Spellbound (10 page)

“You’re going to find out, apparently. Asurian isn’t a forgiving place. I suggest you sleep,” Stavros said, glancing over briefly before turning to his side. Elion stared at the cambion’s bare back; partly in stunned silence, and partly in awe of the way the slight shift of muscle hypnotized him with each breath, despite it being completely and utterly inappropriate.

He had a list of questions, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get any answers. And maybe that’s how things would need to work. Maybe he just needed to follow Stavros’ lead, just needed to show him that he could listen and learn and then they would be free. He could ask for a transfer and-

No. He hadn’t shed tears, sweat, and blood in the academy to get what he wanted just to give it up. Elion sighed against his palm and tugged the blanket over his shoulder. He knew Stavros was awake. When he was asleep, he was usually on his back, his shoulders were slightly relaxed and his breaths were slow. Of course, having to share a bed with someone usually led to learning those small details, or at least that’s what Elion told himself.

“Stavros?” Elion called quietly. The cambion huffed in acknowledgement. “Thanks for New York. For letting me run the case, I mean.”

“Whatever,” was the only grumbled reply, and Elion smiled, something tiny and weak, but satisfied.

Chapter 10

Elion was slowly sucked back into reality. The warmth he was surrounded in beckoned him to stay a little longer, and who was he to argue? Realm traveling always made him exhausted and to do it with Stavros was just exhausting. No, he was good where he was, nestled into the soft mattress and buried under thick blankets. The pillow was harder than he normally liked, but this one has been just
good
. He sighed airily as his hazy mind began to close down once more. That’s when he realized that his pillow had a heartbeat. His eyes slowly, cautiously, and possibly a bit regrettably, opened to see what situation he had gotten himself into.

With his cheek on his partner’s chest, Stavros’ bare torso seemed to stretch for miles; complete with lean muscle that Elion’s fingers had apparently taken the liberty of stroking. There was a quiet scratch of fabric against skin and then a heavy arm was draped over the small of his back, pinning him in place. Elion tried to will his pounding heart to slow down before it burst and made the situation even messier. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly retracted his leg that was thrown over Stavros’ shins.

He was almost free enough to make a hasty roll and, in the case Stavros woke, pretend that he was simply shifting in his sleep. That plan would work. No one would ever know that he had become a clingy koala in his sleep. With a well-executed shift, he would be free to forget the way his erection ached when he shifted his hips away from Stavros, because that wasn’t okay. Not even in the slightest, no matter what angle it was looked at from. Before he could make another move, Stavros’ arm tightened and a low, almost startled, sound rumbled in the cambion’s chest. Elion froze and recalled his first year training on how to keep calm in a deadly situation. Stavros was going to pluck his head off his shoulders for this, even if it was an honest mistake that Elion had no control over.

He waited, mind screaming, blood pumping wildly, for the pain to come, but it didn’t. Instead, the arm loosened and fingertips slid between his cheek and Stavros’ chest. The arm tightened around him once more and then he was moving. Elion struggled not to open his eyes, or scream for his mother, when his body was moved gently, as if Stavros was trying not to wake him. But that couldn’t be a possibility because Stavros wasn’t kind. He was probably just trying to keep Elion asleep until he had a pillow over his face.

The fingers brushed over his cheek and Elion shivered, a sharp breath slipped through his parted lips and the hand retracted instantly. He felt the mattress move as a weight shifted and heard feet quietly hitting the floor. Material slid against skin and then the weight was back. A large hand gripped his shoulder firmly and gave a tired shake.

“Elion,” Stavros said, the sleep still thick in his voice. Elion hesitantly dared to let his eyes crack open. “We overslept.”

“Huh?” he grunted, propping himself up on his elbows.

“We overslept,” Stavros repeated. “The days are shorter in Asurian this time of year. We won’t have much time to make camp if we don’t hurry up. You can have the shower. Enjoy it, it will be your last for a while,” he said, stretching on his toes to reach into a dresser drawer.

“I’ve never been there,” Elion said as he stretched his arms. Stavros gave him a casual look, one that was void of his normal defensive mask.

“Not many have. It became highly protected after the war there, not just anyone can get in or out,” Stavros explained. “They have no modern conveniences and the weather can be brutal. Pack smart.” It was clear that Stavros wasn’t going to say anything further, but Elion honestly hadn’t expected him to say that much to begin with; only hours prior he had made a declaration of his feelings for Elion, or lack of them.

A sharp twist of remembrance made Elion cringe. He had always been more sensitive to words no matter how well he could pretend he had a thick skin. He refused to pout, though. He was a grown man. He had a job to do and he knew that not everyone would like each other. He and Stavros didn’t need to be friends. They were partners. That meant they needed to work together and keep each other alive. They didn’t need hugs and dinner invites. This was a job and nothing more.

“Are you alright?” Elion almost jumped at the voice. Stavros had his hands lowered to his sides and his brow was furrowed. Elion flashed him a weak smile and nodded. “Elion-”

“I’ll be quick,” Elion interrupted. Stavros didn’t say a word as he moved closer to the bathroom to allow Elion room to enter the shower.

Stavros listened to the water hitting the shower floor. The back of his head rested against the wall and his palms pressed against his eyes as he tried to collect himself before Elion was done. Waking up with the brat next to him was something that he was getting used to, whether he wanted to admit it or not. But waking up with the brat wrapped around him, that was something he didn’t even want to touch. Why hadn’t he just shoved him off and told him to get up? Why had he gotten caught up in watching Elion’s shoulders rise and fall- why had he held him a little tighter before he caught himself? He tried to think of the last time he had fed. Going too long always made him act out, but never this way. He refused to admit the blatant truth that was sitting at the tip of his tongue, and why? Because Elion was a brat. He was a headache and he was cocky. He was never quiet and he was too smart for his own good, yet he always second guessed himself; because feelings were for those with terminal idiocy.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when the door opened a moment later. Elion blushed, his chin dropping slightly and a few beads of water dripped from his hair to the floor. Stavros clenched his jaw, his nails lengthening just enough for the tips to penetrate the surface of the wood flooring. Their eyes met then, neither even trying to hide that they were experiencing some inappropriate moment. That’s when Stavros’ phone rang and he made a memo to buy Mikhail a gift for his perfect timing.

Elion shuffled around quietly, collecting a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to wear. He had heard of the climates in Asurian, but it was a huge place and he had no idea where they would be going. He knew that all of the land was basic in functioning with outhouses for the ones that could afford it, and taverns with straw beds and furs for the travelers in the towns, and that’s about as convenient as things got. Towns could be days of travel from each other and it would be impossible to catalogue the number of dangers that came to the realm. The terrain was rugged and wild at best, or so he had read. There were no photographs of Asurian, maybe a few paintings locked away for history’s sake.

“We need to get you armor,” Stavros said suddenly. Elion gave him a quizzical look and shrugged.

“I have armor.” Stavros gave him a drawn out look, waiting for Elion to continue. “I suppose none of our issued weapons are allowed?”

Stavros nodded. “We have no jurisdiction there. Your armor is at your apartment?”

“Yup,” Elion said casually, rolling on his heels while Stavros continued to stare. It made Elion feel like he was being dissected slowly, a drawn out torture that he wasn’t sure was all that horrible. A blush warmed the tips of his ears when Stavros suddenly turned away. His palm swiped over a door, unsealing the ward protecting it, and his body disappeared in a second later.

When Stavros came out, Elion knew that he had made the wrong career decision. He was going to lose his job and his mind before they returned. Stavros was either ignoring or oblivious to the way Elion was staring at him, helpless and unable to do anything more than suck in a sharp breath and pray for strength.

Elion had seen many types of armor. He had watched his father craft it and his mother mend it. He had met warriors who had traveled a lifetime looking for the perfect set. They would carry the stories of their battles through scarred leather, exotic furs, and heavy metals. He had been a boy preparing for battle, watching those leathers, metals, and chains molded into a skin that was meant to keep warriors alive. He thought he had seen it all.

Until Stavros walked out of a closet.

The thick black leather was painted on. There was no other way that Stavros could have gotten it on his body. Stavros pushed back the masked cowl and smirked smugly as if he knew what Elion was thinking, and maybe he did. Elion wasn’t sure if his jaw was even capable of leaving the floor despite him being sure his cheeks were flaming. Stavros shifted the heavy sword that was sheathed at his back, and Elion groaned. Audibly.

“Not up to your qualifications?” Stavros snorted. Elion blinked rapidly a few times, urging his eyes away from the smooth leather detailed with beautiful, ancient designs.

“No, uh- you’re qualified. Armor- armor is qualified,” Elion stuttered. Stavros gave him an incredulous look. “Can we just go?”

Elion made quick work of suiting up, quickly feeling inferior to Stavros though the quality of his armor was no less superior. He was proud of it, not proud of the blood that had soaked into it or the tallies that marked his battle victories, but it had always made him feel like he was someone strong, someone able to be something greater. He was learning, though, that Stavros had a way of making him question everything without even saying a word.

Stavros cocked his head curiously when Elion slipped his bow into place and watched intently as he slipped an enchanted dagger into the side of his boot.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Stavros shrugged, but didn’t lessen the intensity of his stare.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Stavros looked away, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular while Elion finished up.

~~

An awed,
whoa
, slipped through Elion’s lips as he took in the landscape around them. The mountains in the distance appeared to reach the clouds and the snow that capped them was blinding. The air was sweet, with hints of earth and forest blended in. The plains around them were still partially covered from the latest snowfall; not enough to make walking difficult, but Elion knew that could change at any moment the further they traveled. Just outside a dense forest a few large elk grazed, the only sign of any other life besides them.

“This is beautiful,” he finally said. Stavros nodded before taking off in a steadily paced walk. “How long until we get where we’re going?”

“Depends. Might take a week, might take a month.” Stavros shrugged. Elion arched a brow as he waited for Stavros to begin explaining.

Stavros didn’t.

~~

“This sucks,” Elion muttered after a few hours of silence. Stavros ignored him as they trekked through the wilderness that was quickly losing its beauty in Elion’s eyes. Now, as the snow began to fall as a thick, heavy blanket, his muttering turned into pure whining. “This really sucks.”

“This is nothing,” Stavros chuckled. Elion stopped, his boots sinking into the fresh snow. Stavros glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glistening from cold and diluted sunlight, and Elion felt weak, because that look combined with that sound- he wanted to bottle it. “What now?”

“Nothing.” Elion shook off his shock and continued. “Have you ever seen a case of Stockholm Syndrome?” he asked, quickly catching up with Stavros.

“Can’t say that I have,” Stavros mused, a brow arching under his cowl, “Why?”

“No reason.” Elion shrugged lazily before clearing his throat. “Does it always snow like this?”

“No. Most of the time it’s worse in these parts,” Stavros said. Elion huffed and kicked at a chunk of firm snow that threatened to trip him.

“We’ll set up here for the night.” Stavros gestured to a small cave entrance no more than a few hundred yards away. There was a stream not far from it, still running despite the increasingly low temperature. There were enough trees to provide an extra bit of shelter, though not enough to leave them blind to any possible dangers. Elion scrunched his nose and followed Stavros in, watching as the older man scanned the area for any sign of recent activity.

Stavros watched Elion from the corner of his eye. The elf dropped his pack inside of the shallow cave and began shoving twigs and old moss into a pile. He didn’t seem outwardly bothered by the arrangements, even if his teeth were audibly chattering and his nose was burned from the cold. He had made it further than Stavros thought he would. Elion hummed quietly and used his foot to swipe a larger stick into range before turning to Stavros with a tired frown and announcing that they needed wood. His voice was tired, he was tired, and Stavros felt something tug in his chest; guilt maybe? No, he didn’t feel guilt because the brat wasn’t his responsibility.