Ander opened his eyes, his heart thundered in his ears with each beat. He rubbed his temples as he sat. In his urgency to return to Maeve, he had not remembered to take medication for the headache he had known would develop. His brain seemed threatened to rupture. He tried to clear the haze from his vision, but to no avail. The headache was in part residual from the shade attack, part magic usage.
With blurred eyesight, he perceived the luminous border around the room. The barrier was in place. To his left, he heard Will's light snores. Will was injured as well, more than he cared to admit. Ander turned his head and swallowed to keep from retching as intense stabbing pain tore through his skull. Will still sat upright in bed, passed out. Ander took his time and stood. It was necessary to take something so he could check Maeve again.
Once in the bathroom, he opened his toiletries bag in the dark. His vision always decent in darkness, and located his pills. He took three and stretched his jaw. His teeth vibrated with his pulse. Ander shuffled into the room and spotted a gap in the glowing line near the window. Unable to recognize the exhaustion until he laid with Maeve, from absence of sleep and the exertion of casting; he did not have the fortitude to complete the incantation and close the perimeter.
The average human did not understand how magic worked. It was concealed in secrecy or myths. The truth, it was part science, part math, part will, part perception, part desire, and part endurance. The most adept casters excelled in all those areas. From what Ander had learned, all users had one or two types of magic they mastered and were average in the rest. Ander had been a master of several but was out of practice and weak. Tonight had drained him, and he had damaged himself. Similar to when he was in medical school and overextended himself.
He swayed as he concentrated on the break in the barrier. A simple mend spell would do well enough. Not perfect, but it would hold. They needed time to recover. If the barrier was not in place, then someone had to be on watch. That was code.
With a deep breath, he peered at the tiny break and whispered the spell. The burn scorched him; he had no power left. He gritted his teeth and used his own soul to will the spell. Most casters did not believe it was achievable, and those that did feared using their soul to compel spells. Too much could go amiss. It ripped your soul and caused intense discomfort.
Historically, the only users associated with utilizing the ability were dark sorcerers, or necromancers. Ander viewed the glowing filaments extend from his fingers down to the barrier and seal the gap. He dropped to one knee and gasped for air. The agony was as he remembered. His lifestyle as a Soldier of Night had been somewhat useful in preparing him for the pain he faced using soul energy. Not the same, but it had provided him with tools to deal with it.
Exhilaration from casting washed over him, and the barrier glowed even brighter than before. The more someone used magic, the better they could perceive it, visually or otherwise. When someone spell casted, they did not necessarily interact with the same plane of existence they were located on. Ander stood with wobbly legs. He attempted to explain the concept to Will once, but Will became frustrated and told him magic was effective but evil and should be used as seldom as possible.
Ander loved and abhorred the way he felt. His body about to give out, but simultaneously foolishly powerful. The deceptive euphoria always demanded more. More was not achievable. He sat on the bed and drank the rest of his water before he found his stethoscope to check Maeve again.
"Ander? What's wrong?" Maeve sat and bit her lip, discoloration under her eyes.
The abrupt motion startled him, and without consideration he brandished his knife.
"Your nose is bleeding again and your eyes." she scratched her temple.
Ander lowered his knife, embarrassed, and placed it on the nightstand. Pleased she had not reacted to his paranoia, he snatched a tissue and wiped his nose. His brain still in a vice, but the stabbing pain had lessened.
Crap. It was not how he wished for her to discover his strange eyes. When he changed clothes earlier, in haste, he took the contacts out and put them in the cleaning solution. He assumed she would not wake until tomorrow, and he would have them back in before she saw his actual eyes.
"I am fine. I just... over extended myself a bit." he glanced at Will and his vision returned to normal. Ander spotted two empty beer bottles and another of some hard liquor that was half empty.
Maeve's hand brushed his arm, neck, and then his cheek. "No, you're cold. I mean, you're colder than you usually are,"
"I am alright. I will recover. I just require rest,"
Not convinced, she opened her mouth to speak, but swayed and collapsed in his lap. He settled her back down and checked her vitals again. Her eyes closed and opened and then closed again. Ander finished monitoring her blood pressure, and she opened her eyes again, an otherworldly expression on her face.
"Your eyes are beautiful. I want to see them in the light,"
Ander sat back, her words unexpected. He had worn contacts most of his life. His Uncle Wyatt, who refused to pay for anything but what was required, purchased contacts for him. Ander concluded it was because Wyatt could not stand the sight of him otherwise. As a child, he had brown eyes. Later, he updated his aesthetic to include green and blue lenses.
Ander's eyes were heterochromatic. His left eye a deep, clear green that seemed luminous, the shade of foliage at night with moonlight reflected on the leaves. His right eye a bright cornflower blue ringed with thick dark green around the outside of the iris. The blue shifted lighter or darker depending on his mood. No one had ever told him his eyes were attractive.
Tremors from over exertion caused his hand to twitch when he put his stethoscope down, and Maeve stirred again. She peered at him with unfocused eyes and rolled her body toward him. With a lopsided grin, she lifted her hand under his shirt to his bare stomach. Ander sucked in air, confused by her action.
"You're still cold,"
"I will be fine," he told her in a soothing voice, and joined her.
"Take off your shirt," her voice was still sleepy.
Ander hesitated, concerned with Will's reaction in the morning. However, the thought she wanted him shirtless made his stomach flutter. He took off his scrub top and got under the covers.
"Mmm better." she rolled into his arms. "I accept you Ander, all of you." she burrowed next to his chest.
He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.
Disorientated he woke up, his pulse pounded in his skull. With watery eyes, he scanned the room, but attempted to remain still. Will still snored. The early morning light peeked through the curtains. He laid back on the pillow. Maeve stirred in his arms and put her warm hand on his bare chest. Ander held his breath, not used to intimate touches.
"You're still cold." she rolled back and stared at him. "Why are you still cold?" she drew her eyebrows together.
Disappointed when she moved away, an emptiness filled the pit of his stomach. "It is a side effect of spellcasting. At least for me it is,"
Maeve slid her hand up his body to his cheek. Ander held his breath again. If he was not exhausted, her touch might have been too much. He attempted to list the muscles in the human body, starting with the legs, and moved upward, but found he could not concentrate.
"Is that why your skin's always cooler?"
Ander had a lower body temperature, just below normal range, even as a child. Not dangerously low, unless he spellcasted too much. She lifted her hand to his neck and curled her fingers into his hair and played with it.
"Yes, and no. I tend to be a degree cooler than most humans, around ninety-six point two. Currently, I am around ninety-four,"
"Wait. Ninety-four? Isn't hypothermia ninety-five?" she gasped and moved her hand back to his chest.
Thankfully, Will did not stir. "Yes, but it does not affect me as it does others. I will recover with more rest," he was impressed with her knowledge of human body temperatures.
"Is that why your nose keeps bleeding?"
He grimaced. He did not want to discuss it, but found it impossible to deny her. "Yes. It is also why I have a headache."
Her eyes teared up before she took a deep breath. "I don't like that. I mean, I don't like what using magic does to you. I thought it was wonderful-amazing, especially the colors. And you looked so beautiful but," she slid her fingers on his chest and down to his stomach, blinking tears away. "I know you said you'd be fine, but it wasn't like this before back at Mason's. You didn't look like this and you weren't so cold," she cried.
Ander froze. Although Maeve spoke the truth, his paranoia Will would wake caused his body to lock.
"Ander?" her voice louder and high pitched.
He needed to calm her down or she would alert Will. He could not know the truth. He would never trust him again.
Ander took her hand and squeezed it. "Please do not cry. I have been in worse condition before and recovered." he spoke in a soft tone to calm her and stared into her eyes.
He did not want to describe the condition Will had found him at medical school. His physical form had deteriorated to near skeletal from lack of sustenance, abuse of chemicals and overuse of magic. His mental state worse and his soul had been so damaged he was near catatonic once the imbued magic left him. Will told him later he had been in a coma for weeks. Maeve's body relaxed in his arms while she stared into his eyes.
"How did you know about hypothermia?" Ander let got of her hand and brushed the hair back from her face.
Her dark eyes seemed unfocused. "A documentary I watched a couple weeks ago," her voice now calm and flat.
The surrounding air was heavy, but electrified. Her lips parted and her lids lowered as she tilted her head back. He cupped her face and angled his head toward hers. Her eyes slid closed. Will coughed behind them. Ander froze. Maeve remained motionless. Her moist lips taunted him. Will grumbled, moved, and snored again. Ander let out a breath as relief flooded him.
Maeve's eyes opened, and she blinked. Confused at first, but then she covered his hand with hers. "Don't use so much magic next time, ok? I don't like you in so much pain."
His throat constricted. She was so close to him. When he had leaned to kiss her, his body partially covered hers and her warm thighs pressed against his. With each breath, her soft, full breasts touched him. "Alright," he replied hoarsely.
Ander knew he should move, his behavior not appropriate, but his body refused to listen to his brain. Will moved again, and Ander held his breath as fear engulfed him, waiting silently to listen to Will's breathing patterns. Satisfied when it returned to normal.
"Will, he does not, he can not." Ander stumbled over his words. He did not want her to lie, but he could not allow Maeve to tell Will the truth.
"Will can't know like before?"
Ander nodded, hating he did it again. "Will understands I needed to use magic to destroy the child and the mother because they threatened your life, but he will accept nothing else. He has no tolerance for magic."
"I know how he feels about magic. Your secret's safe with me." she smiled and moved her hand back to his chest.
His hand covered hers before he rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. Euphoria from magic, excitement and adrenaline from her touch made his skin tingle. His head still throbbed, but it paled compared to the other sensations. She shifted closer to him again.
"I understand why he doesn't want you to do magic, though. I mean, if this happens every time," Maeve said with a yawn.
"I have not been in practice. Casting that much in one night drained me. It was worth it. You are alive," he told her; willing to suffer any amount of pain to protect her.
"Maybe we should just agree we don't like seeing each other hurt." she used the silvery tone he recognized before she turned her body to face him.
He automatically rolled to his side. They positioned themselves like puzzle pieces fitting together before they fell asleep.