A Court of Storm and Legacy

Bite me.

Nyx

Something shifts in the bed next to me. I stare at my ceiling for a moment trying to piece last night together.

It comes back to me in pieces, a gorgeous brunette grinding against me, her running away. Me helping myself to one too many drinks after she left, and a perky blonde sidling up next to me. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what my dick decided next.

I run my hands down my face. She ran away, ran away from me. Not to mention I have no way to track her down, she refused to give me her name.

I glance over at the clock next to my bed. I need to be at the House in ten minutes, but I couldn't be in any less of a hurry. I'm preoccupied with replaying last nights events in my mind. I can still smell her on me and gods if it isn't the most intoxicating smell, I could drift off into blissful oblivion on the smell of her. Mother's tits, the smell of her? I need to snap out of whatever this is right now.

Dunking my head under the stream of my shower does nothing to clear my thoughts. I still see her, dancing. The lights somehow seemed to caress her, all the shadows and reflective lights bouncing off of her in a perfect balance. Her dark hair draped over her shoulders and running down her back. She had an innumerable amount of freckles, gracing her face and shoulders, that I could only see once I got up close. Not to mention her greenish brown eyes that seemed to glow when she smiled.

I hit my head against the tiles of the shower. Not good.

Drying my hair with my towel, I remember the blonde in my bed. Cauldron help me. Exiting the bathroom, I walk over to the female, shaking her slightly. She doesn't move. I check her pulse and gather that she's alive, but she's a heavy fucking sleeper.

I get my training leather's on in hurry, hoping to be gone before she wakes up. Yeah it's a dick move, but I'm way too hungover to act the proper gentleman.

------------------------

Strutting my way into the training ring twenty minutes late isn't a great way to get my Dad off my case, but I wasn't about to start throwing punches on an empty stomach. Making the stop at Rita's had been worth it.

The group of people gathered is smaller than I anticipated, and I send a prayer of gratitude to the Mother for small mercies. My Dad's Inner circle, a few women whom I assume are Valkyrie, and a handful of Illyrian generals are gathered around a training ring. I catch sight of a familiar head of silver hair, and nearly lose my breakfast. Severin, the Illyrian general who oversaw my training as a youngling, is glaring hard at me. He knows and I know, that this shit would never fly when I was in his camp, and he looks like he wants to beat me black and blue. Gods, Dad is gonna tear me a new one.

My Dad's eyes connect with my own, and I feel a pit grow in my stomach. I can see the struggle of his thoughts as he weighs the pros and cons of strangling me. I shovel as much self importance as I can into my walk, hoping to bury the embarrassment growing with each step. I don't want the role I was born to play, but that doesn't mean I lack dignity. 

I feel a tendril of power against my mental shields. I debate the merit of ignoring it and pretending like I didn't notice a thing, but I'd rather have my father yell at me silently, mind to mind, then have him curse me out in front of my former Illyrian Camp Commander. 

We're gonna talk later, you and I. 

That's all he says before the sliver of power retreats and my shields shoot right back up. 

 The growing black hole in my chest becomes so distracting, that I barely register a female voice exclaim, "Fuck me," from across the ring.

My steps falter a moment. This hasn't been the first, nor probably the last time these words have been directed at me by a female, usually in a much less appropriate setting, but I digress. Yet, never have those words been uttered in such a horrified manner. It's off putting to say the least. Borderline offensive, really.