Spellbound (18 page)

The station was almost eerily quiet by the time he began rubbing his tired eyes. His empty stomach was protesting and his head begged for a pillow. His days of doing nothing but lying around had been horrendous, but now that it wasn’t an option he missed it, or in truth, he hadn’t slept for crap since they had come back and it was catching up. He told himself that it was because his mattress wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the grand one that Stavros had, but he had high doubts that buying one for himself would fix the problem.

Elion pushed away from his desk to go make a cup of tea, his stomach could wait for him to read over the final report. Elion was waiting for his water to warm when Malachi walked in. The man smiled kindly enough, but it made Elion want to squirm.

“You’re here late.”

“So are you,” Elion replied.

“Covering Anjwa’s shift at the desk. I’m out of here in an hour,” Malachi sighed, cocking his head slightly. “Have you eaten?”

Elion snorted dryly and lazily gestured to the mug of water warming. Malachi shook his head and laughed.

“Want to grab something? If you’re not swamped, I mean,” Malachi said as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Elion immediately wanted to deny his offer and tell him what a piece of shit he was, but his tongue caught at the last second and his tired mind stirred.

“Sure. Meet me out front when you’re done?” Malachi’s grin widened and he nodded before walking out without doing whatever he had come for.

~~

A glance at his phone told Elion that it was even later than he had realized. He was thinking of places still open when Malachi skipped down the wide concrete steps, his heavy boots steps catching Elion’s attention. He had changed from his uniform into a pair of dark, tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt. He was an attractive man with a beautiful body, despite his off-putting aura. The way his eyes glowed against the moonlight was predatory and it made Elion shudder.

Malachi seemed to be oblivious to Elion’s hesitations and made small talk as they walked to the tavern. Elion was surprised by the amount of talking Malachi did; from first glance, one would think he was as brooding as Stavros.

Lolita spotted them the second they went to the bar to order a drink. The witch gave Elion a hard look that made him feel two inches tall. Her icy glare pulled away only to focus on Malachi, who still seemed oblivious as he continued talking and sipping at the tumbler placed in front of him.

Elion fell more into conversation with his second drink. He had no intention to get drunk, but the appearance of drinking slowly as he ate seemed to make Malachi more open than he already was, and by a few rounds in he was getting a tad friendlier than Elion really wanted to deal with. The flirting had gone from passive to blunt. Elion tried to smile and thank Malachi for his compliments, no matter how over the top they were, because that’s where he needed them to be. He could play dumb and innocent well enough.

Malachi leaned forward with a wolfish grin and brushed a stray lock of hair from Elion’s forehead, and before the large fingers had pulled away from Elion’s skin, a glass being smashed made Elion jump. Lolita was yelling at the end of the bar where an older man was snubbing out a cigarette and shaking his head at the situation unraveling in front of him. Elion frowned when Lolita reached across the bar and smacked the irate customer. She threw her slender arms in the air and stepped away to grab the rag sitting on the back counter. Elion’s heart sank and a quiet,
fuck,
escaped his lips with his next breath. Stavros was already half off his stool by the time Elion could process that he was moving towards the door.

Elion said a silent word of thanks when his phone began to ring in his pocket. The tone told him that it wasn’t an important call, most likely his mother forgetting the time difference again, but Malachi didn’t know that and Elion used it as the perfect excuse to end their night. Malachi looked like a kicked puppy when Elion stood up to thank him for the drinks and dinner, and when he grabbed Elion’s hand lightly he had to force himself not to cringe away.

“Maybe it’s too forward, but would you like to have dinner sometime? I mean, like in a restaurant,” Malachi said hopefully, “a date.”

“That- I’d like that,” Elion forced a sheepish smile. “Do you want me to take you home or…”

“Nah. I live nearby. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.” Malachi grinned. Elion nodded and offered a thick smile before waving and doing his best not to run to the door. The fresh night air hit him like a slap in the face, but the clawed hand that gripped his bicep is what made him gasp.

Stavros looked absolutely deadly as he pulled Elion into the alley beside the tavern and tightened his grip. The shift of teleporting locations left Elion’s head spinning while he tried to steady himself in his living room. Stavros still hadn’t loosened his grip and Elion could feel the bruise forming under the surface.

“What were you doing with him?” Stavros growled.

“I was having dinner. What are you doing?” Elion snapped, ripping his arm from Stavros’ grip.

“Stay away from him,” Stavros ordered venomously. Elion scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.

“You know, I expected you to be a prick again once we were separated, but
this
- this is just amazing, even for you. Who do you think you are to have any say in who I see? You walked out the door Stavros!” Elion yelled as he pressed his palms to Stavros’ chest and shoved. Stavros only shifted half a step before he had Elion’s wrists in a tight hold and he pulled. Elion gasped, a sound muffled and distorted as it was swallowed by his partner. Logic told him that he needed to break the kiss he was yanked into and punch Stavros in his stupid, beautiful face, but every other piece of him screamed for him to kiss back. So he did.

It was easy to ignore the dull ache from being moved around roughly while Stavros made little work of Elion’s clothes. He didn’t give Elion half a beat to feel even slightly self-conscious about his body before he was against a wall and blunt teeth were pressing against his shoulder, a silent dare for him to try and move as large, warm hands studied his torso.

“Is this what you wanted?” Stavros asked, mouth pressed against Elion’s throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but found only huffs and mumbled vowels would come out. None of which could have been taken as a negative, but it wasn’t
this
that Elion wanted.

He wanted
this
with a package deal. He wanted
this
with pizza and movie nights, identical to the one that they had recently. He wanted
this
followed by a morning of waking up and not bothering to even try and untangle their limbs.
This
was only a piece of what he wanted, but trying to explain that while unable to even focus his vision, was impossible.

His fingers aimlessly gripped at the wall for support when his thighs were shoved apart and his back arched to meet the friction of Stavros rubbing against him. There was nothing romantic or even friendly about the way he was being manhandled, and it was almost perfect, but it wasn’t quite right. There was a void in the way Stavros was suddenly part of him, but not because of the rush of their actions, not because Stavros was panting against his ear in a way that made Elion feel confident, proud that his body could earn such noises from Stavros, but
something
. It dawned on Elion, as his cheek stayed pressed to the wall after a particularly hard thrust, that this wasn’t what he wanted at all. A hand splayed across his chest and pulled him back against Stavros tightly, and for a moment, Elion could have wept from the rush of emotion that he was suddenly drowning in as his head rested against Stavros’ shoulder. His legs gave out as his release was ripped out of him. He felt words flow from his lips, but he couldn’t register them as Stavros tightened his grip and came with a growl that Elion felt down to the tips of his toes.

It was then, as he tried to pull air into his burning lungs and clear the haze from his eyes that he thought that maybe Stavros wanted the same, only for a moment, because when he blinked the world back into focus Stavros was already buttoning his pants and shoving his arms through his shirt sleeves.

Elion felt small, too small to even try and look up at the man acting as though Elion wasn’t inches from him, standing up on weak knees and ignoring the mess slowly running down his thighs. When Stavros finally did look, it was just long enough to confirm that whatever Elion wanted was never going to be. And if the dark look wasn’t enough to confirm it, the sound of his door closing when Stavros walked out without a word certainly was.

Elion held his breath as he walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. His body protested, but he knew if he so much as let a single puff of air in or out a sob would come with it, but he wasn’t weak and Stavros wasn’t worthy of a drop of his sadness. Elion ground his teeth as the hot water pelted his skin and did little to make him feel clean. It was then that his minimally taken breaths shattered and became strangled against his wet palms; and when the water ran cold, he dried himself with a towel that was thrown on the floor to mildew before he walked to his bedroom and climbed into bed. And when his alarm went off the following morning, he shut it off and got up as he did every morning, despite not having even shut his eyes once the entire night.

Chapter 14

“You’re a hard guy to catch,” Malachi chuckled. Elion looked up from his desk and offered him a tired, lopsided smile.

“Cops and robbers was much more fun as a child,” he sighed, tossing his pen down. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking if you were free tomorrow night we could go out?” Malachi cocked his head like a confused puppy with sweet eyes. If not for what Elion knew, it might have been cute.

By the time Malachi left Elion’s office with a confident smile and a wink, Elion wanted to scream. His head was throbbing and he hadn’t slept in days. He found himself glaring at everyone that got in his way as he walked to Mikhail’s office. The old sorcerer looked up with a frown when Elion stepped instead and closed the door harder than necessary.

“We’re going out tomorrow night. The Tovarian Bistro.” Mikhail nodded before a chair rushed across the room and came to a quick halt a few inches from his desk. He gestured for Elion to sit and gave a pointed look in return to Elion’s hesitation. The elf plopped into the seat with a grunt and folded his arms over his chest.

“What happened?” Mikhail asked.

Elion huffed quietly. “Nothing. He came into my office and-”

“Don’t play dumb,” Mikhail scoffed. “Stavros took off three nights ago to apprehend a low priority suspect and you have taken his place as resident brooder. What happened?”

Elion’s lip pursed tightly and he dropped his gaze to his knees. Mikhail’s tone was too parental, too caring and it was threatening to break his composure, and Elion
refused
to let that happen. He refused to let anyone else make him feel like shit. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat before letting his eyes drift back to Mikhail’s.

“We had a disagreement. Is that such a surprise? Anyway, I called in a favor from an academy buddy that doesn’t ask questions. I’m still going through records, but I’ve found several inconsistencies that-”

Mikhail and Elion both looked up abruptly when the office door was thrown open. Stavros took two long strides into the room before his blackened orbs shifted from Elion’s direction to Mikhail.

“I need to file a report,” Stavros said in a bored tone. Mikhail groaned and leaned back in his squeaky leather chair.

“What did you do?”

Stavros shrugged and dropped something on Mikhail’s desk with a light plop, inhumanly dark blood oozing from his palm with it. Elion’s brow furrowed tightly and his stomach turned as he leaned over to look at a long, bloodied tongue.

“Who does that belong to?” Mikhail sighed. Elion eyed the healing cuts on Stavros’ face; a healing cut on his lower lip, and an already fading black and blue eye. There were scratches along his throat that looked superficial enough.

“We can finish this later,” Elion said quickly. He cowered into himself to keep from touching Stavros’ large frame as he moved towards the door.

Instead of going back to their office, he wandered through the large building to the Holding wing. Malachi was sitting behind a tall, half wall length desk talking to another officer when Elion cleared his throat. The shifter looked up with a frown that turned into a surprised smile that was a little too sharp.

“What happened?”

“Your partner’s a psycho,” Malachi laughed.

“I think we all know that.” Elion frowned. “Why did he have a tongue and who does it belong to?”

“Demon in cell four, maximum wing. Started spouting off about him and Stavros being brethren or some shit. He’s more pissy than usual. You’d think an incubus wouldn’t be so grouchy with the amount of tail they get.”

Elion bit his own tongue until he was sure he wouldn’t spit in the officer’s face and ended up only nodding anyway.
Just a little longer
, he told himself. And maybe when it was all over he would thank Stavros for tearing him apart and leaving him to simmer in his own misery. It had given him days without sleep and that had given him hours to fill.