#zayneternal

Sitting up in the too-big bed made up of too-soft sheets, I rub my knuckles against my eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness of the cold and quiet bedroom. I’ve lost track of how many days it’s been since I arrived back to this place, but this part of the routine is one of the few reliable parts of my day, for better or worse. 

I huff out a breath, debating on if I should fall backwards onto the mussed sheets of the massive mattress and try to close my eyes once again, but the idea of staring at the back of my eyelids in this deafening silence sounds like the worst form of torture. Instead, I kick my legs over the edge, flinching at the feeling of the ice cold marble floor against my bare feet. 

Would it kill someone to turn the heat up in this place? Even as the thought enters my mind, I scoff to myself, knowing the head of this household probably would kill someone for even attempting it.

Hesitating by the bed for a moment, I glance down at my sparse attire of cotton shorts and a mismatched tank top, wondering if I should find an extra layer to don. Then I recall how unnervingly empty this place becomes at night and decide against it. It’s not like there’s ever anyone to pass by in the lengthy hallways this late…or is it early? I never know. 

Wrapping my arms around myself, I set towards the large mahogany door of the bedroom, snapping the lock open before pulling the heavy wood backwards. I’m not sure why I bother to lock the door–it’s not as if it would truly keep him out if his mind was set on entering. Maybe it’s because some stubborn part of me doesn’t want to make it too easy on him…or maybe I’m a little too reliant on the extra measures of boundary between the two of us.

Shaking my head of the thought, I pull the door closed behind me and step into the long hallway lined with many other doors identical to my own. I’ve not been inside most of them, but I imagine they’re more spare rooms, though as to who they’re for, I don’t know. The occupants of this residence have a tendency to make themselves quite scarce. And who could blame them?

The light in the hall is dim, giving me just enough illumination to help avoid bumping into the various vases and vanities that line the corridor. I hate how quiet it gets here, especially on the nights I’m unable to fall back to sleep and end up wandering to find something to occupy my mind. It’s like I can almost hear the air whispering next to my ears. It’s drives me crazy. 

Luckily, I make it to the end of the hall just before the raging silence threatens to overwhelm me, and turn right into the open floor plan of the main living space. There are windows here that line one of the walls, overlooking the vast expanse that is the N109 Zone.

My first night here, I remember the view being somewhat deterring, what with the abandoned buildings littering the skyline and the ever-present darkness shrouding the seedy city life bustling far below. But as the nights progressed and sleep came few and far between, I found myself coming to these windows more and more often, surprisingly intrigued by how the view had morphed.

I silently shuffle towards the large length of cushioned sofa that curls around the living space, it’s end jutting up to the window, and curl myself against it. Allowing my head to fall sideways against the back of the couch, knees drawn to my chest to preserve what little warmth there is in the air, I gaze across the N109 Zone, languidly taking in the sights. It’s fascinating how differently I see the world below me now.

Where I once saw what were shady business dealings in the back alleys beneath, I now see citizens of the zone coming home to family at the end of a long day. Where I once saw destitute and rundown infrastructure, I now see life budding out of something once broken–I see people. A community. If I train my ears just right, I can even hear the jubilation of music and laughter spilling out of what I assume is a local pub on the street below. 

The N109 Zone is still a treacherous place for the wrong people–it certainly was for me before he offered me respite in his own twisted way–but the longer I stay, the more I see what was once black and white as more gray and muddled. There is also good to be found here. 

I begin to slip into a comfortable lethargy as I continue to watch the city breathe when I suddenly hear a loud shuffling at the door behind me. 

Swiftly whipping my gaze from the window to the door across the room, I hug my knees tighter as it swings open, revealing a very familiar silhouette in the darkened doorway.

“Shit–” he hisses in a way that sounds like he’s struggling to keep quiet. His towering frame falters as he steps forward, tilting to the side before he catches himself messily on the open door. 

I hold my breath, squinting in the low light to see his right hand stretched against the left side of his abdomen, pressing something against it. He regains his composure once more, lifting off the door long enough to turn and slowly close it behind him. 

I don’t speak as he starts to move again. I can’t tell if he knows I’m there, and for some reason, I don’t bring myself to reveal my presence just yet. Instead, I watch as he attempts to make for the kitchen that sits against the opposite wall of the open room. He manages to get to the edge of the island counter before his weight gives way again and he slumps against the smooth surface.

“Damn it,” he curses through gritted teeth, trying to keep quiet again. My eyes widen as I suddenly realize he must be injured. The hand clutching his ribs, the slight limp to his walk, the way he can’t seem to hold himself upright. What happened to him?

I’m aware that the midnight hours in the N109 Zone are when the the work day is just beginning for groups like Onychinus. Dealings within the illegal crime organizations here are much livlier at night. And that’s doubly true for the household of Onychinus’ leader. As frustrating as it’s been knowing what goes on here at night as someone sworn to protect innocents from threats just like Onychinus, the circumstances of recent months have seemed to trump that mission for now.

A low grunt of pain sweeps me back into the present as the hunched figure in the kitchen pulls himself around to a cabinet pressed against the fridge. He moves to lift his hand to open the dark wood door but winces before he’s even raised it halfway up, yanking his arm back to his side. The faint moonlight filtering in through the windows illuminates the pained look of his sharp profile. 

The sound of him trying to stifle his groans of discomfort spurs me from my hidden spot in the dark. 

“Sylus.”

My soft voice feels swallowed by the darkness and size of the space, but Sylus reacts to the sound instantly, his frame straightening to its full height and his gaze whipping to find me at the edge of the island. He appears confused, then annoyed, nostrils flaring slightly in the moonlight that casts soft shadows along his cheeks. 

It seems like I’ve managed to catch him off guard for the first time since we’ve met. His reaction surprises me in return, and I pause a few feet away from him, my weight shifting a bit nervously. He always has a way of making me a bit nervous. 

Just as quickly as the confusion and annoyance pass over his defined features, they are gone again, replaced now with that air of cool arrogance he’s managed to perfect. His arched brow twitches, the corner of his mouth twisting into the shadow of a smirk I’ve come to know so well. 

“It’s a little late to be wandering the halls, don’t you think, kitten?” The sultry lilt to his deep voice rumbles across the space between us, but I can hear the slight tension lying just beneath the surface of his words, as if he’s struggling to appear put together when, really, he’s in pain.

“You’re hurt,” I state, ignoring his attempt to divert the situation. And ignoring the gooseflesh that threatens to bubble under my skin as his piercing red gaze locks me in place. I have to admit it’s still a bit of a struggle to keep my half of the control in these interactions with him, as much as I’ve tried to grow accustomed to his unique persona. 

Sylus’ mouth twists again as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you, sweetie?” A flash of his perfectly lined teeth cuts across the darkness. “Or do you not recall the events of the first time we met?”

I do recall. It seems an impossible moment to forget. The sound of the trigger going off against where Sylus had held it against his chest echoes in my mind and I wince. Glancing down to where the corner of his pectoral peeks out between the opened buttons of his black top, I remind myself that there’s no injury to be seen anymore. Only perfectly smooth, pale skin that sits atop the rippling muscle. 

Shaking my head of yet another attempt at distraction, I press myself forward, daring to take a few steps towards him. “I saw you come in,” I admit. “You can barely hold yourself up.”

“I can assure you, I am perfectly fine, Miss Hunter,” he says, low and slow, his eyes remaining fixed intently on my person. 

“Then you won’t mind if I just confirm that for myself, will you?” I feign an innocent look, scrunching my brows in a slightly dramatic show of concern. I hope by keeping the interaction light, he won’t notice how real my concern is. 

The cocked grin on his lips falters ever so slightly, but it doesn’t go without me noticing. He’s certainly confirming something, and it’s not that he’s “perfectly fine”.

I watch as his hand falls away from his side and his arms open in front of him, gesturing down his body. That infuriating smirk is firmly fixed in place. “Help yourself, sweetie.” 

I chew the inside of my cheek, throwing my usual reservations about getting close to him to the wind. My worry for what has him stumbling around in the dead of night trumps my boundaries right now. Steeling my nerves, I close the remaining few feet between the two of us, bare feet padding towards his large figure. 

I can feel his electric gaze burning holes into me as I approach, but I keep my eyes fixed on his torso, irises flitting from his broad shoulders, down the length of his pale forearms, over the expanse of his open palms, and across the plane of his narrow waist. At first look, nothing seems amiss, his composure remaining intact. Squinting slightly in the dark, however, I notice how the rise and fall of his breaths is uneven and labored, and he’s favoring his weight on his right leg.

I reach my hands forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus questions, his voice betraying him with a hint of worry. 

“Helping myself,” I counter cooly, willing my nerves to remain strong as my fingertips find purchase on the top button of his slightly askew dress shirt. To my surprise, Sylus allows me to continue without even the slightest step backwards, his arms hanging at his sides. 

I move slowly, hoping my fingers aren’t shaking as much as I feel like they are as I deftly undo button after button. I try not to stare too long at the line of muscled skin that begins to reveal itself down his torso. 

Swallowing dryly, I finally push the two halves of his black button down to the sides, eyes widening with a soft gasp as I take in what I see. The shirt had been covering exactly what I’d feared.

The left side of his ribs are in a sorry state, a semi-deep gash curling around the length of his waist, mottled with a mix of dried and fresh blood, as if the pressure he’d been providing couldn’t staunch the flow. The usually perfectly pale skin surrounding the wound is blossoming with fresh bruises of deep plum. Whatever caused this injury had to have been packing quite the punch. 

What worried me most, though, was the fact that these wounds didn’t seem to be healing. If Sylus could survive a gunshot to the chest by my own hand, then what was the holdup with the self-healing this time? 

“Sylus!” I manage to exclaim in a strained whisper. My hands move to hover over the wound as I rack my brain for any useful piece of the medical training I received in the Hunter’s Academy. I know I at least needed to clean the gash first.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I hear Sylus breathe from above me. I can tell he’s trying to quell my worries, but I don’t imagine a wound like this feels any better than it looks. 

Slight annoyance from somewhere unknown suddenly pricks my chest. I shoot my eyes up to find his face already bent to watch me. Looking up at him from this close, I can feel each of his exhales fall against my mouth, but I push that realization aside and scrunch my brows at him.

“What happened? Where were you? Who did this?” I begin to rattle. My eyes flit back and forth between his, searching his face for any answers he might provide. At the other end of my questioning, Sylus’ expression slowly morphs into a rare sight. The usual facade of arrogance and control slips away to reveal something unusual. Sylus almost appears…sincere.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me, kitten,” he says softly, his hand raising to reach towards my face before stopping halfway and slowly dropping, as if he second-guessed whatever he was about to do. 

“I am!” I assert, hands gripping the two halves of his open shirt so tightly I realize my knuckles are going white. Sylus’ expressions stutters, the seriousness in my tone giving him pause. I sigh. “Can we please cut the big bad mafia boss act for a second? You need bandaging before this gets worse.” I shake my head, staring at the injury again. “Why hasn’t it started healing on it’s own already?”

Sylus studies my face a moment longer, his usually intense gaze softening as it passes across my features. 

“Would you believe me if I told you this is already better than it started?” His voice has a hint of humor to it, as if he’s still trying to ease my concern. Instead I find myself flinching against the idea that this isn’t even the worst of it. How badly had he been hurt tonight? How much effort had it taken him to get home? 

I want to swat at his chest, but for fear of causing him any more pain, I restrain myself. 

“Mina…” Sylus starts, and the way he utters my name instead of one of his many rotating pet names sends a shiver down my spine. But I refuse to waste anymore time. 

“Lean against the counter,” I instruct, sounding more like a Hunter than the helpless girl I’ve been these past few minutes. Sylus breathes and slowly moves to the side, leaning against the marble countertop obediently. “I’m taking this off.”

I move my hands to the base of his neck, slipping my fingertips under the collar of his dress shirt and attempting to ignore the warmth of his skin in this freezing kitchen as I begin to push the fabric down his toned arms. To my surprise and great relief, Sylus remains silent for once allowing me to work without much distraction. 

The pads of my fingers brush down the length of his muscled arms, following the trail of his shirt until it’s bunched at his wrists. “Your hands, please,” I request, carefully avoiding eye contact as I hold my own hands up. 

As requested, Sylus gently places hands twice the size of my own in my palms, allowing me to undo the cuffs keeping his top from sliding off completely. After pulling the sleeves away from his body, I move to yank the remainder of the shirt from where it’s tucked messily into the waistline of his trousers. Without me asking this time, Sylus raises his arms to assist in the task, wincing again when his left arm agitates the injury.

Nodding in silent appreciation, I wrap my arms around the shape of his hips, giving him a wide birth, and being careful not to get as close as his cologne is causing me to want. Gripping the last of the black fabric and pulling, I’m relieved when it comes lose easily and falls away to the floor.

“Where will I find a first-aid kit?” I finally ask once his torso is bare. I realize I’m looking around the room to avoid looking at him. 

“There.” His slender finger comes into my peripheral vision, poiting towards the cabinet he had originally been trying to open. I nod and turn to open it, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. As I begin to sift through the rows of various medicine bottles, syringes, and vials full of strange liquid, I’m suddenly strikingly aware that I never changed out of my sleepwear and are still donned in nothing but cotton shorts and a tank top. 

I bite your lip, silently cursing to myself as my search continues through the cabinet. There’s not much I can do about it now, I suppose, but knowing I’m under the scrutinizing gaze of Sylus every second of this venture, I feel a mite over exposed. 

Finally, I discover a box of antiseptic, gauze, and painkillers and pull it from the cabinet. When I turn back around, Sylus remains leant against the counter, looking sinfully good in the low light of the darkened kitchen. My breath hitches, knowing I’ve made the mistake of taking in his full figure so present before me, but it becomes harder to avert my gaze every time I see him.

It’s been one of the biggest frustrations of coming back to the N109 Zone. But once I discovered the intrigue of Sylus and my Evol linkage and the strange connection of our Aether Cores, it was an unavoidable trip. The last few weeks, Sylus and I have been seeing a lot more of each other, researching everything we can about what our linkage could be and how to control it. It seemed a little too late when I finally realized my growing nerves and the tension between us might not be from fear anymore. A realization I’ve been more than happy to continue shoving to the depths of my mind. I’ve had more important fish to fry lately. 

I find it hard to swallow as Sylus and I stare at each other, time frozen for a moment. He leans his hips leisurely against the island, legs crossed at the ankles, his palms holding him upright as they rest against the counter behind him. The position he’s in presses his shoulders apart, making them appear even broader than normal, his forearms pusling with the veins that ripple under his skin. 

His face is ethereal, bathed halfway in moonlight and halfway in shadow, the silver locks of his mussed hair falling in silk ribbons across his forehead. And his eyes. Oh, those eyes. Red and depthless and intense and all trained directly on me. I forget to breath as I take in his half-hooded gaze, irises looking lazy and dazed under the fan of his lashes. He looks god-like.

“Something wrong?” Sylus breaks the silence, his words rumbling across the miniscule distance between us. He tilts his head, lips parting slightly. 

“No!” I answer a bit too fast. I see the ghost of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. “N-No. I found the kit…” 

My steps stutter back towards him, nerves hitching higher the closer we become, but one glance at the wound cutting across his ribs and I’m brought back to reality. He’s hurt and I need to focus. 

Gritting my teeth, I set the open first-aid kit on the counter next to him and remove the antiseptic and clean cloth, blotting the fabric with the medicinal liquid. “This might sting,” I say gently. 

I carefully press the cloth against the edge of the bloody gash, beginning to clean away the majority of the clotted and fresh blood still seeping onto Sylus’ skin. Despite Sylus’ claims that there was no need to worry, he flinches away from the ensuing sting of the cloth with a stifled moan. The noise is enough to make my stomach tighten. 

“Careful, kitten,” he tuts through grit teeth, hands gripping the edge of the counter. 

“I told you it might sting.” I start to smile, finding it a little ironic that the big bad leader of the most well-known crime orginazation in the N109 Zone is brought low by the sting of antiseptic. 

“There’s nothing funny about this situation,” he retorts, sounding almost childlike in his annoyance. 

“There might be a little something funny about it.” I shrug and try to stifle the growth of my grin, but it’s harder than I thought. “It’s just medicine, you big baby.”

Sylus groans again as I make another pass, the muscles in his own stomach tensing and untensing. “Usually the use of medicine is unnecessary.” The last word comes out like a strained hiss when the cloth rubs against the edge of the gash. 

My smile grows further, the corners of my mouth stretching to their limit. I cough to stop the urge to laugh at him. 

“Now that’s a rare sight,” Sylus whispers, the surprised tone of his voice pulling my eyes away from where they were focused on cleaning away more blood.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, tilting my head at his entranced expression. His eyes drop to my lips and linger there a moment longer than they probably should have. 

“That smile,” he admits, the hand opposite his injury lifting as if he’s unconscious of it. The back of his lithe fingers slowly brush against the length of my cheek, and my eyes widen at the feeling. He’s so warm. His own lips part and the tips of his fingers turn to glide along the underside of my mouth, his touch almost phantasmal. 

In his eyes, I see realization dawn and his hand pauses, hesitantly moving back down to his side, as much as I secretly wish it wouldn’t have. He gazes at me and in his expression is a sort of emotion I can’t quite place. He quickly covers whatever it was with a resigned smile, gentler than his usual controlled smirk. 

“I’d like it if you smiled like that more around me,” he confesses. My heart beat turns erratic for a moment. 

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t been,” I offer back, clearing my throat and moving back to my earlier task of cleaning the wound. As the blood clears away with each stroke of the cloth, I begin to get a clearer picture of just how deep this wound must have been for this to be the semi-healed version of it. “Sylus, what happened to you tonight?”

The diversion in topic is a slightly welcome respite from the growing tension. I sneak a quick glance at his face and find his gaze trained on the floor, eyebrows knit with thought. He waits a moment as if deciding whether to stop this line of conversation with one of his carefully crafted deflections or reveal the truth. I’m not sure if its the vulnerable air about tonight or whatever trust I’ve built up with him over these past few weeks, but he eventually sighs and speaks.

“It was a new kind of protocore weapon,” Sylus admits, gesturing to his almost-clean wound.

“A new protocore weapon?” I repeat, shocked and intrugied. “What kind of weapon?”

“I’m not sure.” Sylus shakes his head. “One of the business dealings with a former partner that was planned for tonight didn’t quite meet expectations.” He huffs a laugh to himself, as if recalling the events that lead to his injury. I find them anything but humorous but decide not to press the matter.

“Before I could take control of the situation, one of his men blindsided me,” he continues. I feel anxiety well up in my chest as I listen, but I keep quiet, letting him explain as I continue to clear away the last of the dried blood splattering his ribs. 

“Normally, a wound like this would be nothing but a trivial moment of pain, but once the dust settled, I realized it wasn’t healing over like usual. The blood just kept flowing. I came back here to find a way to mend it before it got much worse.”

“Sylus,” I breathe out once he finishes. I can feel his eyes return to me though I can’t bring myself to look at him again quite yet. “I know there was no way of you knowing what tonight would bring, but…” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “Please be careful.”

“You should see the other guys,” Sylus attempts to joke. “Well, there wasn’t really much of them to see in the end…”

I want to laugh, but find myself unable. The news he’s just shared worries me more than I’d like to admit to him in this moment. A new weapon that seems to temporarily halt Sylus’ self-healing abilities? That was a big, big revelation, and one that has my mind spinning.

“I know that these dealings are part of your job, and that danger comes with the territory, but I…” I trail off, not sure of what I’m wanting to tell him. Or if I’m wanting to tell him. 

“You what?” Sylus presses in a voice almost inaudible. Though I still haven’t looked at his face, I can tell how close he is to me by the sound of his voice. I can feel the tickle of his breath against my ear. When I don’t immediately respond, I jolt at the feeling of Sylus’ fingers snaking their way under my chin and tenderly tugging my gaze away from his wound and back to his awaiting eyes. 

The intensity of his stare almost knocks me to the floor. I might’ve fallen had it not been for the securing grip of his fingers around my chin. His thumb traces long lines against my skin, and I hope he can’t feel the timbre of my heartbeat rocketing against my chest. “You what?” he asks again.

Oh, what dangerous territory I’ve wandered into.

“I-I…” I stammer, the words incoherent in my head. “I need to finish bandaging your wound.”

I raise the ball of gauze between our too-close faces, relief exploding in my stomach at the flimsy boundary it creates. I hear Sylus sigh and chuckle on the other side as his hand slides from my face once more. He leans back a few inches, and I feel like I can breathe again. 

“Very well,” he resigns, returning his arm to his side and allowing me to continue. Sighing in relief, I move to begin wrapping the gauze around his waist when his left hand suddenly moves in tandem with my right. 

“Sylus, cut it out, I need to finish before it starts bleeding again!” I complain, giving him an annoyed look only to be met with his confused expression. 

“I didn’t do that,” he responds, looking down to my hands. “Not voluntarily at least.”

“This isn’t the time for games, just let me–” I move to attempt the gauze wrap a second time when the same thing happens–his hand moves in tandem with mine, blocking the way. Realization dawns on me as I lift our entwined hands into the air. 

“Damn it,” I curse as we both gaze upon the faint misty glow of our Evol linkage at work. Appearing almost as shrouded handcuffs, our mysterious and unexplainable resonance linkage had a nasty habit of forming at the most inopportune times, and this had to have been the worst of those times for it to happen. 

“Your Evol certainly knows how to pick a moment,” Sylus drawls sarcastically, smirking at our joined wrists. I cut him an annoyed glance, groaning to myself. 

“The last time we linked, it lasted. All. Day.” I recall last week when our resonance linkage decided to make an appearance over breakfast when Sylus leaned a little too close to me to grab the butter across the table. We spent the rest of that rainy day uncomfortably packed behind Sylus’ office desk researching ways to disengage the link at will. Obviously, we had no luck. 

“Well we can’t blame that on the Evol, now can we?” Sylus gives me a knowing smirk, and I fight not to roll my eyes as a blush creeps over my cheeks. One thing we both learned early on is that whatever this linkage was, it grew stronger the stronger my emotional, mental…phsyical relationship with the other person grew. 

Sylus has made to tease me about it on numerous occasions, and while I always tried to play it off as an annoyance, the truth was it scared me how long the links had been lasting. I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth was out in the open and he realized how deep the change in my feelings towards him went. Who knows how long this link would last? And in the middle of the night, no less. 

I’d have to learn how to control this resonance business sooner rather than later. Before long, the link might form and never break, and that was a thought that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

“Well…” I start, frustration and embarrassment mixing together in my throat. “You’re just going to have to work with me to get these bandages on. Then we can worry about the link.” 

Sylus chuckles at the sour expression I wear but nods in agreement, holding out his hand. It takes a few attempts, but we both manage to figure out a pattern of pass and pull that works well enough at getting the gauze wrapped around his waist without too much contortion. The silence we both work in allows me to calm down and throw myself into my task. It’s all too much to think through at the moment. 

A few more moments of blissful silence pass, the gauze almost completely in place, when Sylus speaks again. “Mina…”

“Yes?” I stay focused on the wrapping.

“Why were you awake at this hour?” 

The sincerity in his voice almost makes my hands stutter in their rotation. It seems for the moment, whatever form of his true self that lies beneath the cocky exterior was paying a visit. 

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” I shrug, confiding in him.

Another pause. “Is the bed not comfortable?” 

“It’s perfectly comfortable,” I smile softly to myself.

“Is is it too hot? Too cold?” 

“It’s freezing in this house all the time,” I laugh. “But that’s not why.”

“Are Kieran and Luke making too much noise when they come back? Is Mephisto bothering you?”

I continue laughing as the gauze goes around once more.

“Why are you laughing?” Sylus inquires. Even without looking at him, I can see the puzzled expression he wears. “I don’t see what’s funny.”

“You’re what’s funny,” I grin wider. “You’re usually not so full of questions.”

“I’m simply trying to fix whatever is keeping you awake. A Hunter needs to sleep through the night.”

My hands pause on the last rotation of the gauze, eyes zoning out on where it crosses over Sylus’ ribs. “I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I just find it hard here.”

I glance up to see Sylus gazing intently at you. He always seems to be doing that. This time there is a hint of worry laced in his scrunched features. 

“I’m fine, though,” I reassure him quickly, my mouth twitching into a soft smile as I remember his earlier request. “I like coming here to watch the city. It’s relaxing.” My head tilts to gesture to the spot on the couch I’ve claimed for myself each night, the city scape stretching far beyond it. 

Sylus follows my gesture and stares out the far window himself for a moment before coming back to rest on me. His face contorts as if he’s thinking hard about something before he quietly clears his throat.

“You’re not…are you…” It was so unlike Sylus to be lost for words. “Are you not used to sleeping alone?”

There’s a question within his question. One I’m caught off guard to answer. 

“What? I–no,” I’m quick to respond. “I’m used to it. Very used to it.”

There’s a strange wash of relief over Sylus’ face at my response that has my insides knotting up.

“I’m not sure what it is,” I decide to continue, finally finishing the last wrap of the gauze and managing to secure it in place with my un-linked hand. With Sylus fully clean and bandaged, I drop my hands, unsure of what to do now. 

After a beat of silence, Sylus glances back to the spot I gestured to on the couch and then to me. He tilts his head towards the window. “Care to show me the view of my city you’ve been enjoying?”

I look at him a little surprised by his request. My city. The more I get to know Sylus, the more I find myself forgetting how much influence and power he has here. To think that a few months ago I was hearing the name “Onychinus” for the first time, and now here I was, linked to it’s very leader, the most dangerous and powerful figure in the N109 Zone. 

This man standing before me has become familiar in a way I wasn't expecting. He doesn’t scare me like he used to, and I find it hard to believe that he’s the one I spent so long hating before everything changed. 

“Yes,” I finally whisper in response, smiling shyly in an almost childlike excitement to share this thing I’ve come to find comfort in. 

“Then shall we?” Sylus gestures for me to lead the way back to the couch, and I oblige, turning to leave behind the bloodied shirt and messy first-aid kit in the kitchen and return to the view that originally pulled me out of my room. 

When I reach the sofa, however, I realize quickly that sitting sideways to face the window with our hands linked the way they are is going to be an uncomfortable task. “Maybe if we…” I try sitting in a few different ways, but every position has either me or Sylus craning our shoulder in an odd way. 

Sylus watches as I try to puzzle my way into the right positioning, but it’s to no avail. “Maybe we should just stand?” I laugh to myself, trying to hide my slight embarrassment. 

Sylus smirks softly at me. “Come here,” he coos in that sultry way of his, the in-control and confident leader making a reappearance as he descends sideways against the cushions of the couch and pulls me with him. I can’t do anything but fall the short distance straight into his lap, his legs parted to make the perfect place for me to land. 

My heart rachets into mythroat as he presses me gently back against his broad chest, my head tucked just beneath his chin. I pray vehemently that he can’t feel my heartbeat against him and thank the powers that be that he can’t see how heated my face is in this position. 

I realize quickly that his idea was a sound one, though, as he wraps his long arms around my waist, bringing his linked wrist to rest just under where mine hovers awkwardly. He leans back agains the couch, sighing contendently, and I can feel the remnants of his deep voice vibrating against my back. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers against your ear. I struggle not to fling myself away from him from the sheer shock of it. 

Steeling myself, I breathe to calm down. “Ye-Yes. It’s fine.”

Sylus’ responding chuckle sends shivers across my arms and legs. “You can rest your hands, sweetie. No need to keep them hovering in the air like that.”

I blush violently again, and try to find where to rest them but everywhere seems too intimate, too close. 

As if sensing my hesitancy, Sylus reaches his fingers towards mine and slides each digit between my own, dragging your now-encased hands into my lap. He’s always been far too confident for his own good. 

“Comfortable?” he questions once our hands are settled. I want to laugh at him because this is the most on edge I’ve felt in my whole life. My heart is hammering against my ribs, my stomach is tensed in knots and I can almost promise my hands are quickly becoming clammy against the smooth, warm skin of his own .

“Yes,” I manage to lie, but he only laughs again, deep and slow and far too close to my ear. 

“Too cute,” he says so quietly, I’m not sure I was meant to hear. 

“Won’t I hurt you in this position?” I concernedly ask, turing my head slightly to make sure I’m not pressed against his injury. 

“I’m the farthest from in pain I could be,” Sylus responds, the tip of his nose brushing along my turned cheek. Before I can even manage a yelp of surprise, Sylus continues. “Show me this city you’ve been watching,”

Grateful for the change in focus, I turn back to the window, calming slightly as I gaze back across the city, still unchanged in the last hour. Inside, however, I’m now not alone and it doesn’t feel so eerily quiet. Instead, Sylus is pressed so close that I can feel the rise and fall of his steady breathing, each exhale cascading against my shoulder. I can feel the pulsing of his heart all the way in this fingertips as they remain wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing abscently back and forth across the back of my palm. 

I begin to point out the little scenes in the city below that calm me the most–the life of the pub below, the rooftop garden a few highrises away, the flocks of birds that fly overhead. With each scene I reveal to Sylus, the more relaxed I begin to feel. He doesn’t say much in response to my narration, only offering the occasional hums of acknowledgement or squeeze of my hand.

After a few minutes of my rambling, I turn my face slightly to make sure he hasn’t drifted off to sleep, but am instead met with his face mere centimeters from mine, his eyes already locked on my face. I wonder if he’s been watching me the whole time I’ve been talking…

“Yes, I have,” Sylus responds lowly, and I jump, eyes widening as he grins at me. 

“Did I say that outloud?” My free hand goes to cover my mouth in embarrassment. 

There is a brand new kind of mirth in Sylus’ eyes, one I’ve not been witness too this close. It sucks the breath from my lungs. 

“I’ve seen this city from every angle, at every time of day, in every circumstance,” Sylus goes on, never looking away from me. “But you, little bird…”

I struggle to keep my composure in check.

“I’ve waited a long time to discover you.” 

I think I might die. 

“You’ll be fine, I’ve got you.”

Damn it, am I letting every thought slip into the open tonight?

Sylus’ expression goes from bright and humored to inquisitive, as if he’s considering whether or not he should voice his thoughts. He might as well, I’ve let every damn question in my head escape already. It’s only right he joins in. 

“Mina,” he starts, looking almost nervous and very un-Sylus-like. 

“Sylus,” I whisper back, feeling like I’m floating outside of my body. 

His chest hitches slightly, lips parting as he breathes into the silence for a beat. “Earlier…when you told me I should be careful…what were you about to say?”

He sounds breathless, his question hanging in the air between us, our mouths far too close for me to be thinking straight. In the back of my mind, I recall the moment, hesitant even now to utter what I was considering an hour ago. How much would it change things between us? Whatever is left of our boundaries, what little there might be, would surely be gone. I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse. 

“Please tell me.” Sylus leans in closer, his nose brushing against mine, our breaths intermingled. “Please.”

My resolve falters. “I-I…” 

“You what?” Sylus seems almost desperate, his hands tightening around my own. I’ve never seen or heard him like this. It’s a new kind of vulnerable. So I decide to repay it with my own.

“I care about you.” 

And now it’s out in the open between us, hanging there like a bob in the water. The only question is will he bite or reject the offering? 

“I care about you, Sylus,” I whisper again, my free hand raising of it’s own volition to brush down the skin of his face, from the edge of his eyebrow to the corner of his full lips.

Sylus’ breathing becomes heavy, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as something shifts in the air around us. “I hate seeing you hurt, and after tonight, I’m more worried than I wanted to admit about you being out in the city.” I find myself rambling into the growing tension. Anything to ease whatever is building. 

“With this new weapon, I detest the idea of you out there alone…what if you don’t make it home next time?”

“Home…” Is all that Sylus repeats, as if he isn’t fully hearing every word.

I fully cup his face in my hand. As the moments have ticked by, I realize I’ve shifted in his embrace and am somehow almost fully facing him, body halfway turned in his lap as I lean into his strong arms. 

Sylus exhales and leans his face into my touch, brows scrunching up in another emotion I can’t quite read. 

“Is this why…” he begins, eyes dropping to my lips and then back again, “Is this why the links have been lasting so long?”

“...Yes.” My cheeks heat up once more. 

“Fuck,” Sylus hisses to mostly himself, eyes drinking in my expression. 

I curve my brow. “Is that good or bad?”

Sylus manages a breathy chuckle, his arm tightening around my waist now. “Good…very good. You don’t realize how much so.”

Afraid I’ll implode if I read too far into that statement, I continue, “Can I go out into the city with you? To help keep you safe? Please?”

Sylus looks slightly tormented by the question. “I’d be far too worried for your safety to consider my own, kitten.”

“I can take care of myself,” I rebut. “I’m a specially trained Deepspace Hunter, or have you forgotten?”

“I’d never forget something that could put my life in mortal danger,” Sylus responds sarcastically, chuckling softly at my responding annoyance. He strokes my face again and I melt. 

“Let me take care of you,” I try again, leaning further into him, hoping to convey the sincerity of my request. Having said these thoughts out loud after all this time, I feel like a waterfall that can’t help but spill everything I’ve kept dammed up. “I want to take care of you.”

Once again, Sylus appears internally knotted up, his face contorting in an odd mix of confusion and desire. “Do you not know how much you do for me already?” he asks. “How much you’re doing for me in this very moment?” 

“It doesn’t feel like enough, whatever it is,” I admit. “I can do more for you. I can fight.”

“Mina–” he strains out, conflicted. “I know you’re capable, I do, but that’s not–you don’t–”

“I don’t what?”

“Linkon City is not the N109 Zone. You’ve barely scratched the surface of how bad this place can get.”

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, not in this moment after everything that’s been put out in the open, but his statement pricks my pride and I pull back from him. I can see that I’ve hurt him in his confused expression as I put more distance between us. I’d get up from my spot on his lap if I knew I’d make it more than half a foot without dragging him along with me.

“So you get to go out risking life and limb for your responsibilities, and I just have to sit here on my hands waiting for you to come back every night? IF you come back?”

“No, Mina, that’s not what I’m saying…fuck, I don’t even know…how are we–do we need to talk about this right now?” Sylus runs a hand through his silver locks and I watch as they fall in a messy cascade across his forehead. 

I know this is not the way he probably saw this conversation going. I’m sure he would rather have me close to him and telling him more about how much I care about his wellbeing, and if I was being totally honest with myself, that’s what I wish too, but my pride is stumped against the wall of his double standards. 

Why does he get to call the shots for my well-being but I get no say in his? 

He looks like he’s about to reason with me again, but I shake my head. “I want to go to bed now.” 

Sylus looks at a loss for words, starting at me with his jaw half open. He lifts our still-linked hands and waves them between us, as if to remind me that exiting this conversation isn’t going to be that easy.

I curse quietly to myself, looking away from him and out the window. 

“Mina, please, can we–”

“No, we can’t,” I interrupt. With each passing moment, I feel more and more tense and I don’t know how to calm down. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, the threat of the waterworks stinging at the back of my eyes, and it’s the most frustrating feeling. 

Sylus, to the credit of his good judgement, is remaining quiet. I can feel him staring at the side of my face, probably wondering where this conversation turned sideways. 

“Let’s go then,” he finally speaks into the growing silence.

I whip my head in this direction. “Go where?”

“To bed. If you’re so keen to sleep right now, then I will oblige.”

I look at him, confused, gesturing to our linked hands. “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

Without another word, Sylus scoops his free arm beneath my legs that hang over his lap and pulls. As if I’m the weight of a plushie, I’m hoisted into the air, sitting halfway over Sylus’ bare shoulder and halfway in one arm. I’m immediately annoyed by how strong he is. 

“What are you–where are–”

“To bed,” he interrupts, and I can hear the tension in his own voice. I’m caught between my own frustration and the guilt of causing it, so I keep quiet, huffing in resignation as he turns and begins to trapse easily down the length of the dark hallway. 

I have no idea what his plan is as he walks, wondering if he thinks the Evol link will just dissapear when he gets to my room, but instead he passes right by it. My eyes widen as I watch my heavy mahogany door grow smaller and smaller, Sylus still charging towards the end of the hall. I turn, taking in the ornate, black, double-doors at the head of the hallway…Sylus’ room.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” I ask, incredulous. 

“To b–”

“If you say “bed” one more damn time, I’ll throttle you here and now.”

Against his stoic resolve, Sylus chuckles, and I have to admit, I struggle to remain annoyed, overjoyed that he can’t see my face hanging over his shoulder.

I’ve only been in Sylus’ room twice, both during a bet to see if I could steal a brooch he’d hidden in return for his help on a mission to find the other half of my Aether Core. That seems so long ago now, though thinking back, that second visit to Sylus’ room was where our relationship started to shift from professional to…whatever is was now. 

I shudder as I think about what it felt like to have him towering over me on that bed for the first time.

And now I was going back in under very different, albeit less enticing, circumstances. 

I take in the familiar surroundings as Sylus pushes through the heavy doors like they’re nothing, making straight for the bed that he deftly plops me down on top of. I look up at him as he stands before me, but I can’t read his expression if my life depended on it. 

“Care to explain how you saw this working?” I try, attempting to break the silence. As the moments pass and he remains like the former version of himself, walled up and unreadable, I feel my frustration beginning to be replaced by nerves and uncertainty. Is all that progress we just made for nothing? Are we back to square one now?

“First, you’ll help me out of these.”

I choke on my breath as Sylus gestures to his belt and slacks, still hugging snuggly to his narrow hips. The moisture in my mouth dries up as my eyes follow the prominent V at the bottom of his torso, the deep rivets leading straight below the button of the very pants he’s requested I help remove.

“I’ll what?”

“If we can bandage a wound while linked like this, I’m certain a simple belt and zipper won’t put up too much of a fight.”

“Sylus, I can’t–”

“If you think I’m sleeping in these in my own bed, you’re sorely mistaken,” he states, matter-of-factly. My jaw drops open. He can’t be serious. “Don’t look too disturbed, sweetie, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” Sylus smirks as he yanks my linked hand forward. 

At this angle, I have to pull against the momentum to stop my hand from making an…unfortunate collision, and cut my look of shock and annoyance up to to see Sylus looking mighty pleased with himself. 

“Just keep your hand close enough to allow me to work,” he explains. I fight to not roll my eyes. I also fight to keep my cheeks from heating up. I’m beginning to remember how I used to feel in the presence of Sylus before I got through a few more of his layers. This arrogance and smugness always did make me irate. 

I look across the room, finding anything and everything to analyze while I feel my hand being jostled around. I hear the metallic sound of the belt being undone and discarded to the ground. Then the unmistakable sounds of his zipper falling loose and his slacks slipping to the floor. 

“Don’t be too coy, kitten. It’s not like this is isn’t anything you haven’t seen,” Sylus purrs from next to me, and my stomach does a flip against my protestation. 

“Can we just get to the sleeping part?” I try my best to sound as bored as possible. How we went from mere centimeters apart, sharing breaths and encased in each others arms to putting on our best show of “Who Can Care Less?” I'll never know. 

Instead of the smug response I’m expecting back, I hear a low and resigned sigh from next to me and brave a look in Sylus’ direction. His eyes are cast away towards the floor, but mine hungrily graze up his newly bare skin. It’s true it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but that doesn’t make it any less delicious.

His lengthy frame is cut with rippling muscles that sit prettily beneath his luminescent skin. His bandaged and broad torso swims to the narrow line of his black briefs that hug the curve of his meaty thighs like something perfectly tailored. Knowing him, the briefs probably were perfectly tailored. 

I am distracted from my shameless gazing, however, as I return my eyes to his face. He’s still not looking at me…he looks almost sad? I don’t recall ever seeing Sylus downcast, but if that’s not the expression sneaking onto this perfect face, then I don’t know what is. My heart lurches at the sight. 

I watch as he reaches past me to pull the pristinely made sheets away from the headboard, revealing a deepset grey silk. “After you,” he offers, his previous expression masked for the moment. 

My emotions are all over the place, but I keep any thoughts I have to myself as I nod and scoot back on the bed. Sylus is pulled after me by our linked wrists, and if the circumstances were any different right now, I think I might explode from the sight of his lithe frame bending to crawl onto the bed towards me. 

I have to avert my gaze and swiftly burry myself beneath the cool sheets before I heat up anymore. As I settle against the pillow, I feel the bed dip next to me as Sylus does the same. Soon, I feel the silk sheets rise to encase us both, and with a swift flick of Sylus’ fingers, the lights in room go out and we’re plunged into darkness and silence. 

I blink a few times, forcing my eyes to adjust to the lighting. Soon enough, the moonlight bathes everything in the bedroom in a soft glow and I can see the faint outline of the objects around me. I turn my head to the right and gaze out of the large bay window fixed into the far wall. The view of the night sky from here is breathtaking. I can’t help but feel a sense of yearning for the scene only minutes earlier, staring out the window with Sylus so close. 

He’s so close to me now, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore. How did things change so quickly? I forget why I was even frustrated with him…Well, I still remember why, but I don’t know why it was so important. The downfall of pride, I suppose. And now I’m lying in Sylus’ bed more awake than ever before, wallowing in my regret and desperate for some sort of salve to the situation. 

I risk a glance to my left and can make out the sharp outline of Sylus’ profile resting on the pillow next to mine. How many times have I dreamed of this? Of lying next to him in the quiet of the evening? Only there wasn’t this glaring tension resting between us in those dreams. I mentally kick myself for letting my annoyance get the better of me. And just after I’d made so much progress with him. 

I can feel the heat of his hand under the blankets so close to mine, the Evol linking our wrists making it harder to move any farther apart. As I subtly test the pull of the link, I can’t help but feel it’s even shorter than when it first connected. My fingers must be mere centemeters from Sylus’. 

There’s no sound in the room aside from our breathing. If I train my ears just right, I can find the rhythm of Sylus’ inhales and exhales–the only comforting thing in the vicinity. I chew the inside of my cheek as the temptation to move closer to him grows. He’s so close, so warm. And with that warmth so nearby, it intensifies the freezing air of the bedroom, chilling me right to my bones.

My free hand grips the silk sheets, pulling them up to rest just below my chin. I curl my body beneath the covers as tightly as I can, trying to retain any heat I still have from when Sylus’ was holding me against him. It’s no use. I continue to fight against the chill of the air, wondering how Sylus exists in this kind of cold all the time. 

“You’re shaking the whole bed.”

The sound of his voice in the dead silence makes me jump.

“Oh…I’m s-sorry,” I chatter, my chin stuttering from the chill. “It just got so cold…You don’t have an extra blanket in here, do you?”

Instead of responding, I hear him sigh deeply before the bed dips closer to me and I’m suddenly sliding sideways directly into the bare and blazing skin of Sylus himself. He situates our linked wrists in such a way that they are comfortably resting between our bodies. I instinctively curl myself against him, drinking in his heat like water. 

“Better?’ he asks, his voice close by in the darkness. 

I sigh out the last of my chill, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, not stopping to care that the tension between our unresolved conversation is still sitting stagnant above us. 

“Yes,” I say honestly. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I attempt to close my eyes and find rest. If silence is all that awaits me tonight, I’d rather find solace in slumber and pray that when I wake up, the link will be dissolved. 

My eyes are closed all of a minute before I realize falling back asleep won’t be as easy as I hoped. My insides are too restless, my regret and guilt too heavy. I should say something, I know I should, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic again…

“I care about you, too.”

Once again the low rumble of Sylus’ rough timbre echoes into the silence before I get my chance. I jolt at the unexpected comment and feel him shift his position beside me. In the glow of the moonlight, I lift my head to see his face turned towards me, lids hooded as he finds my eyes. 

Suddenly my heart is pounding again. How does he manage to do that?

“What?” is all I can think to say. 

“I care about you. I realize I never returned the sentiment…earlier.”

“Oh!” I breathe out, caught off guard. “I–That’s…thank you?”

“Thank you?” 

I can hear the start of a chuckle behind his words, and I can’t help but giggle in response at the absurdity of my own. 

“No, not ‘thank you’--well, I mean yes, thank you, but that’s–what I meant to say was…”

“It’s ok, Mina,” he lulls my from my spiral with his calm tone. He turns even more in the darkness until we are both lying facing each other. He looks some kind of otherworldly in this light. “I wanted to you know that I’m not hesitant to bring you with me into the city because I don’t think you’re capable or don’t want you to worry for my well-being.”

I purse my lips, studying his face. His expression is still sadder than I’d like it to be, as if he’s been mulling these words over and over, unsure of how I’d respond. 

“I know,” I agree, earnestly. “But then why–”

“I care about you, too,” he repeats just as emphatically as me. Under the blankets, I feel the ghost of his fingers trail against mine, testing the waters of what’s ok. I instantly fold and move my fingers to be eagerly enveloped by his own. He inches closer to me. 

“You care about me,” I echo, testing each word on my lips. 

He slowly grins, that hooded gaze eating me alive. His other hand reaches towards me and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, so gentle I question if this is the same man I met all those months ago. 

“Yes,” he assures in a breath of a whisper. “Very much so.” 

“You care about me,” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

Sylus laughs a low rumble of a laugh that shoots right through me. “I care about you so much that I worry about your safety the same way you say you worry about mine.”

I stare up at him, melting against his palm as it traces soothing lines up and down the curve of my neck. It’s like every new place he’s allowed to touch me is a place he must explore every inch of, memorizing every fold and caressing every curve. 

“I have responsibilities to attend to out in the city,” he continues on, explaining in a sort of gentle voice that has me hanging onto every syllable. “If I don’t attend to those responsibilities, all that follows is chaos, the kind that would eventually rope you up inside, and I can’t have that.” His fingers tighten on my hand, as if reassuring himself I’m really here in front of him. 

“Keeping you here means that I can attend to responsibilities knowing you’re safe and unharmed,” Sylus reveals. “I’m without the distraction of worrying about someone I care for.” 

“You care about me.”

Sylus laughs louder this time. “Is that all you can say, kitten?” 

I feel my grin growing in response to the sound of his laughter. I wonder how many other people have had the privilege to hear his laugh, his real laugh, hearty and deep and comforting. 

“I’m sorry, “ I shake my head. “I’m just processing.”

Sylus inches forward almost imperceptibly, eyebrows knit together. “Surely you knew I returned the feeling?”

I suddenly become sheepish. 

Sylus’ eyebrows raise in astonishment, his grin going lopsided. “Surely, you knew!”

My cheeks heat and I retreat with a squeak beneath the barrier of silk sheets, burying my face against his shoulder. I hear another well of laughter tumble over me as Sylus moves to remove the sheets from overtop of me. 

“I promise I didn’t know!” I finally admit, grinning stupidly against the warmth of his skin. As the natural cadence of my giggling dies down, I continue, slightly embarrassed, “I guessed…I hoped…but you’ve been so shamelessly flirtatious since the moment we met, I could never be sure…”

Sylus feigns shock. “Shamelessly flirtatious? Tsk, tsk, sweetie, you couldn’t be talking about me.”

I laugh again and Sylus lights up at the sound, his eyes glowing. 

He stares at me for a long moment, his hands reclaiming their purchases against my skin, stroking and caressing the exposed parts with such care. “Sorry if it should’ve been more obvious,” I add after a minute, gazing lazily at his face. “Wanderers and fluctuation zones I can detect all day long, but this has never been my strong suit…” I gesture between the two of us.

Sylus huffs a gentle laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe it wasn’t obvious to you, that’s ok. We’re here now.”

I bite my lip in thought and Sylus’ eyes zero in on the action, pupils dialiting before he pulls his gaze away. My stomach twists again. 

“...How long?” I eventually ask, nerves lighting up inside me. I can’t bare to keep eye contact with him as I wait for an answer. 

“How long?”

“How long have you…cared for me?” I feel so silly asking it out loud. As a blush creeps up my neck, I fight the urge to dive beneath the covers again. 

Sylus’ fingers still their soothing ministrations against my skin, and I suddenly worry. Did I ask something I shouldn’t have? Was it too far? Too soon? 

But when I anxiously meet Sylus’ eyes once again, he’s already looking at me like something I’ve never seen. His piercing red irises have a slight glow to them, his brows knit slightly in a look of sincerity that takes my breath away. He pauses a moment longer, making sure I’m keeping my eyes on him as he speaks, low and slow.

“A long time,” he utters, breathless. “A very, very long time.” 

I’m slightly confused while at the same time utterly captivated. I don’t know how long these few months could’ve felt. I suppose it has seemed like forever already, but I have a feeling that’s not what he means. Something about the moment has me reeling back my questions, however. This doesn’t seem like the right time or place to broach that topic.

“And you?” He returns my question, his face earnest as he awaits my response. “When did you start to…care?”

I find his phrasing funny and giggle before I answer. “When I was looking for that brooch, I suppose.”

He looks somewhat surprised at this. Maybe it wasn’t what he was expecting. “The one from the bet we made?”

I nod.

“What about that little hunt had you see me as something less monstrous?” 

I open my mouth to protest that I ever found him monstrous, but truth be told, those first few days in the N109 Zone were not my favorite to recount with him. 

Instead I answer honestly. “I tried so many times so many ways to find that stupid brooch, and you were so…patient with me. Even when I eventually had you handcuffed to this very bed and you could’ve escaped at any moment, you didn’t, and you let me think I had the upper hand for a few moments.”

Sylus listens intently, his eyes trained on my lips.

“I don’t know,” I continue. “In the end when you finally handed over the brooch, at first I was annoyed that you’d let me win without really winning, but as I kept replaying the memory of it, I thought it was so uncharacteristic of you to give in…and then I started thinking, ‘What if that isn’t uncharacteristic of him, and the demeanor he usually has is the farce?’”

I watch Sylus’ eyebrow raise in question. 

“The interactions we had after that…I started looking at you through that lens to test my theory, and sure enough, you aren’t the big bad meanie everyone paints you to be. At least not all the time.” I smile to myself. 

Looking back to Sylus, I see his expression has become one of subdued shock.

“What?” I ask through my smile. 

“I just didn’t think you were paying that close attention to me.” 

“I’m quite perceptive where it counts,” I defend myself. 

He smiles slowly. “Except when it comes to matters of returned affection.” 

I roll my eyes. “Okay, well I’m one for one on the perception front. I’m gonna take that as a win.” 

Sylus’ grin grows and he inches forward yet again. As I notice how truly close he’s gotten, my nerves begin to edge upward. My throat dry, I avert my eyes. “So, what now?” 

“You could touch me.”

“W-What?” I choke out, blindsided by his request. 

“If you want to, that is,” he amends, carefully looking me over. “You seem rather…timid when it comes to physical affection, do you not?”

“I’m not timid!” I say defiantly, immediately proving myself wrong when Sylus dips his hand from my face to my shoulder then under the edge of blanket to my waist. I instantly flinch away from the sudden change in proximity. “Ok, well that was an unfair play!”

Sylus is laughing in earnest now, and it’s enough to distract me from my fumble. 

“You were a little tense on the couch earlier, as well,” he notes, moving his hand back to the safe zone of my face. “Do you not enjoy physical contact?”

“I do!” I am quick to assure him. “I do enjoy it, it’s just…”

“Just…?”

“You make me nervous.”

“Nervous good or nervous bad?”

“Good! Nervous good.”

“So what does nervous good mean? Would you rather I not touch you just yet?” Sylus begins to remove his hands from me and I immediately feel their absence. 

I shake my head, swiftly reaching back for his hands and pulling them back to where they were previously stationed. Sylus tries to hide his satisfaction. 

“I don’t mind the physical contact, really!” I do my best to reassure that I am very much enthusiastic about the physical element going on here. “It just might take me a bit to get used to it without jumping is all. It’s something new.”

Sylus nods, his eyes darting away before returning with a question. “And me? How do you feel about touching me?”

My throat dries again. He truly is shameless. 

“Have I given the impression that I don’t want to?” I ask sincerely, concerned I’ve come across averse to the idea.

“You haven’t exactly returned the physical sentiment the whole time we’ve been lying here.” He says it like it’s obvious. 

“Oh, I haven’t?” I was genuinely unaware, much more focused on his hands on me than where mine were. Now that he’s mentioned it, I realize aside from the hand I’m holding beneath the sheets, my other hand remains curled against my own chest. “Do you…enjoy physical contact?” 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat of pause. “Especially yours.”

My stomach is doing flips. “Where should I–?”

“Anywhere,” he whispers. “Everywhere.” 

I hesitate a moment, overthinking every minute movement. I did touch him earlier when I bandaging his wounds, but I suppose that was with a different purpose in mind. And on the couch, I remember touching his face, didn’t I? Maybe it wasn’t enough for him. I know some people are more drawn to touch than others. I didn’t even really know I liked it until Sylus started doing it. If it feels as comforting to him as this does to me, then I decide to make an effort to return the gestures he’s already offered. 

Slowly, I unfurl my hand from against my own chest and reach out towards the exposed planes of Sylus’. I place my palm flat against his collarbone, fingers running a line across the protruding feature and up along the curve of his own neck. His skin is soft and warm and I eat up every inch of it as I trace a path along the sharp jut of his jawline and then back down, down, down, across his collarbone once again and then onto the solid muscles of his chest.

I run my nails along his pale skin, and Sylus shudders beneath my touch, moving even closer to me. 

“Is this ok?” I ask gently, keeping my eyes focused on what my hand is doing. 

“Yes,” comes the heady whisper of approval above me. It sounds almost gutteral and it has my mind spinning. Did this really affect him that much? “More. Touch me more.” 

My mind careens into an abyss at the sound of his voice. When I look up, he’s looking down with eyes half closed, irises glazed over and needy, and staring right at me. 

I continue to run the pressure of my palm and the scratch of my nails along his chest, venturing across to his other pectoral and then down his sternum towards the chiseled field of his abdominals. I stop just above the gauze wrapping, avoiding placing any pressure on his healing wound. As I travel back up towards his face, I test a graze along his exposed nipple and melt inside as a low moan of approval erupts from his throat. 

“Careful, kitten,” he admonishes in a dulcet tone. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.” 

“Can’t fini–” I start to question before he captures my roaming hand in his own. 

“Maybe that’s enough practice for now,” he decides, thumbing the back of my palm. 

I look up at Sylus from beneath hooded lashes, breathing harder than I realized. I watch as Sylus’ adam’s apple bobs against the skin of his throat, his chest starting to heave like a bellows. 

“Fuck…” he hisses, squeezing my hand as if trying to stop his own from moving any farther.

“What?” I question, searching that dazed expression for what he might be thinking about. Did I do something I shouldn’t have? “What’s wrong?”

Sylus leans closer to me, our mouths a breath apart. “I’m trying so hard to stop myself from kissing you right now.”

His brazen confession has my breath stuck in my throat. There’s a silence that seems like it stretches on forever between us. I force myself to swallow and say, “What if I don’t want you to stop yourself?” 

His right eye glows an intense shade of red as he reigns in the flare of his Evol energy. Those irises lock their sights on my parted lips. He licks his own in a way that has me becoming a puddle against him. I didn’t realize I want to kiss him so badly until he spoke it outloud. Now it’s all I can think of. What his lips taste like, what noises he makes, how well he uses that vipers tongue of his…

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he whispers against the skin of cheek, so close that he almost feels like part of me.

“Don’t,” I plead breathlessly. “Don’t stop yourself.” 

I let my eyes drift back to his enticing mouth, licking my own lips in response. 

“I have to–” is all he gets out before his lips are on mine. 

My head and my stomach implode in tandem, nerves and butterflies and explosions swimming all throughout my body at the feeling of him kissing me. I am in heaven, pure heaven. 

I always knew Sylus was a sensual kind of person, but having his lips pressed against mine was almost sinful with how perfect it felt. The kiss is gentle but desperate, the pressure of his mouth on mine conveying how he can’t seem to get close enough, to feel enough of me. 

His free hand moves from my face to my neck and up to my hair, his long digits fisting in my locks, tugging me futher into him. I suck against his bottom lip which draws out the most beautiful moan from his throat. 

His Evol energy suddenly erupts in a swarm of red and black mist that swims around us both, carressing my arms, my legs, my waist, every part of me his hands can’t get to. 

I feel his wrist tugging against the link beneath the sheets, trying without success to free itself and move elsewhere on my person. 

“Fuck, I want to touch you, all of you,” he grinds out through breathless kisses, tugging again against the Evol link. If I wasn’t so far gone against his body, I’d find it in me to laugh that the very thing that brought us this close was now his hindrance. And with the link growing stronger the more our connection grows, I didn’t see it coming loose anytime soon.  

“Sylus,” I moan against his mouth, his Evol energy shuddering around me in response. 

“Say it again, Mina,” he pleads, pressing me to his chest. “Say my name.”

“Sylus, Sylus, Sylus,” I repeat in between each capture of my lips in his. We continue for a moment longer, his tongue beginning to tease the line of my mouth before he suddenly pulls away, leaving me breathless and blown out, hazy in the remnants of his touch.

I open my eyes to see his chest rising and falling in erratic patterns, his hand still fisted in my hair. His own eyes are closed, his Evol energy slowly dissipating around us. He’s trying to regain himself. 

“Sylus?” I venture, my voice not sounding quite my own. “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he breathes slowly, his voice like gravel. “Yes, I’m fine. I just need…a moment.”

“Ok,” I concede, lying back and watching him as he reigns in his explosion of energy. He’s so powerful, it’s a marvel to watch his Evol in action, and it makes me want to reach back for him even more. I lift my free hand to do just that before he intercepts my fingers in his own and holds it against his chest.

Sylus falls against the sheets and curls me against him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, I think we should stop for now…”

“Oh, ok,” I whisper, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I make to turn myself over before he sees the blush covering my neck and face when he tightens his grip on me.

“Where are you going?” he sounds concerned.

“I thought…you said you wanted to stop.”

Sylus exhales a relieved breath. “No, kitten, please don’t misunderstand.” I meet his eyes and he massages my hand with his own in a comforting way. “I need to stop for my own sake…if we’d kept going…I don’t think I would’ve been able to control my Evol.” 

My eyes light with realization. “Oh…”

“I’ve never…” His eyes go somewhere far away for a moment as he becomes lost in a thought. “That’s never happened before. My Evol going haywire…did I hurt you?” Suddenly all his worry is trained on me, his eyes looking me up and down to ensure no lingering injury was left behind.

“What? No, of course not,” I reassure him. “It felt…good.”

“Good?” Sylus repeats. 

“Like there was more of you around me.” 

He exhales again. “Good.”

“Was it…okay for you?” If I had a dollar for everytime I’ve blushed uncontrollably tonight, I’d be a damn millionare. 

Sylus looks at me for a moment before leaning in and chuckling, his eyes closing in mirth. Was I that bad?

He opens his eyes and looks so deeply in mine that I balk under his gaze. “You have…no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” The tone of his voice sets my heart aflame. Sylus glances back to my now-swollen lips before he tears away. “I would do it again if I thought I could control myself.”

The way he looks at me so hungrily, like he could devour the whole of me in one bite makes me want to hide myself away. He is too much and not enough all at once.  

“We’ll have to work on that,” I manage to finally say. 

Sylus laughs and he runs the back of his hand down my face, coming to rest against my neck. “I look forward to it. Now, sleep, little bird. You’ve been up far past your bedtime.” 

I blink at him and suddenly feel more tired than I have in weeks. As Sylus curls me against his side and readjusts the sheets overtop of us, I fight to stay awake and take one last look at his perfect face, suddenly terrified this has all been some elaborate fever dream and I’m about to wake up in my bed down the hall with nothing but the lingering memory of tonight to hold on to. 

“Sleep, darling,” Sylus whispers again, his lips pressing to the crown of my head, his hand still linked to mine beneath the silk sheets massaging gentle patterns into my palm that have my drifting even farther off. “I’ll be here when you wake.”