Page 25 of Sharpen Your Claws

“With stress?”

He nodded, unsure of whether he should push away. Nicholas felt like a piece of armor he sorely needed. His breathing steadied from the brush of Nicholas’ hand against his waist. The fae’s thumb rubbed his side, more soothing than anything had ever been. It didn’t cure him of that paranoia festering in his mind, but it was comforting, and he needed that.

“Am I the cause of that stress?” Nicholas asked, eyes downcast.

“You have always been stressful, trouble.” The name fell off his tongue as if it hadn’t been years since he said it.

Nicholas wrapped an arm around his waist. His gaze fell on the bed where he thought of being with Nicholas countless times and did so again. Wishing for a sweet moment followed by bliss, but he feared both as much as he yearned for them.

“I like when you call me trouble,” Nicholas whispered, as he had done years ago.

“Then I shall never call you trouble again.”

Nicholas smiled against the back of his neck where his lips trailed, enchanting and intoxicating. His body and mind were at war. His body wanted to lean into Nicholas’ touch, to be consumed by him entirely. His mind yearned to run, to not give in because it would end in more suffering. He and Nicholas were doomed from the start.

“There is no need to stress now. You have a loyal shade at your side. If you wish for me to hunt these bastards down, I will do so. All I ask is for our correspondence to be more than business talk,” said Nicholas.

“What more do you want? Be specific,” he asked, willing himself not to lean into Nicholas.

“You already know the answer.” Nicholas kissed along his nape, devouring his pulse with wicked teeth and a soothing tongue.

Memories flashed. Desires resurfaced. Nights spent together, the heat of their bodies pressed together, and the many dreams he had afterward. He woke sweaty and breathless, overcome by memories of them together, lost to pleasure and one another. With Nicholas here, wanting and hungry, he struggled to think of reasons to stop. He craved Nicholas’ touch, to relish in the brush of his hand beneath his shirt. Nicholas’ fingers strayed, twisting in the curls above the waist of his pants. That woke him.

He caught Nicholas’ hand, pivoting to face the smirking fae.

“I told you I need time.” His feelings were turbulent, like snow tumbling down a mountainside into an avalanche.

He understood what had happened. He was relieved to learn Nicholas didn’t abandon him. But the situation was far more complicated than that. His feelings were more complicated, continuously screaming to be close and far away. That Nicholas would be better off without him, and he without Nicholas.

“We are not alone here, either,” he added. “My family sleeps.”

Nicholas chuckled. “And we certainly wouldn’t be quiet.”

“May we return to the issues at hand?” he grumbled, ignoring the heat building beneath his skin.

Pouting in a far too cute manner, Nicholas muttered, “I suppose.”

William finished his cigarette, then dropped it into the full ashtray.

“If a shadowed disciple is truly behind this, it is safe to assume more will go missing. Worse than that, more may be missing that we are unaware of.” He paced to the center of the room, a hand caught beneath his chin. “However, if news of this broke, King Ellis would be displeased. Shadowed disciples in his own backyard? We may yet start another war.”

He would not sit idly by while more children were sent to die, and more soldiers returned to a home that cared little for them.

“Is there a way to track down this specific disciple?” he asked.

“Nothing like this.” Nicholas picked up the hat, then returned it to the table. “But we now know the beast’s hunting grounds. I can keep watch, though if we want to discover where the bastard is hiding anyone, if they are alive, we may have to let another person be captured. That will be the most efficient way for me to follow anyone.”

Letting another person get grabbed meant another potential death. If a shadowed disciple was behind the disappearances, that meant the lives of those taken were likely already lost.

He resented how his mind so easily said one more life meant saving countless more, so it had to be done. Before the war, he wouldn’t have agreed. He would be naïve enough to believe he could save everyone. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, or if good things truly existed.

“So be it. We’ll start tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

“Till tomorrow.” Nicholas caught his left hand to bring to his mouth. The brush of his lips on William’s skin nearly broke him. Then the cursed fae left the way he came.

The window shut, leaving William alone. He pressed a hand to his racing heart. It broke into a run the moment Nicholas appeared and refused to settle long after the fae left.

He tossed and turned that night, falling asleep to dream of Nicholas’ touch. Then he woke and sat in bed worrying what would come next, not just about the potential threat of a shadowed disciple and his patients, but Nicholas, too.

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