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(Lauren's POV)
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Isotopes isotoping. Pathogens pathogening. Hematology in process.
I toss my pen down on my desk, pulling my glasses from my face as I idly spin in the chair. The toes of my shoes firmly pressed against the metal legs giving me leverage. Project Gemini as I had so lovingly decided to name it had become rather unruly as of late, and while I would never admit aloud, my extracurricular activities have been distracting me more than I had realized. Several of my samples having died before expected which while displeasing has always been a risk within the potential dangers of scientific exploration. However, what I found upsetting is the fact that with so much distraction, I had no answer as to why. Four dead samples which had been thriving beyond expectancy and now, gone. In a serendipitous moment a case had pulled Bo away leaving me ample time to delve back into my work. It should have been perfect.
Should have been.
It was all there. Science. Lab. Free from distractions. Complex problem. Unanswered questions. Challenge to myself. I should have been having the time of my life, caught up in the excitement all of it. However, I found myself half interested, continuously interrupted by thoughts of Bo. Thoughts of me and Bo. Thoughts of what she was doing. Thoughts of what she was doing with Dyson. Thoughts of what she had done with Dyson. Thoughts of what she still wanted to do with Dyson. Then back to thoughts of me and her. Thoughts of what I could do to take her mind off Dyson. And finally brief thoughts on the potential danger of exceeding the recommended dosage of stimulants found in energy drinks. A simple arrangement of blood samples took me forty minutes because I kept stopping to check my phone. And now, all essential materials were doing their part, rendering my services temporarily unnecessary.
Oh Lauren, what is wrong with you?
I spin around in my chair with an abruptness. My eyes staring into the hallway. The grin that had been curving my lips at my own expense vanished. Within my chest my heart races. My hands grip the ledge of the desk, as my feet shift to the floor. As quietly as I can, I stand up using my body to push the chair back just enough to give me some space. Not entirely sure what had happened, I stare out into the darkness of the hallway and wait. There is a particular feeling enclosing around me and I cannot explain where it had come from, only that it is here. Goosebumps risen over the flesh on my arms. The hairs on the back of my neck raised. The palms of my hands clammy.
Had there been a sound? Had there been a shadow? Had I gotten a chill and overreacted? Had I had a moment of mental lapse? Had there been something in here with me? Had there been something in the hall? I had been alone for hours. I had not even seen security in a considerable amount of time. They had known to leave me alone and only check in when necessary, under the Ash's order. Even when they did stop by, two out of the three were cordial, friendly even. Bo was still hours away from here, and even if she had not been, I know her presence. This is not it. It does not put me into a state of fear. And Sasha, I cannot feel her the unexplainable way I feel Bo, however, I have noticed a certain familiarity with her presence. She lingers, like Bo. However, when Bo lingers, she is sort of assessing or admiring as a baby animal would in the wild. When Sasha lingers, she I suppose is assessing or admiring as well, only more as an actual wild animal would. There are moments in which she can invoke fear, however, not solely on presence. Not anymore.
Against better judgment with my eyes still searching the visible darkness I reach to my left, grabbing a scalpel from the desk. I know this lab like I know the manor and there is no secondary exit. There is no escape. The blue latex prevents it from slipping from my otherwise clammy hand. Apprehensively I inch toward the door. And when I reach it, I find no one. The toes of my shoes stopping directly on the line between the lab and the hallway, my head angled out enough to see clearly. To my left I find nothing. To my right I find nothing. I glance over my shoulder half certain whatever it is that I have felt will be behind me.
Nothing.
There is a plethora of options before me. In actuality, three viable ones. One, I step back inside, lock the door and await morning. Two, run down the hallway to the exit to my car and drive home—if I get that far. Or three, make it approximately a hundred and eighty yards to Sasha's office. I had come to find she had been somewhat of a night owl, enjoying the peace of an empty compound to do her more mundane work. Several nights on my way out I had walked past to see her sitting in her chair, dim light and violins in the background. Most times now all I would receive was a wave or nod, however, she was there. My safest option would be to lock myself in and wait it out. My most dangerous option would be to try and make it home. And the option I found myself leaning toward most was trying to make it to Sasha.
What if she needed help?
The thought enough to make the decision for me. I take one step into the darkness and wait. Nothing. Four tentative steps to my right. Nothing. With the scalpel tightly gripped I position myself against the wall. Both my heels and my scapulas drag against it, the positioning the most uncomfortable, however, the safest. I had done this so many times before in the Army, however, an M-14 was slightly more reassuring than a scalpel. Having several other soldiers with you was also a lot more reassuring too. Steps turn to yards, and I am nearly there now. My heart sinks in my chest. There is no dim light illuminating the floor. There is no soft hum of violins.
She is not in her office.
I look behind myself. There is nothing other than darkness to greet me. My heartrate begins to speed once again. Somehow this time when I look behind myself the hallway appears never-ending. My lab has become miles away. There is no retreating. My hands start to shake, and I must press them against my thighs to steady myself. There is a dryness in the depth of my throat that has begun to spread like wildfire. I know I am staring into the darkness of the hall of the compound I know this, however I keep seeing flashes of the desert. I am back in Israel. I am back in Afghanistan. I am back in those places long ago attempted to be forgotten.
Attempting to pull myself together I jog the remaining distance to her office. My free hand fumbling with the doorknob and after a slight stumble it turns, flying open as I nearly fall into her office. Without regard I slam the door shut. Locking it on impulse as I back away slowly until I hit her desk, having somehow managed to make it through the opening between the two guest chairs. It is evident she is not here tonight. No lights. No music. Only me and whatever is—or is not out there. It takes several minutes before my heartrate slows enough to become sensible again.
Quickly I begin to realize that while there may be something threatening outside of this room I have also just entered into the Ash's office without permission. Albeit she did leave the door unlocked, however, I do not believe anyone else would be stupid enough to do something of this nature. An entirely new wave of panic beginning to set in. I had gotten away with this once, however, getting away with it a second time seems unlikely. Finally comfortable or at least preoccupied enough, I turn my back to the door as I move around her desk to grab the phone as I simultaneously realize my cell phone had been left on the charger next to the isotopes that are most certainly done isotoping. There are exactly three numbers in which I know by heart, Bo's cell phone, Sasha's cell phone and my mother's office phone, if she has not changed it in all this time.
Setting the scalpel down, careful not to scratch the wood of her desk, that being the last thing I need, my eyes catch a glimpse of that same book laid neatly on the desk. Albeit this time it is closed and pushed off to the side, not entirely something one would see on a mere glance. The dial tone lingers in my ear and my hand hovers having stopped on its previous journey to press the numbers. Is this a test? Did she know I had looked? Was she suspicious and this is how she finds out? Is it a mere coincidence? Is she that certain that no one would dare enter her office this way and if they did that they would not snoop? Is this a challenge? Or does she want me to see it? Is this a game? Or is she that secure in her ability to intimidate everyone that it never crosses her mind anyone would be insane enough to peek into her private things?
As my eyes trace every leather-bound inch of this book it whispers to me. My curiosity more than piqued. The possibility of what could be written inside. Something that could help Bo. Something that could help myself. Something that explained-her. Something that told us how to defeat Syra. Drawing in a deep breath, I carefully place the phone back down into place. My eyes glancing toward the door and upon certainty of safety, I open the book midway and turn the pages until I find one that grips my attention.
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Ata,
There a picture in the asylum waiting room. It is of this lighthouse against the backdrop of a calm storm. A little red house placed next to it. Four times I have been required to visit that place, and each time this painting calls to me. It is calm. It is picturesque. Peaceful. I believe I could live there. A little red house next to a lighthouse. Free from these burdens. Free from responsibilities. Me and a dog. Maybe a cat. Maybe both. It would be peaceful. Me and this dog and cat.
Ata,
I fear there is something wrong. Control has become something of a challenge. It is more than the thief. I am agitated constantly. I do not want to feed-I want to kill. The aggression is unexpected. I can attribute it to the night I killed, but it is more. I can no longer stand to look at her. The infant is coming off of her in waves. I have not seen such a strong marking in some time, let alone from someone so young. A line of normal acceptable jealousy has been frayed and I cannot tame the possessive nature within. It is not solely her, but something within the infant. She is more than Syra warned me of. But what? Why has this become difficult? Does the infant feel the same territorial nature? Is she smart enough to differentiate between what is normal for our kind and what isn't? If she was not involved, I could let the infant die or take her under my guidance, but she makes it impossible to do either.
Ata,
I miss my friend. The closest thing I had to one. Present company excluded. Many years we have been together. Many years you have been there for me. But she gives me more than silence in return. She I think in unspoken ways understands pieces of me. My affections aside, I miss our interactions. We are reduced to waves now. She makes no attempt to speak to me either and I think that irritates my agitation. Inadvertently I came across an article of a scientist back home, and I nearly made my way to suggest it to her. An excellent conversation starter. She would also enjoy it. I know she has no one to speak to about these things. Those who work with her still held to the old ways. She is still reduced to being property. But I cannot gain enough composure.
.
Ata,
I fear I will lose the games this time. I fear we have not been playing the same game at all. Too many inconsistencies have been emerging. Too much bloodlust. Too much anger. I was playing to win these games while she has been playing for keeps. I fear I have lost too much ground. Strategy is no longer effective because it is not what it was meant for. Both boards are nearly hers now. And I still do not entirely grasp what we are playing.
.
I look up toward the door managing to tear my eyes from the pages. No—she would not want me to read this. This is too personal. This is too much vulnerability. Too much of her fears are laid on display. Even if this were a test, even if she had wanted to appeal to the gentler side of my nature, this is genuine vulnerability. I could not imagine her vocalizing any of this aloud to me or anyone else. Solely the piece about Bo is enough to assure me beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is genuine. She had simply misjudged that no individual would be daring enough to do as I have done.
Oh Lauren, what have you done?
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Unknown – 2:15 a.m.
(Bo's POV)
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"What are you doing?" He asks, leaning over against my should making me laugh.
"Reading."
"What?"
"Science for Dummies." I laugh softly, whispering not to disturb Hale and Kenz tense conversation in the front seat. Big surprise my couch squatter had become a topic of tension yet again. "Only nineteen ninety-nine on Amazon."
He leans away from me, looking out his window. "Ah."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Just say it Dyson."
"You're so set on changing everything you are for her."
"I'm reading a book Dyson, not getting plastic surgery."
"You're starving yourself for her. You're putting yourself in danger for her. You're reading for her."
"I am not starving. I am always in danger. Hello, didn't we just kill an under-Fae together like twenty minutes ago? And I read in general thank you."
"You are starving. You look like you did before. You're one fight away from being unable to recover."
"I'm fine." I huff. "Mind your own business."
"You are my business."
"Am I?" I challenge, stuffing my phone in my pocket no longer bothering to whisper.
"This crush will pass."
"What?" I snort, shaking my head which only makes the headache I had been nursing worse. "You're out of line right now. This isn't the place."
Kenz looks back at me. "It's really not."
"Look at the road."
"It's late, let's all just chill." Hale adds.
"You want to add your two cents like you weren't just fighting over a dark fae?" Dyson snaps back.
"I said all of us."
The two stare each other down a minute before Hale turns back in his seat and Dyson refuses to look at anyone. He had been fine and then now an emotional baby. Not one word. He barely seemed to care me, and Lauren made it official—for the most part. We hadn't really been out and about, but we weren't hiding. He barely batted an eye and now a temper tantrum. Over a book! Ridiculous. You can't just act like you don't care and then turn around and care and try to make me out to be the bad guy. I don't remember him banging down any doors trying to make what we were official. So irritating. And the two in the front seat who haven't stopped bickering in weeks only are making it worse.
I pull my phone back out, scrolling through my messages. It had been hours since Lauren had texted, she probably fell asleep. I really could go for seeing her. And for a little healing. As it turns out sex does heal too. Not as much as feeding, but it definitely curbs the headaches and gets rid of the minor bruises and scrapes. When he's being an asshole, I won't entertain the idea of him being right, but some of the wear and tear has been starting to catch up. And its not like Lauren is booty call time, just to be fair we have had amazing mind-blowing sex just about every time we've been together, so you know, healing bonus to seeing her smile to brighten my day. I could have Kenz drop me off at the manor but if she isn't responding she's asleep and it's late I don't wanna wake her. I don't wanna be that girlfriend.
Sighing I pushed my phone back into my pocket even more frustrated I won't get to see her tonight. I wouldn't say I've become obsessed but—yeah okay I might be. I can't help it. She is amazing. Everything about her. Smart and beautiful and funny. And sexy, so so sexy. And not that I want to make her jealous but damn when she gets feisty, all I can say is hot. And she is so out of my league. Never in a million years if we weren't where we are could I have gotten her attention. She's far too-everything. She'd be with like a doctor or a senator or something like that. Someone who could actually hold a conversation beyond you know basic things and everyday things. I love listening to her speak, it's cute and impressive and she gets so excited talking about molecules and things, but I just don't connect. I can't even really understand half of it.
In the beginning, it wasn't really a thing. Sure, it was an insecurity I thought a lot about. When we talked it never really came up. And then we got together, and it didn't really come up. But now, two months in, yeah it's becoming a thing. I can see it in the way she stops suddenly in conversation and changes topic to something more me friendly. I don't really care about science or like it like that, but she loves it so I care. I know realistically I'll never be able to hold a conversation about it with her, but I can definitely make it so she doesn't feel the need to stop talking about whatever the hell it is that has her so excited. And screw Dyson for trying to make me trying to do that something bad. I'm not changing who I am, I'm just, taking an interest.
We stop at the apartment, Kenz going to drive the boys home and stay with Hale since he had put his foot down about spending another night with Vex interrupting them. To my surprises Dyson follows after me. What's more surprising is that Kenz actually leaves without him.
"Can I help you?"
"We need to talk."
"I think we talked enough for tonight bub."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"I'm trying to protect you."
Rolling my eyes, I walk away from him, looking for my keys as I we near the entrance. "I got it under control."
"You don't."
"You're the expert on control now?"
"This is some childish romance that's going to get you both killed." His voice raises, causing me to turn to him. "You are not Romeo, and she is not Julliette. This is not some epic love story. This is a human who doesn't know her place and you who-."
"Who what?"
"Nothing."
"Who what Dyson?"
"Who is acting too stupid to know hers."
"You can go." I snap.
"Bo-."
"I said, you can go."
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The Dal– 7:22 p.m.
(Lauren's POV)
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It's just like any other night.
I repeat this to myself for the eighteenth hundredth time tonight. My steps unnecessarily tentative as I walk along the sidewalk, nearing the mouth of the alley. I should have driven, the air is crisp enough that when the wind blows there is a minor sting to my skin, however, there was something comforting about walking. It provided enough time to think and ready myself. Since Sasha had arrived, I had gradually grown away from this practice, something which I had done for years underneath Cunningham's watch. No longer was I attempting to prolong the duration between every interaction. Arriving at the manor was not a dangerous burden. Arriving at work was not a dangerous burden. And seeing the Ash was no longer a dangerous burden. The convivence of driving complementing the growing comfortability in my life rendering the practice unnecessary. At least until tonight. Yes, tonight it became very necessary again.
This should not have been anything to agonize over. I had been to the Dal before. She had been to the Dal before. We had both been to the Dal before at the same time. And we had both been at the Dal at the same time while dating. However, this was to be the first time that we were both going to the Dal together—as an official couple—socially. There had been ample amounts of protesting which had worked for a considerable period of time, however, as I knew it would, the time came when it was unavoidable. As my luck would have it, tonight ended up being the night. I had been off work for the day and was working a half shift in the afternoon tomorrow while she had no case to pursue for the moment. The situation appeared appealing, until after I had eagerly agreed to meeting up found out it would be at the Dal.
Drawing in a deep breath, my lips curve into a smile as I find her leaning against the taillight of a car I fail to recognize. She looks sexy, very sexy in a 'this is going to be trouble' kind of way. There is a smirk which has curved her lips and a glisten in her eye which I would venture is due to the bottle of beer hanging from her fingertips. At first my eyes begin running over her in an attempt to assess which Bo I am about to get; however, it quickly becomes a little more about admiring the view rather than anything else. She had the knee-high boots on and the leather pants that are just a little too tight for my liking for her to be around anyone in. And the shirt, well, it is there—for the most part. She looks amazing. She looks breathtaking. She looks like she should be waiting on someone entirely different than me. However, what tells me that she is about to be trouble in the most delectable form is her hair. There were only two times in which she took the time to not only flat iron it, but use product as well; the first being when she was in her very serious about to kick some ass mode and when she was in her very serious about to get some ass mode. And considering she still double checks to make sure she has not grabbed me too hard; I am leaning towards the conclusion that I did not drink nearly enough Redbull.
Peculiarly she does not standup straight or meet me, however, she waits until I near and when within arm's reach, her free hand slips around my waist. Her fingertips pressing into the small of my back as she pulls me to her. My escaping giggle hushed against pouted lips. The tip of her tongue brushing over my upper lip, teasing me into submission. Without hesitation my lips part, eagerly meeting the unexpected passion of her kiss. The taste of her mouth as sweet as always, traces of tequila letting me know exactly what kind of night awaits us.
"Hello human lover." She whispers against my lips as she begins to pull away. "You look-"
"Under dressed?" I finish for her with a smirk, glancing down at myself in simple jeans and my favorite baby blue half sleeve button up.
"I was going to go with..." Her words trail off as she leans in, lip over my ear sending a rush of heat rushing through my chest long before I ever feel her breath on my skin as she whispers. "Delicious."
"You are certainly," My hands finding a home on her hips, pushing her against the car for both of our benefit at this point. "In a mood."
"I am in a great mood."
"That is certainly one word for it."
"I am." She laughs, pulling me into her again, only this time it is to keep me from being collateral damage from a pair of fae in a shoving match. "Crowd is a little rowdy tonight."
"Is it now?"
"Oh yeah. Second fight I've seen since being out here."
"And you still want to venture inside?"
"Absolutely." With another laugh, she stands upright. "Don't worry babe, I'll protect you."
The two of us laughing in unison as she smacks my ass the second her words finish, her way I assume of telling me it is time to head it. Certainly not my favorite que in public anyway, however, at the moment, I do not quite mind it. There is something infectious about her giddiness that I find myself unable to resist. Her arm snugly wrapped around my waist as we make our way down the alley. She was not incorrect with her observation, it was a rowdier crowd than normal, and packed. The Dal was always busy, old blood and neutral territory made for an excellent spot. And not that I visited enough personally, however, I had heard Trick had quite the rare collection of alcohol. However, tonight's crowd appeared to be twice the size as normal. The entrance door propped open into the alley, a sporadic crowd spilling over.
If this had been any other time, I would have been attempting to assess who was here and if I knew any of them and what threats I could detect. However, my thoughts are very much entangled in her and what happens when we leave here. And how possessive her hold is on me, but also protective and comforting. The little bubble of happiness bursting as we approach the far-left corner of the bar, Bo's apparent favorite spot. To the stools to the left is Hale followed by Kenzi and then Vex. And to the right Dyson sits, sipping a beer in the most menacing way he can manage. Points for effort. And then of course there is Trick, who is cleaning a glass and just staring at us—or me. It is hard to tell considering how close the two of us are.
Sobering up from my momentary giddiness, I move away from her just enough to be considered respectful. Bo whether consciously or unconsciously refuses this as her hand immediately grabs mine. She will certainly make sure there is absolutely no doubt now that we are together. It is a bit much, a bit immature, however, also nice. It is possessive in a way that is more proud to be with me than asserting that I am hers, and for that I think I can feel myself fall in love with her just a little more.
"Guys, you all know my girlfriend."
"Any fae this side of New York knows your girlfriend." Dyson snarks from behind his beer.
"I would not say I am that popular."
"It is your owners that are that popular."
"Dyson." She warns.
"Come on. Let's not ruin Bo's dumbass plan to pretend we like each other."
"Lil Mama." Hale nudges her with his elbow.
"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." She fumbles an apology, shaking her head as she steals Vex's shot.
Trick appears to swallow his pride, filling a glass with something before sliding it towards me. "On the house."
"Are you allowed to drink?"
"Only on Tuesday and Thursdays." I force a grin, taking a gulp of the unknown and very pungent liquid filling the glass. "And even then, only after six."
"Funny."
"Can we not?" Bo asks, staring him down and only receiving a shrug for her trouble. "How was your day babe?"
"It was fine, thank you."
"Yes, what does a slave do when there's no work?"
"Your ex." Vex lets out through a laugh, spitting part of his shot out as he tries to take it. Hale choking on his beer, while Kenzi turns and smacks him on the arm. Had I not been entirely shocked I do believe I would have laughed at that.
Bo laughs, leaning against my shoulder, lowering her voice. "He's not wrong."
"Shh." I laugh.
"Are you working on anything—interesting?" Kenzi gives her obligatory, halfhearted attempt at conversation.
"She can't discuss that." Hale answers for me.
"I can discuss how fifty-six of my fifty-eight isotopes I am currently monitoring became unstable, which is highly concerning."
"Fascinating." Trick politely smiles and nods, before moving down the bar to tend to another guest who needed no tending to.
"Concerning?" She asks, switching out her beer for a freshly poured glass of whatever I have been served.
"It means they are decaying—dying really."
"She does know what decaying is."
"I never assumed she did not." I snap back at Dyson before Bo can for me, surprising even myself.
"Do you get off on that? Making her feel stupid? Is that how you can feel powerful?"
"Excuse me?"
"You know you're making her read."
"I-what?"
"Dyson, what is your problem?" She asks, stepping away from me and toward him. "Like an hour ago you promised you'd behave."
"This is behaved."
"You know the saying," I pause as I take the last drink from my glass, setting it down more than ready for a refill. "Cannot teach an old dog new tricks."
He leans over on his elbow to the left, looking passed Bo to see me. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning you never could manage the basic things like following orders, so why would you be able to manage civility now?"
"Are you questioning my fealty-again?"
"If I was questioning your fealty, Sasha would be questioning your fealty."
"Because you are so inappropriately close to yet another master."
"No because I have an opinion that matters."
"Whoa! Okay there." Bo laughs nervously, hands on my hips as she guides me several feet away from the group who are now all up in an uproar amongst themselves. "That is a different side to you."
"I know." I admit, shaking my head at myself realizing what I had just said aloud. "I-I'm sorry Bo, I do not know what came over me."
"It's fine." Her arms move over my shoulders, her head tilting forward just enough to steal a quick kiss. "I could have gone without the Sasha mention, but massive feisty points."
"It is not like me. I drank too fast. I should apologize."
"Pfft. No. He started it. He can stay in the doghouse." Her features fix into a pout. "He promised he'd behave. I'm sorry."
"Bo, there is no equation in which me and him will coexist peacefully."
"No equation in which you can coexist peacefully?" She almost laughs. "Do you want to go duel?"
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. "No."
"No? I think it'd be sexy."
"Threesome joke? Honestly?"
"I was strictly talking about you." She leans in again, lips capturing mine in a very short but very sweet kiss. "You've been hanging around with Vex too much."
"Well, I do get left alone with him a lot while you're out running around with Dyson."
She laughs, eyes widening. "Sooo feisty." Once again, she leans in, only moving past my lips and teasingly biting my neck. "It's mean, but sexy."
"You sound conflicted."
"I am."
"Poor baby." I tease, my hands coming to run up and down her arms. "I could be less invested."
"That is not sexy mean, that is just mean, mean—I don't like that."
We share a laugh, our attention briefly distracted as a pair of women presumably dark fae by the way they are dressed erupt into a screaming match. The taller of the two tossing her drink onto the other one. It is maybe only twenty to thirty seconds of commotion, however, loud enough that it pulls nearly the entire attention of the bar. I would assume the men they had came with are the ones that separate them, each parting in opposite directions as they yell explicates at one another until they are too far apart for anyone to care. The crowd resuming its previous disinterested self-absorption. My own hands wrapping around Bo's waist, as I tilt my head to look at her. She still has a hold of me, however her eyes are in the crowd. A curious smile curves her lips, perhaps a mixture of our interaction and the brief spectacle. Her body is relaxed against mine, and her eyes are not even narrowed, however, there is the slightest glimmer of something. It might be too quick for even her to grasp, because without a word she turns her head and steals the tiniest of kisses. And just like that, what I had seen is gone, however, I know it was there.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'll give you a guess. Three letters. Ends in T."
"Bo." I laugh, feeling the top of my cheeks begin to flush.
"What? It's hot in here."
"I am so sure that is where you were going with that."
She shakes her head side to side as she does her best to sound serious when letting out, "It absolutely was."
"You are out of control." I try to fuss. "Bo, seriously. I am not a succubus, however, even I can take a single glance around here and know that things are slightly elevated."
"The only elevation I am concerned with is yours Doctor." She winks, pulling away from me just enough that we make our the several steps we had drifted from her friends.
"Was she apart of your little kumbaya part too?" Dyson asks with a smirk, nodding toward the back exit.
It takes a moment, however, there she is through the crowd—Sasha. Even as rowdy as the crowd had been, they part for her, silence engulfing the path she takes. She looks, different to say the least. The single stand of honey highlighted hair which she had been fashioning since she arrived is gone, washed away in a sea of burgundy highlights. Having managed to keep her dress slacks and heeled boots, she has done away with the jacket. The black and immensely tight long sleeve knitted shirt she wears reminds me of something Bo would have worn when we first met, before she got acquainted with the leather store. Not that I am complaining. Sasha appears preoccupied with something, perhaps with the stares because it takes several moments before she looks my way. Her lips curve slightly to the right; however, she does not come near us, rather chooses a table a fair distance from us and begins looking at her phone.
"No, can't say she was."
Kenz snorts in between shots. "Cleopatra got a little makeover."
"She is Indian, not Egyptian." I correct, glancing toward her and then to Bo who has made her way back to the bar.
"Is she?" Bo asks, pretending to decide between the beer and the shot in front of her.
"She is."
"How exotic." With a snorted chuckle, she takes the shot.
I know Bo is upset, very upset and I am very concerned, however, I am also very concerned with the fact that a considerable portion of the bar is looking from where Sasha sits, alone to where I stand. At first it was possibly a childish amusement thing. To see what would happen, a certain level of anticipation. Nearly everyone by now knows of Bo and they certainly know Sasha and well, I am certain they know in the most basic of terms where I fit in. If I was not an integral part, I may myself have found it amusing. However, being as though I am an integral part, all I feel is anxiety. The longer this last the more the stares become something else, and while Sasha has still yet to look up, I know this has to be on her mind as well. Kenzi and Hale and Vex are fussing about something. Bo and Dyson are bickering over a comment I had failed to hear. And Trick is staring at me with apprehension, awaiting what I do next. And then the whispers start. I cannot make them out, however, I know they are there. Individuals leaning against one another, glancing my way and Sasha's way.
With a deep breath, and an acceptance that there is no positive outcome to this, I lean against Bo's back, lips pressed to her ear as my hands hold her hips firmly and I whisper, "Please, do not make this a thing. I love you." I kiss her cheek and pull away before she can respond. I hear Dyson's voice; however, I do not know what he says. All I can hear is my heart within my chest. I need to calm myself. I need to gather my thoughts and emotions. Most importantly I need to separate the two. However, I fear I have drank too much too quickly because nothing I need to do is attainable at the moment. I can only imagine what Bo is feeling right now. I can only imagine what they are saying to her about me. I can only imagine what Sasha is thinking.
"Interesting."
A single word is all she says as I take a seat beside her. It is not full of anger or hurt or anything at all. It is flat and aloof. She does not even look up from her phone to acknowledge me. I study her face, what I can see of it at the angle she keeps her head and await my acknowledgment only to receive none. After several moments I find myself looking down at the table, attempting to ignore my own irritation at her apparent indifference.
"You didn't need to come."
I glance at her, and the words come out before I can stop them. "I can leave." My breath catches in my throat the moment I realize what I had said and more importantly how I had said it. "I-?" This earns her attention. Her head tilts up as she places her phone down, and her eyes narrow.
"Who exactly are you speaking to?"
"I-I do not know why I said that."
"Indulgence is a powerful drug Lauren, you'd do well to realize that."
"Of course." I nod, not entirely sure what it is she speaks of. The only thing I am entirely sure of is that I spoke considerably out of line.
"Hey." Bo's voice slices through the tension.
Her presence pulls both of our attention as she sets three shot glasses down in the middle of the table and a bottle of the drink of the night. Keeping eye contact with Sasha she flips the chair opposite her around and straddles it. I fail to remember another time she had sat similarly. It is in an arrogant and cocky way, and sexy, however, it is also very much a way of her asserting some sort of dominance. A micro transgression which I do not believe she entirely grasps the depth of. Like myself Sasha remains silent, only watches as Bo pours the three of us a shot, and pushes them toward each of us. She says something about how it should be considered a peace offering and how they did work together several months ago getting myself and Dyson out of the clutches of Syra. And all the while she speaks, verging on rambling, all I can do is pray that this does not end how it would with Cunningham.
"It's not good manners to refuse a drink."
"It is not good manners to intrude."
"Am I really intruding though?" She laughs, picking up the shot between her index finger and thumb, however, her eyes dance between Sasha's and her shot. "My Grandfather's bar. My girlfriend. My normal hangout."
There is a moment, only a moment I hold my breath with the look which comes over Sasha's face. Slowly she mirrors Bo's posture, and a smirk curves her lips. "Be that as it may, I own it all." She raises her shot glass before doing as Bo had wished, however it is now her who hesitates. Sasha looks to me, nodding for me to take my shot and I oblige, something I am not entirely sure how I feel about however, it is done and soon enough Bo follows suite.
"I think your friends want you, Bo." I say softly, as Sasha pours us all another shot.
"Don't be rude Lauren, while your friend's-"
"Girlfriend." She quickly corrects her.
"Mm. Yes. While your—friend's manners may be sporadic, ours are not."
"My manners are fine."
"These are good manners to you?"
"What brings you here tonight?"
"I wished to feed."
"Really?" I ask, looking toward Sasha who now stares at me along with Bo.
"Is that an issue?"
"I'm wondering the same thing." Bo lets out.
"No." I shake my head, looking back down at the table. "Not at all."
"Is there something more we can do for you?" Sasha asks, pulling Bo's attention away from me. "Or was this all?"
"Not very personable, are you?"
"Depends on who the person is."
"I'm not your kind of person?"
"To me you're an infant. An inconvenience. Always needing something. Saving. Feeding. Help. Attention. If I wanted the irritation, I would have had children of my own."
"You really have no people skills."
"I am direct."
"Well, let me be direct too."
"Bo, please." I ask.
"No, continue." Sasha says, indulging in another shot.
"As much as you walk around here strutting your shit, I don't think you're any different than Cunningham."
"Bo, please stop." I plead.
"I don't think your intentions are as pure as you pretend."
"Who's are?" She challenges. "Surely not yours."
"What?"
"I can see your aura far clearer than you can see mine. You see in shiny colors, and I can see everything in between." Sasha leans forward, pouring me and her another shot, Bo's glass still full. "Your intentions with Lauren? They are not pure. What you want to do, what your counterpart wants from her? And I can see your intentions with myself."
"Please. Get over yourself."
"I don't mean sexually Bo, the thought is just as repulsive to me I assure you." She angles her head toward me, holding her shot glass now. "The colors are pretty, distracting. They are like your expressions; they tell you enough. Although, beneath the surface are lines which pulsate. They give away everything if you can see them."
"As micro expressions would?"
"Exactly."
"They are expressions which often give a person away, they are nearly uncontrollable." I explain, turning to Bo. "There are seven basic ones, happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, contempt, fear, and surprise." My somewhat inebriated mind beginning to spin off into the depths of excitement and all things scientific. Somewhat forgetting the insurmountable tension, I turn back to Sasah. "That would mean you can tell more than desire and threat."
"There is very little I cannot discern."
"That is amazing. And far beyond my scope of understanding of a capability of a succubi."
"Do you need to be this excited." Bo mumbles, taking one and then another shot.
"You don't understand Bo, this is mind-blowing. You could do this. The things you could discern would be, it's wow. You could—you could presumably gain control through this. Not minimal control, actual control. As Sasha has."
"Would I be able to tell if my girlfriend is really interested." She looks up from pouring a shot, surprise on her face nearly as much as I am sure it is on my own. "I-I don't know what that meant. I'm sorry."
"Watch how you speak to her."
"Excuse us." Kenzi says somewhat timidly, sneaking up beside the table. "We just want to collect our friend. She does not handle her liquor well."
"I handle it fine." Bo snaps, pulling her arm away from Dyson who had seemingly gently rested his hand on her shoulder.
Kenzi grabs her hand this time, lowering her voice. "No, you don't. Not right now."
"Sasha will kill her from the bar just as easily as she will from here." Vex laughs for a moment, before realizing we have all turned our attention to him. "I-too much to drink. Apologies."
"Doubt it."
"Dyson." Hale warns, now pushing Kenzi away from the table.
"Bo, go with them, please." I beg, looking between the frazzled group and Sasha.
"Listen to the slave."
"Speak ill about her again, and I'll rip your tongue out." Sasha calmly warns, leaning back in her chair as she pours herself another shot.
"This is the good guy?" Bo laughs, gesturing toward the Ash and my leg extends, foot pressing against hers in a subtle attempt to prevent her from standing in a threatening manner. "This is who you think is a good guy?"
"Lower your voice when speaking to her."
"Or what?"
I am unable to say anything as I feel my seat jerked backward. Hale having pulled me away from the table. Quickly he guides me up from the seat, pushing me behind himself. "What's going to happen is going to happen. You can't stop it now."
"Bo stop! Sasha is not any different than Syra." Vex blurts out to all of our surprise, including his own.
"Stop this." I demand, Hale keeping his arm around my waist. Kenzi and Dyson attempting to push Bo back now away from the table. "Bo, enough."
Sasha looks at me with an unamused and certainly displeased look. Almost as if she is debating whether or not to proceed. I glance away from her stare, out into the bar to find Trick attempting to break up an entirely different fight near the entrance. The sound of glass making contact with the table pulling my attention back to the situation at hand. Sasha has stood up, calmly and Bo manages to compose herself, getting away from the holds of her friends. She looks around, curiously. Then at us. And I find that I am too inebriated to piece together what she is looking for. Having stood up the alcohol appears to have rushed to my head. Hesitantly Hale removes his hold, allowing me to near the table, I believe more at Sasha's unspoken demand rather than my own protest.
"I'm sorry, maybe I did drink too much." Bo says flatly, taking the glass she had been babysitting for some time, myself and Sasha having been the only ones drinking throughout. Hesitantly I pick mine up as Sasha does hers, an uneasy gesture of peace.
Or so I assumed.
No sooner than the liquid had passed my lips, ever so calmly, Bo looks at me and asks something I do not believe any of us will forget for the duration of our lives. "Do you believe Sasha would be a better fit for you?"
"Yes." The answer is out in the world before I realize the voice which had said it was my own. She stares stoically at me, and I stare back in shock at the question, at my answer. "I-I didn't-I don't...?"
"There it is." She says flatly, looking down at the table as she tenses her jaw.
"Guys..." Kenzi trails off, however my eyes stay on Bo.
"Bo, I did not mean that. It came out wrong."
"What's happening?" Hale asks.
I had no intention of looking away from her, however, as I stare at the pain intertwined with her features, I notice two individuals and then four and the six and then too many to count rushing passed us. They do not look at us any longer, instead they nearly run to the exit where Sasha had emerged from. They clutter at the door, all attempting to escape from something the eight of us have yet to understand. A male within the crowd yells about a demon and a female let's out about a succubus. Another voice calls out about death and then there is no discerning what is being yelled as they herd through the door.
Dyson goes to take another shot, looking toward the door, I would presume a form of bravado of some sort. However, Bo grabs his wrist, shaking her head. "It's not what you think."
And then it clicks—it all clicks.
A memory of a story long ago.
The obscure oddities of tonight.
I know what this is.
.
(Bo's POV)
.
Somethings are better left a question.
All I can hear is Lauren's voice echoing. She whispers the words 'I love you' but there's also her reply that intertwines with it. It's bittersweet, the definition of. Until this moment I don't know if I really knew what that meant, but to hear her voice whisper those words to me, everything I ever wanted to hear from her, but to be drowned out by a single word. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have asked. I should have left it alone. It's wrong. I know that. When I thought something was wrong, I should have left it. Too many fights. Too much anger. Too many times had I heard the words 'I didn't mean that' or 'I drank too much'. The pieces had begun to click and in a moment of immaturity I tested it.
I should have left it alone.
"Lauren." Sasha calls out.
I turn away from Dyson just in time to barely get a glimpse of her as she takes off toward the door. Leave it to her to head exactly where everyone is running from. All of the hurt and confusion taking a backseat concern as I run off after her. She is already up at the end of the alley where we had come from, and it takes only a second to realize she isn't alone. My quick steps become a jog as I recognize three figures. The first, the twin from the Hunt bullshit. The second, Syra and then at the end stands Enobaria. I know they're talking, I can't make it out but I see they're mouths move and there's hand gestures.
And then-and then.
Syra grabs Enobaria by the neck and snaps it. She falls to the street. I don't have time to think. Lauren goes to go forward, toward them. I am so close. I am so close but I can't grab her. My heart stops. I'm not going to make it. I'm not going to be able to save her. Lauren is inches from Syra. I'm not going to make it. Lauren is within arm's reach of Syra.
And then she isn't.
I stop short, gasping for breath unaware I had been holding one in. Sasha is there, arms wrapped around Lauren as she pulls her back. Lauren struggles slightly, but Sasha has a grip and she just spins them around. Her back is to Syra and the twin, and she does not even flinch. Her eyes meet mine, and she kind of pushes Lauren towards me, before stepping up to meet the pair. My hands grabbing Lauren's wrists, but she doesn't struggle the way she had against Sasha. Instead she relaxes, allowing me to guide her behind myself. I can see from the side of my eye that Kenz and Dyson have made their way up. And even though I can't see them, I know at the least Hale and Vex are near.
"What is this?" Sasha asks.
"A reminder." Syra says, before she turns and looks toward me. "A warning."
"This is natural territory." Trick says from behind me, but my eyes don't leave Syra.
"Fuck your territory little man." The twin snaps, growling his words and it seems like Syra is nearly going to reach to pull him back, but he doesn't take the step forward.
"Control him, before I have to." Sasha says flatly.
"I dare you." He snaps at her.
I go to take a step forward, but Lauren grabs my waist, holding me in place and even though I can't look at her, I know her well enough to know she's shaking her head. Her hands are shaking, I can feel that against my hips and I would normally go to comfort her, but I don't take my eyes off of the twin. It isn't even about being upset or hurt, there is something there. There is something wrong. He is looking at her, not me. Sasha and Syra are talking, I can hear their voices, their tone as they go back and forth but he is staring us down and I fear if I look away for even a second, he'd go for Lauren.
And then-it's over.
Syra walks away with a laugh and even though the twin doesn't want to, he obeys and follows her. Sasha nods down at Enobaria's body and to my surprise it is Dyson who picks her up, carrying her back into the Dal. I let Kenz go first, and then Lauren. She tries to take my hand in hers, but I pull away. All I can manage at the moment is my hand on her back guiding her back into safety. If you could really consider the Dal safe at this point.
"Well, this has been most exciting." Sasha says, trailing everyone in.
Dyson places Enobaria's body on the nearest table, I guess lucky for me the anger I have at Syra and Sasha are enough to keep me from focusing on anything else at the moment. Anger which is only getting worse as she struts toward us, almost as if nothing from tonight had happened. She just looks so calm and relaxed. Not like someone had just died. Or we all had our drinks spiked. Or that my relationship is not once again in the air because of her. Nope. None of that seems to register for her.
"What in the shit was that?" Kenz asks from the bar, getting a much-needed drink.
"That was actually why I was here tonight." She smirks.
"Meaning?"
"I'm here to invoke sanctuary."