Spellbound (7 page)

“Why do you hate it here so much?” Elion asked.

Stavros grimaced. “What’s to like?”

“Alright then,” Elion mumbled, dropping the topic. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the table and frowned when Stavros said nothing further. “So, I’ve been thinking-”

“Shocking,” Stavros muttered. Elion growled under his breath in warning; the smug bastard only arched a brow in return.

“What do a museum, a historical mansion, and a home in human suburbia have in common?”

Stavros looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Is this a riddle?”

Elion rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not a riddle. Those were the locations of the break-ins. Nothing stolen from any of them, at least nothing that was noticed. What’s the common denominator?”

“They don’t have a suspect. Maybe they aren’t connected; maybe it was some deadbeat human.”

“Come on, you read enough of that file to know that’s bullshit. Each report had witnesses that smelled sulfur. What humans do you know that smell like sulfur and can break into a museum with maximum security without being detected?”

“Why would a demon break into a museum, a century old mansion, and some house in suburbia?” Stavros retorted dryly.

“Exactly.” Elion offered the waitress a forced smile when she brought out their food, her cleavage lingering in front of Stavros, who ignored her existence once more.

“What is this exactly?” Stavros asked nervously when they were alone once more.

“And you call me a child,” Elion laughed as he watched hesitation creep across Stavros’ features. “You were raised in a place where it’s common to eat glowing mushrooms and you’re intimidated by pasta and veal? Just take a bite.”

Elion watched, amused, as Stavros’ expression twisted into something similar to a whiny child that didn’t want to eat their peas. He cut the smallest bite possible, sniffing it and eyeing it carefully before putting it in his mouth. He scowled as he chewed, his brows knitted and eyes narrowed as it slid down his throat in a dramatic swallow.

“Well?” Elion asked hesitantly.

“It’s- weird,” Stavros grumbled. Elion’s laugh earned a few looks in their direction. He could feel Stavros’ blood-thirsty glower, but that didn’t stop him. His laughter immediately dissipated when Stavros leaned forward and rough fingertips brushed over his left ear. A shiver shot down his spine and a small gasp slipped through his lips.

“What was that?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t crack. Stavros gave him a pointed look before gesturing to his ears. Elion quickly brushed his fingers over his hair, verifying his pointed ears were covered and offered Stavros a weak smile.

He cleared his throat, inwardly demanding his blush to vanish as he looked up once more. “Is it okay? Should I order you something else?”

Stavros shook his head, cutting another piece of veal and sticking it in his mouth without hesitation, and if Stavros noticed the proud look on Elion’s face, he said nothing.

~~

“So, if there was no sign of a break-in at the museum, how did they know anyone had actually broken in?” Elion asked. Stavros was sitting on his bed, sipping on a beer and staring at a printed layout of the museum. Every few moments he would scowl at the beverage before taking another long swallow. “And if you hate human beer so much, why are you drinking it?”

“It tastes like piss. Why does it taste like piss?” Stavros glowered.

“Why do you know what piss tastes like? And again, why are you drinking it?” Elion sighed. “I think you’re just grouchy. You need a nap.”

Stavros rolled his eyes. “The reporting officer said the guard heard noises and went to investigate. He claims that no alarms were set off, but an exhibit had obviously been tampered with. At the mansion break-in, it was the same. Someone heard noises, called the police, the police said there was no sign of a break-in until they searched the place and found that a hidden safe had been opened and rooted through, but nothing was missing. The home-”

“The same. So, someone’s looking for something. Can I have the exhibit file?”

By the time Stavros had found the information he was looking for, Elion was jotting his own information on a tablet and yawning.

“I need a shower.”

“So go take one,” Stavros snorted. Seconds later he felt the sharp tug that made him groan. He turned to walk back just as Stavros growled, ‘for fuck’s sake’, and began to stand up.

“I can wait,” Elion insisted.

“No. You wanted a shower, take one.” Stavros turned him towards the bathroom once more.

Elion looked at him curiously before rolling his eyes. He shifted his weight awkwardly when Stavros sat on the toilet lid and leaned back as if it were a comfortable seat. A superior brow rose as he looked at Elion impatiently.

“Close your eyes, turn around… something,” Elion said sheepishly. Stavros groaned and closed his eyes, lacing his fingers behind his head. Elion started the water and tore off his clothes, not looking to see where they landed before he dove into the shower.

“This is so weird,” he muttered to himself, lathering the generic hotel shampoo in his hair.

“Why?”

Elion yelped. “Why what?” he responded as his heart settled back into place.

“Why is this weird?” Stavros asked, too casually for it to be even close to normal.

“Uh, maybe this is all normal for you, but it’s certainly not for me. Really wasn’t in the job description either.”  Stavros snorted dryly and the bathroom went back to silence, save for the sound of water hitting flesh and shower tile. Once he was done, he realized that he hadn’t grabbed a towel.
The ones that were directly above Stavros’ head. He swallowed hard and peeked from beyond the shower curtain.

“Stavros, I need a towel,” he said meekly.

There was an uncomfortably long silence before he dared look up. Stavros was giving him a pointed look as he held a fluffy white towel out of Elion’s reach. Elion tried to keep his jaw from dropping in disbelief and sheer frustration. It was unclear if Stavros was being a drunk pervert or if he was genuinely teasing. Either way, Elion couldn’t move without giving Stavros a show.

“You’re such a jerk,” he huffed.

“You’re such a child.” The larger man suddenly stood up, and with three average strides ended up almost chest to chest with Elion.

“Turn the hell around,” he choked out, warm fingers brushing his when he finally grabbed the thick towel. The smallest of twitches pulled at the edges of Stavros’ lips before he complied. Elion quickly wrapped the towel around his slender waist before stepping out of the shower, only to come to another dead halt. A sharp intake of air made him choke once more.

Stavros tossed his shirt aside and had his pants already half pushed down his thighs. Apparently the cambion was a commando kind of guy, not that he could wear underwear with half of his pants.

“What are you doing?” Elion squeaked.

“I smell like humans and smog. What in oblivion do you think I’m doing?”

“Oh, right. When in Rome, right?” he joked weakly.

“What?” Stavros asked, brow furrowed. “We’re in New York.”

“You know the saying- forget it. Just get in the shower.” Elion stumbled back, diverting his eyes as Stavros moved around him to step into the shower. As he sat on the sink, he wondered if Mikhail would let him go to Utah. It was going to take a huge distance between them to forget any of this had ever happened.

Unlike him, Stavros obviously had no qualms about stepping out of a shower in front of someone naked; naked with beads of water running down his body, gliding along chiseled muscle before passing his navel and heading for his-

“Are you going to stare or hand me a towel?” Stavros asked smugly. 

Elion ripped a towel off the shelf and threw it at his partner. “I wasn’t staring. Not at you anyway,” Elion huffed, ignoring the blotchy blush creeping up his neck.

“Sure you weren’t,” Stavros laughed. He
laughed.

Elion froze, his shoulders tensed and goose bumps prickled his skin. The tips of his ears twitched and strained towards the sound as if to make sure it was actually happening.

“How drunk are you?” he asked as he slid off the counter and walked out of the steam-filled bathroom. The air brought an unwelcome chill to his skin and he quickly ran to get clothing. Stavros was rolling his eyes; he didn’t even need to look up to know that. The jerk did it so much that Elion could just sense it now.

He turned around just in time to catch a full view of the most beautiful ass he’d ever seen before Stavros vanished under the blankets. Stavros yawned, his body stretching like a feline. Elion considered calling Mikhail to tell him that he was concerned. Stavros was just being too strange. This was just too… not Stavros. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Holy shit, we’re getting along,” he said, awed. Stavros peered up sleepily and grunted. “Seriously, we’re getting along. This whole thing- it’s civil. This is normal.” A grin stretched to Elion’s cheeks as he pulled back his own blankets, preparing to climb in.

“Elion,” Stavros yawned, an arm thrown over his face.

“Yea?”

“Shut up.”

Elion’s grin stretched a bit further as he clicked off the lamp and let his head hit the pillow. “Goodnight, Stavros.”

Chapter 8

Elion was woken at quarter after six by a ringing phone. His eyes were barely open when he mumbled a greeting that was replied to by none other than a disgustingly awake Mikhail, who informed him that there had been multiple murders. He had little information other than the location of the crime scene and the detective in charge in that sector.

Elion quickly got up, stubbing his toe on the bed and catching himself by the skin of his teeth before he smashed his face into the floor. He climbed back up with an irritated cuss only to find Stavros having some type of fit. His sharpened nails were digging into the mattress and his pearly fangs seemed to glisten in the dark; it was nothing short of terrifying. The second he put a hand out to wake him up, Stavros had shot up with a feral growl. His eyes weren’t so much black as they were simply devoid of anything but darkness; his fangs were bared and no doubt ready to tear through Elion’s flesh.

Elion carefully extended a hand as if Stavros was an unfamiliar dog. It was a stupid move, really, but he had never claimed to be a genius. Stavros’ jaw snapped and Elion gasped, pausing for a moment before stepping a little closer. When his fingers remained intact, he crouched beside Stavros, gently gripping his shoulders and coaxing him to relax. It was obvious that he was asleep, or maybe this was what happened when a cambion lost their mind. Stavros wasn’t speaking, or even blinking; he just stared.

“What are you doing?” Stavros suddenly grumbled, shoving away Elion’s hands like they were on fire.

Elion blinked a few times, his tired brain refusing to even try and process what had just happened. He sighed and told Stavros what was going on in as few words as possible, knowing all too well that Stavros was even grumpier when he first woke. The larger man cussed under his breath and threw back the comforter and got out of bed without delay.

He didn’t say a word about the demonic freak out, whether it was because he was embarrassed or because he didn’t remember, but Elion wasn’t going to even try and bring it up.

Elion forced them to stop at a coffee shop where he got them breakfast and tea to go, hoping it would lighten Stavros’ mood, but he found things in that to complain about as well. The tea tasted like swamp tar and the bagel tasted like plastic. The sugar was nothing but chemicals, and at that point Elion tuned him out completely.

He almost missed the months of fighting and yelling mixed with the aggressive touching and shoving. He was almost certain that he would pick that over this whiny, grumpy tyrant that he was stuck with currently.

The two officers and the detective that they were meeting were the reporting Force members for all three break-ins, as well as the murders. One was a tall, lanky human that looked every bit of worn as Elion felt. The other was an older man with a bit of a beer gut, a shifter with an attitude just as smug as his partner’s. The detective was possibly around Stavros’ age. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips and a few days’ worth of stubble shadowing his jaw. He wasn’t nearly as broody as Stavros, but he could pull off the attractive jaded cop look. He fit in with the scenery of mostly destroyed bodies and seemed unaffected by the smell of burnt flesh and charred bone.

Elion didn’t even get to learn his name before Bill, the beer-bellied shifter, opened his mouth. It was a few simple words he said, they just happened to be the wrong ones.

“He’s cuter than the last one, Stavros. This one suckin’ your dick as well?” he sneered. Elion was so caught off guard that he didn’t realize he was holding Stavros back until his arm began to ache. “Wow, an elf with balls. That’s new.” He said it so fluently that it was like he thought this was okay, and this time it was Stavros holding Elion back and quietly telling him to ignore it.

The human chewed his lip nervously while the detective continued to smoke his cigarette and gaze off into nothing like this was some civil meeting. Elion’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep, cleansing breath and nodded compliantly. He considered himself a fairly patient man, an understanding man, even. But he had no tolerance for racists or bigots of any kind. It didn’t matter what words they used, if they were from the most outdated of realms, or if they were part of the new slang that humans used, it infuriated him. That’s why when the shifter muttered something about faggots he was lunging forward once more, this time getting a solid punch in before Stavros could even think of grabbing him.