Page 1 of The Arrival
OCTOBER
ONE
PRACTICE
Nino sits at the kitchen table, his hands hovering over the surface as he takes a deep breath in, then out. The air around him is cool but laced with something more. Something invisible that hums and flows, both from within his body and all around. It tingles like sunlight and static against his skin.
He’s focused, but a thought floats in the cavern of his mind like an echo, always present. Quiet but persistent.
A baby. I’ll be a father…
The true beginning of their surrogacy process is still months away and a start date doesn’t yet exist. They’ve spoken with Doctor Davies about their desire to grow their family, but the program itself has only just been approved. The groundwork is currently being laid.
Even still, this idea… Nino is committed to it. He accepts it, but wrestles with the weight and emotional complexity he feels—like peeling back the layers of a thousand-pound onion.
One thing at a time.Nino shakes his head, then flickers his amber eyes up to his mate sitting across from him. “Are you ready?” he asks.
Haruka raises an eyebrow. “I believe that the more important question is, areyou?”
Nino narrows his gaze. “I can do this.”
“I have faith in you.”
Rolling his shoulders, he concentrates on the salt-shaker in front of him. The distinct heat of his energy seeps out, slinking toward the glass object and examining the details of its composition—the smooth, hard surface disrupted by hand-carved swirls and curves. His aura glows as it hovers over the metal top, then pours thickly into the plethora of tiny holes. He feels all of it. Not with his hands but with his mind and essence. With this unique extension of himself that is derived from the ancient energy of his race. Like magic. Inexplicable but real.
Countless grains of salt fill the container, soft in their unity but individually… rough. Sharp? A cloud of microscopic snowflakes but made of broken glass. He can’t quite decide.
Nino blows out another breath, then shifts everything up—the glass, hardness, metal and flecks—all of it. He raises his palms, and the salt-shaker smoothly levitates above the table. It rises higher, shiny in the steely, overcast sunlight filling the kitchen.
When it’s stable at his eye level, Nino takes a chance and shifts his gaze to meet his mate’s rosy irises just past the object levitating in between them. “Alright… I think—”
Something stirs. The fluidity of his essence and its control over the object break, like two elements suddenly pushing against each other instead of sinuous—no longer in alliance. He blinks. The entire thing bursts, escaping from his mental grasp and shattering.
Haruka reacts quickly and with precision. He raises his hands and the mess of Nino’s efforts floats fragmented in mid-air. Countless shards of glass and grains of salt hover in the light, shimmering like an elaborate art installation.
Nino’s eyes burn out. He bends forward, dropping his forehead onto the table with a groan. “Fuck.”
“Would you like feedback?”
“Yes, please.”
“Why did you attempt to manipulate the salt within the shaker?”
Dragging himself upright, Nino considers. “I wanted to be thorough and understand all the individual elements so that I had more control. I did this before, when I manipulated the tissue box, and it was fine.”
Haruka smiles, the chaos of Nino’s failure still suspended in mid-air between them. His mate holds all of it in place, effortless as his hands rest folded atop the table’s surface. “My love, tissues are a vastly different material than grains of salt—the latter being much more complex and greater in quantity. With these instances, it is better to focus on and manipulate the outside as a whole. When the inside is intricate or overwhelming in nature, leave it be.”
Nino’s attention diverts when Asao walks into the kitchen. The manservant assesses the situation, then pauses, frowning. “Are you serious?”
“We’ll take care of it,” Nino assures him, rubbing the back of his neck.
Slowly, Haruka releases the mess, but as it settles onto the table’s surface, the salt and finer shards of glass slip through the planks of the wood. Nino clenches his teeth as Asao groans behind them.
“Why didn’t you just hover it over and into the trash?” Asao asks.
Haruka scoots his chair out, examining the floor. “I… had not considered that.”
Shaking his head, Asao stalks toward the refrigerator. “I hope this means we’re taking a step back in our training?” With the door open, he eyes Nino. “If you explode a person, I’mnotcovering it up.”
