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AN: Welcome. I know you’re here for Rafayel and not me so I’ll try to keep this short and sweet so you can dive into the story. 

1. This fic is assuming you have played the game through Chapter 7 and have gained enough of Rafayel’s cards/anecdotes/World Underneath to be somewhat familiar with who Rafayel really is. The game does a fantastic job of presenting Rafayel a certain way in the beginning. If that is the only way you are familiar with Rafayel then he’s going to feel hella OOC here. I’d suggest bookmarking this fic, playing through Chapter 7 and at least delving into the World Underneath to get the full picture and avoid spoiling a fantastic character arc in the game. You don’t need all of his cards to understand this fic by any means, just enough to understand what else is going on underneath the artist persona.

Also …. In game spoilers.

2. This fic is going to assume the events that occur during his Abysswalker myth occurred in the past. There are a lot of great arguments for that myth to actually be showing us Rafayel and MC’s future in the game but for plot reasons I need those events to happen on past Philos, not future Philos. 
3. A certain World Underneath story in the game seems to indicate that there’s only a handful of Lemurians left in the world (like … less than 20). I need there to be more. For plot reasons.
4. I’m taking a ton of creative liberties with Astra and how gods work in this game. Future game updates may not jive with how I’m portraying them here. Please keep that in mind as this fic and the game ages. 

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

This Life, Such as It Is

In her dreams she was trapped in suffocating darkness.

The ground lurched beneath her, throwing her this way and that. 

The scent of death was all around, making the air thick and hard to breathe. She winced as the ground rolled and she was thrown into the cold, stiff embrace of the dead bodies stacked around her. She didn’t need any light to know that the beautiful white robes she had been so carefully dressed in by the priests were probably stained beyond repair. If she’d had any energy left she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole week long charade of “preparing” the sacrifices for the God of the Sea before locking them in the soiled hold of this doomed ship. 

She had started with five companions but she knew she was the last of that year’s sacrifices to survive. It had been early in their journey when the confused shouts of the crew had begun to drift down to them. She didn’t know what had gone wrong but the journey that was supposed to have only lasted three days had stretched out into nearly a week. Illness and death had begun to spread around her while the ship sailed on and the crew above became more and more alarmed. Where there had once been quiet whispers passed among her fellow acolytes chosen to be sacrificed in the darkness, now it was only the sound of her own rasping breaths that reached her ears.

A cursed voyage , the people on the deck above had grumbled to each other as they struggled against the seemingly never ending onslaught of unfavorable winds, blowing them far off course into uncharted and treacherous waters. 

She couldn’t remember how she had come to be in the hands of the priests who had spun tales of what a noble sacrifice she and the others were making for the longevity of their people. Her earliest memories were of the stone walls of the temple cells that had housed her and the other sacrifices, locking them away from the very world they were destined to “save” with their lives. 

At the start of the voyage she had peered upwards, trying to see the bright sky through the cracks in the deck above. Now, all she could focus on was holding back the bile as her head spun from the constant tossing. Her wrists burned from the shifting of the coarse rope tied far too tightly about her wrists. Her mouth was dry, her lips painfully parched. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten or been given a drop of drinkable water. 

It didn’t matter to her captors. She had been brought out here to die, after all. What did the God of the Sea care if his yearly sacrifices had a bit of wiggle left to them or not?

A flash of lightning through the cracked boards of the deck above gave her a quick glimpse of the hell she was trapped in. Bodies of her fellow acolytes lay strewn about, their limbs in unnatural positions. She buried her face in her hands, grateful when the flash ended and she was once again plunged into darkness. 

She didn’t want to be here.

She didn’t want to remember …

Shouting and the loud crack of wood shook her nerves  as she felt a gust of stormy wind cut through the newly opened hatch. Through it she could smell the scent of burning wind and angry brine as the ocean itself seemed to turn upon them. 

They had ventured too far into forbidden waters and had aroused the anger of the God of the Sea. 

She trembled weakly as cruel hands grabbed her, hoisting her up through the hatch and tossing her upon the rough deck. A great wave smashed into the ship, sending her rolling uncontrollably. She dug her nails into the wood, wincing as splinters embedded themselves into her flesh as she struggled to stop herself from following the tilt of the ship into the churning hellscape below. 

Finally the ship righted and she closed her eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. 

From behind she heard a sharp curse. “Damnit, where did it go?” 

She risked a glance over her shoulder, easily picking out the Emissary Priest in his gray robes among the darkness. He was peering about frantically. 

Gritting her teeth she forced her weak legs up, darting behind a tumbled stack of barrels. She did her best to tuck herself deep, praying they would not find her in the chaos around them. 

“What’s wrong?” One of the sailors shouted down from above.

“Quickly now! The sacrifice is missing!” The Emissary shouted. 

She winced as she heard the sound of a leather sap striking flesh, undoubtedly the Emissary urging his servants to search harder. 

Another curse came from up above. “Lower the sails and turn! Hurry!” The man ordered as more lightning descended, spidering across the sea just a short distance from them. 

“The waves are too strong,” The Emissary’s voice echoed out from her left, close enough to cause her heart to skip a beat. “Water is rushing in! Half the cabin is already flooded!”

She dared to shift, drawing her legs closer to her body in the hopes that he would not see her. Unfortunately her movement shifted one of the barrels, sending it rolling. She watched in disbelief as the other barrels shifted, revealing her hiding place. 

Immediately hands were upon her. She screamed and struggled as they lifted her up, kicking out fiercely as she tried to free herself from their grasp. 

“Now!” The man from above shouted. “Throw it in the ocean!”

“No!” She cried out, twisting uselessly in their grasp as they hoisted her up over the railing. 

To her shock, everything suddenly seemed to pause and a strange silence descended upon them. It was as though Nature itself had drawn a deep breath and stilled … waiting for … something.

From out amongst the dark waters a song suddenly echoed out. The voice was clear and beautiful, though its words were not from any language she had ever heard. It froze the breath in her lungs and made the hair upon the back of her neck stand up on end even as it wormed its way into her very mind, calming her, urging her to move closer, to find the source of that captivating voice. 

It frightened her … but it was also familiar. 

She had heard this song before …. she was sure of it. 

She felt herself calming, her tightly bunched muscles relaxing as she peered across the gray waves. All she could focus on was the haunting voice. It was like she wanted to spend the rest of her life listening to it. 

Suddenly she was falling. 

As she struck the water the beautiful voice was cut off and she found herself shocked back to the present as the cold, dark waves closed over her head. 

She twisted and turned, desperate to get back to the surface but the dark water seemed to wrap about her legs like some solid, hateful thing. The more she struggled, the more tangled she became and the further down she sank. She opened her mouth to scream but under the water she could make no sound. 

Help … Help me … she pleaded as the darkness closed in on her. 

With the last bit of her strength she reached up, watching the surface disappear between her bound fingers as she sank deeper into the cold, unforgiving depths. 

********

Warmth suddenly surrounded her and she gasped, jerking awake with a start as a soft, beloved voice called her name, drawing her out of the depths of the terrible dream. Her breaths came in shallow, panicked gasps, as though trying to fill lungs that had been bereft of air for far too long.

She shot up, unconsciously shoving away the cool body that was pressed against hers. In her panic she failed to notice that the dark satin sheets still tangled about her legs and she toppled over the edge of the bed in a heap, gasping as her back struck the floor, knocking the wind from her. 

For a long moment she simply lied there, staring up into the concerned gaze of her companion who peered over the edge at her as she sucked in deep lungfuls of air. They’d left the windows open the night before and the air tasted of the sea, making it harder for her to shove off the vestiges of the nightmare. 

She watched as Rafayel reached down towards her, his hand extended as if to pull her back up to safety. For a horrible moment she was awash with the sense of deja vu and she flinched back, closing her eyes as the world seemed to twist awkwardly. Somewhere in the distance she swore she could hear the haunting melody of the siren in her dreams.

A rustling came from above and then the soft slap of bare feet upon the marble floor to her right. Hands reached under her shoulders, pulling her body up enough for Rafayel to slide his knees beneath her back, helping to support her. 

She blinked open her eyes, watching as he reached up, carefully pulling the blankets from the bed. They fell about her like dark water and she grimaced, reminded of the waves that closed in over her head in the dream. 

With the covers off the bed, Rafayel set about helping her to unwrap her trapped legs. She reached out, helping him to pull the covers free. To her relief, the dream itself seemed to slowly fade back into memory as they worked, regrounding her in reality as she was once again freed.

Finally released from her trappings she let herself fall back, peering up at the painfully beautiful face. 

“A nightmare?” Rafayel inquired, head cocked to the side.

Nodding affirmatively she peered at her unbound and unmarked wrists. “Yeah. I was on a boat in a storm and was thrown overboard.”

She saw the way the corners of his eyes pinched in concern and reached up, gently resting her fingertips against the sharp edge of his tense jaw. 

“It’s probably because we left the windows open. I can hear the waves tonight and that must have messed with my dreams.” She reasoned, letting her hand drift forward to caress the frown that had pulled his pale lips downwards.

He snorted softly and she laughed as he turned his face, nipping at the offending finger. When she tried to pull her hand away, he caught it, pulling it back so that he could nuzzle into her palm. Leaving his scent on her , he’d once jokingly called it.

Rolling onto her side, he helped her sit up. She leaned back against the bed, peering at the clock on the side table. She could technically sleep for another hour before she had to be up for work but she knew that all she would see would be those stacked bodies of once dear friends in their shimmering white robes if she tried. 

“Sorry,” She managed, glancing back to meet Rafayel’s worried gaze. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He reached out, tucking a stray strand of dark hair back away from her face. “It’s fine.” He assured her. “How do you feel now?”

With a murmured assurance and a sigh she rose, checking to make sure her shirt hadn’t ridden up during her struggle with the sheets. 

“I’m going to go warm up for the day.” She said, peering down at her companion. “You should go back to bed. Wouldn’t want Thomas complaining that you aren’t getting enough beauty sleep before the premiere tonight.” She teased. 

Rafayel snorted, easily pushing himself up off the ground with a fluid grace that made her knees ache to watch. “I could think of a few ways to warm up, Ms. Hunter.” He murmured, catching her about the waist and pulling her closer. 

She rolled her eyes, pushing her elbow back against him to try to break his hold. It did nothing and she huffed as his arm tightened and he nipped at her ear playfully. She could feel the coolness radiating from his touch, a quiet strength that eased the last of her lingering fear. For a moment, she allowed herself to lean into it, to let his presence wrap about her like a calming balm. But then she straightened. Time to stand on your own two fee t, she chided herself.

“Knock it off, Romeo.” She scolded teasingly, pushing him back more firmly, relieved when he finally relented and let her slip free of his hold. 

As she moved across the room to gather her uniform from the closet she heard the bed shift. She stepped back, peering at the bed from around the armoire door. Rafayel gave her his best innocent grin as he leaned back but she saw the way his fingers dipped down to play with the waistband of the pants she insisted he wear to bed.

Rolling her eyes she snatched the uniform off the rack, turning her back on him as she stalked down the stairs and into the bathroom. 

It had only been a year since they had met, less than six months since they’d begun to share quiet kisses under the stars but already Rafayel seemed to know exactly how to play her body to his advantage. Fortunately she was also a quick learner and she’d found that sometimes the best way to combat him was to simply walk away. 

Once inside the bathroom she closed the door softly, leaning against it for a moment as she steadied herself. The dream had left her more shaken than she cared to admit. The memory of that cold, dark water was still all too vivid in her mind, more a memory than some flimsy illusion cooked up by her sleep deprived mind. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to let it go, to let it fade as she focused on the task at hand. Turning on the faucet she splashed cold water on her face, letting the chill wash away the remnants of sleep. 

Straightening, she pulled on her uniform, taking her time with the fastenings. She could hear Rafayel moving around just beyond the bathroom door. The metallic tinkling of dishes in the kitchen telling her what he was up to. She couldn’t help but smile, a small bit of warmth blooming in her chest.  It was heart warmingly domestic but it did give her pause. 

Their relationship was still so new, so undefined. She wasn’t entirely sure where they stood with one another, or if there was anything to define at all. She had no idea what Rafayel wanted from her … nor what she wanted from him either. 

From the start Rafayel had been flirtatious and breezy, seemingly unwilling or uninterested in discussing serious things. They’d fallen into a comfortable pattern surprisingly easily and, despite her reservations of him due to the Raymond investigation and the strange coral stones, she’d found herself easily charmed by him. He seemed to enjoy her company as well, as long as she wasn’t asking too many questions about his work or supplies, and he had an easy way of making her laugh after a long day of patrolling. 

The first time they’d shared a kiss he’d been under the influence of some strange quirk of Nature. It had been the first time she had seen a more serious side of him and, to be honest, he had frightened her a little with his intensity. 

“ You still have time to care for someone else .” He had told her that night. But even then something deep inside of her had laughed. It had already been far too late. 

She didn’t know if he even remembered the kiss. His whispered pleas had been slurred, a strange mixture of her own human language and what she guessed was his own, those beautiful bi-colored eyes glassy but seeming to see only her. She supposed she should have told him no but his grip had been weak but demanding as she eventually gave in to his gentle coaxing late in the night, selfishly wanting to know what he tasted like. A kiss had been enough to quiet him, to let him slip deep into the sleep his body so desperately craved while she had sat up the rest of the night, fingers lingering on stinging lips where he had bitten her in remonishment for trying to pull away before he was done. 

Once the effects of Ebb Day had worn off, he’d gone back to being the airy creature she had known previously. Any attempts to try to talk to him about it afterwards had been blown off, Rafayel clearly uninterested in revisiting what had happened in that petulant way of his.

Still, she had caught more glimpses of his serious side since then. Everytime she noticed the sudden darkening of his gaze it stirred something deep inside of her. Something primal that she couldn’t understand. Something that demanded she leave her mark upon him, make him acknowledge that he belonged to her just as surely as she belonged to him.

But those moments were fleeting and he seemed to want to avoid talking about them at all cost, determined to return to the carefree Rafayel she had always known him to be. 

She figured he had a reason for it and so didn’t push. But it did make it harder to gauge what he thought of this new … pattern … that they had fallen into. 

She longed to ask him what sharing the night together meant to him. Did it mean anything to him at all? Or was it just another simple pleasure for him that he could sample for a few hours and then cast aside when the day began?

Their friendship  was still so new she was afraid of confronting him about it and risking him ending it because he felt she wanted too much. 

Back in the beginning he had frustrated the hell out of her. Once, after she’d crashed a party he was hosting, he had told her that he liked her because she was the only person who dared to call him annoying. She feared what he would think if he knew she no longer found him quite so infuriating.

She’d visited the message boards dedicated to him and his work and had seen the love letters left on the top of the great stone fence that guarded his home. At every event he cajoled her into joining, she encountered loose elbows all too eager to shove her aside so people could slip into place next to him. It made her intimately aware  that he had no shortage of willing lovers available, should he be so inclined. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of his time and thought that their “devotion” to him as his fans meant he owed them pieces of himself. 

The last thing she wanted was for him to think she thought the same as well.

With a sigh she straightened her uniform, peering at herself in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable enough. 

He didn’t owe her an explanation, she mused. Besides, it wasn’t like she was ready for any kind of permanent commitment herself. Her career as a Hunter had just started and she was finally free to just enjoy life as she wanted to. She could walk away at any time herself if it became too much. So why not enjoy whatever he was willing to give her in this brief moment of time they were sharing?

Stepping out of the bathroom, she wandered into the kitchen, unsurprised to find a simple breakfast waiting for her. Rafayel certainly knew his way around the kitchen but it warmed her that he was willing to sacrifice his beauty rest to scrounge up something edible for her before she left. 

Gathering the plate he had set out for her she took it to the couch, laughing softly as Reddie sleepily slipped out from his tiny castle to peer out at her. 

“Good morning.” She greeted, reaching out to press her finger against the side of his tank. 

The dazzling red fish swam up to her lazily, performing his expected little dance to greet her. 

Rafayel snorted as he walked by, settling down in the chair to her right and staring at their little red fish unimpressed as she grabbed a pinch of his food and set a few pieces skittering across the surface as she tried not to stare at him too hard. There was something memorizing about the way he carried himself, a casual elegance and grace she knew she would never be able to master herself.  

“Would you give me a good morning dance if I fed you first thing in the morning?” She asked playfully, glancing at the man at her side. 

Rafayel gave her a dry look as he gently tapped the top of his soft boiled egg, cracking into the delicate shell and skillfully pulling it aside to access the treasure within. “Since I’m the one providing the food, shouldn’t it be you dancing for me?” He mused. 

She laughed and leaned back, scooping up some of the scrambled eggs he’d provided her and shoveling them into her mouth. 

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s company as the sun began to brighten the horizon. She could see the sea from the windows. Waves still roiled restlessly and she felt a cold chill travel down her spine as the memory of the siren’s song echoed in her mind. Tearing her eyes away from the waves, she peered curiously at Rafayel as he set his mostly empty plate aside and picked up one of his sketchbooks. He flipped through it, pausing on a particular image. A frown tugged at his lips as he contemplated it for a long moment before snatching up a pencil and making a few sharp lines across it. 

“Have you ever saved someone who fell overboard from a ship?” She found herself asking, blinking in surprise as the words left her. 

The quick movements of the pencil stilled and she frowned as Rafayel glanced up at her. His head was still tilted downwards, his bangs partially blocking her view of his expression so she couldn’t tell what exactly he thought of her sudden question but she noted the way his eyes hardened, a sign that he was guarded. 

After a tense moment he shrugged, returning to the sketchbook in his lap, though she could tell from the vague strokes that his attention was no longer on the artwork. 

“Probably.” He murmured, noncommittal. 

She chewed her bottom lip. Though his posture seemed relaxed, she had been around him long enough to recognize certain signs. And right now he was definitely giving off a strong aura of “drop it”. She shouldn’t be surprised, she mused. He was always touchy at best when it came to things about his past.

She rubbed her hands together, peering down to watch Reddie as he lazily circled his bowl. “I’ll try to remember that the next time I have that dream.” She murmured. “Maybe it’ll end differently then.”

It was her turn to watch him through her hair and she saw his chin tilt up,  gaze unusually serious as he considered her for a long moment. With a sigh he set the notepad aside and rose, moving to her side. She smiled faintly as an arm wrapped about her and a kiss was pressed to the crown of her head. 

“If you’re ever dumb enough to fall off a ship in a storm,” He drawled, catching her chin with his hand and lifting her face to meet his suddenly teasing gaze, “Rest assured I will definitely save you … if only to make sure you never live it down.”

She snorted and punched at him, laughing as he skipped back, easily dodging her blow. 

“Thanks.” She drawled.

He waved her off lazily as he took up their plates, disappearing back into the kitchen. 

A quick glance at her watch showed that she was still a bit early for work but if she left now she could get off the train a few stations before HQ and jog in. Not the worst way to start her day and maybe it would help clear the last vestiges of the nightmare from her mind. 

Nodding to herself she rose, brushing the crumbs off her pants as she gathered up her keys and phone from the glass dish by the door. “I might be back late,” She called out, glancing back at the empty room. “Don’t wait up. I’ll meet you at the hotel at eight for the premiere.”

Rafayel’s reply was muffled but she caught enough of it to make her smile as she slipped out the door. She took care as she descended the few short marble stairs to the official studio wing. Everything was still cast in early morning shadows and she had to carefully step around a few awkwardly placed boxes. 

There had been some sort of auction recently and now the purchased pieces were being prepared for shipping. She’d caught a glimpse of the invoices carelessly strewn over the desk in the office and been flabbergasted by the prices. She could appreciate the beauty of Rafayel’s work but simply could not comprehend the cost people were willing to pay for it. She’d joked that she would wait for the cheaper poster copies to crop up to decorate her apartment with, earning a well heeled sneer and not so subtle threat that he would absolutely burn her place to the ground if he ever encountered such abominations during his infrequent visits. 

Laughing to herself, she pressed her palm to the electronic security lock on the studio’s entrance, waiting patiently as it considered her prints before sliding the thick steel bolt back and allowing her to exit. 

The crisp morning air wrapped around her, making her grateful for the long sleeves of her hunter’s uniform. It would warm up soon enough, she knew, but for now she took in a deep lungful of cool air, relishing in the slight burn it left in her lungs. 

Autumn was well on its way and she smiled as she slipped through the gated entrance and began the short trek along the sea lined drive that led from Rafayel’s private retreat to the rest of Whitesand Bay. 

The dawn was just beginning to break over the mountains to the East, leaving most of the beach still cast in shadow. The gentle murmur of the waves on her right was a familiar comfort as she began the short walk to the station. 

Smiling to herself she simply enjoyed existing in this moment. The nightmare from before was slowly fading from her mind and she felt her shoulders relaxing as she mentally went through the list of things she hoped to accomplish for the day. Pulling out her phone she pulled up her caseload, flicking through it. 

A Hunter could never truly plan out their day, especially not one in the higher ranking teams but there were some cases she was currently juggling that she wanted to wrap up. 

At the bottom of the list was a case that made her pause. It was designated R73467. Raymond’s case.

The Raymond case had been haunting her, an unsolved puzzle that nagged at the back of her mind, refusing to be put to rest. She had poured over the details time and again, scrutinizing every angle, every bit of information she could drag out of Rafayel and Thomas regarding the cursed painting, yet the pieces refused to fit together. 

She was still missing something there, she was sure of it. But all of the relevant parties had clammed up. 

She frowned slightly, glancing back the way she had come. Memories of the invoices she had seen a few days ago flicked through her mind. How much had Raymond paid for his painting? She wondered. 

She heard the hiss of an approaching train and cursed softly under her breath, picking up her pace to hurry to the station before she missed it. 

The doors were closing as she shimmied between them, earning a disapproving glare from the harried station attendant. Breathing a sigh of relief she dropped down in a seat, watching as the station began to pull out of view. 

Safely on her way, her mind drifted back to the painting of the bloody sea she had encountered nearly a year ago. She didn’t like thinking about it. While most of Rafayel’s work was soothing, if perhaps a little melancholic, there was something about that one that put her on edge. Something separate from the Wanderer that had somehow managed to hide itself inside of it. 

She could remember the moment vividly, standing before the painting in Raymond’s office, the air thick with the unsettling energy of metaflux that seemed to pulse from the canvas itself. The more she had stared at the piece, the more the painting had seemed to flow, to change, transforming into something grotesque, a landscape of twisted shadows and bloody, stormy seas. Out of necessity, the Wanderer had initially captured most of her attention but in the midst of the battle, had glimpsed something else. It had been just a flicker, a shadow in the corner of her eye but it had left a lasting impression. 

In the dark waters of the painting, she had sworn she had seen the shape of a siren, its sleek, sinuous form barely visible beneath the waves. And she had heard it's song, a haunting melody that seemed to burrow into her mind, wrapping around her thoughts and dulling her senses, making her feel like a puppet dancing on invisible strings. 

The song had lingered long after the fight with the Wanderer had ended, a faint, persistent whisper that she couldn’t quite seem to shake off. She hadn’t told anyone about the siren, not even Rafayel. Back then, their relationship had been too new and she had thought him nothing more than some airy, spoiled brat breezing through life with nary a thought for anyone but himself. She had known how crazy it would sound, voicing her concerns about something else being in that painting. Sirens were the stuff of legend, after all, mythical creatures that had no place in the real world. At the time, Rafayel had already been intent on making her work for every scrap of his attention, the last thing she had needed was him thinking she was some kind of lunatic who believed in fairies and water sprites. 

Now, even with Rafayel’s own less than human origins laid bare by an ill timed Ebb Day, she found she still struggled with admitting what she had seen. Sometimes it felt as though acknowledging the siren in his painting would give it power, would invite it back into her life. There was a tiny part of her that frankly didn’t want to know more about it, that preferred to leave this particular mystery unsolved. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that the siren was still watching her, still waiting, its song lurking just beneath the surface of her mind, ready to pull her back into the unforgiving depths. 

Chewing on the corner of her nail she glanced at her phone. 

She should leave it alone. The painting had been handed off to Data Analytics and she and Zayne had destroyed the Wanderer. It had nothing to do with her anymore. 

And yet …

Sighing she opened her messaging app, flicking through the contacts until she came across Thomas’s. 

“How much was the painting Raymond bought? ” She typed. The moment she clicked send she felt a bit foolish.

Thomas had warmed to her over the last year but she knew there were limits, especially when it came to business. He was a truly talented manager who wasn’t afraid to step in to protect his star client when needed. The last thing she needed was to start the day with threats. 

Her phone rang, startling her enough that she nearly dropped it. Thomas’s name flashed across the screen and she sighed as she answered it. 

“Morning, I’m sorry if I woke you.” She apologized, hoping to soothe over whatever annoyance he might have over her bringing that painting up again. 

Across the line Thomas snorted. “Bold of you to assume I have time to sleep at all with that premiere tonight. I’m the one who should be surprised you’re up.”

She laughed, relieved at his slightly teasing tone. “A Hunter’s got to hunt, you know.” She replied. 

From across the line she heard him shuffling some papers around. “I don’t have the exact price of the painting with me since I’m not at the gallery,” Thomas said, redirecting their conversation to the matter at hand. “However, Rafayel could pull it for you from the copies stored at the studio if you needed it.”

She found herself shaking her head, though she knew he couldn’t see it. “No, no.” She replied, “It’s not that important.”

Across the line she heard Thomas pause, undoubtedly considering her request. “Why do you need that information?” He inquired.

She picked absently at her pants. “I … don’t.” She admitted. “I mean, not for the investigation. I just thought … the painting was probably worth a lot, right?”

Thomas’s dry laugh rang out. “You have no idea.” She heard him shift and the creak of a chair as she imagined him sitting down and leaning back. “The painting wasn’t slated for sale.” He continued, “It was just for show and then it was to be returned to the studio for permanent display.”

She frowned slightly. “I remember you saying you had to nag Rafayel to sell it to him, right?”

Thomas hummed in confirmation. “Raymond saw it during a private showing and kicked up a huge fuss at the gallery, basically offering us the Moon for it. We finally settled on a ridiculous price just to get him out of there.”

“Do you think he would want it back?” She asked tentatively. 

The other end of the line was quiet for a long while before Thomas finally sighed. “Raymond? Most definitely. Rafayel? I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

“I see.” She murmured. 

Thomas laughed at her soft reply. “Regardless, Ms. Hunter,” He continued, his voice taking on a mock serious note, “I’m sure Raymond’s lawyers are prepared to demand its return once your investigation is complete. So either way, don’t get too comfortable with it decorating the halls of Hunter HQ.”

She laughed in reply. “I’ll try not to get too attached.”

Seeing her stop coming up she thanked him for his time and stood up to exit. The air was much warmer here in the center of the city and she pushed her sleeves up a bit, exposing her wrists and forearms as she headed out at a brisk pace. 

She hadn’t thought about the painting in a while and Rafayel hadn’t asked about it either. Honestly the only reason she was thinking about it now was because of the faint echo of the siren’s song from her dream. Now that she was more awake she finally recognized where she had heard it before.  

The painting had been in Hunter HQ for nearly a year now with no sign of additional Wanderer activity. Surely Data Analytics would be done with it by now. She should look into having it returned, though maybe she should see if Raymond would be willing to keep it in storage for the time being. If it had been her painting, she wasn’t sure she could sleep well knowing it was lurking in her own home after what had happened. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Such Follies As These

HQ was quiet as she entered but she was hardly the first there. Already the scent of burnt coffee permeated the air and she smiled as she stepped onto the elevator, taking it all in. This had been her dream for so long and it still secretly thrilled her to finally be here, to be accepted by her fellow Hunters and recognized as one of them. 

Stepping out of the elevator, she was surprised to spot a form slumped next to her desk. Xavier’s silver hair had slipped down into his face as he slouched in the office chair behind his empty desk, his chin resting firmly on his chest as he dozed. 

Smiling to herself she pulled out her own chair, lowering herself into it and leaning forward, resting her own chin on her upraised hands as she stared pointedly at his peaceful face. 

As expected, it only took a minute for his slow breathing to hitch, dark lashes lifting as he seemed to sense her gaze. He peered at her sleepy, blue eyes blinking owlishly as he watched her. 

“Morning.” She said cheerfully. 

A slight frown tugged at his lips as he peered around, taking in the mostly empty desks. “You’re early.” He observed, pushing himself upright in the chair and rubbing absently at the back of his head, trying to bring order to the hair that had caught in the fabric of the chair’s back. 

She shrugged, sitting back and letting her hands lower. “Couldn’t sleep. Besides, I wanted to catch up on a few cases this morning before something comes in.”

He nodded, hands patting around until he found his phone. “We’ll have a case later this morning.” He replied absently, bringing up the Hunter messaging app. “People have been reporting strange activity in the industrial district.”

She frowned slightly. “Metaflux?”

He nodded. “I went over and checked the stabilizers in the area last night, they’re all operational. Seems most of the activity is being noticed in late morning and early afternoon.”

Humming she tapped her fingers on the desk, running through the recent cases in that area. She couldn’t recall anything that might account for any Metaflux activity. “Alright. Let me check on something for another case and then we’ll head out.”

Xavier nodded, yawning as his eyes began to slip closed again. 

Laughing softly to herself she stood and made her way back to the elevator, riding it down to the lower levels. Like the floors above the hallways here were still brightly lit, the only thing giving away the fact that they were underground being the lack of windows. Even so, she shivered slightly as she approached the closed and guarded doorway. She hated the phantom feeling of being buried every time she came down here. 

She handed her badge over to the guard, waiting patiently as he scanned it. His dark eyes flickered over her clearance levels before switching to her caseload. “Number?” He asked. 

“R73467.” She supplied, watching as the guard slowly typed in the number. 

A frown crossed his face as the screen changed. “The painting?” He asked, eyes flicking towards her.

She nodded.

“It’s been here for a while.” He mused as he typed something new into the database. “You guys still need it for the investigation?”

She hesitated. “Not really. I just wanted to take another look at it while I still had the chance.”

The guard hummed, typing away for a long moment before she heard the click of the door lock sliding open. “Good luck.” He sent her on her way absently. “It’s in block 36.”

Nodding she slipped through the door, pausing at the electronic sign at the crossway. Behind her she heard the door close with a frightful finality, locking her in with the Hunters’ collection of suspicious and Metaflux infused artifacts. 

Though the hallways were dead quiet she reminded herself she wasn’t alone. The labyrinthian storage unit was patrolled at all hours by guards and researchers responsible for extracting the secrets each item held. Still, she couldn’t help feeling like things were watching her. Malevolent things that peered out from the inanimate objects sealed away behind thick acrylic. The more dangerous items were trapped behind fields fed by dimly glowing protocores, giving them an unworldly glow.

She found block 36 easily enough. It was one of the less heavily guarded sections and she sighed in relief that she didn’t have to track down someone to shut off the protocore protection fields to access what she needed. 

Rafayel’s painting wasn’t alone in the block but it was the thing that immediately caught her attention first. Though it had been hung at eye level rather than displayed proudly higher up as it had been at Raymond’s, it demanded attention with its bold lines and layered paint. 

Hung around it were other items. Mostly pictures with a couple of knick-knacks in various states of disrepair. She knew that some Wanderers were prone to hiding within things that humans granted sentimental value so she supposed it shouldn’t have surprised her. Though she very much wished the teddy bear that seemed to watch her with too bright button eyes had been housed somewhere else. 

Shaking her head she stepped closer to the painting, focusing her attention on it. 

She hadn’t really gotten a very good look at it before it had been brought here. Raymond had hung it high on his wall, a couch keeping the viewer from getting too close. She vaguely remembered a pane of glass covering the piece but that seemed gone now. 

Now it hung unadorned, all of the careful craftwork that had gone into it bared to the viewer with no obstacles in between. She leaned closer, studying the way the blues, blacks, and reds swirled and mixed together. She recognized the way Rafayel liked to mix light and shadow, her eyes following the way he used the natural dips and curves of the pooled paint to create the patterns. 

It was definitely his work. 

And yet … it felt different than what she had seen him make over the last six months in his studio. Yes, she recognized the techniques, could even imagine the way he had held the brush for this part and that. But there was something off about this work. Something …. almost vicious about it where his other works seemed more serene and whimsical. 

She just couldn’t imagine him creating it. 

Leaning back, she let her eyes take in the whole painting rather than its parts, her index finger tracing her chin as she contemplated it. She tried to picture him working on it. It seemed a bit too large for his easels. Had he painted it lying on the ground? Or hanging on the wall? 

The wall, she decided, eyes taking in the almost imperceptible downward tilt the dried paint had. A direction that could have only come from the gentle tug of gravity as it dried. He’d had the canvas tacked to the wall. She let her eyes drift closed, trying to imagine the scene. She’d seen him work on the wall before, indeed he even had a half finished piece hanging there now. The current piece was calming and beautiful. Flowers … or some kind of sea plants that flared out beautifully in a gentle current. Little bursts of color among dark azure runes. 

He didn’t work on it exclusively, instead gravitating towards it here and there as he worked on other pieces. Still, she could picture him standing before it, shoulders relaxed, head cocked as he lazily added color to the canvas. She could perfectly recall the faint, self satisfied smile that tugged at his lips as he worked, admiring his own talent as he brought his fantasies to life. 

 And yet … she couldn’t seem to make those memories translate into what she would imagine he looked like when working on this piece. These weren’t the gentle, whimsical strokes she was used to. She doubted he had been so relaxed when working on it. This piece before her set her on edge, though she couldn’t figure out why. This piece made her imagine that too beautiful face twisted with something dark, his fingers stiff as he bullied thick paint into the shapes of angry waves. She imagined the creator looking just as ominous and dangerous as the finished project before her. 

Sighing she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image. Maybe she was thinking about this too seriously. Maybe Rafayel had just wanted to try something new and then abandoned this style of painting after creating this one piece. 

Maybe it had nothing to do with him at all.

“ I’ve only used this batch of coral stone pigment for one painting. ”

They’d gone over this path already, no matter how much Rafayel had griped and groaned over it. He’d mentioned before about hearing things after getting a papercut. Still, Wanderers hadn’t seemed to be able to influence him despite their run-ins with them. As much as she would like to think that whatever was lurking in the coral stones had influenced him into make this painting, she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. 

Sighing, she reached out, carefully running her fingers along the rough edges of the paint. The Wanderer that had infested it was long gone but she couldn’t help but feel there was something else there. Lurking below the surface. Watching.

Cold water.

Can’t breathe. 

A flash of something deadly in the darkness below. Glittering blue scales sliding through dark water just out of reach.

Calling her down to her death. 

Telling her to just let go.

She trembled as her nightmare suddenly closed in around her, threatening to blot out the waking world. 

A sharp, bright flash of pain pierced the dreams that threatened to overcome her, forcing her back to reality. She jerked her hand back with a soft gasp. Her eyes flickered down and she watched as a bright jewel of blood bead up from the pad of her ring finger. What had cut her?

Her eyes wandered back to the painting, searching for what she could have possibly caught her finger against. She noticed a shadow in the sea, just beyond the ship that she had never noticed before. Frowning she leaned closer, trying to make out its shape. Somewhere behind her she swore she heard her name whispered in the wind. 

She was halfway into the hallway before she realized she had even fled. 

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, she pressed her palm against the cool metal wall, willing her erratically beating heart to slow down and find the proper rhythm. 

What the hell was that? She wondered, peering back over her shoulder. 

The painting still hung serenely, beautiful and terrible at the same time. The shadow she thought she had seen was gone. 

Thomas had mentioned that Raymond’s lawyers would demand its return. 

She couldn’t fathom why anyone would want it back.

******

Rafayel stared down at the drawing in his hands, frowning at what he had created. 

Chaotic lines had come together to create the illusion of a ghost ship being tossed by dark waves. It wasn’t fully formed, more mist than physical manifestation but it didn’t have to be for him to recognize it. Millenia had gone by since this particular shadow had dared venture into his territory but it would be many millenia more before time successfully erased it from his memory. 

With a sigh he tore the page out of the sketchbook, long fingers folding the thick paper into a crude ball, hiding what it contained from his sight. He tossed it away carelessly, the scent of smoke and ash invading his senses as he turned, peering out the great windows restlessly. 

Why that dream? Rafayel wondered. 

Of all the things her subconscious could dredge up … of all the scarce moments they’d shared together … why would she dream of that damned ship?

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as half recalled memories threatened to bubble up. 

The moment had meant nothing to him back then. Simply another ship venturing too far into his territory, daring his temper and resolve. 

Hell, he hadn’t even needed to be there. Others of his own kind had already spotted the intruder and had been prepared to lure the sailors into the depths of the sea with their song. He’d just joined them out of sheer boredom and viciousness. 

Sighing, he rose, tossing the pencil onto the table with enough force to make it roll into Reddie’s tank. The little red fish flared its fins as the water sloshed, making its displeasure known. He rolled his eyes, ignoring the indignant little Flammula. 

The house was peacefully quiet and he enjoyed the silence as he made his way back into the bedroom, stripping the dark sheets from the bed. They would remind her too much of the dream, so they had to go. 

He could still feel the warmth of her body cradled in his arms, the scent of her hair still clinging to his own skin. He had been asleep, drifting in a comforting haze of quiet darkness, but he hadn’t had any dreams of his own. Indeed he hadn’t had any dreams for awhile now, and he would continue not to have any dreams as long as she lay in his arms, unconsciously trusting him to protect her while she slept. It was a quirk of Lemurian nature, one that kept them both safe in those vulnerable hours of the night, as the male lost the need to enter into the deeper dreamstate while in the presence of their mate. 

He was fine with it, honestly. His dreams of late had been nothing but constant condemnations from the people he’d abandoned when he had rewritten the prophecy and the furious god that rained eternal curses down upon him for his betrayal. To give those up in order to hold his lost bride once again in his arms night after night was no hardship. 

Rafayel smirked as he gathered up the discarded cloth. How poor Astra must be seething to have lost that final connection between them.

He dragged the dark sheets down the hall and tossed them into the sprawling fireplace, tapping at his phone as the sheets first smoldered, then burned. New lighter colored ones were easily ordered and he was pleased with the promise of delivery by the end of the day. 

Satisfied that the offending item was nothing more than ash on the wind, he made his way back downstairs, glaring at the empty boxes still waiting to be packed. He really should pull the paintings that had sold at the very least so that the workers could begin wrapping them up but he found he was restless and irritated. 

His chosen mate had woken up frightened. Hell she had practically fled from their nest, distress still clinging to her scent. That bothered him on a primal level. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now, which irritated him even more. She would probably stay away for a couple of days, sleeping at that damned apartment crammed into the middle of the noisy city, well out of his reach and protection. 

His sharp nails dug into soft wood and he glanced down, frowning as he pulled Lemurian claws that had slipped through his human glamour from the shipping container at his side. Damnit, he was allowing himself to get too worked up over this. Cursing himself silently he stormed out of the studio, snatching his keys as he passed. He needed to clear his head and get his instincts back under control. 

Yanking open the door he slid behind the wheel, smiling indulgently as the car started up with a powerful roar. 

He sighed, forcing his hands to relax on the steering wheel as the road narrowed and he left the city behind. He had no destination in mind, he simply needed some space to burn out the uneasy energy that was building within him and threatening to destroy the thin veil of human civility that he had been carefully crafting all these years. 

*****

She hurried out of the elevator, cursing quietly as she jabbed her finger at the electronic lock to her apartment. The eternally touchy thing flashed red, pretending it couldn’t verify her credentials and she resisted the urge to punch it. 

Damn it she was going to be so late!

Forcing herself to slow down and take a deep breath, she tried again. She did her best to hold her arm steady while the electronic eye considered her information. 

“Come on, come on !” She hissed, glaring menacingly at it.

Finally it blinked green and she heard the click of the lock disengaging. 

“Finally!” She shoved through the door, unclipping her weapons from their holsters and dropping them on the kitchen counter as she rushed by. 

The event was scheduled to start at eight, it was already slightly past seven. She mentally tallied the time it was going to take for her to finish up and get on the train and scowled. Even if she did her makeup and hair on the train there was no way she was going to make it all the way uptown before eight. 

Cursing, she fished her phone out of her pocket, blind dialing as she shucked off her uniform. 

“Well if it isn’t my darling Bodyguard.” Rafayel’s voice drawled on the other line, sending a shiver down her spine as she hopped around, trying to kick off her pants as she struggled to the bureau to find the last pair of untorn hose she had squirreled away for an occasion like this. 

“Listen, Rafayel, I just got off work. I’m not going to make the next train so I’m going to be a little late …”

“Of course you are.” His soft laugh cut her off and she straightened suspiciously. 

“... you’re outside aren’t you?” She demanded, pulling back the curtain to peer out at the dark street.

“No, fortunately for you I’m stuck in traffic on the bridge. You’ve got ten minutes before I get there.”

She hung up, tossing the phone onto the bed as she began to wrestle the hose on. Damn it, that meant they were both going to be late. While it warmed her to know he was willing to go out of his way to get her, it irked her that she was going to be the reason he was late to his own premier. No one would care that some awkward Hunter he seemed to favor would be late but for the star of the show? 

She dug the deep maroon dress she’d bought for events like this out of the back of her closet, giving it a good shake to make sure it was as unwrinkled as she could make it. The movement made the little silver rhinestones stitched into the fabric shimmer. It made her smile, reminding her of a sea of stars glittering in a slowly dispersing nebula. 

She’d saved up for months to afford it but it was worth it. She had loved it from the moment she had laid eyes on it and had been beyond grateful that the store had been willing to set it aside for her while she worked to pay it off. She hoped Rafayel liked it as much as she did. She’d even done a little manipulation of her own with his closet the day before, slyly convincing him that the deep crimson vest would go better with his suit than the emerald green one he had originally picked out. 

Chuckling to herself, she shimmed the dress on, scowling over the hidden zipper that always seemed to catch in the middle, mocking her attempts at pulling it up before finally relenting. Satisfied that all was in order she glanced in the mirror, contemplating her hair and face. 

She and Xavier had encountered a smaller Wanderer over in the industrial district earlier. It hadn’t been big enough to account for the Metaflux readings they’d gotten but they’d dealt with it anyway. Despite it's size, it had managed to get off a couple of decent swipes at her and she frowned, poking at the trio of scratch marks it had left on her shoulder. 

Tugging the dress up a bit mostly hid them. Since she didn’t have time to work some magic with makeup she supposed it would have to do. Besides, these events always had weird lighting designed to highlight the artwork rather than the audience. Hopefully no one would notice. 

She peered out the window, noticing the brightly colored sports car that looked terribly out of place among her neighbors' more sedate, cheaper working cars double parked outside of the main gate. Rafayel was leaning against the car, tapping away at something in his hands as he waited. 

Probably warning Thomas he was going to be late because of her … again . Came the guilty thought.

Snatching up her makeup bag and heels she slipped on a pair of worn sneakers, hurrying out to meet him. 

He glanced up at her approach, surprise flickering over his face as he watched her. Before she could ask about it, he glanced down at her feet, a faint smile tugged up the corners of his mouth as he took in her choice of footwear. 

“I have better shoes.” She pointed out before he could say anything, shoving the ridiculous heels in her hand out and shaking them pointedly at him.

Rafayel laughed, slipping his phone in his pocket as he held the door open for her. “Wear the sneakers if you want.” He replied with a small shrug. “I couldn’t care less about your feet.”

He closed the door on her retort. Huffing, she flipped down the sunvisor, peering at her pale complexion in the mirror. She winced slightly, wishing she had more time and skill to try to make up her face. She’d always felt more than a little out of place at these events, drowning in a sea of jewels she couldn’t hope to afford and perfect faces that she couldn’t match. 

Her hand hovered over her bare, unadorned neck and she sighed. Her next purchase should be a necklace, she supposed. Something to make her seem a little less plain. 

Rafayel had settled into the driver’s seat at her side, glancing at her for a moment before starting up the car. “The dress is nice.” He offered. 

She smiled, laughing softly at the way he pretended to be too focused on the traffic to meet her eyes. “Thanks. I liked the color.”

He hummed softly in response.

Pulling out her mascara and lipstick she did her best to try to touch up as they made their way uptown. Traffic was heavy and they seemed to crawl the whole way. She was painfully aware of the increasing amounts of muffled notifications coming from Rafayel’s pocket but he pointedly ignored his phone, so she kept her growing guilt to herself. 

Turning she peered out the window, watching the bright lights slowly pass by. People walked together, some with bags hanging from their wrists, others engrossed with the phones in their hands. The further uptown they went the more stylish and expensive everything and everyone looked. Her fingers plucked at the skirt of her dress and she peered down at it, no longer seeing beautiful silver stars in a vast nebula but rather cheap rhinestones sewn into imitation fabric. 

At her side she was aware of a faint sparkle at Rafayel’s hips as he shifted in the seat, turning his head to contemplate a lane change. She didn’t have to ask to know that the tiny jewels sewn into his own clothing were the real thing, as was the sinfully soft fabric that drapped his form just so. 

Biting her lip she forced her gaze back at the window. 

What the hell was she doing? She scolded herself, not for the first time. This wasn’t her world. Rafayel didn’t seem to mind her tagging along, had even playfully insisted on it as her duty as his “bodyguard” but it seemed all it was doing was messing up his carefully crafted life with her bumbling presence. 

She sighed, allowing her hands to fist on her lap. This had to stop , she decided. She’d go to this one last premier and then put her foot down. Rafayel didn’t need her dragging him down at these events. She belonged to the world of mass produced convenience food, kitschy outdoor festivals, and cheap fashion that she didn’t feel bad ruining.

“You keep scowling like that and you’re going to start giving me wrinkles.” Rafayel drawled at her side, suddenly cutting the silence with attempted humor.

She glanced at him and then pointed at the clock. “Thomas is going to eat both of us for dinner. You should have just gone on without me.”

Rafayel gave her a dry look. “And face those sharks alone? Please.”

She shook her head, returning her gaze to the City beyond the windows. She could make out the approaching hotel. They were too far away yet for her to read the glowing notice boards out front but she recognized a few of the designs they displayed. A couple of news vans were parked out front, making her wince. Hopefully they weren’t filming for the upcoming 9 o’clock news segments. 

Rafayel expertly darted into the hotel’s parking garage, following the attendant’s directions to the spot that had been set aside for him. Pushing open the door, she kicked off the comfortable sneakers and swung her bare feet out, fumbling with the clasps on her heels. Rafayel came around to her side and she opened her mouth to protest when he suddenly kneeled down, snatching the heels from her grasp. 

“Your pants …” she protested as he expertly lifted her foot, slipping the heel on. 

“Will be fine.” He drawled, his clever fingers easily working the tiny silver buckles to secure the shoe to her foot. 

She huffed but kept any additional protests to herself as secured the other shoe. Rising up he absently brushed bits of concrete dust from his knees before offering her his hand and slowly pulling her upright. He paused as she took a step forward, twisting her foot a bit to make sure her shoes were secured enough that they wouldn’t suddenly slip off or shift and cause her to stumble. 

Assured that she wouldn’t fall and make a fool of herself she followed him to the elevator. He peered at his phone for a moment before choosing a number. As the door closed, she caught sight of their reflection together in the polished metal. 

His vest matched her dress, just as she had hoped and it brought a small smile to her face. She saw his reflection glance down at her, a bit of curiosity raising his brow. Laughing softly she glanced up at him, swaying slightly to playfully bump her shoulder into his. “Color manipulation.” She explained, poking a finger into his side over the vest. 

He snorted, catching the offending hand in his and bringing it up to nip at her fingers. 

“This is going to be so boring.” She teased, pulling her hand back to safety.

He rolled his eyes and then reached out, wrapping an arm about her waist and pulling her more firmly against him. “You have no idea.” He agreed.

She laughed, allowing him to tuck her under his arm as the elevator continued its ascent. 

When it finally opened, it was like it opened to a whole other world. 

Gasping she stepped forward, eyes darting around as she took in the almost mystical atmosphere. The lights were low, casting deep shadows about the floor, but high above their heads carefully hidden LEDs glowed, giving off the illusion of being underwater with the setting sun illuminating the surface of the water above. 

She didn’t notice Rafayel suddenly stiffing at her side as he peered up, taking in the effect. 

*****

He’d forgotten about the design plans for this exhibit. 

Nervously Rafayel glanced down, alert for any sign that the young woman at his side was reminded of her ill timed nightmare from this morning. Fortunately she seemed relaxed, though he could make out the slight quiver of delight in her shoulders as she stepped out into the room. 

He followed her silently, watching as the carefully crafted shadows crept up her legs, obscuring them as she drifted further into the great hallway. 

Before them was the main exhibition room, beyond it would be separate smaller rooms, all designed to mimic the experience of a diver exploring some long lost ruins. 

Her eyes suddenly darted to a pair of ceramic plates carefully displayed along the wall and she made a delighted sound as she reached back, absently grabbing his hand to drag him over for a closer look at them. 

He found himself smiling, eyes fixed on her face as she dipped low, peering at the designs he’d painted on the plates. He didn’t need to look at them to know which of the pieces they were. They were probably some of the more unremarkable pieces in this exhibit but honestly, he hadn’t made them for the judgmental critics or fawning fans. These, along with a few other items he’d scattered about, he had made for just one viewer, and it pleased him to see her joy in discovering them. 

“Oh my god, is that Reddie ?” She asked, pointing excitedly at the fierce little red fish leading an army of smaller ones that fanned about the edges of the plate. On the plate behind a single blue fish followed, allowing the red one to take the lead. 

Her amber eyes sparkled as she peered up at him, excitement lighting her face and making his heart clench painfully in his chest. 

He snorted, playfully crossing his arms in indignation. “Please. Do you really think I’d put that scrawny piece of fish bait on a priceless piece of work?” He teased her.

She stuck her tongue out at him, making his laugh at her audacity. 

“I’ll have you know Reddie is a handsome, dapper little fish worthy of recognition.” She declared, lifting her chin regally as she stared up at him in mock seriousness. “And don’t you forget it.” She finished, poking him firmly in the chest. 

He captured the offending finger, pulling her hand up to brush a kiss across her knuckles, enjoying the way her eyes widened slightly and she ineffectively tried to tug her hand back.

“I’ll try to remember it.” He replied solemnly, turning her to direct her through the door and into the main room. 

Even in the almost total darkness he was recognized immediately and he had to release his mate’s hand, allowing her to drift away from his side as he forced himself to smile and greet the donors for the event. He replied to their platitudes vaguely, keeping part of his attention on the smaller form as she drifted from one piece to the other, reading the plaques and peering curiously at the works. 

Most of the exhibit was sculpture based or paintings done on three dimensional medium, hence the illusion of exploring a lost civilization. It was a new direction for his work and though the growing crowd demanding his attention were all too eager to let him know their thoughts on this novel direction, he only wanted to know hers. 

At one point he noted Thomas’s familiar form making its way towards his companion and he breathed a sigh of relief, allowing his attention to redirect itself back towards the press team trying to get a few answers out of him for their write ups of the premier. It didn’t take long for their questions to become repetitive and with the specter of boredom beginning to rear its ugly head, he broke away from the crowd, brushing off their desperate attempts to recapture his attention as he drifted towards one of the side rooms where he had seen the pair disappear earlier. 

He paused in the doorway, smiling softly as he watched his young companion nod solemnly, panic evident in her eyes as she tried desperately to follow whatever nonsense Thomas was spouting about one of the larger paintings in the room. Well aware of his former rival’s tendency to overanalyze, he decided to take pity on her. Drifting forward he startled her by wrapping his hands about her small waist, pulling her back slightly against his larger form. 

At their side Thomas immediately tensed, his gaze slashing over to rebuke whoever had dared to interrupt them. Rafayel met his gaze with a wolfish grin, earning a snort as the other man stepped back, giving him room to join their private viewing. 

“You did the interviews?” Thomas inquired, folding his arms and fixing him with a firm glare. 

Rafayel lifted his hand, waving at him airly. “I did enough. They can make up the rest.”

He peered down at the smaller woman before him, winking playfully. “I even played nice with the donors. You should be proud of me.”

She laughed as Thomas shook his head. “I guess that means I need to go run damage control then.” 

He chuckled as Thomas slipped away, leaving them alone before the painting. Rafayel watched as she peered up at it. “Thomas says this is a rendition of ‘a new life’”. 

He shrugged. “Or it's a bunch of leftover paint I smeared on a canvas at 2am to get him to stop harassing me about what we were going to put in this spot.”

She gasped. “You didn’t!”

He laughed, turning her towards the doorway that led to another room. “The amount of faith you have in me is adorable.” He murmured, resisting the urge to bury his face in her dark hair.

He scanned the room, quickly locating the piece he wanted her to see. Satisfied that it was where he had told the designers to place it he nudged her towards it, followed along behind her like a silent shadow, delighting in the way she paused at each piece, giving it a few moments of her time. He had no illusions that she was ascribing deep meaning to them, that simply wasn’t in her nature, but he did appreciate that she seemed content to simply exist in the moment and give his work careful consideration and observation. 

Sometimes she asked him about this or that. Sometimes he’d give her an answer, sometimes he would simply shrug. He may be the creator but he was content with letting the viewer form their own opinions. 

Finally she came to the piece he had created specifically for her and he paused, rocking back slightly on his heels while he watched her face as she looked it over. 

He’d spent hours at the botanical garden, carefully seeking to recreate the delicate sapphire petals of the reborn flower he’d asked her to name. It still wasn’t perfect but he’d accepted the flaws, for the flower itself wasn’t a perfect recreation of its ancestor either. At the edge of each delicate petal tiny droplets of water, crafted from carefully casted glass dangled, sparkling in the faint light as the vibrations of nearby footsteps shook them. They looked like they could break free at any moment, giving the whole sculpture a delightful fragility. Hidden among the petals at the top a pair of butterflies rested, wings spread as they readied themselves for whatever future journey lay ahead of them.

At his side his chosen mate was silent for a long while, simply studying the piece. 

What will you do in the last moments of your life? He had asked her once over a garden bed of these very flowers.

I would solve as many unanswered mysteries as I can . She had declared. 

The answer had been so uniquely her it had made his heart ache. 

With a shuddering sigh she glanced up at him, a faint smile full of emotion ghosting over her face before she turned and moved away from it. She did not tell him what she thought of the piece and he did not ask. But in his heart he knew it had been a success. 

Plucking his phone from his pocket he pulled up the event’s app. A few flicks and a confirmation override later caused the little electronic sign under the piece’s name to flash “Sold”. 

Satisfied, he allowed his companion to pick their path through the remaining rooms. Occasionally others would approach him but he remained aloof, making it clear he was done with their distractions. 

In the final room the crowd had finally thinned enough to give them space. The items here were less desirable to the guests, items from the gallery’s permanent collection that were not for sale or remnants from previous exhibits the organizers thought would fit the theme. Most of the attendees were here to either buy or mingle with those who had the money to do so, meaning this room had little value to either. 

He allowed himself to drift closer to the smaller form of his mate, his hand resting comfortably against the small of her back as she leaned against him. Her energy was beginning to wane, though she tried desperately to hide it from him, and he knew it would be time for them to take their leave soon. Oh, she’d try to insist he stay while she stumbled out in the cold night for that ridiculous train and he’d even let her save face by pretending to consider it before coming up with his own ridiculous excuse to leave as well. 

Either way he didn’t want her leaving without him tonight. If she left alone she’d take the train back to her apartment, collapsing in exhaustion and leaving her vulnerable to nightmares that were more real than she knew. He grit his teeth, trying to push down the feral anger at the thought of her tossing and turning, trapped in dreams while he was banished from her nest. 

No, he mused, better they leave together so he at least had a chance of taking her back to his place for the rest of the evening. 

He became aware of the approaching scent of one of his own kind before he noticed the halting footsteps and stiffened, watching as his companion continued onwards unaware that he had paused. He turned, baring his teeth slightly as he searched out the one who dared approach him. 

He found the other quickly enough, like recognized like after all. At his glance she drifted out of the meager crowd hesitantly, peering at him with surprisingly bright green eyes. 

He didn’t recognize the willowy form at all, though he supposed some might consider her charming. She was tall enough that she should have stood out in the crowd but her shoulders had a hunched quality to them that made her look smaller. Tanned hands twisted together, fingers clenching and unclenching as she crept closer. Her hair was bound in a ponytail, simple and little bit sloppy, making him wonder just how much experience she actually had blending in among the humans.

“ Astrali …” she murmured, her gaze dipping down as she bowed her head, the closest thing she could do to mimic the required show of fealty of one of his priestesses greeting their god. 

His gaze flicked to the inside of her bare forearms, noting the silvery remains of a scar that ringed her thin arm, bisecting the otherwise unbroken skin and hissed softly, recognizing it for what it was. How could he not? He’d long ago lost count of how many times he had personally carved that design into his chosen followers.  

Disgusted with both himself and the brief memory of that particular ceremony he turned away to glare out across the dark room, searching for anyone who might be watching their exchange. 

“I warned you all to stay away from me.” He growled low, violet gaze slashing back to glare at her in reproach. 

He watched her throat flutter as she swallowed, thin hands pressed against her chest as she hovered before him. Everything about her radiated unease and it set his teeth on edge. He desperately didn’t want her here. Not now, not so close to his unaware mate. 

“I’m sorry, Astrali …”

“ Stop calling me that .” He snarled, leaning closer to her as his voice lowered. 

Green eyes widened and she shrank back away from him. Her scent was pleading, with more than a hint of placating. It made him wrinkle his nose and pull away from her. Peering down at the nervous form he wracked his brain, trying to remember who she was. She was one of his former priestesses, had to be with that mark and the fact that she still remembered him. But there had been so many over the years and time had since dulled some of his memory. No matter how he tried, he simply couldn’t place a name to her face. 

Regardless, he had nothing to do with that former life anymore and he resented its intrusion now.

“Leave me.” He ordered, glancing over his shoulder to search out his suddenly absent mate. He found her hovering by the door, watching him patiently. She probably thought he was dealing with some fan.

Fingers brushed against his sleeve and he felt his back stiffen, sharp teeth digging into his tongue as he slowly turned back, glaring at the person that had dared laid a hand on him. 

“You’re lucky there are witnesses.” He hissed, snatching his arm back. 

To his frustration she followed his movement, keeping her grip on his sleeve, green eyes hardening with resolve. “You need to come back.” The offending priestess insisted, tugging ever so slightly on his sleeve. “Our people …”

“Need to rewrite their own story, as I have done with mine.” He snarled, reaching out to grasp her wrist firmly. He squeezed, his fingers cruelly pressing upon the tendons in her hand, making her fingers spasm before releasing him. 

“Don’t show yourself before me again.” He ordered shoving her back, earning a few quick glances from curious passersby. Ignoring them he turned on his heel, angrily straightening his cuffs as he stormed away. 

His anger sparked hotter when his mate hesitated by the door, not following him immediately as she glanced back at the other woman who was watching him storm away. 

“Come on.” He growled, catching his mate’s wrist in his hand, forcing himself to tug gently, mindful of the ridiculous heels she’d chosen to wear. 

To his relief she followed, shadowing him out of the exhibit and into the elevator. As the door closed he took a few moments, breathing in and out deeply to expel the other’s scent from his lungs. Fury reflected back at him in the mirrored glass and he tsked, willing himself to calm. This wasn’t the place or time to lose his anger. Later … he would deal with it later. 

She kept her silence, simply watching quietly as he stalked back to the car, working to shed his annoyance. Shrugging off his jacket he tossed it into the backseat, hoping the distance would keep the other Lemurian’s offending smell away from him. 

He had the key in the ignition before he realized that the seat next to him was empty. Scowling he hit the window button, watching as the tinted glass slid down to reveal his mate’s carefully guarded face. 

“Get in the car.” He urged. 

She frowned, cocking her head as she studied him for a long moment. “I can take the train …”

His temper snapped.

“ Get. In. The. Damn. Car. ” He snarled before he could stop himself. 

 She pulled back slightly, her far too beguiling amber colored gaze flashing warningly at his tone. He closed his eyes, mentally berating himself. 

She was not the one he was pissed off at and she did not deserve his temper nor would she stand such undeserved treatment from anyone, let alone him. 

Forcing in a deep breath he pried his eyes back open. “Please.” He amended, peering back up at her. 

He watched silently as she cocked her head slightly, considering his … request. It pricked his temper, sending the already crazed beast he was desperately trying to force back down into another bout of twisting fury but he forced himself to wait. To let it be her choice. 

Finally, blessedly, he heard the click of the door handle and relief  washed over him, banking the flames of temper. Sighing he leaned forward, crossing his arms across the steering wheel and pressing his forward against them as he listened to her settle in. 

As the loud click of the seat belt rang out he pushed himself back upright, staring out the front window. 

“Sorry.” He murmured. “I just …”

He stopped, unsure of how to continue. She wasn’t ready yet for any explanation he could give her. Hell, part of him hoped she’d never be ready. He just was so damned tired of the past trying to dictate his actions. 

He blinked as a warm weight came to rest against his arm. Peering down he watched as her fingers closed about his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Immediately he felt his heart still and the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. He reached out with his free hand, covering hers for a long moment. 

“It was a nice exhibit.” She murmured, giving him an easy out, which he was eternally grateful for. 

Smiling he nodded, reluctantly freeing himself from her grip as he started the car. “Yeah, it was.” He agreed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

This Silence that Surrounds Us

They drove in silence. Rafayel didn’t ask her if she wanted to go back to her apartment and she didn’t protest when he pulled onto the highway that would take them to Whitesand Bay. She supposed it was a bit selfish of him to simply assume she wanted to go back to his place with him but, with his emotions clearly running high, she was willing to indulge him. For now.

She hadn’t heard what had passed between him and the other woman. By the time she had realized he was no longer at her side she had moved out of hearing range. But she’d felt her heart drop, watching the other woman timidly reach out, catching his sleeve in her hands as she peered up at him with a look of pure devotion. She’d looked like she would have flung herself into fire if Rafayel had asked it of her. 

And Rafayel had responded to that devotion with anger and scorn. 

She peered at her own reflection in the dark glass, troubled. Her own emotions concerning their rapidly developing relationship were changing. Were urging her to seek out more. How much longer, she wondered, until he decided she was asking too much of him as well? How long until those beautiful eyes of his turned cold and distance when they peered down at her? How long until she was also pushed away ... left behind when what she wanted from him, from this burgeoning relationship, was more than the free spirited artist she was slowly losing her heart to was willing to give?

Fingers brushed over her thigh, dragging her out of her thoughts. She peered down curiously at the hand that danced along the edge of her dress, mock scowling when those too talented fingers slipped past the cloth to brush against her bare leg. 

“Stop!” She protested, laughing softly as she slapped the offending hand away. “Eyes on the road, buddy.” She demanded. 

To his credit, Rafayel’s gaze was firmly fixed on the road, giving her a breathtaking view of his classic profile. The street lights ran over his perfectly crafted features, lingering on the upturned corners of his lips. She relaxed a little, happy to see that his face was settling back into more familiar playful expressions. 

She didn’t know what the other woman had done to ignite his temper so quickly but she was glad that he seemed to be relaxing. 

Maybe she would ask him about it later.

They pulled onto the quiet driveway before his home and she kicked off the heels that had been pinching her feet for the last few hours before fishing around in the back seat, looking for her discarded sneakers. She cursed softly, realizing that they had somehow slid under the front seat. Too exhausted to bother with fishing them out, she slipped out of the passenger side, yelping as Rafayel intercepted her. He took the heels from her like a gentleman, carrying them with one hand while tucking her under his arm with the other. They bypassed the main gate, choosing instead to walk along the small pathway that lined the worn wall to the back. 

The cobblestone, still warm from the afternoon sun, felt heavenly on her aching feet. Peering out over the ocean waters that glittered brightly in the moonlight she felt herself relaxing, the quiet evening helping to erase the troubles of the day. The ocean was calm tonight, the waves lazy and slow. With a grin, she playfully nudged Rafayel to the side, knocking him off balance just long enough to break free of his grasp before sprinting down to where the waves lapped at the sand. 

He followed her slowly, his soft laugh drifting to her on the wind as she padded out into the low waves, letting the water run over her aching feet. The water soaked her pantyhose but the coolness soothed the cramps in the arches of her feet. Grinning mischievously she watched as Rafayel slowly drifted closer, though mindful of his own shoes and staying back from the edges of the water. When he paused a few feet away she kicked out, laughing as he deftly danced away from the spray of brine. 

He scowled at her as she danced teasingly just out of reach, waiting to see if he'd be foolish enough to move closer for another try. To her frustration, he staid just out of range, refusing to be baited into her trap. Finally she gave in, stomping back to his side, allowing him to tuck her under his arm as they made their way back up to the house.

“I had fun tonight.” She murmured, peering up at him. 

She saw the corners of his eye pinch, his smile dimming ever so slightly before he shook it off and shrugged. “I’m sure Reddie will appreciate your critique of his piece. He posed for hours just so I could capture him in all of his glory.”

She laughed, pushing him to the side playfully. “I can’t believe you painted our fish. Please tell me it sold for millions.”

He reached out, dragging her back to his side as they reached the back gate. “God I hope not. My bank will be panic calling all night if it actually cost me that much.”

She hesitated, peering up at him. “You didn’t buy it, did you?”

He gave her a cheeky grin as he unlocked the gate, holding it open for her. 

She sighed, flouncing past him as he followed her with a predatory grin. 

“You’re ridiculous.” She declared, stripping off the soaked panty hose and dropping them into a nearby bin. “Whoever heard of an artist buying his own work?”

He shrugged, setting her shoes down on the counter. “It happens. But, if it makes you feel better, that particular piece wasn’t for sale. It’s appearing as part of my personal collection.”

She blinked up at him, a smile brightening her face. “Aw, I knew you loved that fish!” She crowed, shaking a finger in his face teasingly. 

He huffed, scooping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. “I must love something, but who said anything about it being that fish?” He drawled, leaning over her until her back began to arch slightly. 

He thoroughly enjoyed the way her eyes widened and the bright flush that fanned across her cheeks as she pushed uselessly against his chest. 

“You’re so ridiculous.” She murmured, dipping her chin to hide how he had flustered her. 

He chuckled, loosening his grip enough to let her shift in his arms, hiding her face to the side as she struggled to regain her composure. As she did, Rafayel spared a brief moment to cast out his senses, taking a long moment to listen to the silence. He took in the relaxed atmosphere that surrounded them and a delicate sniff revealed nothing out of the ordinary. 

Satisfied that their nest was as it had been when he’d left it he allowed his mate to slip free from his grasp. She immediately made her way to the stairs that led up to his private rooms above and he followed her quietly, letting her set the pace. 

Inside, she dodged his wandering hands, making a bee line for the bathroom which she promptly locked him out of. He snorted, listening to the creak of pipes as she powered up the shower. 

With a sigh he fished out his phone, retreating to the living room. He pulled up a familiar contact, uncaring of the late hour as he clicked on it. He had calmed but there was still enough lingering fury to make him just a little bit cruel and uncaring. 

If the others wanted to try to manipulate him into coming back in this way then they could deal with him ordering them around. 

It took four rings before the line was connected, a voice heavy with sleep greeting him. 

“Rafayel, what’s wrong?”

He snorted, staring into the darkness. “I don’t know, Talia,” He growled, “why don’t you tell me?”

He heard her shift, undoubtedly picking up on his displeasure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She replied primly, the sleep falling from her voice as her tone sharpened, clearly displeased with his. 

His gaze flicked down as he peered at his carefully clipped nails. “One of your priestesses was at my event tonight. I don’t like that.”

A sharp intake of air greeted his words. He waited, allowing the older Lemurian a chance to gather her thoughts. 

“Who?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t recognize her.”

Talia actually dared to give him a soft reproving tsk. “And you didn’t think to ask ?”

“I don’t care to know her name.” He bit out, glaring across the dark room. “I don’t care to know anything about any of them. I made it very clear that I was to be left alone , Talia. What more must I do to remind you all?” He snapped, sitting up straighter. 

The line was quiet for a long while, his dark threat hanging between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Talia finally murmured. “That … shouldn’t have happened. I haven’t sent anyone, neither of us have.”

He frowned, leaning back and crossing his legs, his dress shoe making a sharp rapping sound against the corner of the low table. “Then you better start asking questions. I let her walk away but I will not tolerate a repeat of this.”

“Of course.”

He heard the shower shutting off and he lowered the phone, hanging up without a parting. It was petty and mean but the whole encounter from earlier left him feeling petty and mean. 

Astrali …

He rose, grimacing at the memory of that accursed titled. He never wanted to hear it again. 

Tossing his phone aside he padded down the hallway, pausing at the door to his bedroom. His companion was tugging on a pair of shorts, twisting the hem to make sure they lay properly against her hips. She’d let her long hair tumble freely over her shoulders, the remaining droplets in her damp locks slowly sinking into the violet top, darkening the color near her shoulders. He’d yet to admit to her that he preferred her hair like this but seeing her like this now, it sent a shiver of delight though him. 

Before he could give into the urge to sink his hands into her loose hair, she turned slightly, making the flimsy top pull slightly to the right, baring her left shoulder blade. He frowned as his eyes traced over her muscled back, noting the angry red scratches carved into her skin. He cocked his head, wondering how he had missed them earlier. She must have arranged the dress to hide most of it while the dark lightening did the rest. 

Pushing away from the doorframe he glided up behind her, feeling her stiffen as he caught her arms. He held her still as he dipped his head, pressing his lips against the jagged flesh of the wound.  

It took everything within him not to lick along the mark. His saliva would help heal it and every instinct he possessed pushed him to do so but … she wouldn’t understand. 

She was aware of his heritage but she was woefully ignorant to what it actually meant to be Lemurian. He knew she was open to learning but he was unsure of just how deep he wanted to take her. He’d walked away from what he had once been, dedicated this life to living as a human … with her. 

He forced his lips away from the wound, releasing her arms as he ghosted past her, shucking off the constricting vest and shirt. 

He smirked, aware of her turning away from his bared back quickly, pretending to busy herself with arranging her few possessions on the bureau while he changed. She was still so adorably shy and he did so enjoy teasing her. 

“What time do you need to be up?” He asked, fingers hovering over the alarm clock next to the bed. 

She shook her head. “I don’t have to go in until later. Xavier and I have some more investigative work to do over in the industrial district but the issue doesn’t appear until the late morning.”

He nodded, letting his fingers fall away from the alarm. 

“Come to bed, sweetheart.” He beckoned, reaching out to urge her to come closer. 

She flushed prettily but came anyway, taking his hand as she slid between the new sheets. He folded his knee, perching on the bed as he leaned over her. She lifted her chin, eyes drifting closed as her pale lips parted slightly. 

He bit back the possessive growl that threatened to slip free as he cupped her jaw, pressing his lips to hers. Immediately he was awash in her scent, delighting in the way it mixed with the scent of his shampoo. It pleased that secret primal part of him that slithered deep inside that she smelled of him.  It was a heady mixture and he felt himself harden, muscles tensing as he pushed her back, his hand sliding through her damp hair to cup the back of her head. 

She nipped teasingly at his lips, making him hiss softly as she caught his lower lip between her dull teeth and tugged playfully. He pulled back, panting as he peered down at her. 

“What do you want of me?” He asked, brushing her hair back away from her face. 

She peered up at him with those beguiling whiskey colored eyes, capturing him completely. No matter how many times she was reborn he would always recognize that gaze.

Her hand came up, fingertips ghosting over his face, as though mapping out his features. He turned his face, pressing a kiss to her palm. 

“What do you want?” He whispered again, dipping his face lower, his cool breath caressing her warm lips. 

“You.” She breathed, slipping her fingers into his hair and clutching tightly. “I want you, Rafayel.”

A dark smile curled his lips. “As you wish.” He murmured, capturing her lips with his own.

********

The light above her was slowly fading as she sank deeper into the unforgiving water. 

Help … help me … her soul cried out as she reached out, watching the light between her fingers fade. 

Movement from above caught her attention and she felt her heart lurch as she recognized Rafayel drifting closer, his own hand outstretched towards her. 

It was him, she would recognize him anywhere, but her eyes peered curiously at the scales dusted over his neck and high upon his cheekbones, glittering in the pale light. Near them red and blue paint highlighted the muscles and planes of his chest. 

Rafayel … she tried to whisper, frustration welling up within her at her human inability to speak under the water. 

His fingers came closer and she reached out, trying desperately to reach him, but suddenly another hand darted between them, snatching him away.

She blinked in confusion, watching as the woman from the premier slipped free of the dark water surrounding them, curling herself about Rafayel’s form. Her hair fanned out artfully in the current, creating a gorgeous mane about her painfully beautiful face. The other woman’s gold kissed skin slid sensually against Rafayel, drawing his attention.

She cried out, struggling desperately as Rafayel’s gaze left hers, focusing instead on the other woman’s. She watched as he turned, taking the other woman in his arms, tilting his face down to meet the woman’s lips. 

She watched as a pale seafoam green tail brushed against Rafayel’s cerulean one, her delicate fins teasing against his as the two Lemurians entwined with one another.

He does not care . Something insidious whispered in her mind. No one cares. You should just …. let go .

She felt the bite of cold, ghostly fingers cradling her ankle.  With a sob, she gave up, letting herself be dragged down into the cold, lonely depths, watching the light slowly disappear.

******

She bolted upright, smashing the top of her head into Rafayel’s chin, earning a sharp curse from her bedmate as she flung off the covers, stumbling towards the closed window. Her nails screeched against the glass as she struggled to open it, unable to control her movements. Her ring finger sang with a sharp pain but she couldn't stop herself. 

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

Damn it, why was this so hard? She cursed, tears pricking her eyes as she clawed at the glass desperately, feeling as though she was going to die if she couldn't break free of this dark prison and reach the life giving air just beyond the stubborn window.

She felt a larger body lean against her back a moment, bringing a quick burst of panic as she feared Rafayel was trying to stop her, before the window snapped open. She nearly tumbled out of it in her haste to break free of the stifling room. As she sucked in great lungfuls of air she was aware of Rafayel's fist at her back, gripping the thin material of her nightshirt and pinning her against the window ledge to keep her safe from slipping out as she took in the cool, fresh air. 

Rafayel let her dangle for a few moments, panting in the cooling night air before dragging her back inside and depositing her firmly on the floor. He stared down at her, violet gaze both troubled and furious. 

She pressed one hand against the tiled floor, the other against her chest, trying to still her erratically beating heart. 

She needed to get a hold of herself before her heart started skipping beats. The last thing either of them needed was a sudden late night trip to the hospital. 

Closing her eyes forced her breathing to slow. In, count to three, out, count to three. She repeated it over and over in her mind, like a ritual.

Slowly she felt her heart rate begin to slow, the rhythm evening out. Vaguely she became aware of a hand on her back, firmly stroking up and down, trying to loosen the tension from her body. 

“Thanks.” She murmured, wincing at the raspiness of her voice. It felt like she’d been screaming for hours. 

Rafayel didn’t reply, he simply slipped his arm under her legs and lifted her up, gently returning her to bed. 

She leaned back, watching as he returned to the window to close it. The moonlight played over his back as he latched the window closed, turning to stare back at her for a long while. 

“What was it this time?” Rafayel finally asked as he returned, perching on the edge of the bed as he reached up, brushing the hair back from her face. 

She shrugged, turning her face. “I don’t remember.” She lied.

He caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. His gaze was dark and disproving. 

She reached up, brushing her fingertips over his cheekbone just under his left eye. “You had paint here.” She murmured, letting her fingers drift down over his neck to his collar bones. “And here. I liked it.” She forced a smile, hoping to distract him from his concern. 

To her surprise, his gaze turned guarded and he glanced away. “You liked it so much you decided to throw yourself out the window?”

She pulled her hand away quickly. “It was nothing.” She insisted. “Just a silly dream.”

His lips thinned. When he moved to stand she caught his wrist, stilling him. 

“Really, Rafayel. It was nothing.” She insisted, forcing a wane smile. “You came to save me when I fell off the boat, just like you promised.”

“Did I?” He remarked dryly, his voice still carefully guarded. 

She sighed, poking his shoulder. “I’m sorry I woke you up … again. Maybe I should head back to the apartment for a few days so you can get a good night’s sleep.”

She yelped as a large hand captured her, bringing her fingers up to his sensual mouth. His sharp white teeth nipped punishingly at her knuckles.

“Maybe we should take a vacation.” He countered. “A change of scenery to chase the nightmares away.”

She laughed. “You forget that us mere working folks have to actually, you know, work for our living.”

He tsked, releasing her hand and pushing her over to his side of the bed to make room for himself on hers. She allowed him to roll her over onto her side, a strong arm wrapping about her waist and dragging her firmly against his chest and stomach, his weight pushing her down comfortably onto the sinfully soft mattress. 

“Rafayel … what are we to each other, exactly?” She dared to ask. The words felt heavy, vulnerable, and she regretted them almost the moment they left her lips. 

She noted the way his body tensed against her back, his chin lifting slightly so that it no longer rested upon the crown of her head, leaving a chill nothingness in it's place. 

For a horrifying moment she thought he might brush her question off, make a joke or change the subject. But, to her relief, he simply sighed, nuzzling his cheek against hers.

“I don’t know.” He finally replied, his voice soft. “But I do know that I enjoy being with you. If you want to keep things as they are, that’s fine. Or we could just wait and see where things go.”

His words comforted her but they also left her feeling slightly hollow, as though he had given her just enough to hold onto, but not quite enough to truly satisfy the longing within. She nodded, forcing a smile, keeping her eyes closed so that he did not notice the disappointment in her eyes. 

“Okay.” She replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

“Go to sleep.” He murmured in her ear. “No more dreams tonight.”

“No more dreams.” She agreed, closing her eyes as Rafayel ghosted a kiss against her temple. 

*****

He watched quietly as the lone figure made her way down the long driveway, her dark hair tied back but still long enough for the morning breeze to play along it, tugging it towards the sea. She seemed relaxed, more at ease now that the night was over but he had seen the dark circles she'd tried to hide with concealer, had noticed the exhausted tilt to her shoulders. 

Her dreams were getting worse. 

Cursing softly, Rafayel turned away from the window, pacing back towards the living room. 

The veil over her memories was slipping. It had happened before, in past lives, but never quite so quickly. And certainly never so vividly. In the past her dreams had been ephemeral things, brief moments quickly forgotten the moment she woke.

That she could trace the exact locations of the symbols he had once worn ...

He shook his head, dumping tea gone far too cold into the sink. 

Was he moving their relationship along too quickly? He wondered. The bond between them was whole again, the red thread that coiled in his chest, connecting them thrumming strongly with every breath he took. She'd even unknowingly used it against him recently, demanding he temporarily abandon his chase of that Deluge Wyrmlord to attend her needs. Perhaps that had been enough to allow those cursed memories to start slipping through. 

He sighed, setting aside the empty cups. It didn't matter. She was determined to distance herself from him for a few days. To allow them both to focus on work, she had explained. Though it went against everything his instincts demanded as her mate, if it was indeed the bond between them causing her sleep to be disturbed so, perhaps some distance would be best to let her mind settle. 

His chin still ached from where she'd slammed into him, jolting him awake before she'd damn near given him a heart attack with the way she'd launched herself at the window and clawed at it like she was dying, practically throwing herself out into the night the moment the panes had swung open. He'd been quick, catching her before gravity had gotten a chance to do its work but it had scared him enough that he did not want a repeat of that event any time soon.

If a few frustrating nights alone helped to make sure nothing like that happened again then he'd gratefully accept it.

Settling on the couch he pulled up the sales records for the event. Thomas would be pleased by the numbers, he thought idly, flicking past them. He, himself, however, was more interested in who had purchased his pieces. Two names stood out to him and he hummed softly, noting the pieces they had purchased.

The CEO of Caduceus Lab Supplies, Wallace, had long been on his radar, though he had never been able to get close enough to any of their rather skittish board members to verify his suspicions over where certain specialized cell samples had come from.

The other, Evelyn whose husband had been the head of Renault Hospital in the downtown district was a more immediate concern. They had long suspected Renault of using Lemurian blood in some of their more ... costly ... treatments while Evelyn herself had recently been rumored to favor a pretty plaything that seemed unusually dedicated to her. Almost slavishly so. 

Humming softly, he made a note of the pair, alerting Thomas that he wanted to personally oversee the planning and placement of their works. It was rare for him to bother associating with his customers, but for this chance to be invited into their sanctuaries and perhaps divine some secrets they were hiding, he would make an exception. 

And if he happened to find out that the pair were indeed dabbling in things best left to the ocean ... well ... what a shame for them to have fallen into his little trap.

Closing the records, he contemplated the partially finished pieces across the room. He'd need to start on a new batch soon, something to tantalize the public with to stay relevant and keep potential targets interested in meeting with him. 

But he was restless. 

The primal creature inside of him writhed, unhappy with being trapped for so long in these mortal trappings. It wanted out. 

He wanted out. 

Growling softly he rose, stalking into the bathroom. 

The room still smelled of her. He paused, breathing in the heavy, damp air. He shuddered as he felt the eager slide of scales under his skin, the pleased purr of the serpentine creature he'd buried deep as the scent of his beloved mate lingered, teasing his senses. 

Cutting on the water to the bath he winced as it came out hot right out of the tap, already primed from his little Hunter's early morning shower. How she could stand drenching herself in such scalding heat he had no idea. Readjusting it for a temperature he could live with, he shucked off the restricting clothes, sighing in pleasure as he sank down into the water. 

It wasn't exactly what he wanted but for now it was enough to calm his thoughts. He would worry about how to deal with the questions his mate's intruding dreams would dredge up later. He would make plans for integrating himself with his two new potential targets later.

For now ... he needed to relax and get his increasingly volatile emotions back under control. 

Until then, everything else could wait.

********

She stumbled through the door of her apartment, cursing quietly under her breath as she struggled out of her work boots and tossed them carelessly aside. Her feet were practically screaming and her legs felt like one giant solid lump of cramped muscle. 

Collapsing on the sofa she just lay there, letting gravity slowly drag her down as she stared at the wall in blessed silence. 

She hated patrol days.

Her body felt like she had walked the entire length of Linkon City … twice. 

She peered longingly at the kitchen but knew there was no way she was going to dredge up the energy it would take to actually make a proper dinner. 

 Later, she told herself. She’d deal with the food issue later. 

Groaning, she rolled off the sofa, forcing herself back onto aching feet to stumble her way into the bathroom. Twisting the knobs to start filling the small bathtub with blissfully hot water, she collapsed onto the toilet, peeling off her hunter’s gear and watching as steam began to fill the small room. 

She slowly lowered herself into the sinfully hot water, wincing slightly as it sloshed against her legs but willing to put up with the early discomfort if it meant that the spasming muscles in her feet, legs, and back would relax. 

Sighing, she kicked the faucet off and let her head fall back, closing her eyes as she let the heat from the water work its magic. 

For all her patrolling she had encountered a grand total of zero Wanderers today. Instead her time had been taken up with directing confused tourists, chasing down lost kids who had wandered too far from their handlers, and broken up not one but two lover’s spats. 

She was absolutely done with her fellow humans today. 

All she wanted now was a quiet evening to relax, let her mind veg out, and sleep. 

She lingered in the bathroom long enough for the water to cool, toyed with the idea of refilling the tub with more hot water to continue her soak, then discarded that idea when her stomach protested her lack of dinner. Dragging herself out she threw on her threadbare robe and wandered into the kitchen. Though her feet felt better, she still didn’t have the energy to actually cook so she dug through her cabinet, scrounging for something quick, ready to eat. 

Unfortunately she’d been spending a lot of time at Rafayel’s lately and her cabinets were starting to look a little bare. Searching through the fridge was even less useful, leaving her with half a trashcan full of food that had apparently spoiled since she had bought it.

She sighed, tapping her fingers on the counter as she considered the leftovers. She needed to go food shopping, she decided. And she probably shouldn’t be imposing on Rafayel’s hospitality so much. She frowned, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail as she studied the expiration date on a bag of cheese. She hadn’t realized how many nights she’d been staying with him. It just … all kind of blurred together, she supposed. And he did have quite the knack of showing up right as she was getting off of work. 

She sighed, tossing the cheese into the bin with the rest of her spoiled leftovers. Obviously he didn’t seem to mind, otherwise she doubted he’d be going so out of his way to “run into” her. Still … she couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad. It wasn’t his job to house and feed her after all.

Snatching up a half empty box of crackers and a plastic tray of instant reheatable rice she retreated to her bedroom, flopping down on the bed with her spoils and phone. 

She flipped through her news app first, catching up on everything that had happened while she was at work. Most of it was mundane city works such as a new parking garage being put in downtown and the park on the East end finally getting enough funding to be renovated. There was a warning about a storm expected to blow in this weekend that she put a pin on but most of the stories she flicked past, uninterested. 

A familiar face, however, suddenly appeared in one of the stories and she paused, scrolling back to it. She sat up, smiling as she clicked on the article title. 

Undersea Expedition Experience a Satisfying Success

She chuckled, scrolling through the article about Rafayel’s latest exhibit, curious to see what quotes had been given. Most were glowing with the critics taken in by the sudden change in focus on sculptures. A few still favored the paintings he was already known for but there had been enough there as well to keep them satisfied. There was the requisite interview with Rafayel, though she found his answers vague and somewhat unsatisfying. Clearly his attention hadn’t been fully on the reporter. She laughed softly, scrolling down to the photo gallery. That was so very like her mercurial lover. You either had his full, undivided attention, or you had none at all.

Flipping through the photos she recognized most of the works, though she was surprised to note that the photos provided had been taken in full light rather than in the dreamy half light of the exhibition. It was actually impressive how different they looked.

She suddenly paused on one of the paintings, clicking on the photo to bring it up so she could zoom in. 

It was titled “ The Sacrifice ”. 

She shivered as she felt something stir deep within her mind, a strange slithering sensation that made her want to gag. 

As quickly as it had come, it slipped away, leaving her to stare blankly at the photo of the painting still displayed on her phone. 

It wasn’t one she could remember him working on at home, though she supposed that shouldn’t surprise her. She tried her best to steer clear of his studio space when he was working, not wanting to disturb him. And sometimes, she knew, he worked in other places. 

Still … something about this painting troubled her. Staring at it now she vaguely remembered seeing it at the exhibit, but it had been placed near a dark corner, the shadows making it hard to see the detail and color. However, in this fully lit photo she could clearly see the work that had gone into it. 

The painting appeared to be of a young man, though his figure was blurred and hard to see, almost as though the viewer were looking at him through a fogged window. His hands were upraised, as though offering something to an unseen god. She couldn’t make out what the object was but it laid limply in his hands, with bits of crimson threading between his fingers, leaving dark trails along the tense muscles of his forearms. 

Suddenly, she could almost feel the thing in her own hand. It was velvety soft … and warm. 

Crush it . Something seemed to hiss within her. 

Destroy it .

She felt her heart beating a bit faster as she blinked, shaking off the strange sensations. 

Swallowing, she focused on her phone, trying to zoom in more on the thing in the man’s hands. Unfortunately she had reached the limit of the photo’s resolution. 

Her ring finger throbbed and she glanced down at it, staring at the pad of her finger that was still slightly red and swollen where she had somehow cut it on Raymond’s painting the day before. 

Rafayel had told her he had only used the coral stone for Raymond’s painting and then destroyed the rest after she had come to warn him of the Wanderer. 

So what had he used to achieve the red pigment for the object this faded, colorless figure clad in gray cradled so carefully in his hands?

She set down the phone, staring blankly out her dark window. 

She could just ask. She should just ask. And yet … she wasn’t entirely sure he would tell her the truth.

Especially since she vaguely recalled the feeling of his arm about her waist, directing her away from this particular painting and towards the sculpture of the reborn flowers that had sat half the room away from it.

Had he purposely tried to keep her from noticing it? Or had he simply been eager to see what she thought of the glass flowers?

She hated that she wasn’t entirely sure.

Chapter Text

The event goers were less well heeled this evening than they had been during the premier the night before but it was no less crowded. Not particularly a surprise since the premier had been by invitation only, carefully curated to cater to those with enough wealth and ego to drive talk while this evening was the first night that allowed the general public to attend. These were fans and upcoming young artists in their own right who were here to gawk or gain inspiration, not fight each other for the privilege to buy.

Thomas ghosted through the rooms, taking note of where the attendees were gathering, which pieces seemed to be garnering the most attention, and what the general consensus was. 

Rafayel would make what Rafayel was moved to make, critics and audience be damned. Thomas had no illusions that he could persuade him otherwise, but the unsolicited input gathered from overheard snippets of conversation helped him to plan and make collection suggestions that may or may not be taken into consideration. So he drifted among them, occasionally scribbling down notes as he drifted about. 

Over half of the available works had already found buyers following the premier and he expected the remaining ones would be claimed by the end of the week. Bidding wars on three of the most prominent pieces had driven the prices up well above their expected market value, meaning they were looking at quite the windfall for this particular event, even excluding the one piece that had been unexpectedly been pulled from the auction system. 

Thomas laughed softly, glancing at the piece in question. Its delicate petals glittered in the light, the glass droplets sending out sparks of rainbows as they turned and twisted with the rhythm of the passing viewers. He’d honestly been surprised to see the sale override come through. Rafayel had never been shy with exercising his rights as the creator to flag pieces as part of his personal collection. Thomas had found himself somewhat confused as to why Rafayel would bother to go through the effort of having this piece cataloged and listed only to purchase it himself.

One look at the name it had been purchased on behalf of had cleared up that mystery, making him chuckle.

Thomas absently wondered where the little Hunter was even going to put the delicate sculpture once the event was over and they made arrangements to deliver it. 

Would she even understand how valuable it was?

Shaking his head, he turned away from the sculpture, scanning the busy crowd. The Hunter's continued presence in his rather reclusive business partner's life had been something of a baffling development but something about her had caught and, more importantly, kept Rafayel's attention. In some ways it had helped to focus the rather flighty artist, giving his artistic projects a more defined direction that seemed to resonate well with their customers and fans. More importantly, however, Thomas had noted the other effect the curious Hunter's presence had on Rafayel's less well known pursuits. 

In the past, Rafayel had been gleefully uncaring, occasional veering into recklessness in carrying out his vendettas. As though daring his future targets to try to stop him. Thomas had been forced to put his foot down a few times, urging his more capricious counterpart to consider less flashy ways to confront those he felt had wronged him or his people. To his relief, however, Rafayel had seemingly become more cautious since the young Hunter had barreled her way into their lives. Whether it was to keep the earnest young woman from stumbling across one of his plans or to protect her from the backlash from targets that managed to temporarily slip through Rafayel's fingers, he was not sure. 

Either way, he was grateful for the measure of wariness her presence appeared to have spurned within the vengeful artist. He prayed it would last.

Lost in his own thoughts, he almost missed the figure pressed into a dark corner at the edge of the room, moving a bit too close to the painting entitled “ The Sacrifice ”.

Frowning slightly, he leaned back, peering through the crowd. The couple that had been blocking his view shifted forward, giving him a clear pathway through which he could clearly make out the smaller form of a woman. 

He recognized the object of his recent contemplations immediately.

Humming thoughtfully, he began weaving his way through the crowd. He noted the security guard heading her way as well, clearly ready to intervene. Catching the other man’s eye he shook his head, waving him back. The guard hesitated but finally nodded, allowing him to take the lead in shooing back the attendee who had drifted far too close to a piece that had sold for more than her entire apartment was worth the night before.

Pausing behind her, Thomas cocked his head, trying to figure out what she was staring at so intently. Her nose was mere inches from the protective glass, eyes squinted as she seemed to examine some small detail. A treatment had been added after the main subject had been painted, leaving his form blurred. It was difficult to make out the fine details of his form or what exactly he was offering up to the sky. 

He cleared his throat, watching with faint amusement as she jerked back, blinking owlishly as though he had just woken her from some kind of trance. A scrap of paper, the remnants of a torn entry ticket slipped from her fingers, unnoticed as it was swallowed up in the darkness of the room. 

Dark hair swished across her back as she turned, meeting his gaze. A flush painted itself across her cheeks and she stepped back, fingers fluttering as though she were suddenly unsure of what to do with them now that her ticket had been lost to the darkness. 

“Thomas! Um … hey.” She offered weakly, gaze darting around to assess whether or not he was alone.

He glanced at the painting before them. “I didn’t expect to see you here for a repeat viewing.” 

She laughed nervously, finally settling her hands on her hips as she followed his gaze. “Yeah, I .. um … just wanted to take a look without feeling so rushed.”

A lie but one he could work around. 

“I see.” He replied, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to study the painting. “And what do you think of this one?” He inquired.

She hesitated, glancing at him a moment before turning her attention back to it. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember seeing it being worked on before. I guess that’s why it caught my attention.”

He cocked his head, considering. Another lie? Perhaps not. He was aware that she and Rafayel often spent time together but Rafayel wasn’t always in the mood to share his works. This one was different from his usual offerings and the mood attached to it made him doubt this particular work had been one made with sharing with her in mind. 

“It is striking.” He offered. “It’s not garnering as much attention as some other works but it found itself a new home already.”

She frowned, suddenly all business, peeking at his interest. “Someone bought it?”

He nodded. “Yes. Last night.”

He watched as her hand came up and she chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail. She seemed … troubled by that thought. 

“Is there something wrong with the painting?” He inquired, risking a guess as to what had brought her back here, alone, this evening.

Her amber eyes darted towards him briefly before flickering back to the painting. “No.” She murmured, letting her hand drop. “It’s just … the red here,” she reached out, pointing towards what the man cradled in his hand, “It reminds me of … something.”

Ah .

He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “It’s a close color match, but I assure you it’s not the same as the coral pigment you’re thinking of.”

She glanced at him sharply, gaze still wary. 

Chuckling softly to himself he pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling until he came across the file he wanted. He allowed her to peer around his arm as he flicked through the tabs until he came to one that carried the painting’s title. 

“Here,” He pointed, “This code is the color composition of the red pigment used for this piece.”

He watched her lips move silently as she repeated the string of letters and numbers to herself silently. Next he scrolled until he reached a tab that carried the name of Raymond’s painting. “And here is the color composition of that red. As you can see, they’re similar but not the same.”

She frowned, eyes flicking over the numbers as she considered. 

“So … he used something else to make the pigment?” She ventured.

He shrugged. “Honestly, if I had to guess I’d say he didn’t make this particular pigment himself at all. I recognize the base colors and the way it’s built up as belonging to the Audrio oil brand.”

She breathed out a sigh, one he took as relief, before nodding. “That’s … good.” She murmured. 

Thomas slipped his phone back into his pocket, studying her for a long moment. Her hair was slightly damp at the ends and her clothing, while still business appropriate, was clearly haphazardly chosen. If he had to guess, she hadn’t been planning to come out here this evening. 

So what had suddenly stoked her worry about this particular painting? He recalled her asking about Raymond’s painting recently but that had been before the premier. Why had she been fine with the painting last night but suddenly concerned about it today?

And why come alone tonight when she could have just asked to see it during the day before the event opened?

“Were there any other paintings you wanted to check?” He inquired. 

She shook her head, eyes still drifting back towards “ The Sacrifice ” uneasily. “No.” She murmured, as though distracted, before suddenly blinking and glancing back at him quickly. “I mean … I want to take another look around. But this was the only one I noticed the … um … color on.”

He inclined his head, keeping his silence as she smiled at him faintly, murmured a quick bye, and drifted off. Alone in the corner he glanced back at “ The Sacrifice ”. In the dark lighting the dripping blood from the offered heart was discolored, appearing more purple than the dark crimson he knew it to be. 

And yet she had somehow known it was closer to the color of the coral stone in regular lighting. 

Frowning he watched from a careful distance as she drifted among the other artworks. She gave each a quick visual scan, undoubtedly looking for the same color, though again, how she would recognize it in the obscure lighting he wasn’t sure. At the doorway he saw her pause, a brief flash of light from her Hunter’s Watch telling him she was scanning the room for metaflux. 

Finally, she breathed out what appeared to a sigh of relief before disappearing back into the main exhibition room. 

Glancing at the lingering security guard, Thomas turned and slipped through an unmarked door, blinking slightly in the harsh light as he drifted through the blocked off section of a ballroom. 

******

Rafayel frowned down at his phone, puzzling over the playful “ It’s 9pm, do you know where Ms. Hunter is ?” message Thomas had sent him. 

Setting aside the wine glass he had been nursing he plucked up the phone, flicking the screen with his thumb to bring up the full message string. Above the words was a dark photo. He immediately recognized the mix of cerulean and emerald light splashed across the ceiling in the photo. Enlarging the photo he frowned, trying to figure out what in the dark crowd Thomas seemed so determined to show him.

It took a few moments but he finally spotted the intended target more or less off center. His frown deepened as he brought the familiar form more into focus. She had ditched the dress and heels from the night before, settling for a more subdued turtleneck and slacks combination. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, less styled and more natural than the evening before. 

“ She’s there now ?” He responded back. 

“ Yes. Said she wanted to take another look without feeling rushed .” Came the quick reply.

He absently ran his finger along the lip of the wine glass, the high pitched whine it produced sharpening his focus. 

He couldn’t recall her mentioning wanting to return to the exhibit. If she had he would have accompanied her himself. It wasn’t the easiest trip from her apartment to the hotel so that ruled out the possibility she had just been in the neighborhood and decided to swing by. 

His phone pinged and he glanced down, his frown deepening at Thomas’s new text. 

“ She asked about what you used for the red paint in “ The Sacrifice ” .”

Growling softly he swiped off of the text chain, lifting the phone to his ear as it began to ring. He heard the heavy hum of the crowd as Thomas picked up. 

“Tell me.” He demanded.

Thomas actually had the audacity to chuckle at his irritation. “It’s fine.” He assured him. “I showed her the color codes between the two paintings to prove it wasn’t what she thought it was. She even scanned the painting for metaflux to make sure. I’m sure it was quite the show for the gawkers nearby.”

His fingers tapped against the delicate glass as he leaned back, not at all relieved. “Why would she think it was the same?”

Thomas huffed softly. “I have no idea. The colors look nothing alike, especially with how we have The Sacrifice displayed here. But she was adamant. Still, I’m assuming it’s clear.”

Rafayel sighed, not missing the slight lilt added to the end of Thomas’s statement, turning it more into a question. “Yes,” he grit out, “It’s clear.”

He supposed it was a fair question, Thomas wasn’t stupid enough to assume that the little … hiccup … with Raymond had scrapped all of his plans, but it did irritate him that the other was inclined to believe he’d be foolish enough to place another piece of divine retribution in an exhibit where his oh so curious mate might accidentally encounter it. 

Despite its perhaps overly melodramatic nature, The Sacrifice was nothing more than oil on canvas. 

“Shall I keep Ms. Hunter company until you come fetch her?” Thomas asked, his voice taking on a gentle note of teasing.

Rafayel sighed, considering. 

“No. Let her be.” He decided. If he came running it might make her question whatever foolish instinct seemed to be driving her to reexamine some of the works. Better, he supposed, to leave her to her own investigation for now. 

“As you like.” Came the quick response. 

Hanging up, he rose, snatching up the glass of wine as he paced across the room to the small workspace he had set up. The Sacrifice had been a bit of an indulgence, he supposed. A childish attempt to wallow in melancholy and self misery. He’d been pleased with the finished blurring effect but had found the whole thing a failed attempt at truly capturing the emotions he had sought to explore.

Quite frankly he’d pretty much banished it from memory the moment he had finished it. 

It annoyed him to have to think of it now.

Taking a heavy drink from the glass in his hand he snatched up a thick portfolio, flipping through it until he came to the tab for The Sacrifice . 

The painting had been drab, utilizing only five color swatches. The red he had chosen stood out among the grays, the white, and the deep navy, the only warm color in the batch. But it was clearly a different shade from the more vibrant, almost pinkish red given off by the coral stone pigment. He was aware that humans struggled with more nuanced color ranges but surely this difference should have been noticeable to her. 

So why had she been so concerned about it?

Troubled, he let the portfolio fall closed. Perhaps an unexpected meeting during lunch tomorrow would help clear her mind of whatever dark thoughts were stirring within it.

Finishing off the wine he set the glass aside, flicking off the lights as he padded through the empty house. The quiet that he had once found so soothing set him on edge now, taunting him with the reminder that he was alone again. 

Tugging off his shirt he tossed it aside, uncaring of where it fell. The bed before him seemed too large and he found himself scowling at it as he exchanged linen pants for cotton. Still, a familiar scent washed over him as he slipped between the covers. Breathing in deeply he felt the tension bleed from his shoulders, sighing softly as he buried his face in her pillow. 

There would be dreams tonight, he knew. With no mate nearby to protect, his body would return to normal rhythms, freeing him to dream. He surrounded himself with her unique scent, hoping it would help.

All too soon he found himself drifting through the deep waters of sleep, his consciousness weaving through the remnants of long forgotten, fantastical dreams and old familiar, cherished memories. Here and there he would pause, letting the brief moments play out, reminding him of his long life. 

Finally, he felt the first disturbance, a faint unnatural shift in the currents, sinister and seeking. 

The illusionary sea around him stilled, the memories and dreams dimming faintly as he waited. He felt the other drawing closer, slithering along pathways set so deeply within him that he had no hope of severing or destroying them. 

Sharp nails ran along his spine, catching and pricking against his skin, leaving raised welts in their wake. He turned, his expression hardening when he was faced with nothing. 

It did not fool him. He recognized this oppressive aura bearing down upon him. 

Astra.

The God of Fate had deigned to come to wile away the hours with him once again.  

He hissed, trying to twist away from the ghostly touch but it followed every movement, tormenting him. He didn’t like being touched. Had never liked the feeling of other’s hands upon him, something Astra was intimately familiar with. 

“Stop.” He finally demanded, allowing just a touch of his own power to bleed into his words, singing the claws that took such liberties with his own being. 

A humorless chuckle was breathed against the shell of his ear but, to his relief, he felt those ghostly fingers pull away. 

“So many dreams to choose from.” Came the soft purr, the insidious voice oh so carefully crafted to mask the malice hidden underneath. “Which one shall you pick? Perhaps something new?”

Rafayel growled softly, banishing the faint memories that still flickered about him. He was furious to have his sleep disturbed so but there was also a hint of satisfaction, of relief. That Astra had come to torment him meant their secret was still safe. That they were still safe. 

“Leave me.” He demanded. “You have no power here. Not anymore.” Twisting the knife, ever so slightly. 

He felt the other hesitate at his dig. “Such brash confidence.” Astra finally drawled, those ghostly fingers settling against his shoulders, claws scraping against the skin of his chest. “And yet here we still are. Together in this place.”

Rafayel’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “Yes.” He replied. “Here you are, in my dreams. Hunting for answers like a beggar searching for scraps of answers.” It was his turn to laugh in derision. 

He felt the hot flash of Astra’s fury, forcing himself to stand tall as those ghostly claws plunged into his chest. He hissed as they jerked him back, slamming him into the suddenly very solid form behind him. All around him the fabric of his dream world shuddered, responding to the anger of the elder god that held him trapped. 

Rafayel’s jaw tightened as he stared out across the bleak darkness. “We no longer have to dance for your amusement. The fates you ordained for us are meaningless now. You no longer have any dominion or say over our lives. Leave this place.” He demanded.

Astra laughed softly, nuzzling against his cheek in a grotesque parody of a Lemurian’s familiar embrace. “So much faith you have in her. To think she could hide you all from me forever.”

Rafayel knew it was coming but even so, he jerked in pain as Astra’s claws hooked deeper inside of him, tearing into his very essence. The sudden shock of bright pain was enough to distract him, to allow his grip on his mind to slip. Even through the agony he was aware of Astra reaching for something, trying to tease out one of his more recent memories. 

Panting for breath he focused on that memory, shattering the fragile piece before Astra could peer into it. 

Astra tsked, shoving him forward. 

He stumbled but managed to stay upright, panting at the sudden emptiness within him. 

“Whoever thought the fierce little God of the Sea would turn out to be such a coward.” Astra hissed, his voice turning dangerous. “Hiding behind the sacrifice she made as though you had anything to do with it. Yes, she has bought you all some time but in the end it will not matter. Nothing can escape its fate. Nothing can escape me .”

Rafayel shook his head. “Stories and fates of your making.” He spat. “A world of puppets, living and dying for your whim. But she severed those strings, Astra. You have no power here, not any longer.”

Rafayel staggered as those ghostly claws suddenly pierced deep into his mind, starling him with the ferocity of their attack. He was aware of the dreamscape around him beginning to crumble, and he reached out with his remaining strength urging it to ruin so that he might wake. 

He felt Astra burrowing deeper, slithering through his mind, searching, clawing, prying at memories he struggled to keep hidden. He was a god in his own right but Astra had come long before him. Had come before all of them. Even he couldn’t resist the elder god forever. He felt panic begin to crawl its way up his spine as he struggled, desperately trying to free himself of this dream that was not a dream. 

“I will find what I seek." Astra hissed, reading the signs of his increasing panic. "Even if I have to shatter you to do it. And when I do,” Astra chuckled, brushing his lips against Rafayel’s neck. “Oh how I will enjoy watching the two of you dance to the new story I will write for this planet.”

Rafayel forced himself to ignore Astra’s threats, focusing instead on trying to wake himself, to destroy this dreamland that the elder god had trapped him in.

He was making progress but Astra’s will was stronger, his focus still too intense. He needed to distract him. To buy himself the time he needed to break free. 

Astra’s claws had well and truly hooked themselves deep into his mind, shredding through the mental shields and barriers he struggled to put up to stop him. Suddenly, Rafayel froze as Astra managed to touch something, just the faintest graze against a memory. 

A cherished one. 

Rafayel felt a grim grin curl the corners of his lips as he recognized it. “You want more memories?” He growled. “Then look closely. Do you remember this one?”

He felt Astra still as he released his hold upon that memory, causing the fractured dreamland to shift. Before them a familiar, beloved figure danced under a field of endless stars, her face bright with joy as she laughed. Her lips curled as she reached out, catching the arm of a newly born god, pulling him into her dance. 

He felt Astra recoil, the claws slipping from his mind as the pair continued their dance, lips brushing against one another as the stars seemed to bless their union. 

“Stop this.” Astra demanded, his voice shaking with venomous rage. 

“You loved her once.” Rafayel murmured, using the momentary distraction to push the memory deeper into Astra’s mind. “All of those attempts to make her dance to your tune. To live as you willed her to live. All of that divine power at your fingertips and still you lost her.”

Astra’s fury exploded but it was a wild, uncontrolled force now, born of pure rage and pain. Rafayel hissed as those claws tore into him again but there was no direction behind them and they were easily avoided. In his attempt to break free of the hateful memory, Astra completed the task Rafayel had so desperately been trying to complete himself, shattering the dreamscape in his own rage. 

“You will regret this.” Astra spat, his voice fading as the connection between them thinned. 

Waking came slowly but eventually he found himself blinking up at the dark ceiling of his room. High above, unfamiliar stars flickered in the endless night sky, assuring him that their secret was still safe. Their little planet was still hidden from Astra’s gaze. 

He sighed heavily, wincing as his body screamed in phantom pain when he tried to roll onto his side. He had been so furious with his mate for what she had done all of those years ago. For the sacrifice she had made to save them all.

Astra could torture him every night from here to eternity for all he cared. He would not risk the hard won freedom she had given them all. 

No matter the cost to himself.

*******

It was pushing eleven by the time she made her way out of the event. There was a line for the elevator and she waited impatiently, exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders. She’d scanned each room, studied every piece of artwork but there had been no sign of Metaflux or suspicious activity anywhere. 

It relieved her but also left her feeling strangely empty and a little bit guilty. 

She’d hoped to get in and out without anyone noticing, to blend in with the crowd of eager fans, excited to see Rafayel’s newest works. She supposed she should have expected Thomas to be there to oversee things but it still had caught her by surprise. He hadn’t said anything about telling Rafayel but she had no illusions that he would hide the knowledge of her unscheduled visit from his business partner. 

She sighed, peering down at her hands helplessly, unsure of what she was going to say when Rafayel eventually asked her about it. 

It felt bad, constantly being suspicious of him. For all the evidence she had, the coral stones and the Wanderer truly had just been a one time thing. If it wasn’t for a faint suspicion deep in her gut she would have considered him just another unsuspecting victim who had just happened to pick the wrong thing to make paint with. 

The line for the elevator finally dwindled enough to allow her to squeeze inside. 

She winced as a stray elbow accidentally caught her side as they all shuffled, struggling to make enough room in the small elevator for all of them, smiling faintly at the quick apology murmured in her ear. 

When the door opened to the lobby she let the crowd carry her out with it, stepping to the side for a moment to allow them to pass while she caught her breath. Exhaustion was making her feet slow and she let the rush pass by before following them out at a slower pace. She’d already been running on empty on her way up and exhaustion was in full force now. 

She peered at the waiting taxis lined up before the hotel longingly before forcing herself to turn away from them, dredging up the energy she’d need for the long trek to the subway station. Being a Hunter paid well but she was still very new, new enough to know that things were a bit too tight to afford the long taxi ride back to her apartment. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what caught her attention but she suddenly paused, frowning as a strange sensation prickled along her spine. Turning, she glanced back towards the hotel, studying the waiting crowds as people said their goodbyes and parted ways for the night. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but still …

Her eyes finally settled on a figure standing off to the side, watching the doors to the hotel just as she had been doing. She blinked in surprise, recognizing the young woman who had sparked Rafayel’s temper so quickly the night before. The woman who had later haunted her dreams as a graceful Lemurian Sea Witch, come to distract Rafayel from her plight. 

Here and now, however the woman seemed … lost. A figure surrounded by the bustling late night crowd but strangely apart from them. 

She hesitated, glancing around a moment. She should go. The woman was probably just waiting for someone. But … she couldn’t shake the image of Rafayel pushing this woman away harshly. The memory of the woman’s eyes widening in shock and dismay burned into her as she received Rafayel’s undeserved scorn and hot temper. 

Sighing, she turned, slowly trudging back towards the woman. “Excuse me…” She offered. 

The woman blinked, turning to stare at her. The sharp green gaze wasn’t entirely friendly and she stepped back a bit, suddenly unsure of herself. 

“Sorry,” She murmured, “I just … you look like maybe you need some help? I’m a Hunter.” She offered quickly, forcing a smile as she pressed her hand against her chest. 

The woman’s gaze turned momentarily confused, as though unsure of how to respond. 

Hesitating, she glanced back at the hotel. “Are you waiting for someone?” She ventured.

The other woman nodded, gaze returning to fixate on the glass doors. “Yes.” She replied, her voice cool, tone dismissive. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Oh.” She stepped back, a little bit unnerved. The woman didn’t seem excited or eager for whoever she was waiting for. She seemed almost .... predatory. 

She glanced up at the hotel’s upper floors frowning. Could she be waiting for Rafayel ? She wondered, gaze flicking back to study the taller woman before her. 

Rafayel had reacted strongly to this woman from the start. Last night she had been confused by his reaction. Even if the woman had simply been a fan who had summoned up the courage to approach him his reaction had been swift and unforgiving, almost comically so. 

But if this woman were something else … perhaps someone he had recognized … like a stalker …

Swallowing, she backed away slowly, muttering an apology. The woman continued to ignore her as she pulled her phone from her pocket. Turning, she flicked to the camera, using it to watch the woman behind her as she slowly walked away. The woman never turned to glance back at her, she simply stood off to the side, gaze solidly locked on the hotel doors, as though the person she was waiting for was the only person that existed in her world.

Hesitating, she stepped off to the side of the sidewalk, snapping a quick picture of the woman. The picture was dark and most of the woman’s features were awash in shadows but the woman’s clothing was visible and she figured it would be enough.

Feeling a little bit foolish, but unable to brush off the sense of unease the woman’s presence had stirred within her, she brought up her text messages.

“ Hey, are you going to be at the hotel for much longer? ” She sent.

It took Thomas a long moment to reply, probably busy with making sure the remaining crowd was being seen out. “ Another hour or so, why? ”

“ There was a woman at the premiere last night. She talked to Rafayel and he seemed upset by her. It’s probably nothing but … she’s outside the hotel now. Says she’s waiting for someone. ”

She forwarded the picture to him. 

Another lengthy pause, making her feel the slightest bit guilty for distracting him. “ I can’t say I recognized her but if she was here last night then she had an invitation or accompanied someone who did. Probably nothing to worry about. ” Thomas finally replied. 

She gnawed thoughtfully on her thumbnail, glancing back. The crowd had thinned somewhat but the woman, troublingly, was still there. 

“ Are you leaving through the front doors? ” She inquired, still uneasy.

“ No, those of us closing up here will be heading out through the garage .” Thomas assured her. 

She began to type her reply but Thomas’s new text came through faster, interrupting it. 

“ We’ll be fine. Now, it’s getting late. Go home, Ms. Hunter … before I tell someone to come pick you up and take you home for your own good. ”

She laughed softly at the shooing icon he added, feeling a bit of the unease the other woman’s presence brought lift from her shoulders. 

“ I’m going, I’m going .” She promised, pocketing her phone .  

The station was, unfortunately, still very crowded as the remnants of the event crowd sought to make their way home. Squeezing her way onto the crowded subway car she managed to gratefully snatch an empty seat, clinging to the side railing like a lifeline as the crowd worked itself out around her. Closing her eyes she let the gentle sway of the train relax her, lulling her into a strange dreamlike haze. 

She didn’t remember reaching her stop or the short walk back to her apartment but the moment she spotted her bed she collapsed onto it, asleep before she could even think to change. 

She was so exhausted she didn’t even notice the subtle change from the sweet, embracing darkness of sleep to the strangely vivid world of dreams.

All she knew was that as the ancient world in her dreams ended, she wasn’t alone.

“Trust in me.” She whispered, wrapping her hands around the dagger’s hilt, her fingers slotting easily into the grooves worn into it by time. The metal was hot and unforgiving against her soft flesh but she kept her grip, knowing that this would be their one and only chance to finally be free. 

Ragged breaths trembled against her cheeks as the body pressed against hers tensed. Strong muscled coiled, pushing against her weaker form, urging her to back down, to submit to his will. His hand was wrapped firmly about hers, maintaining his grip upon her hand and the dagger she clenched beneath it. 

“ Please ….” Rafayel whispered. “... don’t …” She watched as his lashes parted, his sunset gaze dark with pain and fear. 

She smiled gently, reaching up to stroke along his jaw, rough sand rolling along her fingertips between them. 

“It will take but a moment …” She promised, pressing her forehead more firmly against his, closing her eyes as she felt him shift, their cheeks brushing together. 

“Just think of it.” She continued, struggling to slip her fingers out from under his, to gain control of the dagger. “A new world. A place where we’ll be free to make our own choices. A place free of him .”

She felt Rafayel shake his head, hair brushing her lips as he refused to give up control of the tool she needed to accomplish this one final act. “The cost is too high.” He protested. 

She smiled faintly, letting her free hand fall from where it cupped his cheek, slipping it down his hunched back to feel along his waist. 

“You’ll find a way around it.” She teased, pulling back slightly to peer up at the beloved face. “You always do, right?”

The look she received was anything but playful but she did not mind. He would understand, one day. She felt the weak, protesting flicker of his remaining Evol, a mere whisper of power now. She could no longer remember what it had once felt like when he and their world had been whole and strong but she nudged what remained gently, feeding it with her own Evol … one last time.

“Take care of them,” She whispered, fingers wrapping about the second dagger that lay forgotten at his waist. “You’ll be the only god they’ll have left.”

She watched him pull back slightly, the corners of his eyes pinched as if he were momentarily confused by her words. 

With a gentle smile she pulled the forgotten dagger free of its scabbard, twisting it inwards and plunging it home. 

Its sharp edge gleamed between them for a brief moment and it slid in far more easily than she had even thought possible. Indeed, the only indication she had that it had hit its mark was the sudden widening of those beloved eyes as he pulled back, staring at the artfully cast hilt between them.. 

Deep within her body she felt the godly power of creation flare, sparked into life by the sudden stuttering of her own heart as it struggled against the blade that now rested deep within. She felt the ancient aether core’s power turn inwards, determined to protect its host and she closed her eyes, allowing her Evol to resonate with the power building within her. 

Even without her Evol beginning to amplify it, the power was too much. It pushed, pulled, burned until she couldn’t focus on anything else but the bright energy twisting and turning within her, her heart, despite once belonging to a god, struggling to beat despite the cruel metal that sought to keep it pinned against bone. 

Still she fed it, using her Resonance to create an echo chamber in which it could grow. She felt her frail mortal form fall away, flesh and blood too weak to contain the power but still she demanded the ancient protocore give up more and more of its power. 

She felt the dry, dying planet beneath her shudder, the planet’s cracked, broken core drained beyond any ability to survive. High up in the empty sky above, she felt something stir, a familiar presence finally noticing the strange energy fluctuations vibrating out from Philos, turning its full attention towards her.

Though she no longer had a body left to manipulate she directed her attention right back towards that demanding presence as well. 

“ No more .” She thought, finally releasing her hold upon the power that struggled against her iron grip. Deep within her heart she felt something clink warningly … then shatter. 

The power exploded outwards, engulfing the dying planet. Dried, decayed dust flared out, blotting out the skies as the power of the ancient aether core wrapped itself around the planet, ripping it free of its designated place in the cosmos.

She felt everything shift, as though reality itself had taken one, giant step to the right. 

And then everything was blessedly silent.

*******

She woke with a sharp scream. 

Flinging the covers off of her she leapt from the bed, gasping desperately for air as she clawed at her chest. Within her rib cage her heart fluttered erratically, seemingly unable to find the proper rhythm as it struggled against some intense pressure surrounding it. It felt like a clawed hand had gripped the fragile organ and was squeezing it with all of its strength. Inside she swore she could feel the sharp edges of the protocore fragments lodged deep within her heart shifting, as though trying to slide back together. 

On her wrist her Hunter’s Watch was shrieking a warning, threatening to call the emergency number if she didn’t hit the “I’m okay” command in a few seconds. Struggling against the pain, she fell to her knees, hitting the emergency override on her watch before pressing her forehead against the soft padding of her mattress. 

She needed … she needed to get up and get to the drawer on the other side of the bed. 

Panting she forced herself to sit back, staring blearily at her destination. It was no more than a few feet away, she could make the trip in three or four steps … but it felt like it might as well be across the damn ocean for how weak her legs felt. 

Is it worth it? Something seemed to hiss within her mind. Why not just close your eyes and rest?

Swallowing painfully she reached up, grabbing fistfuls of the rumpled comforter. Forcing herself to ignore the way the world was darkening at the edges of her vision she dragged herself back up, collapsing partially on the bed for a long moment as the movement made her heart seize up suddenly, the phantom fist gripping her heart tightening, as though it were intent on crushing her heart. Gritting her teeth she fisted her hand, thumping it frantically against her chest until she felt the failing organ shudder and began its unsteady beating once again.

Twice more she had to override the emergency warning on her watch as she slowly crept across the bed, but finally, after what seemed an eternity of agony, her fingers curled around the brass knob of her bedside drawer and tugged it open. 

Her entire left shoulder and arm felt like they were on fire and she had to blink back tears as she frantically dug through the drawer, sobbing with relief as her fingers finally found the smooth rectangular stimulator she kept there for such emergencies. 

Rolling onto her back, she struggled out of her turtleneck sweater, cursing angrily as the clinging neckline seemed to avoid every attempt at being slipped off. Finally, finally she managed to toss it off to the side, panting weakly as she took a moment to regain her strength. There was absolutely no rhythm left to her heartbeat as she forced herself to roll over onto her back, peeling the protective casing off of the stimulator. Swallowing, she pressed the cold metal against her chest, aligned with the scars left from previous surgeries. 

Closing her eyes she pressed down on the activator, wincing at the sharp bite of tiny metal needles piercing her skin. Soon after a loud beep sang out, telling her that the simulator was on and preparing to do what it needed to do. 

Three warning beeps followed and she reached up, cupping her chin tightly as she waited for the first jolt. 

Energy sang through her, bending her back like a bow as her teeth clenched together and every muscle in her neck tightened painfully. 

Her watch went absolutely bonkers. 

As quickly as it came the energy released her, her body collapsing down on the bed weakly. Quickly she once again hit the “I’m okay” override before stripping off the watch, flinging it to the side as she waited, listening to the high pitched whine as the stimulator scanned her heart. 

Deep in her chest she tracked the way her heart moved. It was beating more regularly but there was a fluttering quality to it that warned her she wasn’t done just yet. 

Another series of three beeps before she hissed as the energy spike returned, slamming into her heart in an effort to reset it. 

This time she felt the warmth of the protocore fragments in her heart as they flared, their power levels spiking in response to the energy released from the stimulator. They burned and tingled deep in her chest but she ignored it, focused entirely on the way her heart stuttered and stopped for a long moment, trying to decide how to respond to the energy spike that had interrupted it.

To her relief it finally stirred again, making one solid thump followed by another and another. 

This time there was no weak fluttering or unexpected pauses. 

She peeled open her eyes, glancing down at the little black box blinking on her chest. Its red lights had switched to yellow, indicating that it was in monitoring mode.

Panting she let her head drop back down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling above, unable to do more than just breath as her body struggled to sort itself back out. Protocol demanded she call the emergency hotline, to be taken to the hospital immediately so they could further stabilize her damaged heart. 

But the darkness along the edges of her vision was growing and she was simply too exhausted to care. 

Sleep.

She just needed a few minutes of sleep.

Then she'd call the hospital later, she told herself, succumbing to the exhaustion that pulled her down. 

She'd figure it all out later.

Chapter Text

She wasn’t answering her phone.

Rafayel’s fingers tapped a worried rhythm on the steering wheel as he glared at the seemingly never ending traffic. 

He’d given her most of the morning to respond, mindful that her work often took her outside of the office into the field where her attention was best served on her surroundings rather than glued to her phone. But as the hours had started to slip by with no response nor any indication that she had even bothered to read his messages he had felt the age old frustrations and insecurities beginning to seep in. 

She had indicated the morning before that she intended to put a little bit of distance between them, give them time to focus on other aspects of their lives for a few days but she hadn’t seemed so adamant about it that she would go so far as to ignore him. 

And oh how he hated being ignored. 

He cursed as traffic suddenly stopped, forcing him to slam on his breaks as a sea of red lights before him blinked on, like the entire damn world was doing its best to stall him.

After a few hours of silence, he had given into temptation and stopped by her office, all smiles and vague excuses as to why he was in the neighborhood looking to enjoy a quick lunch with his favorite little Hunter, only to be informed by a sharp eyed desk sergeant that she had called out sick. 

He hadn’t let it concern him too much. After all, Thomas hadn’t indicated that she seemed unwell at the event the night before, simply focused on chasing a tail that no longer existed. 

The fact that his calls had continued to go unanswered well into the early afternoon did concern him, however.

Was she avoiding him? Or was she simply so engrossed in whatever investigation had caught her fancy that she was oblivious to the notifications?

Between his reaction to the intruding priestess and his temper flare up in the car garage he had probably spooked her … but she’d seemed fine when she had left the morning after. Had he perhaps read her mood wrong? Or had she simply gotten better at hiding her true emotions from him?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of stop and go traffic, he was able to make the turn onto the smaller side road that led to her residential complex. It was a working class neighborhood, meaning these streets were relatively clear as its residents were locked away in little cubicles until the five o’clock rush hour hit, allowing him to slip through relatively unimpeded.

He found a spot on the side of the street easily enough, dropping the required fee into the cheerfully beeping meter as he peered about, taking in the relatively cool breeze that funneled down between the short apartment buildings and relaxed atmosphere. Birds chirped freely as they hopped from ornamental tree to ornamental tree, a couple of stray cats lounging lazily on the low security walls, while down the street a trio of young children shrieked as they chased one another from shop to shop. 

Assured that all seemed well, he made his way through the gate, waving absently to the old security guard who was glued to something on his phone. The man gave him a quick glance, decided he wasn’t someone worth hassling over, and waved him through in irritation. 

Shaking his head at the useless illusion of safety he made his way through the complex, honing in on the building his mate had chosen as her current home.  He did his best to try to ignore the signs of slowly aging neglect. Once these had been considered “luxury” apartments but the city sprawl had shifted, taking the higher income residents to other parts of the city. Now this “luxury complex” was settling into its new life as a second hand market for young professionals just starting to make their way in the world and the wear and tear was beginning to make itself known in the form of fading paint, rusting joints along balconies and storm shutters, and small foundation cracks haphazardly covered with globs of filler and sealant. 

The lazy neglect grated on his nerves but he supposed for someone fresh out of college living on their own in the adult world for the first time it seemed perfect. 

Sighing internally he stepped into the lobby of the apartment, pausing long enough to pull out his phone and hitting the call button.

As expected, the call rolled into her voice mail.

Huffing a sigh of irritation he keyed in the entry code for the building and waited for the elevator to activate. He didn’t often visit her apartment, careful to avoid impeding too often on a place she considered her own private retreat, but he’d seen her use it once and had committed that number to memory. 

For emergencies, of course. 

The elevator arrived with a disturbing shudder that made him frown but he stepped inside, praying it wasn’t about to lift him up only to trap him. It shook, it wobbled, but it did its job, depositing him safely on his desired floor so he bit his tongue and did his best to not consider the ride back down he was going to have to eventually take. 

Unfortunately he did not yet know the security code for her door so he was forced to hit the bell and wait. 

Seconds ticked by into minutes, darkening his mood further.

Frowning, he hit the bell again. 

With still no answer he glanced back down at his phone. 

Had she gone out?

With her moving back into his life, she was no longer watched as closely as she had been during her college years. If she had gone out … he’d have no real way of knowing.

Frustrated, he hit the bell a third time, glaring at the door.

This time he heard a faint sound, the hiss of something dragging across the floor. Forcing his face into something other than frustration, he waited impatiently, head cocked as he listened to the sound slowly grow louder as it came closer to the door. 

Finally the door cracked out, an exhausted face peering out at him blearily. 

He quickly dropped the cheerful mask, taking in the almost pained look in her amber eyes and the way her shoulders dropped alarmingly. 

“Rafayel?” She murmured, brow furrowing in an almost dazed confusion. 

Casting aside his earlier intent to not intrude, he pushed the door open gently, breezing towards her. He noted the way she stumbled as he caught her about the waist, practically pulling her back inside as she struggled to keep up with even this slower gait. 

He kicked the door closed behind them before leading her towards the couch, gently pushing her arms until she settled upon it, peering up at him as he pulled back, taking her in.

Though it was already well past noon she was still in her sleeping clothes, which was unusual for her. He took in the way her shoulders hunched, the nest of dark hair, tangled during the night, that spilled over her shoulders, and dark, heavy shadows under her eyes. Her face was drawn, eyes wide but slightly unfocused in a way that concerned him. 

Kneeling, he reached up gently cupping her chin as she peered down at him. 

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, rubbing his thumb against her lower lip. 

She blinked at him for a long moment as though trying to remember how to speak before catching his wrist and pulling back. He felt a faint tremble in her hand that concerned him. 

“It’s nothing.” She murmured, sliding over slightly to put some distance between them. 

Sensing that she was going to try to stand and move away from him he shifted, moving to sit next to her on the couch and blocking her retreat. 

“You haven’t been answering your phone and you look like hell.” He replied dryly.

As he had hoped, his harsh words sparked a bit of temper in her unique whiskey colored gaze, helping to focus her. 

“Gee, thanks.” She replied, thumping a fist into his chest weakly as she made another effort to get up. 

A bit of relief filtered through him as he snaked an arm about her waist, pulling her back down. “I stopped by your work to see if you were free from lunch. They said you had called out sick.”

She hesitated, glancing at him through the thick fall of her hair. 

“I … didn’t sleep well last night.” She admitted. 

He frowned, watching as she unconsciously reached up, rubbing hard against her chest right over her heart. He noticed that her wrist seemed strangely bare and he realized she wasn’t wearing her Hunter’s Watch.

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to eat here then.” He replied, forcing some false cheerfulness in his tone as he rose, drifting towards her kitchen. 

He heard her shift behind him. “Uh … I don’t think I really have anything right now. I’d planned on going shopping later …”

Ah . 

He quickly pivoted, leaning against the small island that separated her living room from the kitchen and plucked his phone out of his pocket. “That’s easy enough to fix.” He replied, ignoring the way she opened her mouth to undoubtedly protest whatever order he was about to make. 

“There.” He declared, shamelessly ordering for both of them before she could figure out how to tell him to stop. 

Her eyes narrowed and he met that gaze evenly, unwilling to back down. 

With a huff she turned away, glaring at the blank holoscreen across from her. 

She was still rubbing the spot over her heart, he noted, as worry continued to worm its way through him. Tossing the phone aside, he made his way back to the couch, sliding his hands down her bare arms and pressing a kiss to her wounded shoulder. 

She tried to shake him off, protesting that she needed to grab a shower and brush her hair. 

Chuckling, he pulled her back against the couch. “After we eat.” He assured, slipping around to settle in next to her. Her skin was alarmingly cold against his as he tucked her under his arm. He shamelessly forced her to stretch out next to him as he pulled her up safely against his chest. 

Her quick grumbles made him laugh softly as she twisted, begrudgingly making herself comfortable against him. 

“Close your eyes.” He urged, brushing a kiss against her temple. “I’ll wake you up when the food gets here.”

She huffed. “Not tired.” She lied. 

He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Try anyway.” He urged.

Despite her protests he felt her body eventually go limp as her breathing slowed and evened out. He shifted his grip, holding her against him as she slept, watchful for any sign that her dreams were turning dark. 

Satisfied that she had drifted deeply enough into clearly needed sleep, he let his hands brush under the loose fabric of her clothes, searching for anything that might account for the sudden turn in her health. She wasn’t always truthful concerning the extent of her wounds gained from hunting and he worried she was hiding something. 

To his relief, the marks on her left shoulder were the worst that he felt. Pausing to make sure she was still well asleep, he gently tilted her forward, exposing her wounded shoulder and her back. Slowly he brushed the thin strap of her shirt down, peeling the fabric back to bare the cuts. They were still an angry red, the skin on either side of the marks inflamed from the bacteria and toxins carried on the Wanderer’s claws but he could see signs of healing as well. She’d attempted to treat them as best she could, given their awkward location. 

Brushing his own fingers across them he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before firmly pressing his tongue against the first of the three marks, licking a quick strip up the rough ridge of torn flesh. She shifted beneath him, eyes pinching slightly and he paused, waiting for her to settle before he repeated the action. 

Eventually she settled, the numbing effect in his saliva granting her a bit of relief as he laved the wounds, leaving behind his own unique brand of Lemurian medicine. 

The wounds would start to itch something fierce in a few hours as the healing components in his saliva began to fight off the small infection and encouraged her cells to begin to divide more rapidly, closing the wounds quicker. But for now the numbing should help her relax. 

His phone pinged, alerting him to the arrival of their food.

He carefully unwrapped himself from around his mate, settling her gently against the cushions. Snatching a blanket from a nearby chair he draped it over her, tucking it under her sleeping form until she was trapped in a green cocoon of soft fabric. Assured that she wouldn’t be trying to sneak off while he was away, he slipped down to the lobby, accepting the bags from the impatient delivery droid before making his way back up to her apartment. 

He was annoyed to find her awake by the time he had gotten back, flailing around as she tried to extract herself from the blanket he’d trapped her in. 

Her eyes narrowed as he breezed in, setting the bags upon the bare kitchen island and pulling out the containers. 

“Ah!” He warned, giving her his own glare when she made to get up. They stared each other down for a long moment but, to his relief she gave in first, lowering herself back down upon the couch to glare at him as he continued picking through what he had ordered, trying to figure out how much he could reasonably expect her to stomach. 

“I’m fine .” She growled when he finally made his way back to her, setting a plate in her hands. 

He hummed in disagreement, nudging her over so he could sit down next to her. 

She nibbled absently at her sandwich for a few moments before setting it aside, ignoring his narrowed eyed glare. 

Once again her right hand came up, absently rubbing against her chest over her heart. Every time she did it, he felt his own heart clench, worry burning in his stomach. They had never discussed the subject of her heart in this lifetime… or her health in general, but he would have had to have been blind to not notice the scars so carefully carved into her chest. They were thin, impossibly straight pale strips of discolored flesh, surgical in their placement and precision. 

She’d had heart surgery. More than once. Whoever had conducted the surgery had clearly been careful to try to keep the cuts in the same place to spare her from additional scarring but he had mapped every nick, scar, and blemish in his mate’s form and he had seen the slight variations in the scar thickness. 

He’d bitten his tongue, unsure how to broach the subject of her heart without scaring her away. It troubled him deeply. The heart had always been a potential weak point. That she was already at the stage of needing surgery despite only being newly reborn to this world …

Without thinking he reached out, gently catching her wrist and pulling her hand away from her chest. He felt her pulse fluttering against his hand and he focused on it, frowning at the sluggish, irregular beat. He was no doctor, healing had never been one of his talents but this felt wrong. 

Glancing up at her he saw the guarded look as she tried to feebly pull away. Her shirt pulled slightly with the motion and his frown deepened when he noticed the strange reddish bruise peeking out near the left of her neckline, just above her heart.

One that had certainly not been there when they had parted ways earlier. 

“Get dressed.” He demanded suddenly, drawing her to her feet. 

She tugged back against his grip, frowning. “Why?”

“I’m taking you to your doctor. Get dressed.” He repeated, letting her go long enough to swipe his phone from the counter. 

He turned, frowning when he realized she was still standing there, cradling her wrist as she glared at him. 

“I’m fine.” She demanded petulantly. 

He scoffed, leaning against the counter. “You’re not fine. You’re cold, tired, and your heart isn’t beating properly.”

She pulled back slightly, shaking her head. “I just had a bad night’s sleep. I’ll … take a nap.”

He pushed away from the counter, stalking around her as she began to back away from him, amber gaze suddenly wary at the change in his demeanor. “You can either go get changed now …” He stated, herding her back towards the bedroom door, “or I’ll take you like this. Your choice.” He growled, baring his teeth. 

He saw her jaw tighten, making a muscle in her cheek twitch a moment before she shed the blanket he had draped around her, tossing it at him in anger before stalking back to her room, slamming the door behind her. 

He waited, listening to the sound of her taking out her little temper tantrum on drawers that were yanked open and the muffled tirade against his manhood that accompanied it. It was enough to almost bring a faint smile to his face.

Almost.

Enough time passed that he was preparing to go in there to fetch her when she came stomping out, ignoring him as she breezed past him. He saw her tuck something into her pocket before slipping on a pair of shoes and heading out the door, not bothering to wait for him. He followed silently, willing to let her stew if that was what it took to get her in the car. She glared at him as she jerked the car door open, flopping down in the seat and refusing to look at him as he slid in next to her. 

“Where is your doctor located?” He asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral. 

“Akso. But he’s probably too booked to see me.” She grit out. 

He started the car, threading his way back towards the city center where the hospital campus sprawled lazily next to the main highway. 

He followed silently when she hopped out of the car as soon as he found a spot in the parking garage, letting her lead them towards the Heart Center. The woman at the desk glanced up at them, recognition flicking across her face as they approached, souring his mood. 

How often did she come here that the desk nurse would recognize her on sight?

He leaned against the counter as his stubborn little Hunter inquired as to whether or not her doctor was free to see her. The nurse frowned, pulling a schedule up on her screen. From his position he could see it was firmly packed. 

“Her heart is beating irregularly.” He stated, earning a slashing glare from the smaller woman at his side and a concerned one from the nurse. “Her skin is cool and clammy as well. She needs to be seen.”

The nurse nodded, ignoring the weak protest from the patient in question, sending them both to go sit off to the side while she disappeared into the back. 

“It’s not that bad.” She grumbled, leaning away from him in annoyance. 

He shrugged, pulling his phone from his pocket to begin to clear his schedule for the next few days, unwilling to argue with her when he could simply bully her into getting what he wanted. 

There were things he was willing to bend on, things he would always let her have her way with. Her health, however, wasn’t one of them. Especially when it came to the matter of her heart. 

The nurse returned surprisingly quickly, taking the grumbling Hunter back with her. 

He waited patiently, watching patients come and go as the hours slowly began to tick away. When they finally brought her back to him she was more subdued, her shoulders hunched and the circles under her eyes darker and more prominent. Her sleeve was pushed up, bearing bandages on her inner elbow, the remains of blood testing, he supposed. Her entire form radiated exhaustion and he helped her settle in a corner, leaning against the wall as she tiredly closed her eyes, leaving him to deal with checking her out. 

The nurse handed him a packet, instructing him to have her add it to the medical file she should have at home. He tucked it away, listening intently as she went over the care plan her doctor wanted her to follow for the next few days. 

With his mate’s agreement and a messily scrawled signature to assign him as one of her primary caregivers, the nurse showed him how to access the monitoring software on her phone and where to send the results. He marked down the times they wanted the results sent and provided them with his number to contact in case they wanted her to come back. He had them print out a copy of her medication plan, noting the times he knew he had never seen her taking pills while she stayed with him. That earned her a quick glare which she met with a weary roll of her eyes.

He pointedly tucked the paper in his breast pocket, dark gaze firmly letting her know that there would be no more missed doses under his watch. 

Finally, they had provided him with something called a stimulator to replace the one she had apparently used the evening before. He turned it over in his hands, frowning as the nurse showed him how to operate it. His mood darkened considerably when he realized that this was meant to be an emergency device, something to tide her over long enough for an ambulance to arrive.

And yet she’d used it the night before without bothering to take that final step. 

He pocketed the device, deciding to save that lecture for later. 

Assured that the current fluctuations in her heart beat, while concerning, were still within the established safety zone for her condition, he returned to her side, gently helping her up and letting her set the pace back to the car. He settled her into the seat, helping her lift exhausted feet and tucking them safely inside. 

“My place or yours?” He asked, watching as her dark lashes settled against her cheeks. 

“Mine.” She murmured.

He nodded silently, gently closing the door. 

She was asleep by the time he pulled up to her apartment. She woke up long enough to grumble a half formed protest when he carefully picked her up, carrying her through the lobby. He ignored it. Safely back in the apartment he gently laid her down upon the rumbled bed, peeling off her shoes and pants and helping her slip under the covers. He tucked them around her, smiling faintly when she rolled towards him, trying to tug him down with her. 

“In a moment.” He murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss across her forehead. 

She grumbled sleepily, letting him know her displeasure at being made to wait. 

“Where do you keep your papers?” He whispered, brushing the hair back from her forehead. She waved vaguely towards the kitchen and he nodded, pulling away from her. Plucking the stimulator from his pocket, he set it on the side table before slipping away from her long enough to dig through her kitchen drawers until he found an old battered folder with the Akso hospital logo on it. It was disturbingly thick and he carried it back to the bedroom with him, settling on her bed.

He smiled softly as she rolled towards him, burying her face in his lap and twisting about his legs. He wrapped his left arm around her, pushing her more firmly against himself as he flipped open the file, sharp gaze taking in the cold, clinical words. 

By the time he was finished, rage was boiling up within him. 

He flung the file away, watching as it landed on a side table with a solid thunk. Protocore shards in her heart. The medical staff had been unsure of where they had come from. But he knew. 

The shattering sound of the ancient aether core that had once resided in her heart, one given to her willingly by another god to free her from yet another of Astra’s ridiculous preordained fates, still haunted his dreams. Would always haunt him. 

By why had the aether core not been reformed? And why was the heart she now possessed, the heart that had once been his, struggling so?

He shifted, pulling the sleeping form more firmly into his embrace as he pressed a kiss to his mate’s dark crown, considering the issue at hand. 

Under Astra’s incessant interference, she had never been given the opportunity to live a full, long life. If it wasn’t fate decreeing he pay Astra’s blood price for his own rebirth and the continued longevity of the Lemurian Sun then the task fell to the other god Astra had chosen to watch over the humans on land, waiting patiently for her to find her way to his bleak, lifeless mountain so that the ancient protocore Astra had left in his care might feast upon her life energy. 

But they’d both broken that cycle. He’d hidden away the mortal heart Astra had cursed her with, giving her his own to free her from the elder god’s machinations. To sacrifice the heart of a god was forbidden. Even Astra could not demand that of either of them.

Later, the elder god had changed tactics, using Philos's other god to lure her far away from the seas where he could not interfere as Astra focused instead upon obtaining the energy she had gained from her new heart. Thankfully, Astra’s other chosen had eventually recognized the dark web he’d been drawn into, using the ancient aether core, the Creatio Protocore, Astra had given him to once again defy Astra’s will and set her free from the elder god’s use.

Despite their efforts to set her beyond Astra’s reach, Astra had not stopped, had made it very clear he would never stop. In his anger and desperation to force them back upon the paths he directed, Astra had torn their world apart, leaving it little more than a barren wasteland to be squabbled over by its desperate inhabitants. Astra’s ultimatum had been simple. If they wanted Philos to be restored, he was to return the heart he had hidden away while the other god was to retrieve the Creatio Protocore. Only then would Astra rewrite Philos’s ordained destiny, allowing them all to return to their original fates. 

But they had both refused, he and the human’s assigned overseer, choosing instead to fade away along with their dying world rather than to dance as characters in Astra’s macabre storybook. Despite their resolve, the one they had sworn to protect had instead chosen to sacrifice herself to save them. 

It had taken a long time for her to regain the energy needed to be reborn. When he’d finally found her she had appeared strong, full of vital energy. Finally free to live the life she deserved. 

So why was her heart, a god’s heart that had always revived fully with each of his own rebirths, failing? Why hadn’t the ancient aether core, one Astra had used to create countless other worlds, reformed itself when she had used it to create this one?

He was missing something. 

Something important. 

There were warnings in her medical reports about something called “protocore syndrome”. A list of conditions to watch out for. He wasn’t familiar with that term but his eyes had locked onto the warning following it. 

Advanced protocore syndrome would lead to eventual fatality.

The reports hadn’t stated a timeframe but he recognized the pattern of slowly worsening results and gradually grim diagnosis. 

Her doctors were trying to save her, to buy her as much time as they could, but he had seen this pattern too often to not know how this was going to end. 

He closed his eyes, forcing his clenched jaw to relax. 

No. This was a new world, with new possibilities. He wouldn’t let it end as it had before. 

Whatever had gone wrong with the aether core during the formation of this new world would be fixed. 

He would settle for no less. 

********

She woke slowly, clawing her way out of the cloying dreamless exhaustion she had fallen into. Her head ached fiercely and if she didn’t scratch the annoying itch on her left shoulder she was sure she was going to go absolutely crazy. 

Grumbling, she shifted, clawing at the back of her shoulder blade, frowning slightly at whatever her face was pressed into. It was firm, far too firm to be her mattress or a pillow and the fabric’s texture felt off. 

Lifting her head slightly she blinked open her eyes, struggling to see in the dim light. 

Something heavy was laying across her back, a hand wrapped firmly about her hip, keeping her in place against a relaxed body. Peering up, she felt a flood of warmth as she took in the sleeping face above her. 

Memories slowly crept back and she flushed slightly at her reaction to him making her go to the hospital. Using the stimulator always took a lot of her body. She’d just been tired and grumpy, wanting nothing more than to just curl back up on the sofa and sleep. The last thing she had wanted to do was burden Rafayel with her ongoing medical issues. 

She frowned, relaxing back against the sleeping form and staring at her pale hand splayed against Rafayel’s thigh. She knew the seriousness of her condition, knew what the eventual outcome would be. It was a weight she avoided thinking about most days. Oh she kept her limits in mind, dutifully showed up for checkups and agreed to whatever new tactic Zayne or the other doctor’s wanted to try but it was something she kept compartmentalized and away from her daily worries. Her fate would be what it would be … regardless of how much she agonized over it.

But she worried how Rafayel would respond to it. He was busy. He had adoring fans, a flourishing business, a whole lifetime ahead of him. 

How much time would he be willing to give her before her own condition slowed her down too much to keep up with his pace? Before she became more of a burden than he felt she was worth?

The thought of him moving on sent a wave of sadness through her. Still, she couldn’t be selfish. She would simply have to enjoy what time he was willing to give her. 

Sighing she forced herself up, laughing softly when her movements began to wake him. His arm tightened about her unconsciously but she pulled herself free, sliding off the side of the bed as violet eyes slowly blinked open, peering at her in concern as she realized she’d been sleeping in just her underwear and hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, praying she had left some kind of pants or shorts in there to cover up with. 

A sharp rap at the door a minute later made her yelp, earning her a gentle chuckle from the other side. 

“You need to take your medication. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Rafayel called through the door.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering how he knew that. With a shrug she listened as his footsteps moved away, cautiously stepping out when she heard him close the bedroom door behind him. Assured that she had some privacy she darted back out, shimmying into a pair of pants and tossing on an old ragged college t-shirt that she probably should have thrown out ages ago. 

On the side table she noticed her medical file and froze. 

That … wasn’t where she kept it. 

Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat she crept towards it, flipping it open. 

Stacked neatly on the top were the files from today’s visit. She glanced at the closed door, nervously chewing on her lower lip. She remembered Zayne handing her the file, forcing her to repeat the new treatment and monitoring instructions twice to make sure she had them dedicated to memory. 

But she didn’t remember carrying them home. 

Her eyes flicked to the bottom of the summary page, widening as she saw the name printed there.

Patient permits third party “Rafayel” access to treatment and monitoring plan . 

On the line next to it her signature had been scrawled, barely legible, a testament to how utterly exhausted she had been.

She winced, closing the file slowly. 

Great. 

Not only had she probably scared the hell out of him when he’d come to check up on her, she’d apparently decided to burden him with all of the nonsense Zayne had demanded she do over the next few days. Zayne, in own icy way, had absolutely torn into her for not calling him or the hospital after using the stimulator the night before. She supposed she deserved it but at the time she’d just been too damn tired to want to think about leaving her bed, let alone getting dressed and waiting for help to arrive.

Sighing she decided she had hidden long enough. Squaring her shoulders she pulled open the bedroom door, forcing a smile as she drifted into the living room. 

Rafayel was leaning against her kitchen counters, clicking away at something on his phone. He had her fridge open and she cocked her head, figuring he was trying to find something to eat.

“Sorry, I haven’t had time to go shopping …” She said, hesitating when he glanced over at her. He gestured to the far counter where she saw a couple of takeout containers neatly stacked. 

“There’s food over there.” He replied, going back to his scrutiny of her empty fridge. “Your medicine is on the side table.”

She glanced at the side table, surprised to see a trio of bottles carefully set out, the rest of her treatments meticulously lined up in a basket behind them. 

“Thanks.” She murmured, reaching up to pick up the first bottle and checking the label to ensure it was the correct medication for the time. “I’ll run out to pick up a few things later.” She promised, twisting open the cap and fishing out a pale blue capsule. “I’m not really hungry at the moment.”

In the kitchen she noticed Rafayel straightening, turning to glare at her fully. “Two of those pills say ‘take with food’.” He pointed out, folding his arms across his chest as he stared her down. 

She met his gaze, shaking out a small white pill from the second bottle and popping it in her mouth, dry swallowing it. “I know how to take my medicine.” She protested. 

He snorted. “Do you? Because I couldn’t help but notice you have way more pills in those bottles than the fill date says you should have.”

Her mouth snapped closed, shocked. He’d counted her pills?

Sensing that fighting with him would get her nowhere she swallowed her snippy reply, focusing instead on gathering the last pill she needed and drifting over to the stacks of takeout to try to choose something she could wolf down to get him off her back. 

She was aware of his eyes tracking her movements but did her best to ignore him, settling on a small container of noodles to take back to the couch with her. 

He continued padding around her kitchen while she ate, opening cabinets here and there and continuing to enter things on his phone. When she finally set the mostly empty container aside he drifted out, settling in the worn second hand armchair next to her. 

Drawing a deep breath she ran her hands along her thighs, dredging up the strength she needed. “Thanks,” she murmured, watching as his gaze settled on her. “For … coming to check on me.”

Rafayel’s violet gaze was guarded but she could read the tension in the way he slowly flipped his phone over and over between his fingers. 

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and I guess it made me kind of grouchy. Sorry for ruining your afternoon.” She tried again. 

“You didn’t ruin my afternoon.” He snapped waspishly. 

She sighed. “Still … I’m sorry I upset you. I could have headed over to the hospital myself.”

He pushed himself up from the chair, pacing restlessly for a moment before pausing, his stiff back to her. “It’s not about you being “grouchy” or not feeling well.” He growled, turning to glare at her. “I’m upset that you didn’t tell me your heart was compromised. I don’t like it when you hide things from me.”

Unbidden his words triggered something deep within her. A flare of temper burned its way up her spine, making her see red. “ And you don’t hide things from me ?” She snapped before she could stop herself. 

She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as the strange compulsion released her. 

Across from her Rafayel froze, lips parting for a brief moment before resealing and thinning into a tight frown. 

She blinked, shrinking back into the cushions. “I’m sorry.” She murmured, staring down at her hands. “I … what you do is none of my business.” She stood, turning to flee back to her room. 

She winced as a hand caught her forearm, pulling her back. Rafayel’s strong arms wrapped about her, pressing her against his chest as his cheek nuzzled against the crown of her head. She closed her eyes, drawing a shuddering breath. 

“You scared me.” Rafayel admitted. “I don’t like knowing you’re hurt.” He murmured, his voice rumbling against her back.

She smiled faintly, reaching up to wrap her hands around his forearm for a moment before turning, pressing her palms against his chest. Under her hand she could feel the strong, steady beat of his own heart. What must that feel like? She wondered. To be able to trust that the rhythm would stay the same beat after beat?

Sighing she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against him. 

“It’s … it’s something I’ve had trouble with since I was child. Zayne … my doctor … has it under control. Well,” she added at his soft scoff, “mostly under control.”

Rafayel’s hands wrapped about her arms, gently pushing her back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell me.” He insisted, his violet gaze strangely intense. “I want you to tell me these things. You shouldn’t have to deal with them alone.”

Her lips parted in surprise. She felt a faint blush creeping up her neck and she pulled back, turning away slightly before he could see it. “Okay.” She agreed, trying to regain her composure. Taking in a deep breath she reached out, playfully punching his shoulder. “But only if you tell me if you need something too.”

The first ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, making her worry dissipate as he stepped behind her, redirecting her back towards the couch. “If I ever get sick you’ll be the first person I call.” He assured. 

She laughed softly, letting him push her back down and accepting the forgotten blanket he plucked from the ground and draped over her shoulders, exhaustion already weighing heavily upon her. She watched as he flicked off the lights, bathing the room in the comforting twilight as the sun started to complete it's journey beneath the horizon. 

"Go to sleep." Rafayel whispered as he passed behind the couch, his fingers brushing the edges of her cheek. 

Letting her lashes fall closed she listened, drifting off to the comforting sounds of having another nearby to watch out for her. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, she hurt. 

Everything hurt. 

She sulked on the couch, trying her best to ignore the way every breath made her chest scream in pain. Her collarbone and ribs felt inflamed, making even the slightest movement a symphony of agony. The bruise the stimulator had left on her chest had turned into quite the kaleidoscope of colors.

She found a position on the couch she could live with and basically stuck with it, privately enjoying having Rafayel around to fetch things for her. To his credit, he put up with her orders well enough and in turn she bit her tongue when he fussed over this and that. She also tried to keep the constant reminders of her weakness from souring her mood too much. She hated feeling weak. And she hated the thought that her weakness might cause Rafayel to think less of her.

They squabbled gamely over the remote for the holoscreen, finally settling their differences with rock, paper, scissors … which she handily won, much to Rafayel’s annoyance. She took a little pity on him, settling on a cooking competition series she had been meaning to watch but hadn’t gotten around to. Rafayel turned out to be quite the critic, scoffing at plating choices or the uneven application of fondant here and there, occasionally forcing her to pause the show as she struggled to stop laughing at his faux outrage lest she jostle her aching ribs too much. 

Every few hours Rafayel would dutifully, if not perhaps a bit too gleefully, go check the medication timeline he’d somehow convinced Yvonne to put together for him, pawing through her basket of pills for the right ones and merrily threatening her until she had complied with the medical demands to his satisfaction. 

And because Zayne had apparently decided to list “exhaustion” as a major contributing factor to her attack, Rafayel decided she needed regularly scheduled naps. 

She’d balked at that, peppering him with pillows when he ignored her protests that she was not some kindergartner who needed to be put down for a 1 pm nap. But he’d staid firm, shutting off the lights, closing the curtains, and drowning her in darkness and silence until her frankly still tired body turned traitor on her and finally gave in. 

She’d just begun to stir from her forced nap when the door bell rang, starting her fully into wakefulness. 

At her side Rafayel’s chin tilted up, violet gaze narrowed in annoyance. 

“Are you expecting someone?” He inquired. 

Pushing herself up she shook her head. “Probably the mailman or something.” She offered tiredly, clawing aimlessly at her tangled hair. 

Rafayel snorted softly, still clearly irritated by the interruption as he rose, stalking towards the door. 

She spotted her brush on the side table and made a grab for it, wincing slightly as it pulled on her arching shoulder but, to her relief, she was able to drag it close enough to wrap her fingers around it and bring it back to the couch with her. 

Settling back she peered around the corner, curious. Rafayel’s broad back blocked most of her view of whoever it was at the door, his shoulders tense as he replied to something the other had asked. 

“She’s sleeping.” Rafayel stated, his voice clipped, tone haughty as though he were already done with whatever conversation the other was trying to draw him in to.

“Well, I’d like to see her anyway.” Came the soft, measured reply. 

She blinked in surprise, immediately recognizing the soothing voice. Pushing herself up off the couch she cursed as one of the blankets caught around her ankle, making her hop awkwardly to keep her balance. 

At the door, Rafayel stepped back slightly, turning to give her a narrow eyed glare of censure. Just beyond him, Xavier shifted, peering around the other man to study her. 

“Hey!” She offered, wincing slightly as her half wave pulled at her aching collarbone. “Come on in, Xavier.” 

She noticed the way Rafayel’s jaw tightened at her invitation, clearly unhappy with allowing someone else in but, to her relief, he relented, flipping on the light switch as he moved away from the door, allowing her partner entry.

She noticed the way Xavier’s blue gaze lingered on Rafayel’s back for a long moment before flicking towards her, taking her in. 

She laughed, nervously tugging at her still knotted hair. “Sorry, things are … kind of a mess right now. But welcome anyway!”

Noting that Rafayel had drifted off to a seat in the corner, distancing himself as best he could without leaving the room, she offered Xavier the side chair as she picked her way back to the couch, quickly dragging the brush through her hair in the hopes of regaining some semblance of normalcy.

Xavier belated seemed to remember the bag he held, setting it carefully on the table between them. “I heard you were taking a medical leave for a few days. I figured you might need someone to get you some food.” His gaze slipped towards Rafayel in the corner a moment before returning back towards her. “But maybe I was wrong.”

She waved his words off, pulling the bag towards her to peer inside. “No, no it’s fine!” She offered, plucking out a pair of snacks to see what he’d thought to buy. “Poor Rafayel’s been stuck playing babysitter all day. I’m sure he’d appreciate some help.”

Xavier cocked his head slightly, gaze going unfocused for a moment before blinking. “Rafayel.” He murmured, as though testing the name out. “You’re the one who made the painting with the Wanderer in it.”

She stilled, glancing nervously at the figure lurking in the shadows of the corner.

Rafayel was staring at his nails, as though not at all interested in what the other man had to say. “I could be.” He replied dryly.

Before Xavier could push harder she waved her hand, regaining his attention. “Rafayel popped by yesterday to check in on me and helped take me to the hospital to get some things checked.” She heard Rafayel’s quick tsk over how she glossed over the real events and sent him a warning look to shut up. The last thing she needed was more people questioning her health. 

“I guess it’s good someone was around.” Xavier replied, his soft tone making it impossible for her to get a gauge on whether or not he was picking up on anything out of the ordinary. 

“Yeah. But now that you’re here … I bet Rafayel has some stuff he’d love to get done while you and I have some dinner.” She offered hopefully.

To her annoyance, Rafayel merely met her gaze evenly as he crossed his legs, settling more firmly in the chair. “Not particularly.” He drawled.

She scowled, pointedly trying to telegraph that she was trying to give him a chance to go enjoy himself … at least for a few hours. 

Rafayel stubbornly stared her down, silently refusing. 

Sighing she let her chin droop, sparing her partner an apologetic smile. “Guess not.”

Xavier was quiet for a long moment, clearly noting the rapidly building tension. She saw his gaze fall on the basket of medication she’d pushed towards the edge of the table, blue eyes lingering on the crisp white sheet that listed off her times and doses.  

With a sigh he rose, giving her a faint smile. “Well, I’m glad to see you have someone helping you out. I’ll let you get some more rest. Call me if you need anything … or you want us to swap out.” He glanced to the side with that last bit, making it very clear what he meant by it. 

She noted the way Rafayel’s eyes narrowed slightly at that, his temper certainly turning for the worst at the underlying suggestion that he was so easily replaceable. 

“Right!” She exclaimed, feeling a bit bad about kicking Xavier out but honestly, not really in the mood for whatever pissing match the two men seemed to be on the verge of. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” She promised, sliding forward to get up, intending to show him out. 

To her relief Xavier simply shook his head, waving gently towards her, indicating that he could show himself out. She breathed out a slight sigh of relief as the door closed, Rafayel quick on Xavier’s heels to lock it behind him before drifting over to the table and plucking up the bag Xavier had brought and carrying it away.

She scowled, folding her arms as he deposited the bag in the back corner of her kitchen, as though it were something offensive. 

“That was my partner.” She pointed out in a huff.

Rafayel shrugged, fetching a pair of covered dishes from the fridge. “How kind of him to think to come all this way just to check on you.” He replied, his voice thick with mock praise. 

She shook her head, slightly amused at his reaction. “He lives upstairs.”

Rafayel’s hands paused, his eyes widening slightly at her declaration before his scowl deepened. “Convenient.” He growled, more to himself than to her. 

She laughed, snatching one of the bowls from his hands when he returned, cradling the soup. “Oh my god, are you jealous?” She demanded. 

He gave her a withering glare as he settled back in the side chair, sneering at it momentarily before shifting, clearly trying to reclaim it as his own personal spot. 

“Should I be?” He asked peevishly. 

She chuckled, scooching closer towards him so she could reach out, patting his knee teasingly. “He’s just my partner.” She assured. “He’s been a good friend, though, and has helped me to grow a lot as a Hunter. So please play nice with him.”

Rafayel snorted, neither agreeing or disagreeing. 

Figuring it would have to do, she focused on picking a new show for them to watch. 

*****

At some point during the next day, when cabin fever was beginning to get a bit too overwhelming, Rafayel agreed to a little excursion down the street. They took it slow, strolling down the still damp street as gray clouds parted, making way for warming sunshine. He took joy in steering her this way and that, making sure she avoided most of the overhanging branches, still heavy with unshed raindrops that glittered brightly in the gentle breeze. He was mindful of those around them, eager to avoid another meet up with her oh so attentive partner who lived just a little bit too close for his comfort. 

She happily showed him around, commenting on this and that place, allowing him brief glimpses into the life she had begun making for herself. When her feet began to drag slightly he ruthlessly bullied her towards a little cafe she had mentioned liking, parking her at a small table for two tucked away safely under a faded overhang. She made quite the pretty picture, tucked into the corner framed by morning glories that drooped, petals heavy with water from the late morning rain. 

Smiling faintly to himself he stepped inside the little shop, glancing absently at the meager menu before ordering the first thing that looked warm. As the shopkeeper puttered about, preparing their drinks he scanned the worn counters, contemplating the collection of little handmade gifts. Along the far wall a peculiar design caught his attention, drawing him closer as he contemplated the gently curving wooden pieces. They’d been artfully cut into the shape of flowers and once put together revealed a rather lovely field of fantastical wildlife. 

Plucking up one of the organza bags of puzzle pieces he added it to his order, politely declining when the shopkeeper offered to help him carry the cups out. 

His little Hunter’s eyes immediately snapped to the bag when he returned, curiosity making her gaze sharp and more than a little predatory. He kept it out of her reach, enjoying the little scowl she gave him in response to being denied the bag. They sipped in silence, watching the last of the raindrops slip from the leaves to splatter on unsuspected passers-by, simply enjoying themselves in this moment.

A few of the neighborhood cats stopped by, pegging the young woman at his side as a sucker immediately and began meowing pathetically until she cooed and tossed them the desired food, much to his exasperation. She laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. He shook his head, finishing up the last of his somewhat underwhelming coffee. 

He saw the way her eyes narrowed gleefully just a second too late to save the bag he had set to the side and she pounced, snatching it up before he could stop her. 

He snorted softly as she peered at it, shaking it to listen to the little wooden pieces clink. Her lips pursed slightly as she considered the sound they made, thin fingers reaching up to squeeze and manipulate them through the bag, trying to guess their shape. Finally she cocked her head, glancing at him. 

“Puzzle?” She guessed.

He laughed, reaching out to run his fingers through a few pieces of her hair that lay curled against her shoulder. “Can’t hide anything from my Bodyguard, I suppose.” He teased. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, prying open the bag to dig through the pieces. “Did you get a copy of the picture?”

He shook his head. “It’ll be a surprise.”

She nodded, pulling the strings taunt to close the bag securely. “As long as you’re up for the challenge.”

He hid his own predatory smile behind the rim of his empty cup.

Back at the apartment, he helped her clear off the table, laughing softly as she began to drift off before they had even begun sorting the pieces of her new puzzle. He watched with amusement as she tried to fight the exhaustion off but ever so slowly her posture worsened, allowing her to sink lower and lower on the couch until her chin was snuggled firmly against her chest, her breathing slow and even as her lashes stilled. 

Brushing a kiss over her dark hair he flicked off the lights, settling in the well worn armchair at her side as he caught up on the morning’s messages. Most were unimportant. Reminders and invitations about this or that, attempts to solicit comments or thoughts from him about pointless things he couldn’t care less about. Trusting Thomas to be dealing with such trifling matters on his end he ruthlessly deleted them. 

One message that had come through a very carefully guarded group chat in the early hours of the morning, however, gave him pause. He read over the attached report, fury slowly building within him as he took in the details, reading between the lines for sections purposely left vague. 

Glancing at the sleeping form of his mate, he contemplated whether or not he wanted to get involved. It wasn’t necessarily something that required his immediate attention but ….

Sighing he rose, slipping out onto the balcony, careful to close the door behind him so that he wouldn’t wake her. 

Amund, for all of his disdain for human technology, answered quickly enough, making him scowl at the unwanted title the elder insisted on using as a greeting between them. 

“I saw the messages. What’s going on?” Rafayel demanded, uninterested in platitudes or small talk. 

Amund sighed, clearly picking up on his impatience. “It’s being handled.” He assured. 

He frowned, nails tapping against the slowly rusting railing. “An auction being rumored here in my city right under my nose doesn’t sound like an issue that is being handled.” He growled. 

“We do not have enough information yet.” Amund insisted. “It could simply be a matter of a few scales …”

Rafayel snorted. “Scales don’t sell for those kind of prices.” He pointed out. “If those numbers being reported are accurate it was more than a few scales being sold off.

A quick tsk met his words. “Bashir is still gathering information on it.” Amund assured him. “All we have are whispers and rumors. In addition, Etain is trying to track down the money transfers to help us identify who was involved and how much was spent. We must give them both time to work.”

He seethed quietly, staring out at the apartment buildings across the street. Amund was right, they didn’t have much more than rumors at this point. But it still rankled him to think that somewhere nearby one or more of his own kind were trapped, struggling to survive among the humans that had spent so much for the privledge to try to enslave a member of the once proud race. 

Lemurians had once again caught the humans’ fancy, especially with the recent discoveries of their abandoned settlements. There had been something of an artistic renaissance concerning it, with Lemurians featuring more and more in popular arts in recent years. There was clearly a marked increase in the fetishization of his kind, romantic stories being put to film and theater, more depraved ones being set down in pen and ink. 

For the vast majority of the humans eagerly consuming the material, it was nothing more than harmless fantasy. 

But for those with enough money to pay … how far might they be willing to go in order to explore long whispered fables about scales and the power of true names?

Rafayel sighed, pressing a hand against his own chest, very aware of just how close some of those damned stories came to uncomfortable truths. 

“Fine. But as soon as there are any names, I want them.” He demanded. 

“Of course.” Amund assured. 

“And the priestess who was at my event?” Rafayel pressed. 

“We have no information on her as of yet.” Amund admitted. “We’ve accounted for everyone known to currently live on land, none have been to Linkon in quite some time. Talia’s sent a few of the others to track down the remaining priestesses that were assigned to undersea settlements to see if any of them were responsible. That you did not recognize her though… are you sure she was one of our order?”

Rafayel scowled slightly, disliking Amund’s tactic condemnation on his lack of attention towards his own people. “I recognized the markings upon her arm and she remembered me as the Astrali. You both know I did not pay much attention to the lower ranked priests and priestesses, especially towards the end but unless someone’s figured out a way to replicate that then she was definitely one of yours.” 

A gentle scoff from the elder brought a slight smile to his face. 

“Then we shall continue our search and perhaps this time, your Quintessence shall deign to remember her face and name.” Amund chided.

Rafayel laughed. “Perhaps.” 

Hanging up, he ventured back into the apartment, breathing a sigh of relief to find his mate still deeply asleep. Long ago he’d given her a measure of power over him, as a sign of his dedication. He couldn’t imagine the rage and betrayal he would have felt if another had tried to force such a bond between them without his consent. 

No, he amended, gently threading his fingers through his beloved’s hair. He knew exactly how he would have felt. And he would have gratefully watched the entire damned world burn to the ground as a result.

Sighing he let the hair slip from his fingertips as he returned to his chair. He would let Amund and the others finish their investigation into the rumors of this most recent auction. And if indeed it turned out that someone had been foolish enough to purchase one of his kind for their own uses, well, perhaps he’d get the chance to relish in reminding the world why it was foolish to try his temper.

***********

She peered about the kitchen, chewing thoughtfully at her thumbnail as she contemplated her newly overflowing cabinets. There hadn’t seemed to be any rhyme or reason for what Rafayel had chosen to buy from the nearby grocery store over the last few days. If anything his buying sprees seemed to be more geared towards just filling the empty space with anything that caught his fancy. 

She sighed, letting her hand drop as she shook her head. There was no way she was going to get to half of this stuff before it started to spoil, though he had at least thought to purchase her a few items that could be kept in the long term. 

“Alright.” She murmured to herself. “Time to put some of this stuff to good use.”

Punching a few buttons on the holopad built into her cabinet, she pulled up a recipe for sweet and sour fish and vegetable fried rice. Rafayel had stepped out earlier to run up to Thomas’s office at Flux Arts to look over some new collab offer. He’d seemed vaguely annoyed about it, though she supposed that could have been more because Thomas had called earlier that afternoon, waking them both up from their naps with threats to add increasingly ridiculous clauses for every hour that Rafayel dragged his feet. 

She’d let him baby her for a bit, waving off his promises to hurry back. They’d both slept soundly that night and her heart had been playing nice with her ever since the incident. She’d be fine she insisted, practically shoving him out the door. Besides, Xavier was just a floor away if she needed something. 

Rafayel, to her amusement, hadn't looked like he much appreciated that reminder.

It had been … nice … to have a few hours to herself. She’d flittered about, doing a little bit of cleaning, tossing some clothes into the wash, frowning over the absolutely ridiculous amount of clothes he’d brought over that required dry cleaning. 

Then she’d let herself collapse on the couch, simply enjoying the silence. 

She loved having Rafayel around, she really did, but sometimes he could be … a bit overwhelming. He could be clingy, demanding, and temperamental if given the chance but he could also be equally gentle, thoughtful, and perhaps a little bit too observant for his own good. It was a heady mixture that both touched her deeply … and left her utterly exhausted. 

But as the hours began to wile away, she’d begun feeling a little bit guilty about enjoying his absence so, when he’d finally stomped back through her door threatening to fire Thomas and demanding she pack her bags so they could run away together she had laughingly shooed him off to the shower while she handled the dinner side of things. 

Humming softly to herself she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, just to keep it out of her face, and began digging out what she needed. The gentle clanging of the pipes providing her with a simple beat as she rinsed off the carrots, broccoli, and peppers, setting them aside in a strainer to dry, simply enjoying the calm of the afternoon. A few cups of water had her rice cooker cheerfully informing her that it was ready to get to work.

Shutting off the sink she cocked her head, noting the pointed silence from the bathroom. She was just starting to chop off the ends of the carrots when Rafayel padded into the kitchen, a towel slung casually across his shoulders, catching the droplets from his still damp hair. He paused in the doorway, watching with quiet curiosity as she continued chopping her way up to the stems. 

“Didn’t think you’d start without me.” He teased as he pushed away from the door jam, his hands settling teasingly along her hips as he slid past her. 

“Hey, hey, I have a knife big shot.” She mockingly threatened, waving it vaguely in his direction. “Hands to yourself.”

Rafayel chuckled, releasing her in favor of gently prying the knife from her grasp and swiping the cutting board from her. 

“Figured I’d get a head start.” She replied, watching as he relocated her cutting station to the kitchen island, holding out his hand for the rest of the things she needed prepared.

Sighing, she obliged, passing over the rest of the vegetables as he settled into his self assigned role of “chopping duty”. He was flashy with the blade, absently flicking it here and there as he worked, making her roll her eyes when he noticed her watching with a cheeky grin. 

Returning to her own tasks, she scrolled through the recipe, making sure she had gathered everything. Nodding to herself, she turned on the stove, keeping an eye on the oil as she began to mix the cornstarch, vinegar, and sugar for the sweet and sour sauce. The aroma of ginger, soy sauce, and garlic quickly permeated the air as they worked, making her stomach grumble. She was aware of Rafayel’s soft chuckle behind her and turned, mock glaring at him as she worked the sugar and vinegar into the corn starch. 

“Do you prefer sweet … or sour?” She asked suddenly. 

Rafayel glanced up at her, his violet gaze playful. “Both, of course.” He replied smoothly. “They each have their own unique ... experiences.”

She caught the flash of his mischievous grin as he dipped his chin, swapping out the broccoli for the peppers she would need in a few minutes and realized he wasn’t entirely talking about the food. “You are so ridiculous.” She grumbled, turning back to the stove to hide her flustered expression. 

Setting the bowl aside she grabbed the first of the breaded salmon squares, slipping it into the oil on the stove. 

Distracted as she had been by Rafayel’s playfulness she failed to notice the way the oil hissed and bubbled warningly before she introduced the new element. The moment the cooler meat hit the hot oil it erupted, sputtering upwards in a small explosion. 

“Damnit!” She hissed, pulling back instinctively but not quite fast enough to pull free of the splash zone. 

Before she could react further, Rafayel was at her side, his face etched with concern as he gently took her wrist, leading her to the sink. She winced as he turned on the water, guiding her stinging hand under it. 

“Careful,” He murmured, his voice no longer teasing. “You’ve got to watch the heat.” His touch was soothing as he gently manipulated her hand and wrist, checking for other burns. Fortunately she had avoided most of the splatter. 

She glanced up at him, more than a little bit embarrassed. “I got distracted.” She grumbled, earning a soft chuckle from the man at her side. 

“Happens to the best of us.” He teased gently, giving her a playful wink. “Keep your hand under there for a few more minutes.” He instructed, moving into her place behind the stove and lowering the heat. 

She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a quick kiss, his cool lips a delightful shock against hers. “Let me handle the cooking. You finish the vegetables when you’re ready.”

She sighed, a bit irritated that he’d felt the need to take over. Still, she found herself nodding, stepping back to carefully pat the burn dry before making her way around the island, watching as he expertly added the rest of the salmon to the oil, taking over where she’d left off with ease. 

Picking up the discarded knife she focused on completing the vegetables, her hands working quickly as she kept an eye on what Rafayel was doing. He was pointedly ignoring her recipe app but seemed to know what steps came next as he stirred the sauce before retrieving the fish from the oil and depositing the squares into a dry pan for the final steps. It was clear he knew his way around the kitchen and she found herself watching him move about with a mix of admiration and slight envy. 

With the fish cubes safely out of the oil he turned, glancing over at her to see if the peppers were ready. He caught her expression and chuckled softly. “You don’t have to be upset, you know.” He said, reaching out to flick the tip of her nose playfully. “We make a good team. Besides, I’m only helping because I enjoy watching you try to keep up with me.” He winked, pulling back as she scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. 

“Oh please,” She drawled, “I’m perfectly capable of frying some fish.”

“Of course you are.” He replied, his mirth practically palpable. “But you’re even better at keeping an eye on my every move to make sure I don’t screw it up.”

His declaration startled a small laugh from her, making her shake her head as the rice cooker sang out, letting everyone know that it had just finished. She responded to it, scoping out the rice and handing it over to him for frying. She had to admit, Rafayel had a way of easing her frustration with just a few cheeky words, making her feel like they were in this together, even then all they were doing was teasing and challenging each other. 

She plated the fish as he finished frying the rice, the aroma from the spices rich and inviting. Shutting off the stove, Rafayel worked by her side, completing the final preparations for their meal. There was a comfortable silence between them, their hands brushing occasionally as they passed ingredients and utensils back and forth. When everything was finally done, they stood back, admiring their work. 

“See? We make a good team.” Rafayel declared, brushing a kiss over the top of her hair. 

She looked up at him, amber eyes meeting his with a playful glint as she leaned into him. “Only because I let you do the easy part.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. “Is that so? Well, maybe next time I’ll sit back and let you handle everything. See how that goes.”

She snorted, pushing him away as she grabbed her plate. “Then you can watch me eat the spoils of my labor all by myself too.” She replied, watching him shake his head sadly. 

“Such a cruel world when my own Bodyguard threatens to leave me to starve.” He mock whined, giving her the full effect of those wide, puppy dog eyes. 

“You better believe it.” She threatened, laughing as he pouted. 

********

Despite his best efforts to keep his mate cooped up while she recovered from this latest bout of exhaustion, Rafayel knew couldn’t keep her trapped forever. 

He watched with narrowed eyes as she pulled on her Hunter’s Uniform, ignoring him in favor of her newly found Watch that was gleefully updating her about some recent case she and her partner had been working on. He glared at the little thing, toying with the thought of sending it up in flames. 

Ah but that would only ignite her own temper and he was doing his very best to keep her in good spirits before she left. 

Sliding off the bed he caught her waist, smiling at her soft yelp as he pulled her against him, rubbing his cheek against hers, subtly scenting her. Her fellow humans wouldn’t notice the scent but it would be a warning to any other Lemurians she might encounter out and about in Linkon. 

Stay away, this one is protected.  

It was a silly thing, he supposed as he let her dance away from him, slapping at his offending hands. The chances of her running into others of his kind were slim but the memory of the offending priestess at his event still irritated him ... as did the reminder that her all too attentive partner lived a mere floor above, making him more territorial than normal. 

“Don’t forget your medicine.” He reminded, plucking the small pill container he had purchased for her from the kitchen counter and watching as she grumpily accepted it, slipping it into a pouch at her waist. “Good girl.” He teased, leaning down to steal a quick peck as she tried to bat him away. 

“Don’t you have an art world to conquer?” She grumbled, though he noticed the hint of fond satisfaction in her gaze that she struggled to hide. 

He shrugged, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. “Today. Tomorrow. It can wait.” He drawled.

She elbowed past him, stuffing her feet into her boots. “I’ll take the train in.” She informed him.

He tsked, gently rapping the back of her head with his knuckles. “It’s on the way. I’ll drop you off.”

She rolled her eyes, shooing him away. “Fine. Since you’re insisting.”

Chuckling he snatched her bag from her, carrying it out into the hallway and waiting patiently as she locked up. 

“What time will you be done today?” He asked, keeping his tone light, nonchalant even.

Despite his best effort, her gaze turned suspicious immediately. “Dunno. Why?”

He laughed, catching her chin and stealing a kiss. “Because I want you to come back to the studio afterwards.”

He didn’t like the hesitation that crossed her face but he bit his tongue, forcing her to make the decision herself. 

“I don’t want to impose …” She said, shifting awkwardly, “I mean, you haven’t had a chance to focus on work for the last week or so ..”

He rolled his eyes, stepping inside of the elevator as it shuddered to a stop on their floor. “It’s fine.” He insisted. “Besides, you can help me by keeping Reddie company so he can stop complaining while I work.” He added, gleefully using the little annoyance living at his place as bait for his own benefit.

She laughed, bumping into his shoulder playfully. “He’s just a fish. What could he possibly have to complain about?”

“I guess you’ll just have to come over tonight to find out.” He replied slyly.