We stumble up to a huge gate, and Nico gestures at it, but nothing happens. He tries flicking his fingers and grasps the ruby around his neck. There’s a surge of unfocused magic, but the gate doesn’t budge. Not surprising considering how drunk he is. “Let me.” I push his hand down and place the Guild sigil against the lock. The thrum of magic flows through my tattoo, and there’s an almost imperceptible click before the gate shifts inward. I shove it with my shoulder, pulling Nico into the compound behind me. Kicking it closed, I gesture at the lock. The inner workings snap into place while I help Nico up the few steps to the front door. With no trouble, I let us in, and steer us toward the large staircase. “When we get to the landing, which way is your room? Left or right?” He makes a grab for my face, trying to kiss me. Chuckling, I pull back. “Not right now. Help me get to your room.”
He grins. “Yes! That is a wonderful idea.” He attempts to waggle his eyebrows suggestively but only manages to look a little confused and very cute. “S’to the right. Up the steps.”
I manage to get us to his room without either of us falling, though it’s a close thing. What’s strange, though, is even with the late hour, there aren’t any servants around. No one comes to investigate the laughing or loud shushing that Nico is doing. I open his bedroom door, and we stumble in. It’s a cavernous room, with a large four-poster bed against the far-right wall. I gently maneuver Nico in that direction. He drops onto the edge of the mattress, and I kneel down to remove his boots.
“Why did you stay away? You never came, and I missed you.” Nico tries to hug me and almost falls on the floor.
I catch him and push him into a sitting position before tugging off his shirt. He flops backward onto the mattress, and I try not to stare at his beautiful body. “I was very busy.”
Nico makes an annoyed sound, which quickly changes to a pleased hum as I work open the front of his pants and pull them off. “M’naked, Bello.” As if I can’t see that for myself. He tries reaching for me. “You could get naked too.”
I can’t hold back my laugh. “You’re in no condition for naked activities other than sleeping. Maybe we can try that some other time.” I swing his legs onto the bed and throw a blanket over him.
Quicker than I thought he could manage this drunk, he grabs my hand, holding on tightly. “Stay! If you leave, I may never see you again.” His eyes turn sad, and he frowns. “Do not leave me, Bello. Please.”
I won’t be swayed by the pretty face and sad eyes. Gently untangling myself from the drunken groping, I take a quick step back. “If I promise to come back tomorrow, will you go to sleep?”
Nico eyes me skeptically through his drunken haze. “Will you really?”
It takes more willpower than I care to admit not to brush away the stray curl on his forehead. Or to lie down next to him. I need to go. And I should stay far away. “Yes. I will.”
He squeezes my hand. “Promise. On m’mother’s ashes. If you promise you will come back t’morrow, I will goto sleep.” His unexpectedly intense gaze catches and holds mine. “Promise me, Bello.”
I find myself nodding. “Yes. I promise on your mother’s ashes that I will return tomorrow. But it’ll have to be at night. It’s too dangerous during the day.”
Nico smiles and relaxes into the mattress. “Good. You can sneak onto my balcony ‘n into my room.” He makes a very drunken attempt at a wink.
I laugh again and kiss him on the forehead. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” Nico rolls onto his side. His breathing slows into a restful rhythm, and a moment later he’s softly snoring. I struggle to ignore the soft feelings taking root in my chest. “Fucking hells.” Unable to resist, I brush the same stray curl from Nico’s face before quietly backing away. A glance around the room reveals a set of doors that most likely leads to the aforementioned balcony. I walk across the soft carpet, silently depress the brass handles, and step onto a lovely terrace, tiled in neutral colors with an intricate scroll border and protected by a thick, stone balustrade. I step to the edge and peer into a landscaped garden that runs to the tree line. Beyond that is Lake Shadh, shimmering in the moonlight. A conveniently placed trellis connects the balustrade to the patio below, and I swing my leg over, climbing down easily. From there, it’s a quick jog along the side path around the house to the front gate, where I let myself out, locking it behind me. I mentally mark which house belongs to the Medinas, then hurry back to the inn and my own empty bed.
Chapter 11
Interlude on a Balcony
Once again, I carefully slink through the city, my movements hidden by the inky blackness of the night and the shadows cast from flickering streetlamps and the waning moonlight. The sane portion of my brain continues to rail at me for foolishly returning to the Medina house, but it’s no closer to winning than it has been. I’ve almost given up trying to listen to it. Almost.
I managed very little sleep, staying awake until the early morning, my brain going round and round with every argument for and against coming here again. When I’d finally fallen asleep, I’d had nightmares and woke tired, still not sure what to do. All of this second-guessing myself is disturbing. Mainly because I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. But the lack of clarity is unnerving and annoying. Emotions I’m becoming all too familiar with.
My more-than-passing interest in Nicoisunderstandable. He’s handsome, smart, witty, and charming. And an excellent lover. But I’m honest enough with myself to admit that physical urges could be managed, if that’s allthis was. It would be easy to sneak into Nico’s rooms now and then, mutually satisfy our needs, and go about my business afterward. No distractions, no ties.
But there are reasons I can’t stop thinking about him. And my resistance to exploring those feelings weakens with each interaction. This very situation is why the Shabah have rules regarding entanglements. Nico is a distraction. A weakness. And it could get us both killed.
And yet here I am, standing at the front gate of the Medina residence for a third time. I monitor the house for any sign that someone is moving around inside or on the grounds. When there’s no indication that anyone is awake, I place my palm against the gate’s lock and let myself in, skirting along the edge of the house to the trellis I used last night. Before I ascend to the balcony, I spare a quick glance through the main garden in case someone is taking a late-night stroll. While I don’t see anyone, I do notice the various plants and flowers that border the narrow walkways. Several are incredibly poisonous if ingested. Their delicate scents surround me as I quietly climb the makeshift ladder and peer over the thick stone railing.
Nico is sitting at a small table on the wide balcony, facing the enclosed garden, feet propped on a second chair. He’s reading a book, seemingly recovered from the prior night’s drunken carousing. I carefully step over the balustrade and lean against it.
“I wondered if you would really come.” He removes his feet from the chair and sets the book on the table next to an untouched glass of wine before turning to face me.
“I promised I would, and I keep my promises.” I conveniently overlook the times I seriously considered not showing up. “Especially promises made on the ashes of someone’s mother.” He winces, embarrassed by the reminder, but says nothing. “You have exceptional hearing, by the way. Most wouldn’t have noticed my approach.”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “I was not that engrossed in the book. Truthfully, I was staring at the words and listening for you.”
I push off the railing and walk to the table, lifting the glass of wine, inhaling its aroma before taking a small sip. Rich fruit and spice flavors flow over my palate. “Mmm. Mardira Red. A nice vintage.”
Nico lightly hooks his fingers with mine. “I apologize for last night. I usually do not drink like that. Against my better judgement, Marek convinced me to go out, and he kept buying more wine, and—well you saw the results.” I scowl at the mention of Marek. “I am usually more careful. And Marek was not as drunk, so I was safe.”
“Why are you apologizing to me? You’re a grown man and owe me nothing.” I try to leave it at that but can’t. “Do you go out with Marek a lot?” The words come out harsher than I intend, and I relax my fingers, letting Nico’s hand fall away. Jealousy is an unfamiliar sensation, and I don’t care for it at all. To mask my discomfort, I reach for the bottle of wine, pouring more into the glass.
Thank the Founder, he doesn’t seem to notice either my tone or my discomfort. “Marek is my best friend. We have known each other all our lives.”
