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Souls of the Night – Vol 3
9.
I had jumped up as soon as I heard Nathaniel's window slam shut. Even if he could glide now, it wasn't usual for him to avoid doors and him climbing into his own room through his window only increased the worry I had after not being able to find him through a tour of the castle. I stood in the corridor for a few long seconds, bracing myself for the conversation - and then immediately got annoyed. Nathaniel was my boyfriend. Theoretically already my mate if I could finally swallow my numerous insecuritys, just take action and if he would also give me the impression of himself being comfortable with such an important question. I had no reason NOT to enquire about him. So I knocked and entered. Only to remember afterwards that it was human custom to wait after knocking until the person in the room said "come in" or something like that. Sometimes I was such a medieval gargoyle. But by then I was standing in the room. And saw Nathaniel flinch and look at me in horror. He immediately turned his body towards me, but I had already seen it. That shimmer of Prussian blue skin you should NOT see with his pants up.
"Nate? What- what's wrong with your pants?"
I wanted to walk around him. Worry, curiosity and a tiny bit of excitement because chrotchless pants were really not his style, but he was my boyfriend and if he wore something like that (just for me) I would be right on board for such a provocative kinky thing. But I could see from his wide eyes and slightly steamy red head that this wasn't some new little perversion for his and my pleasure but rather forced upon him. He turned as I tried to walk around him, his hands on his bare ass.
"It-it's not what you think. It's really not, Lex," he whimpered.
"I'm afraid it isn't. What- what happened?""
"I really don't want to talk about -."
Nate faltered in his typical denial. Didn't look at me while he chewed his lower lip, obviously conflicted. I assumed he was more comfortable with me not pressing him and slowly sat down on his bed. Just looked at him and gave him time while I waited for him to open up to me. I hated the sessions at the shrink. But Davis was right. My vitreous prince responded best to gentle pressure (as if I didn't know THAT beforehand - and we were paying $180 an hour for this!).
And really - after a few moments - my friend lost his tense defensive posture. His shoulders slumped, exhausted, and he lifted his icy blue puppy dog eyes, unsure and mentally ready for my scolding.
"Graziella Dracon's henchmen Sonny cut the seat of my pants out of the fabric to torture me."
I swallowed my numerous questions and my outrage. If I bombarded him with questions again now, in a reproachful tone, he would just buckle under the pressure. Of course I would get my answers - but I didn't want to build my relationship on pressure and guilt. I wanted Nate to feel safe talking to me about everything. It was the only way to get our problems under control.
So I stayed calm on the outside while on the inside the little green gremlin was tearing everything apart because a criminal had humiliated my boyfriend in this way and Nate had generally exposed himself to this massive danger. I pulled Nathaniel's Kevlar vest onto my lap and stroked the pockets- just to have something to do while I gently interviewed him and, of course, gave him some honesty, too.
"I wish I'd stayed longer to stand by you. But - I fell out of a tree there and then I lost sight of you on the roof and glided home because I thought you'd broken off the surveillance."
I looked up and the expression on his face was completely bewildered.
I shrugged my shoulders and flashed my most apologetic and charismatic smile.
"I know I need to work on myself. I don't want our relationship to be a one-way street. But I'm always worried about you. You are grown up. You have the right not to have to justify your every move to me and the clan. You're not a princess who needs constant rescuing - I know that. But this urge is SO burned into me and I don't know how-."
He lowered himself to the floor in front of me and kissed me. I liked having my sentences and streams of thought interrupted for something like that. I opened my mouth and his tongue found mine. We had become good at working around each other's fangs. But before the kiss could stir more in both of us, he broke it off. His hands now intertwined with mine.
"I love that someone cares about me. That someone wants to take care of me. Yes- sometimes you get overbearing and overprotective and we need to work on that. We both need to work on our shortcomings so that we understand ourselves and each other better. However, I also want to understand this bond thing so badly and I really didn't want to get too close to the criminals. But they just ... got me. And probably only didn't kill me because Vito was there and I was too pathetic on my own to be eliminated, like they said."
"So- facing these two miscreants alone if you didn't already know them - that would make anyone crack," Lex gave me credit. "They're good at applying psychological pressure. After all, they learned that at their special school. But ... I'm surprised they let Vito interact with you. Graziella and Sonny are actually sitting on him as if he were a raw egg. But I assume he was pretty hyped to see a new gargoyle."
"I can't believe what a sweet, adorable kid that woman has. And he's a total fanboy! But ... I was still really stupid to go there without you knowing."
"Not stupid. Let's agree ... on thoughtless?" I offered and his smile was so incredibly beautiful. How I would miss that crooked, grateful smile with the blue lips and the seductive fangs if he were human again.
"Do you want to ... tell me about your experiences? With Dracon?"
He nodded vigorously.
"I'd love to, Lex. But - first I have to get out of these jeans. I feel like I'm on my way to the S&M gangbang party in them."
I laughed out loud as he stood up, pulled down the zippers on his calves and crotch and stripped them down. Weeks ago he would have dropped dead to undress in front of me - now he did it unabashedly and even though he rushed to put on new underpants and soft jogging pants (feel-good clothes) - I found it sexy.
"We could keep these pants ... for special occasions," I said innocently.
He shot me an appalled look. "We're not quite ready to resort to such means yet, are we?"
He flung the jeans into his garbage can. So much for that.
"What happened to your underpants?" I asked, sounding teasingly curious even though I dreaded the answer.
Nathaniel let his 1.5 ears droop. Once again, the blush on his cheeks intensified. " They didn't give them back to me after the sauna session," he said quietly. My mouth dropped open. Then I let it snap shut again and pushed my lower jaw even further forward.
"Okay, I need to hear that story."
.
.
Nashville moved around the punching bag bouncing, completely focused on his workout. In the wide gym I already knew, there was a large punching bag hanging tonight, looking incredibly heavy and hooked to equally massive iron chains that clanked under Nashville's precise yet energetic punches as the bag swung in and out. Something that made Nash dance to keep the distance between himself and the bag he was hitting the same. He looked good doing these moves. Practiced. Not just through years of martial arts training but through exercises of a completely different kind.
Right now I remembered a TV show that I had seen a long time ago as a teenager. Not human martial arts like here, but with a similar light-footedness. Not a free upper body full of muscles but a scrawnier, more youthful version of Nashville in a disconcertingly stylish suit. Not boxing with that fierce look, but tense and artificially smiling, leading his red-haired dance partner, who was more than a head taller than him at the time, across the dance floor. Why had I forgotten that until now? Because - as special as it had been - it had simply been too long ago. Seeing the Nashville of today as the world's flagship Gargoyle - someone who regularly smiled for cameras and participated in charity dances with Mrs. Xanatos - was extremely difficult. Of course, everyone was a completely different person after 15 years.
And fifteen years was also an infinitely long time in our fast-paced world. Of course there were still hardcore fans. And also new, young fans, as you could see with Vito. But these were more attached to gargoyles in general than to one who was now trying hard not to stand out. And the bracelets that prevented photos and video recordings and the patches that allowed you to become a human for a few hours certainly helped too. It was clear to me that the unique appearance of gargoyles would not fade so easily from consciousness and that Nashville would never be able to blend in. But even that kid who played " Home Alone" (what was his name again) was hardly recognized by people today. Or even Britney Spears - no one talked about her very first videos anymore. She only stayed in the public eye because of more recent events. Nashville ... hadn't been a poster boy for years and wasn't even trying to be. That's why no fans or paparazzi idolized him. He had made the leap out of that scene - would not be known as THE Gargoyle child star for the rest of his life - at least not in New York and not by the 99% of the population who were not totally hooked diehard fans. What did the press call him back then? I didn't even remember.
Lexington next to me slid around on the bench and kneaded his hands nervously. He didn't like the fact that, after Graziella, I was now trying to annoy Nashville. He was afraid that Nash would get angry. Really angry - gargoyle angry, which could go beyond natural deterrent and threatening gestures. But after quite a bit of discussion, he had grudgingly agreed to let me do it. On the condition that he could be there and get Nash out of a rage-frenzy before he inflicted injuries on me that wouldn't heal in half an hour at sunrise. I couldn't imagine that the Graziella Dracon issue could trigger Nashville enough to hurt me that badly. But Lex knew Nashville's fragility in this matter better than I did.
Maybe it was the overly brave Gargoyle taking the lead again, rather than the human Nathaniel Sharif, who was more focused on his physical and psychological well-being. But even if he hurt me - sunrise wouldn't be far off.
I patted Lexington's hands.
"You remember our deal?" I asked. I heard him grind his teeth.
"Yeah," he cawed, almost in a huff, and that made me grin and plant a kiss on him. And even though we were at Nashville's back the whole time, the echoing blows on the punching bag stopped. Nashville grunted and didn't look at us while he tilted his head back and let his wings circle a little to loosen his tense back muscles. A gesture that looked annoyed and threatening because his defined wiry muscles were real-life and real time at work.
"Can you make out somewhere else? I'm not done here yet and I don't want your sounds and smells in my ears and nose while I'm trying to concentrate."
Lexington gasped and wanted to say something cheeky in response, but I put a hand over his mouth, gave him another look that told him to hold back and then stood up. I walked over to Nashville, stood across from him - the punching bag between us - and smiled apologetically at him.
"We didn't mean to make out. We really didn't, Nash."
He grinned at me. " Sometimes I even believe you, Hercules. Then what do you want? Apart from admiring me as I keep this precision machine of a body running and try to fill my night hours," he asked sternly, pulling his cloth bandages back over his knuckles, which were already chapped and bleeding slightly from the hundreds of punches. No boxing gloves - of course not. That seemed brutal and exaggerated for "training". It seemed like a kind of self-flagellation. As if he wanted to inflict pain on himself for a crime he had committed. Maybe that was really the case. But gargoyle training was in many ways harder than anything humans practiced anyway.
I had learned over the last few weeks that they practiced different types of training. Not only did they fight each other - yes, even until blood flowed. They even had training sessions that were tailored to human opponents. There was a punching bag and humanoid robot dummies equipped with sensors that could measure their punching power and give an alarm signal when a punch or kick could be truly dangerous for a human opponent. That was just one example of many. They practiced holding back their strength more often than using it. These were prerequisites for them to continue being protectors. But right now - Nashville was training on a punching bag that had to hold out for non-human opponents. Not filled with fabric but with pure sand. Sand that compacted, became rock-hard and heavy. Where a gargoyle could really work out to maintain his strength.
Sweat ran down Nashville's free, muscular torso - when gargoyles sweated it was usually a sign of prolonged superhuman exertion, so he had been at it for a while. Then there were the bandages that bound his fingers together and ensured that he didn't drag his claws over the sack and destroy it. I tilted my head and smiled at him.
"Would you like me to hold the bag for you? So that it doesn't swing out like that?" I offered.
Nashville looked at me for a moment, puzzled. Then he laughed so shrilly that his voice rang through the hall.
"YOU? You want to train with me?"
"Well..." I admitted. "Not exactly. Just ... A little support. Maybe."
Nashville continued to laugh, looking at Lexington, who was crouching on the bench with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face.
"And you brought your nurse right along, I see."
"Yes. Exactly."
My opposite pulled out the hairband that held his stubborn black hair together and tied it closer to his head.
"Oh, you're funny tonight. You know I'm going to hurt you even if the punching bag is between us?"
"Yes- but the sunrise is near. Why not enjoy the benefits of being a gargoyle while I'm still one," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
Nashville gave a grunt.
"And you, uncle? Are you just going to sit there while I have fun with your long-suffering sweetheart?
"Like he said. Sunrise is near," Lex said back snippily.
"And what do we do if you burst into flames from the pain?"
"I just spent more than an hour burning in the dungeon. We should all be safe," I assured him flippantly.
Nash made a scoffing noise. " Okay. Hold the punching bag. No claws. And grit your teeth, I don't want you biting your tongue off on the first punch and me getting in trouble if it doesn't grow back by sunrise."
I swallowed nervously at the comment. That was a stupid idea. An extremely stupid one. Almost tired of life, perhaps. Tentatively, I pressed my hands and upper body against the punching bag. Nash bounced back and forth on his digitigrade feet, his arms tucked in, then he swung out, took a step forward and let his fist thunder onto the bag. The impact felt like he had hit me personally. The air was squeezed out of my lungs and I fell back as the heavy bag swung lazily back and forth.
"You're getting ahead of yourself, Hercules," Nash said, looking down at me rather dolefully. I wasn't even funny to him anymore.
"I'm fine," I gasped, already starting to grumble like I had with Goliath in the gym. I hobbled to the bag and clung to it, pressing my claws into the mats on the floor. This time, before Nashville struck, I exhaled and tensed all the muscles I'd developed over the last few weeks. And this time I stayed upright and endured with clenched teeth the massive blow that made my body tremble. I peered around the bag and saw Nashville's astonished face. Then an ominous smile at the corner of his mouth. Again a punch hit the bag, again I held my ground even though my ribs felt like they were rattling against each other. Nashville's strikes on the bag echoed through the hall with a muffled but loud `POW`, his panting and my groans just background noise. And Nashville's words when he finally started talking - almost with a joyful tone as if he was just making small talk.
"You know, Hercules. Boxing takes more discipline than a layman would think." (POW.) "It's a lot of footwork. There's a lead hand and a rear hand, but for amateurs, both arms must always hit straight and stretched, otherwise you'll break something. You have to have tension in your body. You have to maintain a constant distance from the punching bag or your opponent." (POW.) "As a rule, every punch is preceded by a step forward, which multiplies the kinetic energy of your arm and punch." (POW.) "You have to get the technique right before you can work on your speed and punching stamina to do something like this." He jumped to the side, forcing me to turn with the punching bag so that the bag could absorb the following four quick punches. But I hadn't reckoned with the kick that followed and felt my claws not only pierce the mat but also be thrown back again. I groaned and turned to the side to spit out the blood. He had probably just broken a rib or two.
I heard Lexington's scream and raised a hand.
"NO!" I yelled. When I looked up again, Lexington was standing there with his shoulders slumped.
"No, I didn't say it. Remember our deal," I croaked, feeling blood run down my lips. I stood up again, hobbling to the punching bag and almost falling against it. Nashville looked at me aghast.
"You've arranged a safeword for him to save you?"
"Yeah. Do you mind?" I groaned.
He cracked a smile. "No, I'm a fan of safe words. By the way, that was a jab, a lead or a straight punch. Then another jab and a power punch."
"And the kick?"
"A side kick. Gargoyle feet are predestined for that, but they're a no-no with human opponents - for obvious reasons."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Okay, if you wanted my attention, you've got it now. Is this another attempt at suicide? You've had better ones."
I shook my head and swallowed my own blood and a lot of saliva. My lungs were on fire but even though I could feel the heat boiling inside me, I knew I wouldn't burn.
I smiled at him. "What tells you I don't just want to help you train? Or that I don't want to learn boxing myself. You just sounded like a teacher. You taught me to close my wings - why not that too?"
"Because we both know that Nathaniel Sharif doesn't come here of his own accord to get beaten up with the silly excuse of wanting to learn a martial art. So why are you here?" (POW.) Another blow that made me groan.
"Spit it out!" said the ice-blue gargoyle, and he didn't mean the blood.
"I want to talk about your relationship with Graziella. About the bond. Why you act the way you do."
Nash paused for a moment in his dancing movements. A moment before he resumed them with more vigor and bared teeth. (POW!) "I don't want to talk about it though, Hercules!"
"I want to understand! Maybe it would do you good to talk about it." I insisted.
"What I have with Graziella Dracon" (he spat out the last name like an expletive) "is not a subject we talk about. If Lexington doesn't respect that, I can't change it." (POW!) He shot his uncle an annoyed look which Lex withstood. "But I have no interest in airing my relationship with her in front of a guy who can't get his own shit together when it comes to the subject."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, grunting as another blow hit the bag and reverberated through my body.
"Just asking me about the bond proves you haven't even begun to understand what it means. I don't feel like explaining it to you from the beginning. It's not something that gets better by talking. There are simply problems that cannot be solved. As if you still had to deal with it as a human being. You wouldn't get it. If you don't want to be a real clan member, you should stay out of it," he growled wearily and turned away from me.
He thought the "training" was over. But it wasn't. I also had a say in the matter. Ignoring the instinctive gargoyle war roar in my throat because it would have given me away, I jumped up, full of new, rage-fueled energy, ran after him and jumped into his neck. He shrieked shrilly, just managing to raise his beak before he went down like a sack. I sat on him with my legs apart, pinned that way his wings together and pressed my hand into his neck.
"I'm sick of hearing from everyone that I don't understand something!" I rumbled in rage. "Yes, I'll be human again soon. But that doesn't mean I won't be overjoyed to be able to stay in the clan as a friend or even a human member! And I'm not the smartest guy. But you think I don't understand mental suffering?! I had the dick of my family's favorite and sister's boyfriend inside me for more than a decade. And while I was being told by my own family that I was crazy, or a chronic liar, or a disgrace, I tried to hide the belt marks on my back and my aching jaw, my bleeding asshole and my shattering soul from the same people who tried to tell me that. You can bully me all you want but don't assume I have no idea when it comes to psychological suffering. It may not be comparable to yours but it still hurts more than my body ever did."
I groaned and jerked my hands up as his tail wrapped around my neck and yanked me back and off him so hard he would have broken a human's neck. He jumped up, snarling and his eyes blazing. I didn't even bother to switch to a two-footed gait, and where he did that on two legs, I circled him on all fours.
"For the first time, you could be mistaken for a real gargoyle, Hercules."
"Instead of buttering me up because you're shit scared of losing, you could just talk to me!" I spat back and he chuckled.
"LOSING!? Ohhh, now you're up for a beating. Fine! I'll talk your ear off while I make you wish the sunrise was already here." He jumped towards me and I wanted to take advantage of my lower center of gravity like I did with Goliath. I wanted to pass between his legs and then pull him to the ground with my tail. But Nash made a sidestep, bent down, grabbed my waist and yanked me up, throwing me onto my back. Something dislocated in my wings and I roared- but more out of adrenaline than pain. Now he threw himself on top of me and pressed his hand on the back of my head.
"Okay! You want to play the - who has suffered more game? You can have it! You think Lex told you the whole story. But I know my uncle. And I know he respects you, but he also loves you and that's why he will NEVER tell you the whole truth about me and Graziella. Because it's not his place and because he doesn't want to break you any further. Your family has emotionally abused you - that's terrible, I admit - period. But at least your uncle didn't lie to you about the bond for more than ten years. You're not the only one he's pampering. And I can't even hate Lex. Not anymore. Because I've realized over time that nothing - absolutely nothing I do can change anything. In order to change anything, Graziella and I would have to reach out to each other. But because she won't move a yard towards me and I won't move a yard towards her, we will continue to suffer. Let each other continue to suffer. It will NEVER stop."
"But why?"
"Because I can't be the way she wants me to be! And she refuses to be the way I want her to be!"
He put his beak in my face so that I could feel his warm breath.
"God hid the heart so no one could see it. Do you know what everyone would see if they could see through my chest? ... A little crippled thing. Stitched together from two halves that are constantly at war."
"That's not true, Nash." His claws became painful on the back of my neck.
"Yes it is, and it feels like dying to me every day. For 25 fucking years, every single night. And for years I could cling to the hope that she would come back to me and that would nourish me. Then she came back, but she betrayed me and used me." I groaned, squirming beneath him, and Nashville was too focused on my upper body and head to realize that he was perched high enough for me to throw one of my legs back - something I could never have done as a human because of my less elastic and stable spine - and kick him in the back. He hissed and lost enough balance for me to throw him off and jump up. Again we circled each other.
"What did she do?"
"Nothing that wasn't in her nature. She wanted to be strong - and she was. And trampled over everyone to achieve it. Where her father didn't play by the rules, she wanted to create completely new ones. And use me and probably the whole clan to do it. She's a power-hungry bitch. A chronic liar who wants to control and manipulate everyone and everything around her. And the bond made me think her manipulation was TRUE, deepest love! So intense that it almost cost me my life and the lives of my family. When I'm not around her - when hot summer nights or other little things don't constantly remind me of her and old traumas - I can almost seem normal. But not for long. Now she poisons me even when we are far away from each other. A poison that is only alleviated by closeness, but even closeness is poison!"
"I don't understand."
"Surely you do not. A bond ... it sounds kind of nice, doesn't it? Eternal deepest commitment, so much so that it wasn't just an impression that we ticked the same way and were each other's extension in body and emotion - I imagined we really were. I thought she felt the same because she let me believe it. You have no idea, no idea what I did because of that fucking curse. You suffered - terribly, in fact. But I ... what I did ... because of this connection between her and me. I brought so much sin upon myself! Demona at her worst was hardly more evil than me!"
"That's not true, Nash!" I jumped to both feet and grabbed my head. Totally agitated by that statement alone, he had uttered the last few sentences in a choked, toneless voice as if he was about to cry. And although I wanted to take him in my arms, we did the opposite and went at each other again. I automatically mirrored Nashville's less gargoyle-like attack stance with his arms drawn in and his fists clenched and we struck each other. I suspected that he, with his years of experience in the sport, could have defeated me with ease. But in order to spare me - or to be able to beat me up for longer - he also took a few blows. Every punch he threw - although without claws - felt like he was trying to punch a hole in me. But I stood my ground. And finally - when he tried to execute one of his powerful sidekicks, I grabbed his leg and threw him to the ground. He shrieked and looked at me with a tear-blurred, hate-filled gaze and yet I knew the hate in it wasn't for me. Maybe not even for Graziella.
"Yes, it is. The blood I spilled ... I - I feel it on my hands every night. And every time I see her, the bond screams to me that it wasn't so bad. That I was truly happy in those few days when I was under her control, befuddled by bond and drugs. And that I could be happy again at any time if I just forget who I am and want to be." He turned his head away and gasped for air, shaking.
"And the worst thing is. Even though Graziella feels the bond too, I hate her for not being as strong under it as a human as I am. I loathe her so much. Seeing Vito hurts me so much even though he's one of the sweetest kids in the world. And damn it, I want to protect him and tear him away from Graziella and this gangster life and I don't know if I only feel this urge because he is a part of her and this shitty bond extends to him with a thread or because I would rob her of the proof that she can live, love and be happy without me. Because she as a person can have a dozen children, can block out any grief she may have or may just be faking with her real family where I can't.
Hell, I've traveled to almost every damn gargoyle clan on student exchange in the last 15 years and not one of the females there - even though I've seen how beautiful many of them were, even though more than one just downright threw themselves at me - not one of those females made ANYTHING stir in me. Graziella Dracon - or rather this bond has turned me off to females of my own species AND to human females. I am impotent and will NEVER have a mate I can love or have an egg of my own where she as a human can be fucked and impregnated by men again and again and again. And I can't even convince myself that she only got herself pregnant to mess with me. I've watched her with him enough times in the last 3 years that she's been back in New York and I know she loves Vito like crazy. I can't even hope that I'm anywhere near as much in her head as she is in mine. I'm doomed to watch her like a creep so the bond doesn't hurt too much. And she enjoys having her own gargoyle stalker and knowing that she owns me lock, stock and barrel, even if it's my destiny to fight her kind. And I don't want to fight her at all. I don't want her to look at me with hate, I want her to look at me with love. But this tired indifference hurts even more than her hatred so I make sure she keeps hating me."
He began to cry. I had never seen Nashville shed a tear before. I let go of his arms that I had pinned to his body and he slapped them in front of his eyes out of shame for being so weak. Ashamed that his dams had broken. But he had nothing to be ashamed of. Just the fact that he had been able to hide all of this so far was a feat of strength that was probably as painful in the long run as opening up to me now. He was strong. So much stronger than me, who never held back his tears and openly displayed his vulnerability. Showing weakness - when you were basically so proud and in control - was a sign of true strength. I had never respected - indeed loved - Nashville more than in that moment. Because he showed me this side of himself. Maybe not voluntarily - but he did.
Now I understood. This bond was not something he could avoid. Nothing anyone could help with. Nothing that could be ameliorated with therapy or medication or that would get better if one of them was locked behind bars. I didn't know what it was - biology, pheromones, magic or a nasty prank by fate. But I realized that I had been an idiot to accuse him of rape without understanding what was behind it.
And yes - I also understood that indifference was worse than hate and that he would rather hate himself and stir up the hate in Graziella than not even have that anymore. As long as there is still anger, there is hope. As long as there are tears, words, worries - the other cares. If there is nothing left - if the thought of the other person only causes fatigue and indifference someone - then they are truly dead. The images of my family came to my mind - for the first time in months. But even without that, I had been crying for some time and my tears fell on Nashville's chest. I pulled him up so that we were both sitting and hugged him. It wasn't just for me. I avoided gasping in pain from my battered ribs and bruises as Nashville roughly returned the hug, clinging to me and shaking. All at once Lexington was with us, stroking his nephew's head. He was crying too and gave me a pained but loving smile before wrapping us both in his warm wings. Even though Nash had probably dislocated one of my wing bars in the fight, I hugged my friend and my nephew with it anyway.
"It's okay," I cooed. Lex joined in my soft soothing words and we repeated the same phrases over and over - our own mantra - even though we all had croaking voices and shed tears incessantly.
"Let it out. We are here. We'll stay with you. You're not alone. It's okay, okayokay."
"I want it to be like before. I want to be with her. But nothing was real. Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing. And I die, every night. Every night."
"You're not dying. It feels like it, but you're not dying."
"I know. And I realize it's awful to say this in front of you, Nate, but I wish I could die. To make it stop. But I can't even throw myself off the battlements because I don't know what would happen to Graziella. Would she even notice? Would she writhe in pain? I don't even know what I would want to happen.
We're like two magnetic pendulums, helplessly swinging back and forth between repulsion and attraction - not only sexually, but also psychologically. This constant aching to be together! My mind keeps inventing excuse after excuse to connect with her. To be where I know she will be. Just to see her. To check on her. To speak with her, even if I have to lie, bully, or break down the door to do it. This hunger for her soft words, for her attention, for her body - Worst of all, I know she would satisfy this hunger in a moment...if I would betray myself, my race, and my purpose! But I can't! It goes against my instinct, my nature and I know the bond would make me agree with any cruelty I commit in her name and I loathe myself for being so at her mercy and only being able to meet her with snippy words, fighting and sexual violence because otherwise I would buckle and be SO infinitely blissful if she would lead my leash like she used to. And I am afraid of this part of me but even more so of the indifference of my mistress. I want it to stop feeling so empty," he croaked in my ear.
"I know, Nash. We know."
Oh, how well I understood him. But what could I say to him? How could I help him? I myself had only begun to feel less empty when I met Lexington. When he had showered me with care and affection when I deserved it the least. Nashville didn't have that option. He was chained to the worst possible person who would shamelessly take advantage if he approached her with anything other than disgust and violence. I had been able to escape from Jussuf - thanks to Lex. He and I were only human and not bound together by an invisible curse that drew me to him. But this was different. Fate really was a cruel bastard. And Graziella? I really didn't know how true any of her words had been. But that flicker of pain on her face. Maybe the bond didn't turn her into a wreck like Nashville - but didn't she suffer too? And she also denied herself and him their mutual warmth and affection because she was aware of their opposing positions in the world.
"Think about Halloween. How many days until Halloween?" Lex whispered and a shuddering breath from Nashville made all three of us tremble.
"One hundred ... and 89 days," he pressed out.
"Well done. And you saw her the day before yesterday. That helps too. You can take it."
"I hurt her," he said in a shrill voice that seemed to belong more to a child.
"She's fine," I assured him. "She was in the Jacuzzi again tonight, laughing."
He broke through our double winged embrace, pushed me away from him and looked at me with wide eyes, totally dumbfounded.
I smiled wryly. "Don't worry - not about you. More about me."
Then, with crackling and crunching, our stone skin crawled over us and pinned us down for the next twelve hours, complete with stupid facial expressions and strange postures.
Dramaaaaa.
Okay, after so much info dumping, I can actually save myself the story with "grown-up" Nashville and the grown-up Graziella.
... Nah, I'll probably write it anyway. Love, betrayal, mind break, gaslighting, something like Stockholm syndrome, femdom, drugs, sex sex sex, blood on the hands - sounds like something that will run under K rating -..-
Thanks for reading, Q.T.
