. "I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"The wanderers won't care if you're ready." His fingers find mine, squeezing gently. "Trust me—I won't let anything happen to you."

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight. I let him pull me to my feet, trying to ignore how natural it feels when his hand lingers on my waist.

"Let's get some food," Xavier suggests, his hand still warm against my waist. "You need to keep your strength up."

The canteen is busy when we arrive, filled with hunters fresh from morning patrols. The familiar scent of coffee and grilled meat mingles with weapon oil and leather. Xavier guides me through the crowd, his presence keeping others at a respectful distance.

"Sienna! Xavier!" Tara's cheerful voice cuts through the noise. She waves from a corner table, her dark hair bouncing as she beckons us over. "Come sit with me!"

We grab our food—some kind of spiced meat and vegetables I don't recognise—and join her. Her cards are spread across the table, the worn edges speaking of frequent use.

"I was just doing a reading," she says, gathering them up with practiced movements. Her eyes spark with mischief. "Want me to do one for you?"

Xavier tenses beside me. "Tara—"

"Oh, come on! Just a quick one?" She's already shuffling, her fingers dancing over the deck. "The cards have been practically screaming at me lately. Something big is coming, and they want to talk about it."

I glance at Xavier, catching a flash of concern in his eyes before he masks it. Honestly, I never really believed in mystic prophesies or fortune-telling but Tara had been begging me to agree to a reading since my first day at the association.

"Can't hurt." I muttered to him, shrugging, and approached the bubbly woman, sitting across from her.

Tara beamed at me and clapped her hands in excitement as Xavier lowered himself into the seat beside me.

“Are you sure this is harmless?” He asked.

“Xavier,” Tara groaned playfully, “tarot isn’t dangerous. It’s just the universe offering suggestions. Think of it like… cosmic gossip. Now hush. You’re disrupting the vibes.”

Xavier's lips pressed together in patient silence.

Tara shuffled dramatically, fanned the cards, and tapped the deck with two fingers.

“Alright, Sienna. Past, present, future.” She turned the first card.

The card shows a young figure poised at the edge of a cliff, carrying a small bundle on a stick over their shoulder. A white dog dances at their feet as they gaze up at the sky, seemingly oblivious to the precipice before them. The sun blazes behind them, casting their silhouette in golden light.

Tara frowned.

“Well… that’s interesting.”

Xavier straightened slightly. “Interesting how?”

Tara tilted her head, studying the little figure frozen mid-step.

“The Fool reversed means a journey that began wrong,” she said slowly. “A first step taken in the wrong direction. Or a beginning that shouldn’t have happened the way it did.” Her frown deepened. “Like… the universe started something out of order.”

Rory’s heart thudded painfully. She doesn’t know. She can’t know.

“That doesn’t really sound like me,” she said lightly.

“Right?” Tara scrunched her face. “It’s weird. But let’s keep going.”

Tara flipped the next card — and her breath caught.

The second card slides onto the table, and my chest tightens. A robed woman sits between two pillars—one black, one white—with a crescent moon at her feet. The High Priestess gazes directly at me with knowing eyes that seem to pierce through Sienna's borrowed flesh. A scroll rests in her lap, partially hidden by flowing blue robes that remind me of still water. Behind her hangs a tapestry embroidered with pomegranates and dates, symbols of fertility and hidden knowledge.

“Oh.”

Xavier moved closer, silent but alert. “What does that one mean?”

Tara tapped the card nervously. “The High Priestess reversed is… blocked intuition. Secrets spilling out. Two energies clashing instead of flowing.” Her gaze flicked up to Rory. “It feels like you’re… I don’t know… out of sync with yourself.”

Rory tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“It’s probably just stress or hormones. Or — you know — bad sleep.”

Rory laughed weakly. “Yeah. Probably.”

Tara's hand hovers over the deck, trembling slightly. I can feel Xavier's warmth beside me, his shoulder pressed against mine as we both lean forward.

The final card slides onto the table.

The Moon stares up at me—a full silver disc hanging between two towers. A wolf and a dog howl at its light, while a crayfish emerges from a dark pool. The path between the towers winds into darkness, lit only by the moon's ethereal glow and the drops of light falling like dew.

Tara exhaled. “Oh… no wonder this spread feels weird.”

“Explain,” Xavier said quietly.

Tara tapped the Moon. “This card means the future is unclear. Illusion, confusion, hidden truths. A fog you can’t get through.” She shook her head. “It’s like… the cards can’t see what’s coming. That almost never happens.”

She looked genuinely rattled now — not frightened, but confused, like someone given a puzzle with missing pieces.

“It’s almost like…” She hesitated. “Like there are two futures tugging at you, Sienna. Two paths overlapping. The cards can’t decide which one is yours.”

Rory felt a cold shiver crawl down her spine.

Xavier’s gaze flicked toward her, sharper, more worried. “Is she in danger?”

“What? No!” Tara waved her hands quickly. “Nothing like that. It’s just… unclear. Foggy. Shadowy. Something about you isn’t matching the layout.” She shook her head again. “This spread doesn’t fit you at all.”

She reached for her deck, already reshuffling.

“I need to do the Cross and Staff. This is… I don’t know. Too tangled. The cards aren’t showing the whole picture.”

Rory’s pulse hammered.

“And the Cross and Staff will?” she asked softly.

Tara nodded. “If anything will, it’s that.” She glanced nervously at the three cards again. “Because whatever’s going on with you, Sienna… it’s deeper than a simple three-card pull.”

Tara shuffled her tarot deck with a flourish that made the cards snap like wings.

“Okay,” she said brightly, “the three-card reading was… confusing. Like, seriously confusing. So we’re doing the Cross and Staff. It’s the most comprehensive spread ever. If something weird is going on with your energy, this will make sense of it.”

My stomach tightened. If only she knew.

Tara placed the deck between us and inhaled dramatically. “Alright! Let me explain the positions so you understand the pattern.”

She pressed a card onto the table.

Tara explained, “This is the Present or the heart of the situation. The core energy around you.”

She flipped it. The High Priestess this time facing Tara. My chest squeezed.

Tara blinked at the card. “Huh. We just saw this… but reversed.” She forced a smile. “Upright High Priestess means intuition, secrets, and inner knowing. It’s like… you’re carrying something hidden. Something deep.”

I swallowed hard. If only she knew how literal that was. She pulled another card from the deck.

“This card lies on top of the first one,” Tara said, placing it sideways across the High Priestess. “It shows the Challenge, what’s standing in your way or complicating things.”

She turned it over.

The card reveals two figures beneath an angel's outstretched wings. A man and woman stand naked in paradise, the Tree of Knowledge blooming behind one, the Tree of Life behind the other. The sun blazes above them, casting golden light that makes the card seem to glow.

Tara frowned. “Okay, so before you panic— this is not about romance.” Her fingers tapped the card nervously. “Reversed Lovers means inner conflict, identity issues, misalignment with yourself. Like two sides of you aren’t on the same page.”

My breath hitched.

Two sides. Dual identity. Misaligned self.

The words hit too close. I tried to take deep breaths as Tara pulled a third card from the deck.

“This goes below the first card,” Tara said. “It’s the Foundation. It's what everything is built on.”

She laid the card under the cross and turned it. The Fool again. But facing Tara.

Her mouth fell open. “Okay, seriously? This came up in the three-card reading too!”

I tried to breathe through the rising panic.

Tara shook her head. “Upright Fool is a beginning… but your three-card reading had Fool reversed, which is a beginning that went wrong. This one means the original root of everything in your life is a new journey.”

She looked baffled. “Which one is it? A beginning or a misstep?” She pressed her lips together. “It shouldn’t be both.”

My palms were sweating. I wondered if it was too late to pull out but I had a feeling Tara wouldn't allow that. She pulled another card.

“This goes to the left,” Tara said. “It shows the Recent Past, also considered to be influence that’s fading.”

She flipped the card.

A lightning-struck tower crumbles on the card, its crown torn away as flames lick the stones. Two figures plummet from the heights, their bodies twisted in free-fall against a pitch-black sky. The whole image pulses with violent energy, like a snapshot of destruction frozen in time.

Tara's face drains of colour. "The Tower... but upright." Her fingers hover over the card as if afraid to touch it. "This is major upheaval, sudden change, destruction of false structures. But it's in the past position—meaning whatever chaos hit your life has already happened."

Xavier's hand finds mine under the table, his thumb tracing circles against my palm. The touch grounds me as memories flash through my mind: the explosion that supposedly killed Caleb, my merger with Sienna, the violent confrontation with Cole. One disaster after another, each one shattering my world like that burning tower.

Shaking her head slightly, Tara pulled yet another card.

“This one goes above the centre,” Tara said. “It shows your Conscious Goal, your hopes and what you’re consciously striving for.”

She turned it.

The card shows a nude woman kneeling beside a pool, pouring water from two vessels—one onto the earth, one into the water. Above her, eight stars shimmer in a violet sky, their light catching the ripples of the pool. There's something peaceful about her pose, the way she balances between earth and water, giving freely to both. The longer I stare at it, the more I feel a strange resonance, like the card is speaking directly to my dual nature.

Tara smiled. “ The Star upright. This is nice! It means hope, healing, clarity. You just want peace. And answers.”

She didn’t know how desperately true that was.

“This goes to the right,” Tara said drawing a sixth card. “This card shows what’s around the corner. The Near Future.”

She flipped it. The Moon upright.

“Oh come on!” Tara groaned, rubbing her temples. “This was in your three-card reading too!”

The Moon glowed up at me with its eerie, shadowed imagery. Something about it felt too close, too familiar.

“This is illusions,” Tara explained, voice quieter now. “Secrets. Hidden truths. Confusion. Something unclear or obscured in your path.”

Her eyes drifted to mine. “Whatever you’re going through… it’s getting more confusing soon.”

I felt dizzy.

"You okay?" Xavier murmured as Tara drew a seventh card. I tried a small smile and nodded but I could tell it didn't fool him.

“Now for the staff,” Tara said softly. “Four cards in a vertical line. This one is about Self; how you see the situation.”

The card shows a blindfolded woman bound by eight swords planted in the ground around her. My heart pounds as I study her trapped form—the way she stands frozen between the blades, unable to see her own prison. Behind her looms a distant castle beneath stormy skies, suggesting safety lies just beyond reach.

"Eight of Swords," Tara whispers, her fingers trembling slightly as she traces the card's edge. "Self-imposed restrictions. Mental prisons. Feeling trapped by circumstances you think you can't escape. The blindfold is important. It means you can't see the way out, even though it exists. You've convinced yourself there are no options."

The eight card was placed above the seventh. Tara seemed completely immersed in the reading now.

“This one shows what’s affecting you from the outside; your External Influences.” Tara said.

A horned figure looms on the throne, wings spread wide behind him. At his feet, two naked figures stand chained—but the chains hang loose around their necks, as if they could slip free at any moment. The Devil's hand is raised in blessing or curse, I can't tell which.

The longer I stare at the card, the more details emerge from the shadows—the inverted pentacle above the Devil's head, the grapes twining up his throne suggesting earthly pleasures, the way the bound figures' chains glint like jewellery rather than prison bonds. They don't look trapped. They look... willing.

She frowned. “Reversed Devil means someone around you is trying to break free of something controlling or restrictive. Sienna? Do you know anyone struggling with… obligations or expectations?”

I thought for a moment. Rafayel was always fighting against his manager about work, but he seemed to avoid his 'obligations' rather easily. Sylus seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be. Nothing restrictive in his life. Maybe Zayne? Since he'd learnt about his past he could feel trapped by it. Even as I considered that it didn't feel quite right. I glanced a Xavier but even he seemed to be fairly happy with his circumstances in life.

I shook my head. “Not that I can think of.” I answered.

Tara hummed thoughtfully but didn't press. Instead she pulled the ninth card and placed it above the eighth.

“This is what you hope for but also fear,” Tara said. She revealed the card.

The card shows a figure in medieval garb, dancing as he juggles two golden coins. They're linked by an infinity symbol that flows between them like a ribbon caught in an endless loop. Behind him, ships rock on turbulent waves—some rising on the crests, others sinking into the troughs.

"Two of Pentacles," Tara says, her voice soft with wonder. "Balance between two worlds or two choices. Juggling different aspects of life." She traces the infinity symbol with one finger. "Usually this card means trying to maintain equilibrium while everything's in flux. But here... in your hopes and fears position..." She trails off, studying my face with renewed intensity.

My heart thuds painfully. Does she sense the truth? That I'm literally balancing two lives, two identities, two worlds?

"What does it mean in this position?" Xavier asks, his hand tightening around mine under the table.

Tara's eyes never leave my face as she answers: "It means whatever choice she makes, she's afraid of dropping one of those coins."

Xavier's hand squeezed mine again under the table.

"Is that it?" I asked quietly, desperate for this reading to end. Tara shook her head.

"There's one more." She pulled the final card from the deck. “Where all this leads.” She flipped it.

The final card hits the table. A skeleton in black armour rides a white horse across a desolate landscape. Bodies lie in its wake—kings and peasants alike fallen before death's inevitable march. But in the distance, the sun rises between two towers, casting golden light across the scene. A white rose blooms on the horse's banner, suggesting rebirth even in destruction's wake.

My lungs freeze. The card seems to pulse with dark energy.

Tara's face drains of colour. Her hands shake as she stares at Death upright, positioned at the pinnacle of the Staff. The card that shows the ultimate outcome.

"I—" she starts, then stops. Swallows hard. "This isn't what you think."

Xavier's fingers dig into my palm. I can feel his tension radiating through the contact.

"Death doesn't mean physical death," Tara rushes to explain. "Usually. It means profound transformation. The end of one phase and the beginning of another." She looks up at me, her eyes wide with something like awe. "Sienna..."

I jumped to my feet, pulling free of Xavier's grip.

"I have to go. I have an appointment with Zayne and he'll be mad if I'm late." I turned and hurried from the canteen, ignoring the cries of my name echoing behind me.