You Can't Run From The Dark

{Part 32}

~Zaire~

His head was killing! He had avoided partaking in fresh blood for so long, and since he drained himself a bit for her, he came down too suddenly from the high. He wasn't fucked up anymore, but damn, he was hungover. Stepping through the seam and crossing the Veil only made his nausea worse. They were a world apart, now, and it was almost enough to make him vomit on the sidewalk. Why the hell did he tell her that he would let her go away from him? It would be the worst kind of torture he could imagine. 

Zaire didn't even bother with a glamour as he entered The Den. He felt like absolute shit, and he was sure that Talon wouldn't care this one time. He swept past Lola and a few patrons and continued down the hallway, with a sledgehammer pounding against the inside of his skull. The patrons did nothing to conceal their shock. Even in this shoddy state, his power had rattled them. Perhaps, he should have at least shrouded himself, so he would have been invisible to the Fae, too, but oh-fucking-well. Surely, half the Dark Realm already knew that he had claimed his full power by now. It was only a matter of time before he could go nowhere without evoking their awe. Wonderful.

Before he even knocked on Talon's door, Talon flung it open with a flourish. His elated grin died when he tasted Zaire's emotions. He ushered Zaire in and closed the door behind him. Talon didn't even have a chance to question him. Zaire dropped onto Talon's seat behind his new desk, and spilled everything to him - how the sentries had learned to vault their own emotions from others, how he suspected that the Queen had been the mastermind of the blood rite ultimatum, how his mate had tried to kill herself before he could get to her, how he had nearly killed her after the chase, how he had given her some of his blood to help her recover, how he had apologized, how he had slipped up and revealed himself as the man she had already met, and finally, how he had run out on her to talk to his friend, and get his advice. 

Of course, Talon focused on the most ridiculously uncharacteristic part of it all, "You told her that you were sorry?" His eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline. 

Zaire groaned and glared at Talon, folding his arms over his chest. "Fuck you."

Talon laughed and shook his head at him, "My apologies, I just never thought I would see the day. You should know that you could never kill her, as I am sure that you already figured out that the Mark will not allow it."

"That's not the point, I shouldn't have come close enough for the Mark to stop it," Zaire ground out, casting his glare down to the desk. "She . . . I . . . "

Talon sobered at the taste of Zaire's remorse, and sighed. "I tried to tell you that abstaining was not wise, it was not just because I - "

"Is it really the time for I-told-you-so's?!" Zaire snapped, glowering up at Talon again. "I need your fucking help!"

"Whatever it is that you need, I will do my best to provide," Talon shrugged casually, as if he were lending him a few bucks. 

Zaire wished at that moment that he could vault his own emotions like a damn sentry, so Talon couldn't taste the myriad of shameful feelings roiling through him. 

"I told her that," Zaire cut himself off with a growl of frustration, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as the stabbing ache in his head throbbed even harder. "I told her that I would let her leave me. I need you to make sure that she is guarded at all times."