Spellbound (4 page)

Elion glared at him. Of course the bastard would skip out on his shift to go sit at a bar. This time Stavros pulled back before Elion could grab him. Elion huffed and rolled his eyes as Stavros continuously grabbed for the jacket beside him, missing every time.

“I don’t need your help,” the older man muttered. Elion chuckled.

“Alright, if you can stand up and make it to the door without falling, I’ll go away. If not, I’m taking you home.” Elion stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited with an amused smile.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Elion mumbled as Stavros slurred insults while trying, and failing, to grab his jacket once more. It was obvious he was completely out his mind, though Elion had a strong feeling that the things Stavros was saying, he truly meant. That’s why when Stavros stumbled forward with absolutely no idea that he was falling, Elion let him.

Stavros hit the floor with a pained groan and didn’t bother to try and get up. It was almost comical to see him on the ground, his hair falling out of its tie and his clothing disheveled. He looked no better than the drunk they had thrown in a cell days prior.

“You aren’t gonna be able to get into his place,” Lolita said casually. Her elbows were on the bar and her chin rested in her hand as she watched with amusement. “He has wards up.”

“Wonderful.” Elion frowned. He groaned as he heaved the half-conscious man upright. “Gods, what do you eat?” He wrapped an arm around Stavros’ waist and pulled one of Stavros’ arms around his neck.

“What are you doing here?” Stavros yawned, looking at Elion without a hint of malice. “You want a drink?”

“No thanks. How about we get outta here?” Elion chuckled as he prepared to teleport them to his apartment. Stavros’ head hit Elion’s shoulder as he mumbled his agreement.

Elion’s apartment wasn’t much, but it was home. It was just him, and it wasn’t like he ever had guests, so there was no need to decorate. Stavros tried to lift his head and look around, but resorted to just dropping it once more. Elion sucked in a cleansing breath through his nose and tried to silently list all the reasons he was doing this. The only thing he could come up with was the fact that his mother had raised him with manners and common decency.

Elion dragged Stavros to his room and dropped him on the bed. The cambion made little effort to do much more than groan and squirm as Elion tried to pull off his boots.

“Why’d you drink so much?” Elion asked while he placed them at the foot of the bed and tried to turn Stavros’ body the right way.

“You’re a brat,” Stavros groaned, swatting at the hands pulling on him.

“You drank because I’m a brat? I’d say that’s insulting, but you’re just a rude jerk so…” Elion froze when a large hand gripped his wrist tightly. He found himself being tugged forward and landed on his knees beside Stavros, his chest touching Stavros’ with every breath.

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Stavros pleaded. Elion nodded awkwardly and tossed a sheet over Stavros. He left the room to get a glass of water and grab a bucket, just in case, and when he returned Stavros was asleep. Elion placed them beside the bed before grabbing sleep clothes for himself and heading for the bathroom. His shower was as hurried as his thoughts. He didn’t bother doing anything more than grab a bag of cookies to devour before curling up on his couch and sighing into the silence.

Chapter 4

Stavros wasn’t sure what higher power he had pissed off to deserve such pain. He damned the bit of human in him as he rolled to his side with a nauseated groan. It was damn near impossible for him to drink himself to death, but he could get wasted and the hangovers were very real. Every part of his being throbbed and his knotted stomach was filled with acid. He wasn’t sure of the time or even the day as he writhed and tried to fall back into the abyss that sleep brought. That was until he realized his sheets smelled like vanilla and exotic flowers, and that the blanket covering him was far too soft to be his own.

A pulsating eyelid cracked hesitantly. He glanced to his left and sighed with relief when he realized he was alone. But that only brought him to his next realization:  he had no idea where he was.

The last thing he remembered was Lolita pouring him drinks while he bitched about the bratty elf he was stuck with. He had lost track of how many times he had wanted to beat the kid with his own polished shoe. Everything was fine before Elion showed up. Despite what Mikhail or the Council thought, Stavros didn’t need a partner. But there was no way he was going to Utah. He’d seen pictures of the place and he’d rip out his own heart before he was stuck out there.

He sat up, gripping the mattress as the room spun wildly. There was a note propped against a glass of water on the stand beside him. Blinking the fog from his eyes, he picked it up and immediately scowled. Even the brat’s handwriting infuriated him. He crumpled the paper and threw it before downing the glass of water. Seconds later he found himself on his knees emptying everything in his stomach.

He tried to dig through his thoughts and figure out how he had ended up at the kid’s apartment and in his bed. The attempt made the pain worse and that only pissed him off more.

He rinsed out his mouth and grabbed his boots. He didn’t even bother to put them on before he was teleporting himself to his apartment. He stood under the spray of a hot shower, his fists clenching and under clenching every few seconds. The brat hadn’t even been there to explain himself. He left a hastily scribbled note and a glass of water like Stavros was a sick child.

Help yourself to anything you’d like.

-E

One sentence, six words, infinite rage. Stavros wasn’t even sure how that could make him so angry, but it did.

He growled lowly, pressing his aching forehead to the cool tile. Jagged bits of images were trying to form as he thought of the prior night. A glimpse of Elion’s face, Elion laughing, Elion’s hands on him as he shifted him into bed.

His stomach tightened and his blood began to heat at the thought. He turned the water colder, flinching as it pelted his skin. That was not happening. As the cold water began to force his temper into submission he groaned.

~~

Elion didn’t utter a sound when Stavros entered their office. Stavros looked like death warmed over, but Elion wasn’t going to point it out. He also wasn’t going to point out the hellish sleep he’d had knowing that Stavros was only a short distance away. Every time his eyes would begin to drift closed, he had startled himself awake, unsure if he was expecting Stavros to smother him in his sleep or if he was worried about less-than-appropriate dreams of his partner.

It was pretty much official to him that he thought Stavros was the most attractive being to ever exist, and that wasn’t okay. He needed to get laid. He just needed to get rid of pent up frustrations and call it a day. He was a lot of things, but a masochist wasn’t one of them, and lusting after someone like Stavros made him the very definition of a masochist.

Stavros didn’t spare him a glance before he opened a file. He acted like Elion didn’t even exist, which wasn’t anything new. But it bothered him this morning, which was ridiculous. What was he expecting- a thank you? No, gratitude was probably foreign to Stavros. Elion didn’t have to open his home to the cold-hearted jerk, but he did it because it was the right thing to do and he liked to think himself a decent person. He could hardly call himself that and expect something in return, even if it was just a tiny show of gratitude.

The clock said it was already a little after noon and he had gotten absolutely nothing accomplished. He hadn’t expected Stavros to show up to work at all but found that he wasn’t surprised when he had. He had even lied to Mikhail that morning when he asked where Stavros was. Elion told the old sorcerer that his partner was under the weather and resting. He could have easily told him that Stavros had spent the day and night getting so drunk that he had been nice. But he didn’t, because… well. He still didn’t have an answer for that.

“I’m going to grab some lunch. Want anything?” Elion asked. He was almost startled when Stavros looked up instead of ignoring him. He only got a shake of the head in response, but it was more than he’d ever gotten. “Alright. If you change your mind just call.”

“Alright,” Stavros replied, his eyes focused on the file in front of him, despite Elion’s continued staring.

Elion swallowed hard and quickly left the office before he could make an idiot out of himself. He promptly collided with another officer who caught him before he could fall back onto the ground.

“You let that asshole get you too worked up,” Malachi chuckled. His copper eyes never failed to make Elion feel a little on edge. Maybe it was the fact that Malachi was twice his size and emitted an aura of power. Why he wasn’t a ranked officer yet was beyond Elion’s knowledge.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Elion defended. Malachi’s brow arched and the corner of his lip twitched. “Don’t even. There’s nothing happening there. If anyone gave him half a chance they’d see he’s not so bad.”

Elion remembered those words with a bitter hatred a short time later. He had gotten a simple lunch from a vendor in the market. It had been a nice walk, not too hot, not too cold to enjoy the short break. He rarely used the power bestowed upon ranked officers that allowed him to teleport where he pleased, more or less. It was given mostly for convenience. They often had to travel long distances and between realms and it would be absurd to think a Council member could be on call for such occasions. He had spent his childhood years taking long walks, speaking to the trees and enjoying the wind singing him songs. Even when he left his home realm, he didn’t want to lose that peace completely, even if the scenery was now different.

He was turning to head back to his office when he heard the shouting. Normally, he would have rushed in to assist whoever was being attacked, but not this time. This time he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He only got a few more feet before he saw Stavros. Mikhail was trying to talk to him calmly as he shook a folder around in older man’s face.

Mikhail was a kind man, but he usually had little patience for insubordination or disrespect. Mikhail’s bushy brows were knitted tightly and his lips were pursed. The sleeves of his robe swung hypnotically as he gestured his hands in a manner meant to calm Stavros.

“You did it now,” someone chuckled as they walked behind Elion. He glanced back to question what they meant when Stavros whipped around with such a hatred that Elion was sure fire would burst from his pupils.

“Whoa, what’d I do?” Elion asked meekly as Stavros
rushed at him.

“What did you do?” Stavros roared. Elion cowered when Stavros grabbed his arm, no doubt leaving a bruise. “Look at this file and tell me what you did!”

Elion flipped open the file and scanned the pages, immediately paling and swallowing back bile. Stavros had every right to be mad. He had every right to rip Elion’s head off where he stood. Elion wouldn’t blame him for any of it. He desperately searched for an answer to how he could have mixed up the reports for a teenage shoplifter and a murderer that was having a strong case built against them.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. Stavros’s grip tightened.

“You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry. Do you have any idea how much work went into that case? Of course you don’t! You’re a fucking child!” Stavros shouted.

Elion ripped his arm away and shoved Stavros back before he could even register his actions. Elion had yet to get truly angry at him, but this was crossing the line. He understood that Stavros was upset, he had every right to be, but his actions were unacceptable.

“Maybe if you handled your own damn files this wouldn’t have happened! Instead, you were out getting shit faced while I busted my ass to get
your
work done! You’re such an asshole!” he shouted.

Stavros went silent for only a second.

At some point during that second their exchange of words escalated into fighting. It took several officers to separate them, but only a snap of Mikhail’s fingers to have them in his office and bound to chairs with unseen restraints.

The look on his face was murderous. He sat at his desk, his silvery eyes flickering between the two until he released a deep sigh. He suddenly looked exhausted. His age seemed to catch up with him all at once. He stroked his beard before dropping his large, aged hands into his lap.

“I’ve given you two chance after chance. I’ve been a patient man and I’ve been lenient, but enough is enough. I cannot allow this childish behavior here-” Stavros began to interrupt and with a flick of Mikhail’s wrist, his voice was muted. “Two of my best officers are sitting in front of me bloodied because of a tantrum. Stavros, I should have you shipped to the human realm for the next decade, but that won’t fix the problem.” Mikhail looked over both of their faces and exhaled slowly before continuing. “Until you learn to work together, until you both understand what a partnership is, you will be bound together-”

“But-” Elion blurted, eyes wide.

“No, Elion. My decision is final,” Mikhail said. “I refuse to let such talent be wasted on something so filthy as hostility and anger. I suggest you two take the rest of the day to decide on living arrangements.”

With that Mikhail
stood and closed his eyes. The words being whispered under his breath thickened and electrified the air in the room, but the language was impossible to understand. Elion could feel the cut on his lip healing and the throb of his bruises receding, but the tightness that engulfed his wrist was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. From the look on Stavros’ face, he wasn’t feeling any better. While there was nothing visible to their naked eye, they could both feel what Mikhail had done. There was an obvious added weight and a tense pulling as they were tethered to each other.