Page 18 of Sharpen Your Claws

He yanked free. Every day, he had the strange urge to step into the forest with a blade and hack off the silver himself. He tried once to no avail, then felt awful for ever imagining such a thing, for not being grateful he had the use of his arm. Others were not as fortunate. They struggled on prosthetic limbs while his life hardly changed, yet; he dared to complain.

“How would you know anything about that?” His face paled and heart palpitated. “And how do you know of my workplace?”

Nicholas propped himself against the desk. “I may not have been able to communicate with you, but I made sure to know where you were.”

“You had someone stalk me?”

“A couple of sprites owed me. They’re useful creatures, coming and going as they please. Some say they faded through our realms long before the Collision.”

His gaze shifted around the room. “And those sprites followed me?”

“I asked them to check in if they were nearby. Thanks to them, I know the mortal shops where you like to eat, your favorite library, and,” Nicholas’ brows furrowed, and a muscle quivered in his jaw, “The wretch you spent an evening with two months back.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was going to kill him, but I thought you would be upset and refrained from doing so. If anything, I deserve to be praised,” Nicholas spoke so earnestly he would convince most to believe him.

He struggled to form a coherent thought. He couldn’t grasp Nicholas’ return and that being one of their first conversations. It felt ridiculous, and yet, so unbelievably Nicholas.

“You cannot have creatures stalk me, learn of private matters, and threaten the life of a stranger I spent a night with.” It rarely happened. Any who paid William any mind was normally more curious about fae, his cursed arm, and war stories. But with enough alcohol in his system, he didn’t mind sharing, so long as he felt something, anything afterward.

Nicholas came for him, swift and without warning. William may have hit him if he didn’t hold so firmly to William’s hands. He didn’t do well with quick movement. His heart leapt, and every nerve tightened like old violin strings, ready to snap. Every muscle tensed, ready to run or attack, and his mind reeled, conjuring escape or killing scenarios. Nicholas did not notice his fright. He was so focused on William’s frustration, looking like a scolded child.

“Do you not understand my reasoning? I could not be with you, but I had to know you were safe. If something were to happen while we lost contact, I had to know about it. None of this was done with ill intent. I thought entirely of you. I see no reason to be upset.” Though Nicholas pleaded, his voice held a fearsome edge. “Do not be upset with me. I did what I must, what I thought to be right, and thanks to that, we are together again. Is that not what you want? Did our time mean so little to you?”

He worried about what his answers might evoke. Nicholas’ eyes were frightening, neither warm nor cold. Everything about him, his movements, his words, his actions, all recognizable yet slightly off, warped. All he could think of was when this change occurred, what the reasoning was, and naively wondered if he could help.

“What happened? Your eyes. When did they change?” he whispered.

“I fell when you did, when I thought your heart stopped, then there was… this feeling, a shock. The world opened, and I saw everything, things I can’t explain even if I tried. It was marvelous, William, like I woke from a dream I believed to be a reality for so long only to realize there is so much more out there.” Nicholas made the situation sound surreal, precious even.

“Do you think you will go the same route Fearworn did?” he muttered, terrified by the prospect in more ways than one.

He would have to go through the grief of losing Nicholas again, permanently that time. And maybe there would be another war, a worse one where they wouldn’t win. Where everything would be lost, where he would have to fight against Nicholas, and lose.

“I will never be like Fearworn. I have no interest in his vile monstrosities,” Nicholas growled.

“What is your interest, then?”

“You, my wicked. You are, of course.”

William heaved an agonizing breath. He yearned to break free, struggling in Nicholas’ fearsome grip. The fae wouldn’t release him, holding tighter as if to fuse them body and soul.

“This is a poor joke,” he snapped.

“You know I cannot lie. I want you desperately, now more than ever. You are my greatest love, my only one.”

A sickness built in his chest, heavy and thick. When he woke in the hospital, he realized the truth; that he loved Nicholas. He imagined a different life, one where he woke to Nicholas waiting at his bedside. The fae smiled and spoke of love, but hearing that from Nicholas now made him ill. It wasn’t right. It was off and strange and the man looking at him, those terrifying violet eyes, was not the same one from years ago.

“You do not mean that,” he argued.

“I can’t—”

“I know you can’t lie!” He shoved Nicholas back. The fae let go, taken aback like a struck child. “This is not love. You’re not yourself. It’s an obsession. It’s a sickness and I can’t…”

He could not handle being the reason for Nicholas’ worst fear coming true. He remembered what Nicholas said back then, when William asked if he feared his own power;“I do not want to end up like Fearworn. When I die, I want to die as Nicholas Darkmoon, not a shell of who he used to be.”

But there he stood, his eyes startling violet and one step closer to being exactly what he feared.

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