Page 3 of Fatality on the Field

The soft whisper makes my eyes pop open, and everything from the previous night comes flooding back. Slade's appearing at my door, the conversation, and what happened afterward fill my mind with both joy and fear. I’d held back for so long to make sure I didn’t lose the one consistent person I cared about in my life and now that bridge has been crossed and burned. I have to figure out how we will move forward together, rather than my knee-jerk reaction that says I should pull away.

Hurting him was always my worry because I’m damaged goods, but now, it’s paired with the opposing fear of Morgana slicing my head from my shoulder with a fucking butter knife.

Clearing my throat, I don’t turn to face him for fear that he has changed his mind, but reply quietly, “What does the scent tell you?”

“Mate.”

“Morgana was here and didn’t wake us?” I say, feeling my gut clench. I’m not quite ready for the eyes of every single one of our family members, plus all the other people dissecting my motives. It makes me tense up, and as soon as I do, a gentle hum emanates from behind me. “Slade…”

“Don’t worry, it’s not full power. You just felt very stiff all of a sudden, and your aura changed colors.” He sets his chin on my shoulder and when I look up, I’m relieved to see a fond expression on his face.

It’s not demanding or suffocating—it’s just Slade looking at me like he always does when I get upset.

“You’re very soothing; I’m aware,” I murmur as I look into his eyes. “Sometimes, I think you give far too much to those who don’t deserve it.”

“Does that include you?” he asks. “Because you are a better man than you let on, Ignatius Briarton, and certainly more kind than you want people to believe. Your hard shell was created to survive your family, much as my quiet acceptance was developed to survive mine.”

He’s right, and it should bother me that he knows that, but it doesn’t. Slade Finn knows me more thoroughly than anyone else has in my entire life, I think, and he’s never once used any of the insight to manipulate or control me. That’s uncommon in the world I came from, so I’ve always had trouble reconciling my feelings about it and him. I know exactly who I had to become to be what my family expects and avoid any efforts to ‘reprogram’ me from the elders.

We’re not talking about that right now, though, and Slade is waiting for me to respond.

“Well, maybe,” I admit as I finally move to face him. Slade adjusts easily, lying on his side close to me as he was previously in the big spoon position. I wouldn’t have anticipated that, but I seem to remember admitting some very vulnerable things before we fell asleep last night. He wanted me to feel safe, I’d wager. “I’m not always a good person.”

“Mmmm, that’s true,” he replies as he looks at me earnestly. “But no one is good all the time, and that’s also relative. I feel like a lot of your shitty behavior in the past was often met with swift justice from the person you stepped on.”

My lips curve, and I dip my chin as I look away. “For the women, maybe. Not with you.”

That makes him sigh softly, and his hand comes down, pulling my chin back up to meet my gaze. “Iggy, if you were interested, you should have said so sooner or rebuffed me if not. That’s true—it wasn’t fair to be ambiguous for so long. But also… I could have forced the issue long before I did, and that part is on me.”

“Mutually assured destruction via introversion?” I ask with a tiny grin. “Not a very effective weapon—it just made us dance around like idiots.”

He chuckles, letting go to put his hand on my chest. It’s hot through the tee shirt, which is not normal for my aqueous friend. “Maybe it was the will of the Fates for us to wait until Morgana brought us all together. All the previous stuff may have shaped us so that it would not fail once we gave in.”

I arch a brow. “I’m not sure making out and snoozing together is really ‘giving in’ as much as slowly moving towards something new.”

His eye roll is adorable as he huffs. “You know what I mean, Iggy.”

I do, but it’s easier to navigate when I’m being specific. Slade and I have only taken the first toddling steps in the direction of where we might go. Getting ahead of ourselves isn’t a good idea with two men as damaged and fragile as we are. “Yes, but I’d prefer to take credit only for things I’ve done. You know that.”

Slade snorts, pulling back a little. “I most certainly do not. You love to take credit for shit you didn’t do when it suits you. Very few people argue with you because you present your case with such confidence that no one questions it.”

“Okay, well with this I want to only get kudos for actual efforts, then,” I mutter with a scowl. “It feels important that I am honest with you and myself.”

His grin widens, and the absolute joy in his features almost makes my heart stop.

I’m going to have to figure out how to keep myself from falling headfirst into that before we’re ready—and I have no idea how to do it.

It takes a few minutes, but we finally get up and shake off the slumber. We know that the Prince and his cadre will want to work on the book this morning, plus I admit to being curious about the panda’s breakfast. Salem bragged about it earlier, and the food they selected from the delivery place last night was delicious. I wonder for a moment if the Hell ingredients should agree with those of us without demon blood, but the memory of the potion that doctor gave us pops up.

I bet that keeps us from getting sick or dying for more than just the damn air—that old guy is crafty as fuck.

“I think that plague guy gave us shit to make sure we don’t get hurt by any of the normal Hell stuff,” I say to Slade as he runs his fingers through his hair in front of a tiny mirror. “It didn’t occur to me to ask last night when we ate the food, you know?”

The siren pauses, tilting his head as he considers my statement. “Yeah, he probably did. It wasn’t anything evil, though. I know that for sure because Kat trusts him—or that’s what the other demons said. I feel she hardly trusts anyone, and if she let Morgana drink it, that says a lot.”

“True.” I look around at our room, shaking my head. “This hacker guy can’t spend a lot of time here. It’s cramped and stuffed to the brim with his gaming and computer shit. I bet he stays with the Prince more often than not.”

Slade chuckles, his cheeks heating as he murmurs, “I think they have a much deeper relationship than it seems. I get a vibe of actual emotion there, despite the dragon’s surly exterior.”