Chapter 52

Chapter 52

F ey had never knowingly slept next to another person, and it was a slight shock to wake up several hours later and realize she wasn't alone.

A shock, but not altogether unpleasant.

Fey stretched, pointing her toes, and relished the sheer amount of room she had all to herself in Alastair's massive bed. Then, rolling over and propping herself up on her elbow, she looked down at Alastair as he slept.

He was on his back, still as death. And he was…

Beautiful , Fey thought to herself. He was beautiful, lying there, all sharp angles and soft skin. She reached up, unable to stop herself, and touched an errant lock of his dark hair. It was like silk between her fingers.

He didn't move. Didn't seem to be breathing. Panic built in her chest. He did look dead, lying there, so pale, eyes closed… But he couldn't be, right? Couldn't have…

"Alastair?" Fey asked, leaning close enough that her breath moved his hair slightly. He didn't move, and her heartbeat was even faster. "Alastair, is?— "

His finger pressed against her lips, his face fixed and cold as marble, as she blinked.

"Coffee," he whispered, his mouth barely moving as he spoke.

Beneath his finger, Fey's mouth quirked up into a smile. She moved away from him, but he reached out for her, eyes still closed. His hands found her hips, and he lifted her effortlessly, laying her on top of him and wrapping his arms around her waist.

He made another noise, almost words, and Fey smiled, relaxing against him.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Coffee," he grunted. His face buried in her neck, his hands holding her in place, he mumbled sleepily. "I need coffee."

"Make Jasper bring it."

He chuckled, and she could feel the sound reverberate through her body. Then he lifted her again, depositing her next to him, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"You stay here," he told her softly. "I'll be back."

Fey did no such thing, of course. After a few minutes alone in bed, she grew bored and restless, unable to fall back asleep. Tossing the sheets aside, she grabbed another of Alastair's shirts from his closet and put it on, venturing out to find him.

The house was full of delicious smells, she noticed immediately. Coffee, yes, but also something sweet and mouthwatering. Something she wanted, immediately.

"You were supposed to stay in bed," came a growling voice from the kitchen. She entered to find him in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

Fey shrugged, sitting down on a barstool at the kitchen island. "I got bored."

Alastair grumbled but didn't argue more. Instead, he deposited a fresh cup of coffee in front of her.

"I'm making waffles," he said .

Fey couldn't help but smile. "Alastair… it has to be the middle of the day by now."

"I don't care," he told her. "I'm making waffles."

Someone must have picked up on the other end of the phone because Alastair's voice changed immediately, all warmth and teasing leaving as though it had never been there in the first place.

"Ferus," he said in a gruff voice. "Congratulations on your promotion to assistant owner of The Last Drop. Effective immediately. You start tonight, and you're in charge for the next few evenings. I won't be coming in for a while."

Fey looked around at his home, smiling and taking a sip of coffee.

"No, it doesn't come with a fucking pay raise, you greedy little shit." Alastair balanced the phone against his shoulder as he juggled with grabbing a plate and an empty bowl. "Fine, fuck , fifteen percent raise. And if you do well enough, twenty percent and I don't break your fucking legs for asking me for more money. Do you have any idea how much I already pay you?"

The coffee was hot and strong. Fey added a little sugar and poured a dollop of cream into it from a small pitcher on the counter.

"Okay, good. Yeah. Ok…" Alastair rolled his eyes. "I'm hanging up now. You deal with that shit. Okay. Don't fucking call me unless it's an emergency. I fucking mean it, Ferus. Good."

He ended the call, tossing his phone on the counter.

"Why do you have windows here, anyway?" Fey asked, looking around at the thick blackout curtains hung over the massive windows all around his apartment. They were the only things protecting him from the painful sunlight outside, and while sun likely couldn't kill a Vampire as powerful as he was, she was sure it would leave a painful burn.

Alastair turned from his cooking to look at her, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

"I like the view," he said.

"What view?" she gestured at the curtains.

"The city doesn't disappear when the sun goes down, Fey," Alastair explained, a deep amusement in his voice. "I like the view of the city at night , Witchling."

"Oh." She felt like an idiot. But a moment later, when he placed a full plate of waffles with whipped cream, and a bowl of fresh strawberries in front of her, she forgot all about it.

"Eat," he said, walking around behind her, and leaning over to plant a kiss on her neck. She shivered.

"Aren't you going to have any?" she asked, her voice teasing.

Alastair reached over her, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and dipping it in her whipped cream. He popped it into his mouth and chewed.

"There," he said. "Now, you eat."

Fey rolled her eyes. Still, she picked up her fork and cut herself a piece of waffle with plenty of whipped cream and syrup.

When she took a bite, it was hard not to moan at the taste. It was perfect—buttery and soft, with just the right amount of crisp to the dough. Alastair chuckled, behind her, as though he could tell how much she enjoyed it, and he trailed his fingers down her arms and leaned close enough to bury his face against her neck.

"So," he whispered, lips brushing against her hair, fingers giving her goosebumps where they delicately brushed against her. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, now?"

Fey stilled, swallowing a mouthful of waffles.

"It's… complicated," she said. She poked at a strawberry with her fork, chasing it across her plate.

He made a small noise behind her, his fingers never pausing as they trailed lightly over her skin. "I can do complicated. Try me."

Fey sighed. She set her fork down.

"Something… something is going on," she started, trying to think how to explain it all to him. "With the Crown."

"Hm, very vague and unhelpful, thank you, Witchling."

Fey couldn't help it. She smiled.

"I can't tell you everything," she explained. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. That makes it a little more difficult."

"Okay, why don't you start with just one thing?" he asked. He shifted back slightly, granting her a little more space, a little more room to breathe. Still, with his hands on her shoulders, his body looming over hers, she couldn't help but feel comforted by his presence. Protected by him .

Fey sighed. "Okay," she said. "You said I feel stronger to you, right?"

He nodded.

"I am," Fey told him. "Much, much stronger."

With no effort at all, she held her hand above the table and called Fire, letting it dance across her fingertips. Then Water, pulling it from the glass next to her plate, and bringing it to dance among the flames. Salt next, calling Earth to join the dance. And finally, a ball of Air, sounding them all, pulling them all together like a globe of energy.

Behind her, Alastair hissed through clenched teeth.

"You can control all four elements?" he asked, awe in his voice.

Fey nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She let her power slip, vanishing the fire and air and letting the water return to her glass, sprinkling the salt into a pile on her plate.

"The Crown took this away from me," she explained, flicking a few errant salt crystals from her fingertips. "They've been… hobbling us. Reducing our powers, so the Queen can stay on the throne, unchallenged. My sister, Alice, found out, and now she needs my help."

"Your murdered sister?" Alastair asked, surprise and disbelief in his voice.

"Well… yes," Fey admitted. "But she's not as dead as we thought, it turns out… and she needs your help. We need your help."

Fey remembered the last time she'd come to him for help. Two minutes, he'd promised her. And even then, he'd only helped her to keep his own club clean.

Would he extend that same level of help again?

"Anything," Alastair said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her hair. "Whatever you need, Fey."

"I need you to get a message to your father," she told him.

Alastair froze, his lips still pressed against her.

"Anything but that ," he said, moving away, but when Fey twisted in her seat to look at him, he sighed, irritated. "Fine, don't give me that look, fuck… What's the message you need me to give him?"

"Tomorrow night, we need every Vampire off the streets. This is important, Alastair. Something big is going down, and we need everyone to keep their heads down and keep away from the palace. Keep away from everywhere but their own homes if they can. We can't guarantee the streets will be safe, not for anyone."

Alastair shifted uncomfortably behind her. "The other Factions…"

"The other Factions have already agreed to this. We need a truce for one night. To keep everyone safe."

He sighed, then nodded. "Consider it done," he said. "I'll reach out to him tomorrow and set up a meeting. He can get the word out quickly."

"And if he doesn't listen?" Fey prompted.

Alastair laughed. "He'll listen. Don't worry about that. My father… well, he's a shit father, I can tell you that. And there are things I can never forgive him for. But he's not a bad leader, Fey. He'll listen. And he'll do what I ask."

Fey nodded, relief washing through her. That was all she could do for now. All she could do until the time came for Alice's plan to trigger.

Fey pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry. Alastair brushed her hair off her shoulder, peppering the skin there with kisses, and she let herself relax back against him.

"So," he whispered into her neck. "Tomorrow night, huh?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"I'm guessing it will be dangerous, what you're doing?"

She swallowed. "Yeah," she repeated.

"And do you need to do anything until then?"

Fey shook her head, and her pulse quickened as he licked the tender spot where he'd bitten her neck. He groaned into her skin as he closed his mouth over that spot and sucked gently.

"Well, in that case—" he said, nipping at the mark he'd left there. "Why don't we go back to bed, Witchling? Give me until tomorrow night to try and convince you that you should come back and find me when this is all over. Let me convince you why you should survive whatever it is you have planned."

Laughing, Fey agreed and let him drag her back to bed.

In the end, he was very convincing.