Spellbound (17 page)

Stavros only became more withdrawn, angrier, and he was forced to take personal time. I had not heard from him in almost two weeks. Victor wouldn’t let me speak to him, he kept saying that Stavros was fine and needed space, but I just knew.” Mikhail frowned sadly, his eyes turning glossy for a moment. “I found my son in an almost feral state, chained to his own bed. He was starved, beaten and assaulted in ways no one should ever know the horrors of. He refused to let Stavros feed, we learned later. He told him that he was disgusting for what he had to do to survive. Stavros refused to press charges or even tell us where Victor was; the man simply vanished and Stavros- he was gone as well after that.”

Elion’s eyes searched the duvet pattern at random while he tried to keep a blank face. The rage that was building in him was something he had never felt before, not even the night that he had ended the lives of boys no older than he was, just to save his own. He had never thought anything would ever make him feel that way again, that nothing could feel
worse
than that. But he was proven wrong, because there was a man walking around despite being kicked to the ground over and over, abused for something he had no control over, and he thought he deserved it all. Maybe he was too soft; maybe Stavros was right all along and Elion was just a bratty child. Either way, he wanted to find the man that had hurt his partner and watch the light seep from his eyes.

“You care for him,” Mikhail said, jerking Elion from his darkening thoughts.

“Of course I do. He’s my partner and he saved my life,” Elion said quickly. Mikhail quirked a brow and Elion cleared his throat. “So, as much as I love this house, when do I get to go back to my apartment?”

Mikhail eyed him suspiciously for a moment before standing up. “I will take you as soon as you’re up to it. I suggest that you quit ignoring your mother’s calls or I might be forced to tell her that you are not down with the flu.”

“I thought you were cool, Mikhail!” Elion whined as the older man exited with a chuckle.

~~

A
few hours later Elion was on his couch flipping through channels mindlessly and occasionally hushing his growling stomach. Physically, he felt almost complete again. Mentally, he was drained completely. He had been in the same spot since his return. Despite knowing that he should force himself to rest, that a nap would pass a few hours, he didn’t want to. He was far beyond bored. He was lonely, and while he knew that being on his own again would take an adjustment, he didn’t want to wait for that to happen. The remote hit the floor with a loud thump as he reached for his cell phone and dialed without giving it much thought.

When Stavros answered on the second ring, Elion lost his ability to speak in coherent sentences. Stavros huffed something and a door closed in the background.

“Mikhail said you were back home. Are you sure that you’re ready for that?” Stavros asked quietly.

“It’s a scratch, Stavros. Besides, there’s a chance that Mikhail might be more doting than my mother and that’s just not healthy for anyone,” Elion chuckled. “Are you home?”

“I am now,” Stavros mumbled. “I have some of your things here.” 

There was a long pause before Elion spoke, “I was thinking about ordering food, if you’re hungry. I mean, you could come over and eat, if you wanted.” When there was no answer, he pulled the phone from his warm ear and frowned when he realized Stavros had hung up on him. He slumped into the worn couch and sighed. He knew not to expect much when they came back, but then there were trolls and mountains and words being exchanged, and that changed everything, or so it had seemed for a moment or two.

The heavy knock on the door minutes later made Elion jump. He carefully pushed himself off the couch and crossed the room, not bothering to look before he opened the door.

“Who just opens their door to anyone like that? I could have been a psychopath,” Stavros scolded as he stepped inside and closed the door hard.

“You’re not one?” Elion asked with a smirk. Stavros rolled his eyes and tossed Elion’s bag on the floor. Elion scuffed his socked feet against the carpet as Stavros stared at him, bemused. “So, pizza?”

Elion woke up with his head in Stavros’ lap. A half-eaten pizza was still propped open on the coffee table in front of them and the movie they had put on was rolling on the credits. A heavy arm was draped over his side and Stavros was breathing slowly above him. He glanced up to find the cambion asleep with his free arm hanging over the arm of the couch and the blue glow from the TV softening his features.

Elion placed himself on Stavros’ lap before he could really consider the repercussions of his actions. When Stavros’ eyes opened, they weren’t angry or disgusted, but expecting, and it was all the encouragement Elion needed to lean forward and press their lips together. It was light and testing for a moment before there was reciprocated pressure. His eyes closed involuntarily and his fingers slid up the smooth skin of Stavros’ throat and laced at the nape of his neck. Warm fingers slid under the hem of Elion’s shirt and gripped his hips just hard enough to make it a silent order that felt like
stay.

It was far too easy to sink into the abyss of Stavros. His body was firm and tense, but it felt like a promise, and maybe Elion was reading too much into that when Stavros deepened their chaste kiss with a muffled growl. Elion gasped when Stavros’ hips thrust upward and long fingers slid into his hair, tugging forcefully to expose his throat. Blunt teeth nipped at his flesh and he wasn’t sure of the words that came out in response. Whatever they were, they must have been the wrong ones, because the heat was gone and he was being shifted back onto the couch. His lips felt swollen and his heart was racing as he looked up at Stavros.

“I should go.”

“Stavros-” Elion got out before Stavros was closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head. The door closing felt like a hit to his bones. His head slumped back with a hard thunk against the couch arm and a strange, dull ache began to climb up his throat, one that felt far too close to heart break to deny.

~~

It was a week later that Elion decided he had finally lost his mind. He had made every dessert recipe that his mother had ever taught him. His freezer was filled with sweets that he would never eat, but that wasn’t what made him come to his realization. No, it was the fact that he had foregone any hint of chocolate in every single one. And for what? For Stavros, the man that he hadn’t seen or heard from since the night that Stavros walked out and left Elion feeling like nothing more than a rejected teenager.

Mikhail had humored Elion by allowing him to have some files delivered. His humor was soon lost and a memo was put out to not bring Elion anything work related, period. Elion was tempted to tell the old sorcerer that the joke was on him, that he had already gotten all the files he needed, but quickly thought better of it.

He read them over and over until his eyes burned and a headache set in behind his ears. It seemed that the robberies and murders were all a fluke, and maybe they had been. Maybe whoever was behind it had realized that they weren’t going to get any further and abandoned the thought. It just seemed
wrong
. Not just anyone had the capability to murder a Guardian, let alone two of them. It would take not just strength, but meticulous planning and timing to pull off, if they could even figure out who the Guardians were to begin with. It wasn’t like he could call Stavros to bounce ideas off because the bastard sent him to voicemail every time until Elion finally gave up. He couldn’t blame Stavros either; he had crossed a line and gotten his thinking twisted. He had no right to kiss Stavros, and he had no reason to think that Stavros would want him to. Just because they had gotten along enough to break their bond and survive a few trolls, that didn’t mean they were anything more than coworkers.

~~

Elion shot out of his sleep and answered his ringing phone with a groggy hello, and when Mikhail told Elion that he was clearing him to come back, Elion almost cried as he professed his love to his boss. Mikhail was still laughing when he hung up on Elion, leaving the elf to lay in bed, unable to fall back asleep and grinning.

He dressed in record time, not bothering to even look himself over in the mirror before he left the confines of his apartment. His grin fell the second he pulled open the precinct doors and stepped inside. His coworkers greeted him warmly, some with slaps on the shoulder, others with tired, respectful smiles. They knew he had been injured in the line of duty, but of course, they wouldn’t ever know the truth of where or how.

He paused outside of the closed office door and wiped his clammy palms on his slacks. There was no reason to be nervous. He wasn’t even sure if Stavros was in there. For all Elion knew he was off trotting around the realms, doing whatever it was that Stavros did. Just because they were partners they were under no obligation to be together all the time.

When he opened the door, he was prepared to be ignored, or even for some arguing. He wasn’t prepared to find Malachi hovering over Stavros’ desk with a thick file in hand. The shifter quickly dropped it and stood up in a slightly defensive position. His eyes flickered through a multitude of expressions before he smiled and asked Elion how he was doing.

“I’m fine. What are you doing in here?” he asked tightly.

“Stavros never returned a file that Mikhail needs. You know how he gets,” the shifter chuckled. Elion forced a smirk in return and nodded.

“I do. Find what you were looking for?”

“Nope. He must have it stuck someplace. I’ll have to nag him about it when he gets in.”

Elion gave him a bare nod as the officer slipped by him. It didn’t sit right with him, but Malachi never really had. He didn’t have anything against the guy; it was just that something about him felt wrong. His smiles were too wolfish and his eyes too intense. Elion shuffled through his own papers, trying to make sense of everything again when the door opened.

Stavros froze in the doorway for a short pause before nodding in Elion’s direction as he walked to his desk.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and Elion suddenly regretted the phone call from Mikhail. He wanted to be back home under his blankets where he could mope over things he had no right to be moping over.

“Fine, thanks,” he said quickly. “Malachi was looking for you.”

“Why?” Stavros asked, disgust clear on his face.

“He said you had a file that Mikhail needed.” Stavros gave him a look of utter confusion before he began flipping through the stacks on his desk.

“He works in intake. He doesn’t even see Mikhail unless Mikhail goes to the Holding wing.” Stavros suddenly stopped, his eyes narrowing at the desk like it had done him wrong. “Did you see him take anything from here?”

“No. He said he would come find you.” Elion cleared his throat when there was no response. “Stavros, can we-”

“There’s nothing to say. I thought that was clear,” Stavros said firmly before walking out.

When evening rolled around there still hadn’t been a sign of Stavros returning. Mikhail was just as confused when Elion asked him what was going on. The older man frowned when he heard Malachi’s name. He gestured for Elion to close the door to his office, and with a simple wave of his hand the room was blanketed with the light thrum of a ward. Mikhail rooted through a heavy desk drawer and made a pleased sound when he retrieved a small bag filled with candies.

“This is a secret between you and I. Stavros worries about my health.” Mikhail rolled his eyes playfully before slipping a treat across his desk. “I will be one hundred and forty years old this year and the boy treats me like a child.”

“He cares about you,” Elion said defensively. The older man arched a bushy brow and nodded, a small smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. Elion cleared his throat. “What did you want to tell me?”

Mikhail sighed and tapped his fingers against the top of his desk with a pensive look. “Victor wasn’t a faithful lover. Stavros found him with Malachi one night. Victor insisted that it had only happened once- you know how those things go.” Mikhail scowled as he shoved a piece of candy passed his lips. “What I’m going to tell you is privileged information that only the Council and myself retain,” he continued. His expression hardened as he waited for Elion to show a sign of understanding.

“There was reason to believe that Victor had a hand in the initial theft attempt and several of the murders. We had no solid proof, no proof at all, really, and Stavros was too blinded by his relationship to see it. Involving other officers would only expose unnecessary, potentially dangerous information, but I think the time has come to reevaluate what we managed to gather.”

“You want me to see what I can find out,” Elion stated. “How? Stavros won’t even speak to me after- I mean, he’s not very communicative.” Elion blushed when Mikhail gave him a prying look.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. I didn’t request you for this position for nothing, Elion.”

Those words stuck with him throughout the afternoon. It was a compliment, a huge one at that. He was one of the youngest detectives to work under Mikhail in decades. It had earned him more than enough snide comments and dirty looks from jealous coworkers or older officers who refused to be ranked under someone younger. He had ignored it because he
wanted
that position. He had worked so hard for it. He wanted to be the reason that a life was saved, or the reason that justice had been brought to one he couldn’t. But this, this was all a whole new ball game. He knew he couldn’t talk to Stavros about any of it, even if the jerk would talk to him. That left him to secretly root through old case files that Mikhail opened for him and trying to put together pieces that never really seemed to fit completely.