I donât know if anyone has talked about this before, and I apologize in advance if they have, but thereâs a bonus chapter in Heir of Fire where weâre introduced to Remelle and her friends, Lord Benson and Lady Essar:
1.
"Remembering she existed, Rowan extended an arm in her direction. Celaena honestly debated striding back into the fortress and leaving Rowan at their mercy, but found herself walking to him, closer and closer, until he could have tucked her into his side.
He actually seemed to relax a bit as he said, âThis is â Elentiya.â She hadnât thought of how heâd introduced her, but she was grateful for the anonymity he offered. âIâm training her at the queenâs request. Elentiya, this is Lady Remelle, Lord Benson, and Lady Essar.â He began rattling off house names and other nonsense, and Celaena gave a shallow nod that had Benson and Remelle pursing their lips.
Only Essar said hello, a sultry purr that made Celaena wonder why the hell Rowan hadnât taken her to his bed instead of the bright, cold smiles of Remelle.
âSo you are a half-breed, then,â Benson said, his eyes raking over her.
Rowan, to her surprise, bristledâbut held in the growl she knew was rumbling in him."
2.
âHe has needs that must be attended to, and finds her attractive enough.
Maeve said it was more than fine if sheââ
âIf Benson lays one finger on her, heâs going to find himself without his insides.â
He clamped down on the blinding rage as Remelle blinked. âHonestly, Rowan, what do you think most of the half-breeds wind up doing in Doranelle?â
He had no answerâno words at allâas soon as she said that. She shrugged.
âBenson will be gentle withââ
âBenson looks twice at her, and he dies. He looks twice at any of the females in this fortress and he dies.â
The words were laced with a growl so fierce that they were barely understandable. But Remelle understood.
so i was definitely going to wait to post this until tomorrow or the day after but then decided to say fuck it and in the spirit of rowaelin month am just giving it to you now, whatever. who needs rules. or regulations. not me.
follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites and turn on post notifs to receive updates (i don't do taglists anymore, sorry folks!)
masterlist//support me with a ko-fi//redbubble
It was nowhere near the worst injury sheâd ever had, but it certainly wasnât pleasant.
The living room floor of one of her smaller sanctuaries had been turned into a makeshift operating room. A trash bag was laid out beneath her, rustling with every move she made. The first aid kit that had been untouched and hidden under the kitchen sink was open with all its pieces scattered around her. A brand new bottle of vodka sat to her right, several shots worth already buzzing through her veins. It would take at least one more swig before she got started, but it was already difficult to slide the thread into the needle, so she was holding off until she was just about ready to begin.
Gods damn the agent that shot her. Aelin would bet money that it was Remelle, the blonde bitch that had been pawing at Rowan for years. Before, when she was Lilian, sheâd heard a wide array of stories about the woman and her unwanted advances. Ever since Aelin had been introduced to the FBI as a criminal informant, she had shot daggers at her in every meeting, likely angry Aelin was spending so much time with Rowan. Despite how much of that time was angry banter from Rowan, no matter if Aelin was trying to thaw out his icy inner and exterior.
None of that mattered now. She could have Rowan if she really wanted him. Maybe they were already together and--
Aelin stopped those thoughts in their tracks, eyes focusing on the task at hand. There were bigger things to worry about, like getting out of the city and, most importantly, the bleeding wound on her thigh. She chewed on her lip until the thread finally made it into the curved needle, and she held back a cheer as she sloshed some vodka over the wound on her thigh. Hissing through her teeth, she thanked the gods that it wasnât any worse.
It wasnât even that bad, considering everything else sheâd experienced. There was the time Arobynn had stabbed a dagger through her palm, and sheâd had to stitch up the injury herself. She wasnât sure how many times sheâd been sliced and jabbed in training. Her list of broken bones and scars was a long one. Once she got older and was better at her job than all of the men combined, training had become more of a game of survival. They had been out for blood, shedding hers in red tears on the floor until she managed to incapacitate them enough to claim the victory for herself.
This gunshot wound was minor. It hadnât nicked anything major, and it had taken a while for Aelin to realize sheâd even been shot. The adrenaline from running from the full force of the FBI had been enough to repel the pain until she was nearly to her safehouse. She was four blocks away when she realized her pace was slowing and that there was a sharp, hot pain throbbing in her left thigh. A glance down told her everything she needed to know. She had limped straight through the front door and to the first aid kit, where she now prepared to stitch her own leg up.
At one point, there had been a numbing agent in this bag, but she remembered using it on Sam after a nasty fight with Arobynn one night when she was twenty-one. Since then, sheâd seldom been to this safehouse and had neglected to restock her kit. There was barely enough of the nylon thread left over, but she would manage. Aelin made a mental note to have someone, either Nox or herself, replenish the missing items.
With a deep breath and a final swig of vodka, she picked up the forceps and shimmied the tension from her shoulders while she hunched over her leg, ready to begin.
With the first stick and the drag of the thread through her skin, Aelin bit her lip so hard she drew blood. It was a bizarre and uncomfortable feeling accompanied by a slight burning sensation. Several times she groaned while she sewed her skin back together. By the time she was finished, her mouth tasted metallic, and the trash bag beneath her was covered in droplets of blood. Her bare thigh looked grim and would leave behind a jagged, ugly scar, but she doused it once more in vodka before wiping away the blood with a damp piece of gauze. Her hands were mostly steady while she placed a bandage over the top and taped it down.
It was just another painful memory that would soon fade to silvery skin. How many more would it take until she was free?
Shaking her head to pull her from any thoughts too negative to deal with right now, Aelin smiled a bit. She was almost pleased with herself for handling the entire situation so well, but the reality of the situation was soon to crash down on her. It didnât take long for her to get up, going about the tiny house and jerking all the curtains closed. Hardly any natural light was able to filter in through the gaps in the curtains for how tightly sheâd twisted at the blinds until they were sealed completely shut. Thumbtacks were shoved into the walls to keep anyone curious from peering inside. She would move to another place in a day or two, she promised herself, after she had time to dye her hair and her wound wasnât so fresh.
Every lock on every door was twisted into place-- seven locks on both the front and back doors. Only two of those locks could be opened with a key from the outside. The other five were inside only, a variation of deadbolts and chain locks that made her feel secure.
Only when she was satisfied that she was as safe for the time being did she go to the single bedroom and lock the door behind her. In a handful of heartbeats, she collapsed on the old quilt and drifted into a fitful sleep.
~*~
The news that it would take weeks, maybe months, of physical therapy to have his shoulder back to one-hundred percent was irritating to say the least. Rowan would be out of work for a while, but that wasnât the most frustrating part of the situation. He would be wearing the restrictive sling for weeks, only to take it off when he changed clothes or showered. They didnât even allow him to take it off to sleep, for godsâ sake. Rowan would be sleeping sitting up for the foreseeable future, and he was fucking annoyed about it.
The last few nights sleeping in the hospital had been anything but fruitful. Not only was he woken by the nurses coming in to check on him every few hours, every single time he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, he was reminded of the sling. The pain was nearly suffocating. Rowan had heard from Fenrys about how bad shoulder injuries were, but this was on another level of anything he had ever experienced.
So why he was standing in the abandoned apartment of the woman who had shot the bullet through it in the first place was beyond him at the moment.
It wasnât the apartment littered with cameras and paid for by the bureau. It was the one sheâd lived in privately before her beating and arrest. It was the one decorated with opulence and taste. With artwork that wouldnât surprise Rowan to find it had been stolen and was priceless. The one with books stacking shelves every which way, those novels bookmarked and annotated, as he had just learned. Like she loved them so much, she couldnât help but document her favorite and least favorite parts.
The linens closet was filled with the softest blankets and nicest sheets Rowan had ever felt in his life. Silk sheets were currently stretched over the mattress in her bedroom, a thing that Rowan had thought sheâd quipped as a joke once.
âSorry, the sheets arenât Egyptian cotton for whatever the hell youâre used to,â heâd said, a bite in his tone as he showed her the dump of an apartment the bureau had decided on for her.
âSilk,â she winked. âFeels good against my skin when I sleep naked.â
It hadnât been a joke. He ran his fingers over the fabric and almost smiled at the memory but forced his lips into a frown instead. As he looked around the room, the nearly ostentatious yet somehow tasteful room, he missed her. He hated himself for it, but he missed her. The woman had shot him through the shoulder, but the pain in his heart was somehow worse. His first thought when he woke in the hospital from surgery had been about if theyâd found her and she was safe, gods above. Everything about himself was secondary, and he didnât really care.
But they hadnât found her. There was no trace of her after her anklet was cut. Nobody had seen her; traffic cams had stopped picking her up like she had just⌠vanished. He hated that she was so good at her job, so good at being a criminal.
Deep down, Rowan knew that wasnât what bothered him. It never really had. There wasnât a part of her soul that he had seen and didnât understand or want to love. Nothing she had ever done had pushed him away in the slightest. Her honesty about her life and the vulnerability she had shown him only made him respect and love her more.
He wasnât mad that she shot him. Was he annoyed that he couldnât use his arm? Of course. But he understood. Rowan understood that she felt backed into a corner and betrayed, and she went into fight or flight mode. In this case, it had been fight and flight. He had stepped too close and got shot in return. It was fair. She was used to fighting her way out of situations, so of course, it was the route sheâd taken.
He just wanted her to slip up for once so he could just find her and talk to her. Figure out whatever the hell was going on when theyâd argued before she shot him, then disappeared in the middle of the day in a bustling city. Rowan wasnât even mad that she hadnât been caught. In fact, he was glad they hadnât caught her.
Rowan didnât want her to be found. The full force of the FBI would rain down on her like a hurricane and she would be shown no mercy. There wasnât a single part of him that wanted her suffering in an interrogation room, throwing around the word allegedly like she used to throw daggers. For her to be thrown back in that dismal jail cell awaiting a death sentence that almost assuredly awaited her for what happened at the bureau.
But he was still frustrated as all hell that he couldnât find her now, no matter how much he didnât want her rotting in prison on the outskirts of the city.
It was while he stood with his fingers running over the silk of her sheets that he heard the jingling of keys at her front door. It was surprising, considering heâd had to pick several locks to get up here in the first place. Rowan flattened his body against the bedroom wall, listening to the front door open and close.
The footsteps that followed werenât Aelinâs, though. They were a little louder, carrying a larger and heavier body. Rowan moved to stand in the doorway, startling the man in the center of the room. He dropped the bag he was carrying, swearing loudly as he bent to pick it back up.
âGods above, Suit,â he murmured, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. âWhat are you doing here? Getting something for Celaena?â
âShouldnât I be asking you that?â Rowan inquired, noting that the bag he carried contained nothing of real importance. If anything, it looked like a combination of garden tools and art supplies.
âI think I stashed something here if weâre being candid and off the record, which I would very much appreciate if we were, by the way. Iâve come to collect.â Haversham -- Rowan still didnât know the manâs real name -- began digging around Aelinâs bookshelves, looking behind and even inside some of her books that turned out not to be books at all. They looked like books, but when opened in the middle were hidden pockets. Some were empty; some werenât. Rowan noticed a few that had different bits of identification tucked away. None of that seemed to be what Haversham looked for as he simply closed them and put them back on the shelves.
âWhere is she?â Rowan finally asked, a little boldly.
âCanât you check that fancy anklet you have her wearing and figure it out? I havenât seen her in a week. She isnât calling me back, either, so when you do see her, can you tell her that IâŚâ The man trailed off after looking up from his search and seeing Rowanâs face. Rowanâs hard, unyielding face and the concern that was likely etched in his features. The wrinkle between his brow, the stiff way he held his lips. Havershamâs head tilted curiously.
âHoly gods, did she make a run for it?â
âSomething happened at the bureau. I canât find her. Neither can they. But I need to talk to her. I canât help her otherwise.â
âDo you want to help her?â The sound that came from Rowan was nearly a growl, and Haversham retreated a step with his hands raised defensively. âLook, Iâm just saying. She wouldnât make a run for it unless it was something serious and youâre incapacitated at the moment. Which leads me to believe that she did it; otherwise, you wouldnât be hurt at all. Celaena wouldnât let somebody hurt you. So either you really fucked up--â
âI did, but only by not protecting her and defending her when it mattered.â
Haversham twisted his mouth to the side while he gave Rowan a hard once-over. It was like he was assessing everything he knew about his character while deciding if he would help him or not. There was a prolonged silence that made Rowan want to throw something at the man, but he waited it out.
âIâm only going to help you because you make her happy. And I donât mean superficially. I mean that for the first time in the eight years Iâve known her, sheâs been happier and more alive than Iâve ever seen her. I know she trusted you more than sheâs ever trusted anyone else. More than me, which doesnât say much considering I think she trusts me as far as she can throw me. But she trusts you more than Sam even.â Finally, he ripped a page from one of the books and began to scrawl across the page until it was nearly full. When he handed it to Rowan, he realized it was a collection of addresses. Some were in the city; some were in other countries. Some were a handful of hours of a drive into nowhere. One was practically around the corner from where they were now.
âWhat is this?â
âSafehouses. Those are the ones I know about. Celaena has⌠a lot of secrets. I donât know even half of them. I have my suspicions about a lot of shit, but Iâm letting her come to me with it when sheâs ready. So I donât know all of her safehouses, but I know those ones. Those are the ones sheâs let me use in times of trouble. Thatâs the only help I can really offer you besides calling if I hear from her.â
âThank you,â Rowan said softly, and he meant it. It was the biggest and only lead that he had on her whereabouts, and even if she wasnât crashing on a bed in any of these places, it was a start. It was the only hope he had so far that maybe, just maybe⌠he might find her.
~*~
Rowan had decided to start on the outside and work his way in, and it was wasting a lot of time. Everyone he was friendly with at the bureau was constantly calling and texting to see how he was doing, asking what he was up to. Fenrys told him heâd stopped by his apartment a few times this week, and he hadnât been home. Rowan replied, saying he was just taking some time to himself, which seemed to satisfy the man, and that had been that.
In reality, Rowan had been in Terrasen trying to find Aelin. She wasnât in either of the two listed near the border of Adarlan, so now he was slowly working his way back toward Rifthold. It just didnât seem likely for her to be hiding somewhere in the city, not when she would have to leave for food and other necessities at some point. So heâd gone as far out as he could before making his way back. So far, it had turned up nothing. Both of the cabins heâd visited in the woods had seen better days and likely hadnât seen Aelin in years.
He was driving toward his fourth destination now, so deep in Oakwald, he wasnât entirely sure he wasnât back in Terrasen at this point. The location pinged on the Adarlanian side of the border, but he had little hope of actually finding her. There were only two safehouses left on the list, and both of them were in the city itself. Would he still check them? Of course. But did he think that she was stupid enough to be there? Absolutely not.
The energy of the place was different as soon as he made it up the drive. Halfway up, a gate that covered the driveway, and Rowan had to abandon his car and hop the fence. It was a bit of a feat, as it was taller than him, and he only had one good arm to use, but he managed. Even if it had taken him three times as long as it usually would have. Feet pounding down against the dirt so hard it caused a small cloud, he proceeded up toward the small cottage with a little more confidence than heâd had the rest of the drive.
Smoke was wafting from the chimney, and a dim glow flickered in the window. The window that a lithe body stood in, peering through the curtains and backlit by the fire. He couldnât see her face, but he knew it was Aelin, knew heâd been spotted, and knew she was watching. How she had known heâd arrived, he wasnât sure. Being overcautious her entire life likely meant that there were tripwires that alerted her of his presence somewhere on the driveway.
As he got closer, she disappeared, and the curtains slipped back into place. When he got to the door, he reached out but hesitated for a moment. Aelin clearly didnât want to be found and was clearly mad at him. What if she did worse than she had the last time theyâd seen each other? Part of him thought she wouldnât, but he hadnât ever thought she would shoot him, either. Rowan wasnât sure how many times she had told him she hated guns, but desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.
It took more courage than he cared to admit to turn the knob. Much to his surprise, the door opened, and he slipped inside, shutting it behind him quietly. To be frank, Rowan couldnât believe his luck. He couldnât believe heâd managed to find her at all, much less on a list of places that Haversham managed to remember.
As his eyes adjusted to the room, he saw Aelin sitting across the room with a bottle of rum in one hand, balanced on her thigh. She was slumped down a bit in the chair; her hair dyed a muddy reddish-brown color. A dagger was in her other hand, being twisted in circles against her bare leg. Rowan wanted to tell her to stop, that she would hurt herself, but faster than he could register, she was moving. He was stunned further into silence by the whistling of the wind and the slight breeze by his ear. A loud thud had him whipping around to the door.
Embedded in the wood, millimeters from where his head had just been, was the dagger sheâd been holding, and when he looked back at Aelin, she was smirking.
dang I actually posted on time for once?! this picks up right where part 6 left off. i hope you guys enjoy, as always constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. if you want to be tagged in my updates let me know!
TAGS: @emilyshi101emu @writerbutalsoanasshole
Previous Part
Maeve and Arobynn continued speaking for another twenty minutes. Aelin tuned out most of it, opting to watch her boss closely. Mr. Hamel was a master of deception so he never gave anything away. Which had always infuriated Aelin, who prided herself on her ability to read others. But she could tell this much: he was not acting like himself. Normally, though he looked casual, Arobynn was alert and ready for anything. He was far too at ease. Something was definitely off.
At the end of their little speech he swung by their table for a little visit. Honestly she wasnât surprised heâd spotted her, the man was too observant for his own good. Nonetheless it pissed her off a bit.
âMiss Galathynius, what a surprise. Itâs lovely to see you my dear,â he purred.
His gray eyes slid down her body. She fought the urge to recoil and instead gave him a professional smile. âMr. Hamel, I wasnât expecting to see you here.â
Finally his gaze trained on her own. Aelin maintained eye contact refusing to break. Thatâs what her boss was all about. The games that he so loved to play.
âNo need to be miffed my dear. We had every intention of revealing our deal when it became relevant.â Mr. Hamel rested his hand on her shoulder.
Aelinâs urge to pull away grew stronger. âAnd when exactly would that have been, sir?â
Her tone was too careful, to the point of deadliness. Normally she kept herself in check while working even when she was angry. But tonight her boss was pushing all the right buttons. When it became relevant, could have meant never. And that really pissed her off because all of his employees would have been working in the dark. Everything would change and they wouldnât have any idea.
Mr. Hamel chuckled lightly. Oh this was a challenge, just like everything else for him. He leaned down and whispered against her ear, letting his hot breath caress the shell, âWhen I say so.â
The threat was plain. Donât let this slip, or else. What Aelin didnât understand was why. Why did it matter whether his employees knew or not? Later. Sheâd delve into this later.
With an irreverent little smile she knew he hated Aelin said, âEnjoy your evening, Mr. Hamel.â
âYou as well, Miss Galathynius.â Giving her shoulder a light squeeze he walked away.
She did not turn around to watch him go, knowing he would somehow be able to tell. Snake. That man was a snake in the grass.
When Arobynn was out of earshot Whitethorn hissed, âWhat the hell was that about, Galathynius?â
As she opened her mouth to snap an answer it dawned on her that she couldnât tell him. That threat didnât just extend to her coworkers. Mr. Hamel had gambled that she had guessed his plan and warned her not to tell another soul. She wouldnât put anyone in that amount of danger. Aelin knew all too well how far his reach went.
Taking a sip of champagne the waiters had brought around she shook her head. Then replied, âNothing. I donât know what you mean.â
âBullshit, somethingâs up. Unless he acts like that all the time, which I doubt.â
She gave him a look that assured him he did. It wasnât a lie, that was Arobynn all of the time; a sick, manipulative bastard. Whitethornâs face became hard.
âYou work for a sadist.â His tone brooked no room for argument.
Aelin sure as hell didnât disagree so she just took another drink of champagne. âWhat do you even do at these things after the awards?â
âBoring small talk and exchanging office gossip while taking advantage of the free drinks,â Fenrys supplied.
Her eyes darted over to him. She had been so zeroed in on Mr. Hamel she had forgotten they were there. What had they heard? What had they seen? But the way Fenrys so willingly picked up the change in topic testified to the fact that he wouldnât talk about it. Not that Aelin was dumb enough to trust him right away but it was noteworthy.
Over Fenrysâ shoulder she caught sight of Remelle approaching their table. Speaking of snakesâŚ
âRowan,â she rested a hand on his shoulder when she reached him. âWould you like to kick off the dancing for the evening?â
Whitethorn tensed up hard enough it looked like he had a stick up his ass. From the way the others were reacting they either didnât notice, didnât care, or were hiding it very well. Stiffly he told her, âOf course.â
He rose from the chair and offered his arm to lead her to the area in the middle of the grand hall that had been cleared for dancing. Music filled the air and Aelin wondered how she didnât notice a DJ there earlier. After this song, she thought to herself, Iâm going in for the rescue. But as the dance went on it was getting harder and harder to stay in her seat. The little witch was âsubtlyâ brushing her body against his even though Whitethorn was doing everything in his power to keep the dance professional. When the song ended he made to pull away but she clung to him tighter. He tried to move away again but she wouldnât budge. Aelin saw red.
It took everything in her to place the glass down and not slam it onto the table. Channeling the smooth gait of a predator she approached the swaying couple. Others had joined in the festivities so they didnât have a reason to be dancing anymore. Remelle wouldnât have an excuse.
Aelin cleared her throat. âRebecca, would you mind if I stepped in?â
Her nostrils flared. Bullseye. âWeâre in the middle of something here,â she let her hand slide down Whitethornâs side far lower than was proper. âYouâll have to wait, Ally.â
And just like that Aelin was done being nice. She ducked between their arms and took Whitethornâs place as Remelleâs partner. She sputtered at the separation. This woman was certainly used to getting her own way. They stood at nearly the same height though Aelin took some small satisfaction in being fractionally taller.
Leaning forward so her red lips nearly brushed Remelleâs ear Aelin whispered, âTake the hint and go sweetie. Iâd hate to break that pretty little face of yours.â
Remelle jerked her head back and hissed, âHow dare you threaten me. I am an esteemed associate of Doranelle Inc. and demand to be treated with the respect my station entitles me to.â
Aelin laughed a low deadly laugh. âWeâre coworkers now, Remelle. And I am an esteemed associate of Hamel Publishing House. We are equals. I know youâre used to people rolling over when you say so but now you have someone your own size to pick on. And I donât lose.â
None too gently Aelin removed herself from Remelleâs grip and walked over to Whitethorn. âWas that a good enough dominance battle for you?â
âBetter than I could have hoped.â His eyes gleamed with something like respect as he took her in. âWhy?â
He didnât need to elaborate his question. âShe seemed a little too entitled. I had to knock her down a peg.â
The look Whitethorn gave her was one of grudging gratitude. He knew her real reasoning. Damn the bastard to hell how could he read her so easily?
âWell, now that you donât have a partner,â she held out a hand, âwould you care for a dance⌠Rowan?â
His large hand enveloped her fingers easily. âIt would be my pleasure⌠Aelin.â
So, I was just thinking about Fenrys, doing my standard nail-biting, sobbing mess that happens when I start to think about so many characters after Empire of Storms (or Acomaf, really), before I thought about him this way.
Fenrys probably pranks EVERYONE!
Remelle: WHO PUT GUM IN MY HAIR?!
Fenrys:*stares out window, whistling nonchalantly.
Rowan: *almost laughs*
Lorcan: WHO PUT PINK CURTAINS IN MY BEDROOM?!
Fenrys: I believe I have training. Somewhere. Now.
Rowan: WHO THE HELL DYED MY HAIR?!
Fenrys: Beats me...but youâve never looked lovelier. Eggplant purple seems to suit you well.
Gavriel: *sighs* Fenrys?
Fenrys: Yes?
Gavriel: Never steal my pillows again. Iâm not sure why you wanted them, and Iâm afraid to ask, but please avoid it in the future.
Fenrys: ...I have no idea what youâre talking about.
Well, that cheered me up. Marginally.
What do you think Fenrys would do/who do you think heâd prank?
SURPRISE!! Early upload. I edited this super speedy fast because I felt guilty for not uploading in a long time. Also I just found out what a tag list is so if you want to be part of that let me know. This took kind of an unexpected turn but I am absolute T R A S H for this trope so donât judge me. Anyway I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome, as always. One of these days Iâll make a post with all of the chapters in one. Also I have a few ideas about my next project but if you have anything specific youâd like to see let me know. Donât think Iâve forgotten about the smut I promised or the kiss cam fic. Ok, Iâm done. Read.
Previous Part
When Aelin walked into the gym and Whitethorn gave her a tight lipped smile she knew something was up. Usually he either calls her a brat or a princess, grunts her last name, or just nods by way of greeting. Nehemia and Lysandra were already waiting at the rack.
âWhat took you so long?â Lysandra demanded.
âYou know Mr. Hamel. He demanded I stay late to finish all the work Iâd already done.â
Her green eyes flashed. To change the subject she immediately asked, âWhat lifts were you thinking about doing?â
Nehemia took the reins and went through the areas that the group needed to work on that day. Leg day. Aelin grinned wickedly and scrolled through her notes until she found the work out sheâd planned for them.
After she finished explaining the regimen Lysandra cursed. âI wonât be able to walk out of the gym,â her lips began to curl up. âYouâre brutal. Brilliant. But brutal.â
âPull out the bench,â Aelin simpered.
Grumbling, Nehemia did as she said and they began preparing their weight. First up: back lunges. Aelin stepped up and took on the bar, resting it against her collarbone. As she lunged back and tapped her knee to the ground she felt eyes on her. It wasnât uncommon. Nehemia, Lysandra, and Aelin were some of the few women in the gym at the moment. But something about this gaze felt different. Intense.
She dismissed it and switched legs, lunging back and touching the opposite knee to the floor. Aelin finished and racked the weight, ducking to the side so Nehemia could do her set.
âMe and Aedion have been thinking about having a kickback at our place. Just squad. Do you think you could make it?â
Aelin shrugged. âDepends. I want to go but Mr. Hamel has me doing everything lately.â
To anyone else it would have been imperceptible but she saw Lysandraâs jaw tighten. In an instant a cool mask slid over her enraged expression. She flicked her long dark ponytail over her shoulder. âWe havenât figured anything out yet so let us know when you can.â
Without either of them realizing it Nehemia had finished. Lysandra stepped up after her and began her set. When Nehemia came to stand by Aelin she kept looking behind her.
After she had looked over Aelinâs shoulder for the third time she hissed, âWhat the hell, Nehemia?â
âWhitethorn keeps looking over here.â She replied simply.
It took all of Aelinâs will power to not look over her shoulder. âHow is he doing it?â
Nehemiaâs eyes returned to Aelinâs face with an incredulous look. âYou mean⌠how is he⌠looking at you?â
Gaze trained dead ahead she replied, âThatâs exactly what I mean. Is he casual? Does he look mad?â
She raised a brow but Nehemia looked back over Aelinâs shoulder. âIt seems like heâs thinking.â
âThinking?â
âDid I stutter?â
Aelin glowered at her.
Quiet as a leopard Lysandra had come up on them. âWhat are you guys talking about?â
Both women whipped their head towards their friend.
âHow do you do that?â Nehemia bemoaned.
âPractice,â Lysandra said with a wink. âWhatâs next?â
Aelin grabbed the bar and moved it down to the built in spotter around her knees. While she added on weight as she told them, âRDL.â
Nehemia grinned. This one really worked your glutes and hamstrings and she was going for the booty. Aelin moved so that her back was facing the rack. She preferred to do this lift so she faced the rest of the gym otherwise she was bending over in front of everyone. While she wasnât ashamed of her body (actually quite the opposite) she didnât love guys sexualizing her in a non-sexual situation. If they had only just looked it would have been better but they never stayed quiet.
She took up the bar in a mixed grip and stepped forward. Pushing her hips back she leaned forward sliding the weight down her thighs past her knees. Then straightened. When she finished she stepped back and racked her weight.
Nehemia eagerly stepped up after her to start her set. Aelin stood next to Lysandra. A glance at her friendâs face had Aelin doing a double take. That shit-eating grin meant trouble.
âSo,â Lysandra drawled slyly, âshould I be inviting Whitethorn over to our little get together? Or is it Rowan now?â
Aelinâs brows rose to the sky. âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
That trouble maker grin faded. âYou mean⌠oh, never mind.â
Before Aelin could reply Nehemia finished her set and Lysandra started hers as fast as she could. Nehemia strolled over to stand next to her.
âHeâs still looking.â She informed her.
âAnd why, exactly, do I care?â Aelin grumbled.
Nehemia made a show of thinking it through. âMaybe because heâs been looking since you walked in.â
âThat doesnât mean anything,â Aelin scoffed, âhe might have something to tell me.â
A slow reptilian smile crept across her friendâs face. Aelin pointedly ignored it. When Lysandra finished she changed out the weight and started on the next lift. That was how it was the rest of the workout. The girls kept âdiscreetlyâ and âsubtlyâ mentioning Whitethorn and Aelin kept ignoring them. After the whole grocery store incident (which she told them about, obviously) they tolerated each other a lot better but Aelin didnât classify him as a friend.
After they finished their grueling workout Whitethorn finally approached the rack. âGalathynius, can I talk to you,â a glance at her two companions, âalone?â
Aelin glared at her friends, who were smiling innocently, as she walked away. Whitethorn led her to the corner with the water fountain. They stood there in silence. He did not look happy. His arms were crossed and his face was set in a permanent scowl. To others it might have looked daunting but Aelin wasnât intimidated in the slightest.
âIâm calling in that favor you owe me,â he ground out after a solid minute of glaring.
At that Aelin mirrored his stance, crossing her arms and straightening her back. âWhat do you want, Whitethorn?â
His scowl, if possible, deepened. âThereâs this⌠thing I have to go to for work. My ex, well she wasnât a girlfriend. Whatever. My ex fling is going to be there and Iâd like to avoid her.â
Is he⌠rambling? Aelin thought to herself in shock. But he persisted. âIâm not with anyone right now and youâre the only person I could think of on short notice. Itâs next Saturday. Black tie.â
âAnd you canât ask someone from work? Iâm sure someone would be willing to go with you. Unless youâre this horrible all the time.â
Whitethorn shook his head in frustration. âTheyâd all be scared of her. Sheâs an executive so she outranks almost everyone I work with. Not to mention sheâs a complete bitch.â
âAnd what makes you think I wouldnât be scared?â Aelin asked. She knew she wouldnât be; she just wanted to see how he would answer.
He snorted. âPlease. You donât let anyone intimidate you. In fact Iâve seen you intimidate others. Not saying youâll get Remelle to roll over, but Iâd say youâre pretty evenly matched.â
Aelin lifted an eyebrow. âSo itâs a dominance battle now?â
âYou know what I mean. Are you coming or not?â
âYes. Iâll come.â She said it without hesitation. More like without thinking. Aelin had no idea what made her answer so fast. Maybe it was the prospect of seeing this Remelle bitch in action, or it could have been to settle her debt. Something moreâŚ? No. Aelin shut that thought down as soon as it came into her head.
Whitethorn looked surprised. âOh. Okay. Itâs at 7:00 next Saturday night at the Mistward Hotel. Should I pick you up orâŚ?â
âI know where you live.â Aelin winked and walked away.
Nehemia and Lysandra were waiting not so patiently by the door. Lysandra was the first to crack. âSo. What did Whitethorn want?â
Aelin shrugged. âHe just needed someone to go with him to a work think. His ex is going to be there so he didnât want to go alone.â
âAnd he asked you.â Nehemia stated with a grin.
âYeahâŚâ Aelin continued, âApparently every other woman he works with is scared of her. Well I donât work for her and I owe him so he thought of me.â
Both girls made noncommittal noises and walked out the door. Aelin rolled her eyes and followed them.
âDo you know what youâre going to wear?â Lysandra asked.
She should have known Lys would be all over her about the wardrobe. âI was asked two minutes ago,â she replied indignantly. But continued, âOf course I do.â
âCare to share with the class?â Nehemia asked.
âCome over to my place and Iâll show you.â
They all rushed over to Aelinâs car and piled in.
