@tangodancer1x1
Even before he’d apparated into the space— an aged but expansive home that’d played a part of his childhood, now tinged with the blood of war— Xander had been forced at the ready. Words and rumors had been racing. Suspicions fell. And, for him, concern amplified. Per request of his uncle, Xander had been instructed to ignore it. A task easier said than down once factoring in the essentials— those being that the target was the Selwyn home and the last remaining occupant being...
“Adira!” Had the loud crack of his arrival not announced his presence, the booming concern of his voice sure had, calling out into the halls of the emptied manor. Knowing, if at all, he had merely seconds to reach her, Xander could feel his body acting out in response.
One second. His heart hammered in his chest.
Two seconds. His stride lengthened.
Three seconds. His throat gone dry.
Four— Collision
It was quick as a whirlwind. Her face falling into view and his hand grasping for hers, tugging them both into the nearest bit of shadow. As the old friends found the darkness, the pops of new arrivals sounded like dreadful fireworks. Pop! Pop! Then a soft click as Xander forced them both inside the tiny cupboard, hardly an inch to breathe between them. The Blood Thieves, he’d learned quickly, weren’t a threat one ought to ignore. They’d both learned that quick; and in this moment, it was a fact shared in the glint of his eye. ‘Quiet,’ he seemed to urge. ‘I can’t afford to lose you.’
