Sleep is hard to come by in the creaky pub; the light drum of distant rain, or perhaps snow, keeps time with my racing thoughts. Ryan, Sulema, and I pile into one bed while Pascal shares with Lotta and Tiberius, who seem too happy for the company. 

My hair stands on end, triggered by the incoming weather. My magic responding to an impending storm inevitably threatened to send me over the edge. I feel tight; my body is rigid, made of hundreds of steel cables, and they've been strung too tight.

 Left to my own devices, I feel adrift in a sea with no direction.

It's hard not to think of sleep as selfish when our clock is running closer to zero with every moment that passes. The hard bed is unforgiving on my back, the bodies lying alongside me too warm and too close for comfort. Unwelcome discomforts murmur at the edges of my hearing, and the tapping of the weather forms words of contempt that aren't truly there. 

Phantom whispers tease me like the nagging of an invisible, inescapable, and insistent gnat.

My skin crawls as I writhe between the two people that serve as heaters for my failing temperature. I hadn't felt like myself; Lotta's fingers bit into my skin, and allowing her to drag me through the streets had brought all those memories screaming back to the surface. I can still hear them; the voices grow personalities in the room's darkness.

'No one is coming for you.'

Raw and exposed, the haunting torment was front and center all over again. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I glance at the clock. The florescent of the numbers shimmers off the bedsheets, reflecting in the stray strands of Ryan's slow-growing hair. I can't lay here any longer; my body cries out for reprieve from my torment. 

I need a dose of reality and surrender to something bigger than me.

Snagging the phone off my nightstand, I pull the extra comforter off a nearby chair and step out into the hallway. Pressing my back to the wall, I slowly slide down and touch my forehead to the phone as if pleading for him to answer. Embarrassed by my weakness, I hug my knees to my cheek, clinging to the comforter as I type in the number.

The illumination casts unusual colors onto the contours of the blanket, playing oddly against the street light that dances playfully in the rain outside the window. It rings twice before he answers, his voice washing over me in sweet relief. 

"'Ey, are you alright?" The sleepy voice answers with a yawn. 

I smile at how tired he sounds; the accent is much more prominent in his sleepy state.

"Did I wake you up?"I listen to the familiar grunt of a stretch coupled with a sigh of resignation to being awake. 

Verando had grown fond of his bed space in the last year. I envision his current attire, and I'm almost ashamed of how my body returns to its center immediately. Not even moments before, I was spiraling, yet this man tethers me back to reality.

Perhaps there was something to our unique hierarchy; there was a time when I had decided that this was who I was. "Not at all. I've been awake for hours." 

Incrementally, I feel calmer, more in control, and more myself. 

"What's wrong?"

Silence fills the space, and I pick absently at a loose strand in the heavy blanket. Coming to my senses, I feel childish for calling him. "Why does something have to be wrong?"

"Mmm... it's 3:30 in the morning, for starters, darling." He reminds me, seeing through my less-than-careful facade. He knew me better than I knew myself, just as I knew him—two halves of one whole being.

I miss him so much; it's hard to breathe. I manage a small laugh, fearing I might hold my breath if I don't do something. "It's nothing." I can't lie to him; I can't pretend I'm okay to the person who sees me for who I am. We had promised to be honest; it was my turn.

"I can't do this. I can't bring people together like this. I manage rallies and meet with political heads, not tromp around in the subway speaking to... idiots... who blame me for their life's problems!"

It feels good to get it out, like a weight is slowly lifted off my chest. "Care to elaborate? Who blames you?"

"There are superheroes here, Randy, but they don't want to help us. They think I abandon them." My stomach twists in knots; I scrub a hand through my hair and bundle tighter in my comforter. "Corina..." 

The back of my hand finds my forehead, and I practically groan at myself.

"I haven't thought of that time in so long, and it's just crushing me tonight. What if we can't get enough people? What if-"

The bed creaks in the background as he adjusts his posture. "Stop." His firm voice stops my panic in its tracks. 

My fingers absently drag over my lower lip, allowing my eyes to close as I attempt to pull myself together. 

"You have nothing to prove. We will figure this out; you will figure this out."

"You love me; I think I need more than my broken self to convince these people to join us." I can feel his frustration, and for a moment, I'm worried he's upset with me. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't call you to complain."

The silence grows between us; I fear that he hung up on me and quickly checked the screen. "Do you doubt my measure of you? Do you doubt me?" 

I quickly shake my head as if he can see me. I envision his hand dragging through his hair, the gray brows pulling together as he imposes his wishes on the world. 

"I wish I were there; I hate being away from you." He murmurs to himself, cursing under his breath. "I know you can do this; do not allow them to convince you that you owe anyone anything. You have done more of these people than anyone could fathom; you are plenty. You are more than enough. Fuck 'em."

The laugh bubbles up, and I tilt my head back against the wall, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my warlord has created a path to return me to myself. At his command, I step back into the light. When I think I'd 'healed' and no longer need the play, a quick reassurance from my Alpha allows me to surface from the depths. 

Permission to feel is, at times, the best medicine. "How poetic."

"You inspire me." The sarcasm saturates his tone as he yawns once more. "Have you found Lux?"

"Not yet, Alpha.." It comes out as an endearment, an appreciation for the steady rock when I need something to lean on. He must rein it in, too. We are equals; I don't serve him, though I happily bow to his will at times if it suits my pleasure. I am the one person he can not command if I don't wish it.

"Wishful thinking, darling... I'm glad you called. We are heading into the badlands today, so I won't be able to speak to you until we return to civilization." All at once, I sit up, bolt upright. "We heard rumors that a small group of vampires is hiding out in one of the abandoned cities, so we're going to look for them in the daylight. Should be a non-issue."

In my head, I had pictured him in a much less dangerous situation. After our run-in with the bounty hunters, knowing they originated in this part of the world, I'm having second thoughts about his location. 

"What if I forbid you to go?" I muse light-heartedly, "What if I just said I needed you here?" Wishful thinking indeed, "Would you come back to me?"

The gentle breathing on the other end of the phone soothes me; how did we manage before these inventions? "Of course, I would. But you're not going to do that." I will the words, pleading for them to come out, but they don't. I can't, not when we're so close. "You want me there, but you don't need me. Sorry, darling, but you are quite capable."

My heart quickens in my chest, and I swallow back the endearment. The light-headed swoon of a lesser being overcomes me, and I only want to tangle myself up with him. My hands feel too soft, my body too cool, and withdrawal replaces my anguish. "Oh, I need you quite badly, Mr.Mercer." I sigh, keeping my tone low in case anyone happens to be awake. 

The last thing I needed was a nosey individual catching me in a vulnerable moment.

This must catch him off guard because it takes it longer to respond. I wish to see his face. My mind wanders to the stubbled jawline and his full lower lip. "That's quite a crude statement coming from such a prestigious man," he retorts, curiously testing the waters. "Perhaps I was mistaken? I thought you were in a much different kind of emotional need."

I expect to feel guilty, but I don't; I wait to fall right back into the pit of despair, but I remain secure with my coping mechanism. Surrendering myself, mind and soul, is how I healed. Men make me feel powerful; this man raises me to the status of a god. I surrender to the increasing temperature rising into my neck, succumbing to the longing for all of him. 

"It was supposed to be me. I miss every part of you."

The smirk is audible in his voice. "My hair?"

I respond with a grin, tilting my head back as goosebumps crawl up my skin from the taboo nature our conversation drifts towards. I feel dirty, even thinking about it. "Mmm, I'm thinking lower."

"Oh, right, would it be.. hmmm.. wrists then?"

My lower lip catches in my teeth, and I swallow back the vulgar word on the tip of my tongue. "Mother always said marry a man for his wrists."

The smooth chuckle makes me writhe; even countries apart, he teases me into a frustrated stupor. "Here's a thought, my love. Why don't you show me?" I practically choke on my libido and sputter back into the world of the living. "Oh, come now, not on the camera... your body is for my eyes only. But, I could use a mental demonstration."

"Now, who's being dirty?" I accuse him, color flooding my cheeks. I'd entered the hallway for privacy, but what if someone caught me? How could I explain this situation away with my pants around my ankles? "I'm in the hallway!" I whisper sharply.

The picture plays perfectly in my mind; I can feel the way he parts his lips as if to whisper in my ear. "Best not get caught then, yeah? If anyone gives you trouble, hand them the phone, and I'll make sure they won't think to bother you."

Surprisingly enough, I feel oddly better at his oath of protection. Taking a shaky breath, I fumble with the comforter, only to pause as I hear him sigh. "Youth is wasted on the young... close your eyes. You said you're in a hall, so we have to be quiet, but I also enjoy those lovely little sounds you make. So, where would I start?"

"My neck." I manage, though uncertain. "I was thinking of your beard earlier; I like your stubble."

"I might spend some time there... but you're quite impatient when you're hungry for.. what was it again?" I groan outwardly at him and his unbelievable nature. "My mouth, perhaps? You do seem quite to enjoy it on your chest. Start there, use your hand as I've shown you." 

I find one of my nipples, my heart racing out of my chest at the audacity of touching myself in a clear view of the hallway.

Wriggling against my touch, I can't help but feel the climbing excitement. "Yes, Alpha." I encourage, "I wish you were here. I wish I could grip your hair; I want you to pick me up and carry me to bed." 

Two could play this game while I was nervous; I was also unashamedly turned on.

"The bed? Are you tired?"

"Not at all." I breathe.

The heavy sigh of regret resonates on the other end of the speaker; he wishes he were here, too. "You have no idea how good you sound. Though, I appear to have become lost; where would I go next?" I can't help but hesitate as I watch the ceiling. "Are you too prim and proper to say it? Shall we never know where we're going? You're touching yourself in a hallway; your modesty isn't here right now."

I could say it as an insult, but attempting to sound sexy while saying such vulgarity was beyond my ability. The point of the play was to allow me to be what my Alpha wanted me to be, to relinquish control, and to marvel at the freedom of being cherished. "My cock." I practically choked on the word, glancing toward the door to ensure we were still alone.

"Good boy." The praise sends a shudder down my spine. My hand finds my length, envisioning what he'd do before he could say, "You've been quite obedient. I'd start with my hand." 

Shutting my eyes, I tilt my head again, mimicking his skilled technique. "Would that be enough for you?"

 Shaking my head as if he could see me, I realize I must speak. The dim hallway plays exciting tricks on the walls with rainfall outside the window; every creek and patter brings me to an abrupt halt. "Answer me." He demands.

"No, Alpha. I want more."

"Would my mouth be enough?" The steady thrum of my heart blocks the sound of the rain; all I can hear is his voice.

"No!" I plead, trying to whisper. "I want all of you. I want you to be here; I want you to fuck me."

"How would you do it?" The sultry voice resonates in my mind; I groan at the thought. It erases all else, any doubt, any inkling of my sister's offensive words. All that matters is pleasing him and getting to a point where I can get the relief I've been desperate for since he left.

How do I even answer that question? "Someone is going to hear..." My mind places him on top of me; I can feel his lips skirting over my neck. The warmth radiates through my blazing body, teasing me so I'm crawling out of my skin in desperation. Every time I get close, the building creaks and chases me further away from my goal. I can't focus here; I can't let go, knowing I could be found at any moment.

"Stop holding back." His voice is gentle; he speaks low into my ear.

The moan escapes without my permission, "Randy." I gasp as my hand quickens.

"Let me hear you, baby. Do you remember when I used my belt to tie you to the showerhead?"

I curse at the thought, smirking through the nervousness. "We were almost assassinated."

"You looked incredible hanging from that faucet, darling. Your whole body was shaking." Verando makes an appreciative sound, and it threatens to send me over the edge. "I could listen to you beg for me all day."

The realization dawns on me; he truly is multiple countries apart from me. He's about to go into the depths of the badlands, and I might never see him again; however slim a chance his death might be, there is still a chance for failure.

At that moment, I find my ground. Nothing else matters, not those people in the subway and surely not Lotta; I was doing this for him and our baby. This was what I needed; this was what I was desperate for. "When you get back, you're mine," I manage through my teeth, surrendering to the intensity of my impending completion.

Hearing him finish at my words pushes me over the edge, and I follow close behind him with an odd sense of satisfaction that I was his undoing. In some strange turn of events, the student became the master. I had been so focused on hiding my actions from my housemates that I hadn't even realized there were two of us partaking in this venture. "That was really sexy; you might be on to something with this whole... phone call adventure." I tease him as I catch my breath, curling up in my comforter. "I don't think I've ever listened to you like that."

Verando chuckles lightly, seeming surprised by how it affected him as well. "I assure you, you illicit quite an interesting response from me. I've never experienced anything like it." How could I not swell with pride at the wholesome confession? Leaning heavily against the wall, my eyes feel heavy as I fight to get my barrings amid my sudden exhaustion. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

Yawning, I nod. "Mmm." I manage, smiling against the speaker. "We should move to this country; I'm enjoying the thicker accent." I can sense the eye roll that follows his sigh and can't help the giggle that manages to slip through the cracks. There would never be anyone luckier than me; no one had more than I did.

After being stripped of my senses and forced to feel, I could fathom my worth and wealth more clearly. "Thanks, Randy. This was a very insight coming of minds."

With a scoff, he yawns back in response. "Happy to be of service, darling. Just remember that you are enough. Tell them that if anyone gives you any issues, I will happily motivate them. I'm tolerating dealing with these amateurs, but nobody makes my husband feel like this. The fact that you're making you doubt yourself, frankly, pisses me off." The calm in his voice is quite sobering. "Understand?"

"Yes." The quick response startles even me. "Trust me, they all know you have a murderous side. I think this might be something I have to solve on my own. I'm sorry, but I know I should be able to handle this stuff alone." Calling him was my only outlet, and he felt like the only rational person some days. 

His tone darkens just slightly. "They will wish for my murderous side." I can almost sense the longing in his voice; he truly missed me. 

Unwilling for the conversation to end, I twist my foot against the hardwood. "Are you going to go back to sleep?"

"I should say not, darling. I'm the only one in this group who sleeps; I'm sure my companions got an earful and are eager to get on the road. Go to bed, Nic. I enjoyed playing with you." 

"They heard?" I demand, melting from the embarrassment. 

With a chuckle, he enjoys my lamenting for a moment. "Well, Strigoi and vampires have exceptional hearing. I'd say so if they were inclined. No one in our immediate circle is unfamiliar with the sounds of your... devotion. Besides, I'm a lycan. Sometimes, I can't outrun the stereotypes; lycans have an insatiable sex drive. I love you."

"I love you," I respond softly, wishing he guarded me from information like this as he used to. Reluctant to hang up the phone, I sighed; I needed sleep, and he needed to get on the road. "Please be safe. I won't survive without you." Literally and figuratively.

"Of course."

With that, I let him go and fumble back to my bedroom. Slipping into the smaller bed, I sigh as Ryan puts his arm around my chilled form to warm my body again to a reasonable temperature. While I miss him desperately, I finally feel ready to get some much-needed rest.