Page 99 of First Offense
He grunted.
I growled.
And the violence between us escalated.
Mostly spurred on by Layla’s increasing arousal, her scent making it impossible to fucking breathe as she pleasured herself in the shower again.
Novak slammed into me harder. I returned the favor. By the end, I couldn’t tell if we were fighting each other to blow off steam or battling over who could charge through that door first to win the prize. Or maybe we were blocking each other from taking something we weren’t allowed to touch.
Whatever it was, it ended with us both panting on the floor like we’d just finished fucking each other. Except neither of us was satisfied, and we were both still very hard.
Layla hadn’t joined us, likely because she could hear us warring outside the door.
“When I first Fell,” Novak started, his words coming out on a sharp exhale. “I spent the first few decades”—he paused to inhale—“trying to reform. I did everything I should. Lived by the Nora code.” He stole another deep breath, and his muscles began to relax as he lay sprawled on the floor beside me. “I did everything right. And I never reformed.”
I rolled my head toward him. “Then it wasn’t right.”
He gave me a look. “Or there’s no such thing.”
My brow furrowed. “Is that how you justify giving up?”
“It’s how I justify accepting my fate,” he countered, his tone darkening. “Do you know anyone who has successfully reformed?”
I’d wanted to ask Sayir that the other day. Because no, I didn’t know anyone who had ever reformed. But I’d always thought it was a personal choice, or perhaps those who had reformed just kept it quiet. However, I was beginning to consider that line of thought to be a bit naïve.
“Zian used to mark those who were close to Falling,” Novak continued, suggesting his question had been rhetorical. “Remember?”
“Yes.” The Nora had the ability to alter memories—wipe them clean—and was often used to warn those who had done something worthy of a Fall. Like killing without remorse. He’d wipe their minds clean of the event but leave a mark behind to let them know they’d done something very wrong and only had one more warning left. It served as a scare tactic, a way to convince Nora to stay in line.
“Layla was never warned,” Novak said. “I was never warned. Why? How do the Nora choose?”
I studied the other man, aware that this was probably the most he’d spoken to me since we’d become reacquainted. “Zian was always given his targets.”
“By King Sefid?”
I nodded.
“Like my final assignment,” he added, his eyes lifting to the ceiling as he considered that. “What will you do if she can’t be reformed?”
His sudden shift in conversation left me blinking at him.
Although, I supposed it wasn’t much of a shift since he seemed to be focused on reform, but his question floored me nonetheless.
“There’s noifin this situation. She will be reformed.”
He said nothing for a moment, then looked at me again. “I did everything right, Auric. Lived by every code. Repented. Begged, even. Thirty-seven years, I tried to reform. And all I earned was heartache and pain. Until I accepted my fate and embraced my wings. So there is definitely anif, Auric. A very largeif.”
I swallowed, his tone and words unnerving me. He only spoke when he had something to say. Which meant he’d chosen to tell me these things for a reason.
“You don’t think she can be reformed,” I realized out loud.
“I don’t think she needs to be reformed,” he countered. “I think she’s perfect as she is. The question is, can you accept her?”
“She’s not for me to accept.”
“Then you’re blind,” he replied, sitting up abruptly and drawing his knees upward to wrap his arms around them. “She’s chosen, Auric. She’s chosen us.”
“She hasn’t.”
