My fingers drag up my arm as I push up the haphazardly rolled sleeves, Marisol gestures to her room and closes the door. I prepare myself for whatever is to come, be it resentment or actual admissions for her feelings, but she proves to be genuine as she sits me in a chair in front of a large mirror. 

"Do you want a haircut?" 

My eyes meet hers in the glass, examining her face. She looks like someone trying to piece her life back together, just as I am. Her full upper lip is curved down as she concentrates on my overflowing abundance of hair. She runs her fingers through it, testing its thickness and getting a measure of its length. 

"He likes it long, but do you like it? "

Cocking my head to the side, I focus on the assortments of products across the vanity table. The variety of colors and bottles, heights, and sizes. Was this her job? 

"Do you like doing hair?"

Almost sheepishly, she nods. "It's a guilty pleasure of mine; Doe hardly ever lets me cut his hair, and I've already gotten Tyler to let me do him, so you're next. Helen needs more hair, poor thing." She pulls lightly at the roots, seeming pleased with the quality of the mane I've brought her. 

"Red as velvet..." She sighs, shaking her head like I do when I think of that man. "Tyler is a good kid."

I nod, softening in my fondness for the young man. "He's unreal in how good he is. I didn't think there were still people like that."

She snickers, taking a comb and running it through the dense, unkempt mop of hair. I'm glad that I showered. "There are a few. You are pretty good." Her eyes flick up as she spots my expression in the mirror, offering a casual wink. "You saved a lot of people yesterday."

"It's my job." I remind her but the praise is nice, I try and sit still as she combs yet I feel as though I'm being put into a trance with the soothing nature of the task. "I'm not doing so well at it, I'm surviving but I'm not thriving. I fucked up, Soli.. I got Reid killed, I almost killed Helen... I don't deserve to sit here like this. As if nothing happened."

Her comb pauses. "Reid knew exactly what he was doing. People die, Nic. All the time, every day... all over the world. It sucks when it's people we know, but I think we are all just trying to do our best. Focus on the good that you're doing. You are changing lives."

Grasping a pair of scissors, she starts the process of shortening and I shut my eyes tightly, unwilling to watch. "Verando isn't having an easy time either. I think he'd live in that city and we'd never see him again if he had his way, some days. Most days he comes home so exhausted he can't eat, he just plays the piano or sits around in a daze. It's weird." 

I can't help but scoff because it sounds so normal to me.

"You have to trade with him, food for things he wants. Information usually. When he can hunt, he eats more frequently." Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she gives them a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tell you how to run your house."

After a long moment, she begins trimming again at a slower pace. "It's not my house, Nic. I just- It's really nice to see. I spent so much time trying to extract things for Doe, unpack him, and figure out what makes him tick. When I knew him, we were trying to survive. But you know him, more intimately than I ever have. 

I know of him, I know it all, and he hates me for it." 

It makes me swallow, I feel as though I've heard this warning before. The warning to stop digging, to accept who I have in front of me, and let his past be his past. 

"It's nice to see him look happy. It's nice to see him look scared. He is so damn angry."

I frown, "He's not angry, he's sad." I corrected her quickly. "Well. He can be angry but he's just very sad. It consumes him sometimes."

"Are you sad?"

"Yes." The admittance is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. "But not generally. I feel like I don't know what to do."

She shrugs. "Is it because he cheated on you? I think you're talking to the wrong senora."

Right. He even cheated on her again with me. "I don't want to be in that kind of relationship! I don't want to be cheated on!? Is that so wrong?"

"Did he tell you that Anuetta was his first dominant relationship?"

"Briefly." I sigh, grimacing at the woman's name.

Marisol glances towards the door and steps over to turn on the radio before returning to my hair, her fingers weaving through the length as she trims. "Anu was the first person who indulged in his masochistic side. She started the lashings. Rhea and I both agreed it wasn't helpful, Adena was just a fling, and she was useless. Anuetta has always had a hold over him, she paid him well and treated him like trash. I imagine that 'conditioning' had something to do with how she could convince him to do something like that."

"So he liked it?" I practically spit, sickened at the thought all over again. She smacks my neck sharply with the hairbrush and I jerk in response.

"No! Dumbass! It was practically blackmail! Can you rape a man? I don't fucking know, Nic, let it go. Anuetta is the scum of the earth and he is as disgusted about it as you are. Men make mistakes, it is our job to forgive them. Also, you were off fucking your fake wife so, eye for an eye."

"I'm a man." I remind her. "Also... I ... forget that fact."

"Well you're making a lot of mistakes lately, aren't you?" She smiles sweetly at me and pats my head before running the comb through it. "And I forgive you. You're young. I'm trying to be nice to you here and you're killing my vibe." 

Somehow the thought doesn't seem possible and yet, here I am about to go to an extensive dinner with him. Marisol finished my hair cut and I'm pretty pleased with the end product, shorter throughout though still some length around my ears and the nape of my neck to play with. 

She runs a hand through it, showing it to me as she turns my head from side to side. "You're a very handsome man, Nicolas! This skin color is gorgeous."

 Yet I can't help but envy her own shade of tan. 

"Alright, stand up." Taking me in, she grins at my attire. 

"I didn't have any spare clothes." 

Waving me off, she strips me down and helps me cram into the suit that is slightly too big but at least is the correct length. Tugging in the back and putting in a pin, she spins me around to face the mirror so I can see. The black slacks coupled with the pale lavender shirt and black blazer are rather attractive. "Pink?"

"Lavender, darling." She teases. From behind, she puts her hands up to press my face between them as she glances around me. "You deserve happiness, and this is not happiness. Your happiness is out there sulking on the couch, do us all a favor and find a way to let it go because it's getting really damn depressing."

Perhaps she's right. I turn to the side to take in the form-fitting pants and muse at how different the clothing was in this time. So simple, so easy to take on and off and so many buttons.

"I'll consider it." Pursing my lips, I fiddle with the hem of my blazer. "Thank you, Soli. For being so kind to me when you really don't have to be." 

No one would have blamed her for getting in between us, for using her knowledge against me and locking me out of his life while she slid back in. As she slows and her face returns to neutral, I can see how hard this is for her, and I spin around to hug her, the fact that she's so close to my height makes it an easy task. 

"I don't think I'll ever have thanked you enough."

Cautiously, she hugs me back before pulling away and sniffling lightly. "You already have. You help people, Nic. You are a good person, a really good person. Now. Go let him see you." 

She shoos me out of the room and I obediently go, my anxiety rising as I quietly walk down the hall. Spotting him on the couch, only this time he's dressed in a royal blue suit with a pale button-up. The dark tie around his neck is slightly undone as he lounges back with a book, spotting the cover I see it's a romance novel and I'm surprised by the selection.

"Really? 'Love and Lost'? A bit somber don't you think?" The sarcasm begins to build, but as he spots me, it melts away, and I know I've achieved the desired effect. He quickly stands, used to his formal training when in the presence of the King. "Well? Have you decided against taking me?"

Coming around to stand before me, he sets the book down on the end table as his eyes scan slowly over my form. "Not in the slightest." The words are airy as he takes my hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. The stubble tickles my fingers, and his gray hair stands out starkly against the shades of blue, highlighting those icy eyes. 

Modern looks good on him, finding the right color frock was impossible and always washed him out, seeing him now I know why. He needed dark, rich colors to match the deep, sexy baritone voice and bring out his startling hues.

Retracting my hand, it's all I can do to remember what muscles keep me standing. Marisol ushers us out the door, bidding us goodnight. I follow Verando to a sleek, black car that looks much smaller and slimmer than the big vehicles I'm used to driving in.

It's small, low to the ground, and curvy with only two doors. Once we get inside, the smell of leather hits me as I move to sit. Everything is black, slick, and shiny, with bright red letters on the display screen. I note there are only two seats and in between us is a stick assembly. "What's this?"

"It's called a manual. I had to special order it, but I would rather have control, otherwise, city cars drive themselves."

I snort, "You? Like control?" In response to the question, the car roars to life, and the volume takes me by surprise. I fasten my seatbelt quickly as he backs out of the driveway and we are speeding off at a rate that I'm not accustomed to. "Randy! Slow down!" I plead which only succeeds in making him grin like a schoolboy, the dirty-minded warlord slowly coming out of his somber mood and softening back into where we were before Marisol volunteered him.

Inspecting the car, it's just as clean as the house and I see why they call it a manual as he must shift gears frequently to keep the vehicle in motion. It seems like a complicated science that I'm horribly underqualified for. Suddenly, it dawns on me and I stare at him. 

"Where did you get the money for this? Did Mr.Malcom buy this for you?" I needed to reorganize our deal, this was ridiculous.

"No. I bought it myself." 

I gape at him, pulling my eyebrows together. 

"This job pays really well, I guess. Modern money is difficult, it's not coins, and it's in a bank so you don't get to see it.. but Marisol assures me that it's an actual thing. But, to answer your question, I paid for it with the money this job brings in." 

So it's a real job? He isn't just putting on a front? I settle back into my seat, I guess I gave away those rights when I gave the government credit. 

"I have been I touch impulsive since I got out of the government compound. I wanted something fast. I'm sorry, I wish it was safer."

I feel almost bad in a sense. He has more money than I do, I was used to being wealthy and used to having nice things. Now I had nothing but it never really mattered because he didn't either. But, seeing that he's successful is a strange feeling for me, and I'm not sure if I'm alright with it.

 Watching out the window, the sky begins to darken, and I know we're heading towards dusk. The sun settles into position, preparing for the slow descent of the horizon as it peeks over the expansive city, a black silhouette of shapes and skyscrapers in the distance. While it wasn't my own, it was almost beautiful. Without smog, the sky was quite lovely.

I keep my feelings in check as we pull into the massive building, and he hands off the keys before coming over to open my door. Taking his hand, I step out and thank the valet as they drive off with the car. "Um-"

"It's alright; they will bring it back when the evening is over." I don't understand how he can trust these people to do such a thing. What did they do with it until then? He chuckles lightly, "Thank you."

"For what?" I try not to act defensively.

"For looking so shocked. This has been a horrid learning curve. It's nice to see some surprise. Kitten asks as if I'm daft for not trusting these people. It makes me feel like perhaps I'm not insane." 

I walk alongside him into the venue, keeping close to him as we enter the haul and he gives his name to what I would consider the master of ceremonies.

"So is this a court...? What are we doing here?"

Leading me into the massive room, it's overflowing with people though there is minimal seating. The lights are slightly dimmed, coupled with giant chandeliers and some gentle instrumental music playing in the background. He snags two glasses of an alcoholic beverage in a tall glass from a passing waiter and hands me one. 

"It's a benefit of sorts. Senators and some political figures are here today to raise money to bring that 'woman' over here? The one they claim has mystical powers. Her funding went dry since you came along."

I frown at him, "Oh so you endorse her, now?"

Making a face, he takes a sip of his drink. "No, but I want to see who does and start making connections. This doesn't add up; none of it does. I've been following your tour; none of it is sticking."

 But he doesn't know that I haven't done much to help it stick. 

"Also, I saw that they planted crops so close to winter. At first, I thought this government was evil, but I think they're just naive, I don't know if it's the cats doing this or what but I intend to find out."

Sheepishly, I trace my finger over the rim of my glass. "I forgot about the winter..." Swallowing my entire glass, I ignore his surprise and hand it off to a passing tray and snag another.

Pursing his lips, he tilts his head to catch my eyes. 

"Don't you come from a farming nation?" 

I consider getting offended, but it seems as though he's teasing me. Once I can let my guard down, I manage to smile. He's trying to connect with me again. It's hard to focus on his words when he looks so ravishing in these colors. I find I get lost in him as he talks, and that doesn't do much to make me look like a competent leader. The more awkward I feel the more I drink.

 We talk strategy and just being around him begins to give me confidence; hearing the plans out loud, I begin to rebuild my goals and put people in places where before I was just winging it. The longer we talk, the more I realize that doing this alone will not be an option anymore. 

I take a step closer to him, admiring the way he looks so comfortable as he explains his plan to find a way to draw the cats out of hiding.

I can feel the heat of his body, making my pulse quicken. "Randy..." I begin, touching his arm. His hesitation is almost enough to break me, was I reading him wrong? Seeing through the alcohol was tricky. I swallow the rest of my glass.

"Mr.Mercer!" A voice greets, and I sigh. The large, round man approaches with his wife, and Verando smiles towards them, forced and uncomfortable. She was right; he does need help. "Good evening; so glad you could make it with all the weather."

"No worries. I wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, that accent, Mr.Mercer, speak for my friend here." The man motions to another couple who make their way over. "I always forget what a funny accent you have."

"Who trained you?" His wife asks.

"Beg your pardon?" Verando raises an eyebrow.

"Your accent, darling!" She botches the pronunciation, giggling at herself. "Who trained you? I'm quite fond of the 'London' accent myself! I study with a speech instructor to get the hang of it; yours is quite good! It's a bit old fashion for me if I do say so. You might want a refund; no one talks like that anymore, love."

I almost snort in my attempt at restraint, and I cover my mouth politely with the back of my hand as I see his attempt at politeness begin to crack. I touch his arm and clear my throat. "I assure you, madam, it's quite natural. Mr.Mercer is from Europe, though he spent much of his life in Spain." 

She makes an amused sound, and the small group that's gathered nods in approval. 

"He's quite modest; he speaks four different languages. Perhaps it might be five?" The grin is not hard to form as he does his best to look pleased with the attention.

"You're too kind." He sighs at me.

"What a 'charming' fellow!" The man chuckles at his cleverness. "Where are you from, Mr..."

"Matesscu." I resist the urge to bow, so I opt for a nod.

"So polite and exotic. Are you an acquaintance of Mr.Mercer?"

Am I? I offer him a glance, and he softens his expression. "He's my fiance when he chooses to be. I'm afraid he's quite coveted; I claim him when possible."

The group falls silent. "Your fiance?" 

Verando shrugs, and I try not to melt into a puddle of uncertainty and anxiety. 

"Well, congratulations! You know, I've been known to dabble in men myself-" He snickers, and I turn a new shade of red as Verando flinches on his drink. The man's wife smacks him.

"Jerry!" she hisses. It just brings an innocent chuckle, and I find this man is too happy for my taste. The announcer comes on the loudspeaker and calls for silence as they announce our arrival; I learn that Verando is a part of tonight's entertainment, and he's called away to perform—his hand presses against the small of my back.

"Stay where I can see you, be careful. I'll be back." 

I feel something slip into the back of my pants, and when I reach back, I feel that it's a gun. He vanishes, and I'm left with the oddest people in the room, though it seems they're competing about who can say the most outlandish thing.

 From what color I choose for my hair to my sexual availability, I find this isn't much different from a dinner party with Haryek, and I slowly find my comfort zone the more alcohol I have. By glass six, I'm sufficiently inebriated, and the lights dim as the room becomes quiet as they push out a piano, and Verando comes out to greet the crowd.

Jerry stands beside me, "Do you know what implant he got to sing..?"

I blink. "Implant? He's a natural singer, always has been."

"Oh." Jerry blinks, stunned.

"Is that bad?"

"Romanian, you said? It must be different there, no, I'd say it's just odd. Nobody can sing anymore, all this music you hear is old, centuries even. People haven't sung in about three hundred years I'd say. Mr.Mercer is very popular; it's the first time people have had a live concert in a long while. Such a treat! Some people can get an implant, but it doesn't quite sound like this."

"You're giving me a million reasons to let you go
You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show
You're givin' me a million reasons
Give me a million reasons
Givin' me a million reasons
About a million reasons."

Odd? No one sings anymore? Is it truly possible that only lycans can sing? I certainly can't. Steffan could sing, not the same, but he was still quite capable. Maybe it was a mythical thing, with only humans left; the talent for such things went with the lost species.

"I bow down to pray
I try to make the worst seem better
Lord, show me the way
To cut through all his worn-out leather
I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away
But baby, I just need one good one to stay"

The words begin to sink into me and I watch this man on the small stage, remembering my wedding night when he sang me a similar song. Is song the only way he can convey to me what he's feeling? He's just as afraid as I am. Jerry bumps me gently.

"Wonder who these songs are for? They're all like this. Is there a juicy story to be had?"

I pull myself back out of the depths and clear my throat. "Um, no. We work a lot so we aren't always together. You know how it is; it's difficult having full-time jobs."

"Hmmm.. so these aren't about you? A mistress, perhaps? I've seen him with a woman before?"

I chuckle, trying to think through the fuzz. "Maybe if she had giant tits. No, he just likes men. Which I am. A man."

Jerry raises an eyebrow and chuckles back. "So you are. You don't come to these often, do you?"

"No, we were on a break, and now we're like.. I don't know.. we could be together. I'm a King, you know? This- this is a piece of- what's easy to eat? Toast? "

"I believe the expression is bread. Are you a king? In Romania?"

I feel a hand on my arm, and I glance over my shoulder to see Verando. "Hi, we were just talking about you." I put my arm around his waist, and Jerry tipped a glass to us.

"Mr.Matesscu was just telling us that he's a King from Romania?"

Verando stiffens and gives me a stern look, I shrug and giggle back at him. "I've been bad." Hanging my arm around his neck, I pull him to me, and he quickly straightens to avoid my lips. "I think I was talking too much."