Risk (A Mageri World Novel) (15 page)

“Right this moment, or the contract is null and void.”

Simon sensed something was amiss. “Your Learner couldn’t be in safer hands. In fact,
I
couldn’t be in safer hands,” he said with a snort.

Hannah sounded like a crazed chimpanzee as she yelled at him, and he switched ears, falling back on the bed.

“Enough, Hannah. I’m on my way.”

“No detours. Lock your doors and have her here in no less than thirty minutes or else I’m sending my men after you.”

When he hung up, his gaze floated to the ceiling. Hannah was concealing information, and that peeved him. Fuck Hannah and her time limit. It took fifteen minutes just to get down to the parking garage, and she knew that as well as he did.

Simon rose from the bed and saw steam escaping through the crevice of the bathroom door. “Brilliant,” he muttered, mourning the loss of a sexcapade to remember.

Maybe it was for the best. Despite the desire he felt, he was riddled with guilt. Not just because of the teacher-student situation, but people didn’t recover from sexual brutality that quickly. Five years wouldn’t erase the trauma, nor would sleeping with a bunch of nimrods like James. Immortality would give her the time she needed to heal, and no matter how eager she appeared, she was still too raw. Trusting him with the knife showed her resilience and willingness to fight the fear, but her acquiescence didn’t give him permission to go any further.

“Scrub-a-dub-dub. It’s time to go,” he shouted, quickly realizing his blunder as the woman couldn’t hear him.

“Brilliant, Simon,” he muttered, pushing open the bathroom door. “Why don’t you show her how dense you really are by singing the ‘Star Spangled Banner’?”

He gazed at her silhouette through the semi-sheer shower curtain. A damp mist settled on his arms and face, the smell of coconut shampoo heavy in the air.

What kept him rooted in place were the moans coming from behind the curtain. He’d never envied a bar of soap in his life until just then.

Simon glanced at the bulge in his pants and gave it a scolding appraisal. “There’s no time to show off. What’s the matter with you? Since when do you lack such control? Bastard. That’s right—I’m talking to you. If you so much as poke your head out again, I’m going to give you a beating when we get home.” He chuckled to himself before reaching around the curtain and shutting off the hot water.

Ella shrieked, her feet squeaking against the tub basin as she scrambled to turn off the cold water. She poked her head out from behind the curtain and scowled.

Simon ignored her dramatic reaction and tapped his wrist, pointing at the door to signal they had to leave.

He headed toward the kitchen and opened the cabinet. This was his favorite room. Pristine, organized—a sanctuary where he could unwind and enjoy the finer things in life. When Simon prepared meals, it was more than a plate of food; it was an orgasmic experience. He loved the impact that flavors had on emotions—a phenomenon he picked up on in the early years. A person’s energy would smooth out, spike, or even ripple. Simon also appreciated food in a way few men did because he knew what it meant to be hungry.

Just as he finished heating up some apple cider, Ella emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair braided. By the smears on her pants, it looked like she’d tried to wash off the bloodstains—something Simon knew a lot about. Over the years, he’d grown tired of buying new outfits and decided to adopt the grunge look, with each stain and rip serving as a visual reminder of his victories.

“Drink this before we go,” he said, offering her the cup.

She reached across his low counter and accepted the offering, taking a few sips until her energy lulled.

“This is good,” she murmured, unaware that he could barely hear her.

He didn’t bother to mention it since he could read her emotional energy anyhow. Most people avoided cider and cocoa in the summer, considering them cold-weather drinks. But humans spent countless hours in coffee shops, sipping on hot beverages. Sometimes a little bit of heat and spice was all a person needed to feel right again.

Simon leaned on the counter and twirled an orange on the countertop. “The Ice Queen called and wants you delivered back to the castle. Has she been acting out of sorts lately?”

Ella rubbed her bottom lip against the rim of the mug. “Something’s going on, but I’m not sure what.” She set the drink on the counter. “Am I not talking loud enough? You’re squinting.”

She leaned across the cabinet, stealing his orange and quietly rolling it back and forth. Ella didn’t say anything for several minutes, and neither did he. Simon talked enough for everyone, so it was nice to share company with someone who didn’t exhaust him with tedious dialogue.

She finally let go of the orange and held his left hand.
Tell me what happened to you. I think it’s only fair.

He stilled.

S
imon had never revealed
his demons to anyone. Sometimes the only way to leave the past behind was to bury it.

Literally.

Go on, Simon,
Ella pressed, their minds still linked
. Today changed how I feel about you because… Well, now you know about my life—my past. Hannah’s never asked me about it, and it feels liberating to have at least one person in this world know the truth. It’s a weight off my shoulders, and I want to give you that gift. You can’t expect someone to trust you without giving them the same courtesy
.

“Not such a good idea.”

“I think it is,” she said aloud. “I’m guessing you’ve kept a secret so long that it’s gotten bigger than you. If you can’t be open with me after what I showed you today, then this arrangement ends now. I can’t trust someone who doesn’t trust me back.”

“Extortion doesn’t look good on a lady.”

“It cloaks my Creator just fine.”

“That’s no lady,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Simon pulled his hand away and stood up, stretching his back.

Ella put her hands on the counter and jumped onto it. She shoved the basket of fruit aside, and the orange rolled onto the floor as she swung her legs around and scooted toward him, causing him to step back.

She spoke calmly, her eyes downcast. “Don’t dismiss me because I’m young. There’s a lifetime of living in my eyes that most people will never have. So man up and tell me what’s been eating away at you for the past century. Or has it been longer?” She reached out and hooked her finger in the hole of his shirt so he couldn’t escape.

Not that he wanted to.

In fact, a small part of him wanted to open up to her. Who better to keep his secret than a deaf introvert? Regardless of what he decided, it was nice to have someone see past all the bullshit and actually care.

“You’re a persistent woman.”

“And you’re a petulant man. Maybe no one’s ever tried to bully the answers out of you because they knew you’d take off. Or maybe they were just afraid to know. I’m not.”

Simon didn’t have an answer. He just kept staring at her eyebrows, noticing they were slightly darker than her hair.

She tugged him forward, and he placed his hands on her thighs. “Was it your Creator?”

His throat dried up like a dust storm.

Ella held his hand and opened up their link.
Talk to me this way if it’s easier
.

He reached around to the back of his neck with his other hand, tracing over a mark his Creator had given him a long time ago. Symbols written in an ancient language that branded him a slave. “Some men aren’t worth talking about.”

She was right. No one had ever pressed the matter. Most immortals didn’t care to know about everyone’s past. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t let her leave. This might be his only chance to tell someone, and yet he was too conflicted about the ramifications.

“Please,” she whispered, placing her hands over his.

He couldn’t bring himself to look in her eyes, so he focused on the countertop pattern.

Simon didn’t speak with his voice because this was one story that was foreign to his lips—words that were as dangerous and cutting as a dagger.
In the seventeen hundreds, the average lifespan you could expect to live was in your thirties. Did you know that? No, of course you wouldn’t
, he thought in a murmur, trying to organize his thoughts.
We were always at war, and good men died for the greed of a monarchy. That’s why I don’t believe in following organized forms of government; they’re not working in the best interest of the common man. I was once a redcoat, but those days are long gone.

“Did you have a family?”

My mother died in childbirth along with the baby. That would have been my only sibling. When my father decided to marry the bottle, I had to grow up fast.

Ella squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

That took him aback. Simon wasn’t used to compassion. He licked his lips, swallowed, and felt his heart beating at a rapid pace.

“Were you a gentleman?”

Simon almost laughed. “Why would you ask that?”

She traced her fingers along a faint line in his forehead. “You have a noble brow.”

He swept her hand away. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Simon swung his eyes up to hers, noticing how much duller the color seemed indoors. “I’m not a respectable man.”

Her brows arched. “Maybe that’s just what you want people to think. Don’t change the subject; you’re good at that. I want to know more.” She squeezed his hand as if understanding his need to tell the story in private thoughts.

Simon quieted again, averting his eyes and falling into his memories. Along with the words, he gave her visuals—a glimpse at what life was like in those times for a man without money or status. The economic divide between classes was something most people today couldn’t understand. Simon knew a lot about high society because he’d been nothing more than an invisible servant. The lavish parties had made him feel even more so, but the job provided him shelter and income. He’d spent over a decade struggling as a laborer, and he allowed Ella to see years of no ambition summarized in a sequence of images. Working as a footman for a wealthy family allowed him to experience another life—one of comfort and privilege. It was an opportunity that had fallen into his lap through circumstance… or fate.

Simon put away the images and began.
The family I worked for loved socializing and threw a party every chance they had. Just another means to flaunt their money and their three unmarried daughters. When you’re invisible, it’s easier to pay attention to people and conversations without getting noticed
.

Ella lowered her head as if she understood.

Julian Hunt had acquired a large estate and was introducing himself to high society. He must have been on bad terms with Breed because he was only making connections with humans. We had a conversation outside, and he said I was too intelligent to be working in a menial position. He professed to be a researcher of medicine in need of an assistant. He left the comment hanging in the air when he returned to the party.

Simon normally spoke with his body as well as his mouth, but he found himself utterly still as he recounted the past. Then he shut down. These were the nightmares that woke him at night, and he couldn’t stomach revealing the truth about Julian. Promises not kept, a deceitful friendship, and the temptations of immortality. Simon had left his job and blindly trusted Julian, moving in with him and discovering the world of Breed. They dined together as equals, and Julian gave him access to every book in his extensive library, encouraging him to become an educated man. He told him very little about Mage magic, always tempting him with that knowledge by giving him brief demonstrations of his gifts in order to prove his claim. Simon was too naïve to realize why Julian withheld information—why he only promised to reveal his secrets if Simon accepted his offer.

The Mage had ulterior motives and finally revealed to Simon that he wanted him to be his immortal lover. When Simon resisted and threatened to leave, Julian turned him anyway, hoping the gift would change his mind.

It only made him want to leave all the more.

Confused, angry, and afraid, Simon escaped. He didn’t know how to flash, so he ran human speed through the woods, avoiding the dirt road. What he didn’t know was that Julian could sense his energy, and when he found him, he was incensed. He could have just killed him, but Julian was infatuated with Simon.

He broke contact with Ella. A dark chill ran up Simon’s spine, as if thinking about his Creator would somehow bring him back to life.

Ella cupped his face and placed her cheek against his. The gesture made his eyes burn as they moistened with tears—simple drops of water that had become his enemy.

He froze, unable to retract from the comfort of her gaze. Part of him wanted to storm out the door and fight someone to the death. The other half wanted her to pull him into her arms and make him feel like a man again.

Perhaps that was why she wanted to jump into bed so quickly with a man—to feel wanted.

He closed his eyes, feeling her soft skin against his cheek. His heart slowed down as he took in her clean scent. He drew back just enough that their lips met at the corners, but he didn’t kiss her. All he could feel was the gentle suggestion of her lips against his. Strangely, holding that position drew more emotion out of him than any sexual experience he’d had. Was this what real intimacy was like?

The urge to bind with her came on strong, and he squeezed his hands into fists to suppress the energy. Ella’s soft fingertips caressed his cheeks before smoothing down the cords of muscle in his arms. When she planted a chaste kiss on his lips, Simon tilted his head and returned a more insistent one. She leaned forward, a moan in the back of her throat. Damn, she tasted good. Something felt so bloody right about her energy—the way it would bend against his.

Ella suddenly pushed at his chest. “I don’t have anyone I can trust. If I don’t make an effort to give that trust to someone, then I’ll become just like Hannah. Promise not to hurt me?”

When he turned away, she grabbed his collar.

“I thought I could trust Hannah, but she turned her back on me the minute something went wrong. Your friends may look annoyed by your jokes and the way you dress, but they accept you. I’m guessing they support you no matter what. That’s what I want. I thought the only way to get over what happened to me was to stop feeling, and Hannah made it look so effortless. But I was wrong. I’ve never seen immortals who behaved like family; I didn’t know that existed. I thought everyone was—”

“Cold? Emotionless? And that’s what you aspired to be?”

She let go of his shirt and rubbed her eye.

Simon looked down, mentally solving one of the words to the puzzle on her pants. He took a felt-tip pen from a nearby drawer and filled in the letters.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out your game,” he said.

She lifted his chin and tapped on his mouth, so he repeated the comment.

“And I’m admitting I was wrong,” she said. “Maybe I’ll never have anything like what you have with your friends, but I didn’t realize how much I craved family until I met you.” She blushed and quickly looked away.

His heart pinched a little, and he set the pen down.

“Can I trust you not to hurt or betray me?” she repeated. “I won’t share your secrets with anyone, even though you didn’t tell me everything. I hope someday you find someone you can share your pain with, even if it’s not me. Also…”

“Also what?”

“Don’t make deals with my Creator without letting me know about it. You’re the only hope I have.”

He furrowed his brow. “Hope for what?”

Her shoulders sagged. “That maybe someday she’ll let me go. I want to live my own life—find a job and get my own place. I feel like if I don’t do it soon I might go mad. I’m not sure what I’m qualified for, but it doesn’t matter. I just want to be independent.”

He smirked. “You could always meet a bloke and bond with him.”

She shook her head, her eyes stony. “I’d never marry a man to escape my problems.”

Simon pinched her leggings and let the cotton snap back to her leg. “Would your Creator consider a coupling?”

Ella laughed. “Hannah would never marry.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She knitted her brows, and Simon jumped when his phone rang.

“Bloody hell. Bet I can guess who that is.”

Ella slid off the counter and tugged the waistband of his pants. “Come on. Take me back to the dungeon.”