Word Count: 1702
~Vaela
My fork drags noisily across my plate as I push my dinner around mindlessly.
Hale hasn't so much as glanced up. He's impossible to irritate.
Finally he sighs, resting back in his seat, meeting my gaze. "You going around and touching strangers isn't going to work anymore."
We've only stewed on last nights failure for a few hours, and it seems both of us are defeated. In hindsight, the chances of me finding my mate in a sketchy bar was slim.
"Why not?" I mutter drily.
"The chance of you finding your mate like that is near impossible. It's too dangerous," he decides. My stomach twists. He's confirmed all the doubts that plagued my mind all day today.
I tap my fork against my lower lip. "So then what?"
"So, we wait. If you're meant to run into them, you will." Hale's gaze is sharp, monitoring me.
Wilting into my seat, I discard of the utensil onto the table, defeated. Hale is the only person I can feasibly run into here, so I'm out of luck.
"Can't do that like this." I motion around me, referencing this cave.
"I'll take you places, but only when you're a bit stronger, so keep eating." He gestures to my fork, which I pick up irritably, spooning steamed vegetables into my mouth. I'm mortal, food can only make me so strong.
Deciding I can't bear to eat another bite, I toss my fork down, flattening my palms over my hair. "If you're hating this, you can dump me somewhere in solitude and I can figure myself out."
Hale's gaze suddenly darkens. "You're not leaving my sight."
"Why are you doing this?" I question. "Why help me?"
He goes silent for a moment, looking down at the table with a clenched jaw. I chew on the edge of my nail as he sweeps his hand back through his hair.
"I've got nothing better to do," he finally says.
True. But also a lie.
"But you don't get anything from this." I've disturbed his peace, demand food three times a day and occupy his space as he pursues his interests. Unless he wants to witness my death himself, I'm bewildered by his hospitality.
"I get pleasure of looking at you. You're like a living breathing piece of artwork," he muses, chewing on a strawberry.
I scoff, glaring at him flatly. "You're not funny."
That observation would be better suited to him. He's sculpted perfection, which I'm still convinced is magically induced.
"Who said I'm joking?" He quirks a brow, challenging me.
I don't take the bait, too tired. Getting a Pureblood to tell me I'm pretty isn't on my agenda today, and unless he's my mate, it shouldn't matter to me at all.
"How long have you been alive?" I ask, drawing the conversation away from his faux compliment.
He sighs, tipping his head back. "Too long."
"And how much of your life have you spent here, in this cave?" As comfortable as it is, I couldn't imagine living here perpetually. I'm eager to explore again, and I've only been in here for a short period of time.
"A century or so."
My eyes widen. "All alone?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes not."
Interesting. I wonder what kind of company he keeps. He's been kind to me, although had we met in any other circumstances, I doubt he would be interested in maintaining a relationship with me.
"You have friends?"
"That's a difficult question," he muses. "Purebloods don't have relationships like others. They bear different meanings."
I suck in a breath. "Have you had lovers?"
I'm not even sure where the confidence has arisen to ask such a question, but I'm curious. Perhaps it is none of my business, but he has met Will, who has given him a far too deep look into the failure of my love life.
"Briefly."
"What is a purebloods definition of brief?" Brief to me is mere moments, death constantly looming. To him, it's probably centuries.
"I wouldn't worry yourself." He stirs his drink, a devious smile playing at his lips. "I'm not going to drag some poor girl up here just to bed her in our earshot."
I exhale in a long breath. He watches me with a hooded gaze, waiting for me to implicate myself, to suggest a hint of jealousy. I'm not going to be lured into such an obvious trap.
"Damn," I mutter, feigning disappointment.
His eyes narrow. "What?"
"Because if you are refraining from doing that, it means I have to..." I draw off, sighing dramatically. I'm not sure that would be something I would want, especially when I'm so fragile, and in need of my mate.
"You can do as you please. With your mate, or without," Hale merely shrugs, not looking bothered. "Just ask, and I'll bring the poor soul up here."
I roll my eyes. Poor soul.
"You're horrible," I grumble, tempted to toss a piece of fruit at him. He smiles, perfect straight teeth showing, which is a rare sight.
"Seems I'm interrupting."
I jump, nearly falling out of my seat at the sound of an unfamiliar, deeply accented voice behind me.
Twisting in my seat, I see a complete stranger approach the table. It's painfully obvious that whoever he is, he's magical to some extent. He looks otherworldly.
Hale appears just as surprised as I am. "Larsen. What are you doing here?"
Larsen? I've never heard that name in my life.
He's has that same immortal perfection Hale has. The structure of his face is sharp and graceful, his eyes an unnerving deep green colour. He wears all black, including dark leather gloves, similar to what Hale often wears, although far more imposing.
The man strides past me, my entire body tensing as I watch him fall into a seat beside Hale, stretching his long legs out casually.
"Didn't realise I needed to be invited," he says, tilting his head in a way that has his ebony hair shifting over his forehead. His accent is so unfamiliar my mind is reeling trying to place it. It's thick and husky, rolling over my skin, leaving chills in it's wake.
I run my sweaty palms down my thighs, smoothing out the fabric of my pants. "Who are you?"
His gaze flickers. "Who are you?"
"Vaela, this is Larsen. He's...A friend," Hale says uncomfortably.
Larsen's deep green gaze pins me, as he methodically rolls up his dark sleeves, revealing a sight that has my mouth drying with horror.
His forearms are tainted by dark lines of pure black streaking upwards towards his elbows, exactly where his veins should be. The stain of colour is more concentrated around his wrists, branching out more sparsely up his arm.
"Lovely to meet you," he purrs, sensing my mortification as he holds his hand out.
Hale grabs Larsen's arm before he can extend it too far, yanking it backward.
"Uh, no touching," Hale reprimands.
Larsen massages the spot where Hale had gripped it, smiling hauntingly. "Ouch, friend."
"I can't even shake his hand? What happened to wanting to touch as many people as possible?" I question. Not that I'm particularly interested in touching Larsen, because the thought of him being my mate is horrifying.
Larsen frowns. "What a bizarre thing to say."
"I'm trying to find my mate," I tell him.
"Well, I can assure you with fully certainty, I am not your mate, and you are not mine," he murmurs. Does he say anything like a sensual promise? It unnerves me, as if he is trying to seduce me, without actually saying the words.
I blink. "You've found your mate?"
"It's physically impossible for Larsen to find his mate," Hale tells me.
"Really?"
"My skin emits magic beyond my control, meaning if I touch you, or you touch me, you die," he murmurs.
How he can say that while still smiling is beyond me. I tuck back against my chair, terrified. I can see the poison in his veins, the magic flowing through him. He's only across the table from me, looking at me like he wants to eat me alive.
"Yes, the whole thing is very inconvenient," Hale mutters, getting to his feet. "Can we speak outside, Larsen?"
He doesn't give Larsen much of a choice, grabbing his arm, yanking him out of his seat and pulling him outside of the dining room. I follow, lingering in the threshold to the room so I can overhear their conversation.
"I thought it would take longer for you to recover from your last visit to this realm," Hale murmurs lowly, looking over his friend.
Visit to this realm?
Him not being from here makes sense, considering his impossible to decipher accent, strange magic and obviously foreign appearance. Whatever this realm is, my curiosity is piqued.
I can see Larsen's smile from here. "I'm getting stronger. I was taught this magic years ago, remember?"
Hale runs his hands down the back of his neck. "I know, I just wasn't expecting a visit yet."
Larsen glances back toward the dining room, just as I duck back so he can't see me. "Who's the girl? I think she's what people from your realm call a mortal?"
"It's a long story. I'm protecting her," Hale admits uneasily.
Larsen laughs, a fascinating sound. "Since when were you altruistic?"
"No one can find out about this, okay?" Hale says, his tone deepening. From my view, I can see how serious his expression is.
Larsen holds his hands up defensively. "Consider me a closed book. But I'm staying."
"Do you have to stay here?"
"If any of your siblings knew I was visiting this realm, we would all suffer. I have to stay here." My heart sinks a little hearing that Larsen must stay. He's terrifying, and I'm going to be staying as far away from him as possible.
Hale steps forward, pushing lightly on Larsen's chest. "Just avoid Vaela, okay."
I can see the flash of Larsen's grin. "If you insist, friend."
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~Midika 💜🐼