Page 7 of Never Run from an Immortal

“Farren,” Rae said after a beat of silence, eyes roving over his arms, his chest where his shirt hung open, and his stomach, making no attempt to hide her perusal.

“An old human name.”

“You’re rather well versed in humans for someone who hates them.”

A chuckle. A real one, as much as he could with his busted face. “Know thy enemy.”

Rae hummed as if she agreed with him, and Aidan’s sight cleared fully. He took in the emptiness of their dark cell, the old blood stains marring the floor, and the shackles above him. The human had recovered remarkably well from her grapple with the Vampire and her other activities at the club. And a scrap with the Fae, Aidan suspected, because she didn’t strike him as the type to go down without a fight. A dirty one.

She shifted her gaze to his, something in her expression stirring a memory, one that was of no use to him here.

“You heal fast for a human,” he observed.

A nod. “I’ve learnt a few spells to keep me going over the years, just like any human with half a brain has done in order to survive this Hel-hole.”

Aidan didn’t doubt that. Her hair and eyes were common spells available at Demesia’s markets for any human to obtain, but she’d used the spell on the door lock, and Aidan hadn’t seen anything of the sort since the Thaumas had changed iron into gold.

Rae was cold, goosebumps pebbling her flesh in the frigid air, but she didn’t complain. His eyes slid over the bare skin of her soft stomach where her shirt had torn, the swell of her hips, her long legs, scabs over her knees from hauling herself over the bar to protect the waitress.

“Like what you see?” she asked, head cocked to one side.

“There goes that mouth.”

Rae smirked and tapped a finger to her chin. “They syphoned your Provident abilities. Injected you with something, a healthy dose of sedative by the looks of things.”

She didn’t ask why, though it was the obvious question; one he wanted answered too.

Andsyphoned—there was a word he hadn’t heard in a while. Rumoured to be a Witch ability, though the Witches hadn’t concerned themselves with Demesia in years. They held their own seat of power in Riguera, the Witch king’s city far beyond the mountains, and it was rare to hear of one setting foot in the city after a failed alliance with the Fae a decade ago.

“So, the question is,” Rae asked, a glint in her eyes, “what’s in it for me?”

If she were to release him with that spell of hers that could open locks. The unspoken words hung in the air like she knew the power she held.

Aidan watched her closely. “Why wait for me to wake up if you can break out of here by yourself?”

Rae shrugged, folded her arms across her chest, and let her eyes rove over his bare torso again. “Curiosity. I wanted to know if they’d killed you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not disappointed.”

Aidan arched an eyebrow.

“I’m relieved,” she admitted, her gaze sweeping over him. “If they can kill you, we’re all completely fucked. The fact that we’re having this conversation means I might actually see the remainder of the year through.”

“They,” Aidan said dryly. “It’s no surprise to me that Torrin has been working with humans. Knowledge is power, and Torrin craves it. I’ve been trying to convince my council of a possiblealliance.” Between the Liberalist Fae led by that prick, Torrin, and a human faction, though Aidan hated that he didn’t know which.

Rae nodded as if the unprecedented coalition were obvious to her. “I take it that didn’t go down very well.”

“They laughed.”

“And how did that feel? Did it hurt?” She held a hand over her heart, her tone sweet as if she were talking to a child. The balls on her. “Here’s what I think,” Rae said, turning away from him again. “One,” she raised a finger, her attention fixed on the blood stains ahead of her as she paced, “You need me to get those shackles unlocked from whatever magic the Fae have sealed them with. And honestly, Vale, I have to say, I’m disappointed that it was all it took to keep you locked up.”

Aidan pressed his lips together.

“And two.” Another finger. “You murmur in your”—she waved a hand—“sleep? No. Delirium? Whateverthatwas. Anyway, you were talking about your magic. I can help you get it back.” She stopped pacing and shot him a half smile, as if she knew she hadhimby the balls.

Aidan rarely slept. His Provident abilities had made it difficult in his early years, though he had learnt to master them decades ago. It was the absence of hisothermagic that kept him awake, and as he watched the human’s grin stretch into a smile, he wondered if, inexplicably, she knew it. Impossible. Fifteen years he’d been without it and fifteen years he’d searched tirelessly for answers.

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