Spellbound (6 page)

He groaned under his breath and tossed his work into a sloppy pile. Nothing productive was going to come from anymore reading.

Elion was right, as much as it annoyed him to admit it. There was something missing and he couldn’t figure it out, and that only pissed him off more. He didn’t mean to take it out on the brat; he just happened to be there. With his silky skin and bright smile. It made Stavros want to break something.

Now the brat was sleeping on his couch and staining it with the scent of flowers and innocence. It infuriated him. Yet, he found himself tugging the brat into a flat sleeping position and covering him with a blanket.

His legs were aching from sitting on the floor so long, but going to his room was now impossible unless he woke Elion up. He knew that would only lead to another awkward silence or argument. There was no way he was going to sleep on the floor every night just because the kid had to sleep. He rarely did himself, even when his body demanded it, which is why when he began to drift off with his head leaning on the couch and his own breaths falling in sync with Elion’s, he didn’t have an answer for that either.

Stavros trailed his heavy-lidded eyes over Elion’s features, taking in his angular jaw and long lashes resting against flawless skin. Elion’s nose scrunched with distaste and his fingers sleepily brushed at the strand of hair tickling his pointed ear before falling back to his chest. Elion looked at peace in his sleep and Stavros wondered for a moment what that was like, to be able to close your eyes and drift off so carelessly.

“Stavros, wake up.”

He growled, cracking an eyelid enough to make out the form of the half-awake elf in front of him.

“I need to piss,” Elion whined.

Stavros groaned as he heaved himself upwards. He waited in the hallway, his forehead pressed to the wall while he resisted the urge to yell at Elion to hurry up. When the door opened, Elion looked no better off than Stavros felt. His eyes were heavy and his shoulders slumped.

He gave Stavros an irritated grunt that he figured was a sign for him to walk. Rather than going back to the living room, Stavros turned into his room and didn’t give the brat time to whine or complain before he threw himself into bed. He waited for Elion’s hesitation, but it never came, and Stavros fell back into an easy sleep with the sound of Elion’s breathing at his back.

Chapter 6

“Could you not?” Stavros growled. Elion stopped tapping his pen against his desk and sighed.

“Is there anything that doesn’t annoy you?”

“Yes, peace and quiet. Get up; I need to talk to Mikhail.”

Elion remained at his desk. He folded his fingers behind his head and he leaned back casually.

“Are you deaf?”              

“I’m not sure. Did I miss you saying please or did you just neglect to speak civilly as usual?”

Stavros’ fists clenched and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Get up or I’ll get you up.”

“Yea, how about no.”

Elion’s father had always taught him to pick his battles wisely. In his home realm he had begun warrior training at seven years of age, like most of the children that were selected for that path. They were taught patience, skill, and how to keep their wits in the face of an enemy. They were taught when to fight and when to retreat with dignity. They were taught that some enemies were not to be fought alone, and that didn’t make them weak, it made them smart. As he glared back at the cambion ready to rip his throat out, he realized that he had just tossed out every lesson.

Stavros closed the space between them with a long stride and clutched Elion’s arm. No matter how hard he pulled, Elion knew it wasn’t coming free.

“You’re acting like a child. Get up,” he snapped.

“And you’re acting like an asshole, as usual. Say please,” Elion said, attempting once more to pull his arm free.

“How old are you, brat? Get up!”

“How old are
you
? I’m not moving until you say please!”

Stavros narrowed his eyes and Elion taunted him with a smirk. “Elion.”

“Yea?”

“You have two seconds to get up or-“

“Or what?” Elion interrupted. “What’re you going to do? Pick me up and carry me out? I dare you to try.”

When Stavros lunged forward Elion gasped and threw up his hand defensively. He could feel the thrum of energy forming in the palm that made contact with Stavros’ bicep and made no attempt to stop it.

Stavros scrambled back a step, clutching his arm tightly. “Did you just burn me?” he bellowed.

“I told you to let go.” Elion shrugged, stuffing his hand back in his pocket.

“I should feed you your own heart!” Stavros roared. His large hands were reaching out for the elf once more when the door was thrown open. Elion’s smirk fell and Stavros whipped around with a low rumble in his throat.

Mikhail stood in the doorway, his bushy brows stretched upwards and his lips pressed into a thin line. Stavros’ hands dropped to his side and his chin dropped slightly.

“Is there a problem?” Mikhail asked coolly.

“No, sir. Stavros and I were just having a chat,” Elion lied. Mikhail smirked for only a second before he composed himself again and nodded.

In his periphery, Elion could see Stavros’ glare turn curious. Even a fool would have known what was going on a minute prior, but he continued smiling as bright as the morning sun. It may have worked on Mikhail, but Stavros hated the sun.

Mikhail stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of Stavros’ desk, his arms folded over his chest and the sleeves of his red robe bunched up to reveal scars and powerful ancient designs tattooed on his flesh. Elion sat a little straighter, his smile fading as Mikhail stared between he and Stavros.

“How was your night?” Mikhail finally asked.

“Fine,” Stavros answered plainly.

“Fine? Elion, was it fine?”

Elion tried to read the look in the old man’s eyes, but found it impossible, and gave a simple nod instead. “Wonderful. You’ll be free of the bond before you know it then, won’t you?” He smiled almost teasingly before snapping his fingers and producing a thick file. His hand gestured in a lazy circle and Elion watched with fascination as a soft blue glow coated the inside of the room, one that he had only seen used by his own Elders when they wanted to ensure complete privacy.

“The Council requires your service,” Mikhail said.

Stavros straightened at that. He crossed the room and took the file, flipping it open and scanning the pages as Mikhail watched.

“I can leave tonight,” Stavros said without looking up.

“Can Elion be briefed by then?”

“Misha-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Stavros. I told you, this can only be broken by yourselves. You are partners. You need to act like it. Those are the facts of the matter. I expect you both to be able to handle assignments without killing each other over petty disagreements. Elion is a valuable asset that you are taking for granted.”

Elion tried not to smile smugly as the sorcerer pushed himself off the edge of the desk and faced his son. He had a solid inch or two over Stavros, but the way Stavros responded to Mikhail’s closeness made him seem smaller, almost childlike. His shoulders dropped ever so slightly, and if someone looked close enough, they could see the hardness in his features soften.

“Be safe,” Mikhail said in a soft fatherly tone. Stavros nodded, bowing his head for Mikhail to place a peck on his forehead. It was the kind of adorable that made Elion want to clutch his chest and sigh. Mikhail wished him the same before leaving the office without another word.

Elion didn’t even have a chance to blink before Stavros was glaring at him again. “Don’t you say a word.”

“About what? Nothing wrong with being a daddy’s boy,” he said with a genuine smile. Stavros bared a sharp fang in warning and Elion rolled his eyes. “It probably wouldn’t have hurt for him to cuddle you a little more,” he mumbled.

“Do you ever shut your mouth?”

“Do you ever stop being a dick?”

Stavros rubbed his temples, elongated fangs sank into his bottom lip. “This is un-fucking-believable.”

“If you’re done whining, I’d kinda like to know what we’re doing,” Elion sighed, kicking his feet up on his desk.

Stavros ground his teeth and threw the file on Elion’s lap. Elion could see how much effort it took for Stavros to not lose it again and he could hardly be enough of a bastard to continue taunting. Elion read over the large file carefully. It contained preliminary information about a string of robberies. There were large gaps in motives and suspects, but the incidents seemed to be escalating fairly quickly. He could feel Stavros pinning him with his eyes while he read and tried to ignore him. When he finally came to the last page, he grinned.

“You’ll love New York.”

Chapter 7

Normally, Stavros grabbed the bare essentials for a trip, got business handled, and came back. There were no reservations or suitcases. There was usually a bit of blood and always a successful mission, though. Of course, that was before Elion was thrown his way.

By the time they arrived at the hotel Stavros was ready to implode. Elion wouldn’t shut up about his wardrobe for hours before they even left; apparently it mattered what fucking shoes went with ones outfit in New York. Elion claimed they needed a cover; were they friends, lovers, or business partners? Stavros asked him why in oblivion they needed a hotel room and the pointed stare that Elion gave him was followed up by a rant about normal sleep habits and attempting to be less primitive.

Elion had packed like they were going on vacation for a few months and demanded that they went to eat at some pizza place that Mikhail recommended before they did anything. And Elion just wouldn’t stop talking. As if being stuck in one of the loudest human filled places Stavros had ever been wasn’t bad enough.

“Please, please stop,” Stavros pleaded as Elion carried on. The elf froze, his neck slowly turning and his eyes as wide as his smile.

“Manners sound good on you,” he said seriously. Stavros groaned and wished for the earth to swallow him whole. “Seriously though, this place is like a mecca of diversity and fashion, but what you’re wearing… no.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Stavros whined as Elion looked over him with his nose scrunched.

“They have public decency laws here and, if you bend over in those pants, you’re going to get arrested,” Elion said, his eyes drifting to the leather pants that sat low on Stavros’ hips. They weren’t anything uncommon in his wardrobe. They were comfortable and no one had ever had a problem with his clothing before. Stavros huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Whatever, it’s your choice. So what’s first?”

“I’m going to pick up the reports from the officers here, read the bullshit they provide and then find the bastard,” Stavros said as he kicked off his heavy boots, shrugging when they hit the wall.

“We,” Elion corrected, neatly folding a shirt from his luggage.

“What?”

“We. You said
‘I’
.
We
will be doing those things. First, I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

Stavros opened his mouth to protest and for the first time, maybe ever, realized that he was running out of fight.

~~

A short walk in the city gave Stavros a quick reminder of how much he hated the human world. Humans were loud— far too loud. Their air smelled awful and made him want to gag most of the time. They felt the need to always be into everything. They never seemed to just sit down and shut up.

He had traveled the realms and seen more cultures and traditions than he could count, but the humans, whatever they were doing, it was just strange. Their piercings were meaningless and they tattooed cartoon characters on themselves. They wore animal fur as a fashion statement and ate genetically engineered foods as diet staples, and then wondered why they were dying young. Their young had guns, but same sex relationships were frowned upon. They were constantly at war with each other and-

“Stop frowning,” Elion whispered. Stavros scowled harder. The younger man sat opposite him in a tiny restaurant a few blocks from their hotel. Stavros had scanned over the menu, but quickly disregarded it. He couldn’t even process half of the options.

“This is ridiculous. We’re here for-”

“I know what we’re here for. There’s nothing we can do at this hour of the night and you know it. You might not eat, but I do. Now, stop frowning and-” Elion stopped talking and looked up with a smile when the waitress appeared. Her eyes devoured Stavros and Elion’s smile slipped from his face.

He shook his head and pressed his fingertips into his thighs. He took an oath to uphold justice and peace and all of the other crap he had nodded along with. Stavros was his partner. They were going to chase down bad guys and say bad ass stuff while doing it; that was it. No heart felt romances would be occurring. 

After Elion ordered for both of them, silence blanketed them. Stavros glared at everything and everyone while Elion sighed and sipped at his tea. It had been far too long since he was in the human world and he missed it. He enjoyed the mix of flavors that the human world had. Sure, it was loud and chaotic at times, but the humans were so interesting. Obviously Stavros didn’t agree. If not for a bit of self-control, he would have probably torn everyone within reach to shreds already.