Page 8 of Nick

He wouldn’t let her doubt herself. It was unthinkable.

“You haven’t heard?” He thought Drey would have mentioned it to his people. It was a human betraying them, so he assumed that all Numbers would be aware of what was happening.

“No, I haven’t,” she said. “I just need a minute.”

He heard her muffle her receiver while engaging with a customer. “Yes, of course. Yeah…we deliver on Sundays. I will put a note for the order to be delivered at ten o’clock.”

Her interaction with people, with humans, always made Nick proud. Having never approached humans easily, each interaction was another step in the right direction for her. She was first Nick’s friend, and then Joanie set out to make friends with her, and few could resist her.

Because of her positive experiences over the years, she built trusting relationships. It didn’t happen instantly. Pain and growth never did.

In the early days of the rescues, he met her several times, but she generally kept to herself. She was the object of his obsession, and he didn’t want to frighten her with his desire to erase all the distance between them. So it was good that she had time to become comfortable in her own skin.

There was something about her that caught his attention.

She was beautiful, serene, and he was determined to have her. It wasn’t a soft thing. Instead, there was only a sharp jagged need; an intensity that terrified even him.

Her scars caused her discomfort. She flinched when people looked at them and ducked her head to hide them in her hair, and he hated that. He didn’t lie and say they were beautiful. They just didn’t bother him.

Because of her advanced healing, they were not as deep as they would be on a human, but they were part of her. There were silvery tendrils trailing from her temples and cheeks into her hairline and near her ear.

He dated a punk rock female in college who had skull tattoos on her body and a full tattoo of lyrics, bloody roses, and the grim reaper on her back. He also lost count of her piercings.

She might not worry so much about thin superficial scars if she saw his previous lovers.

Then again she might kill them also. He grinned knowing she was mortified by her jealous reactions any time he mentioned previous lovers.

The point was the scars on her flesh weren’t unattractive.

They looked like tattoos. An odd one, granted; like silver birch branches reaching for the sun in delicate lines over her face. She was reluctant to discuss them with him at first. This was until she realised he didn’t care about them, just like she didn’t care about his age.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, and he hummed in reply.

He wasn’t very old, but some days he felt it. Today he felt older and wanted to return home. He needed a distraction from his thoughts rather than letting them play in his mind continuously. A rough grin appeared on his face as he shook his glass. That was why alcohol was created—a distraction, a way to deaden everything.

“Nick?” The gentle tone of her voice jolted him from his reverie, and he blinked at her.

He coughed to clear his throat and responded roughly, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I was thinking too hard. There’s been a lot going on. It might be best if you stayed at home tonight.”

She remained silent for a moment, and he threw back the drink.

“Nick, I don’t want to be shut out of your life.”

“That’s not it,” he denied and slammed his glass on the desk.

Her silence was louder than words. “I don’t want to be kept in the dark,” she whispered.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that either.” Though he didn’t want to tell her a human had betrayed them, but if she persisted, he would; in-person was better than over the phone.

He leaned back in his chair, resting his neck on it as he closed his eyes.

“You’re not just trying to avoid making dinner for me tonight, are you?” she joked, but he could sense a hint of vulnerability in her tone.

“No, you’re kidding, right? And miss the chance to have a beautiful female in my home?” he scoffed and forced a chuckle. “Truth be told, I’d rather go home to someone who could smooth away the crap from my day.”

He snorted because a picture formed in his mind and he knew it wouldn’t happen.

He might give her a massage or the other way around, and they might just hold each other as they drifted off, but that wasn’t to be. “Anyway, It’s nothing like that. I’m sure Drey will be by soon to tell you about it.”

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