The Wolf of the Wilds

The Underground

Before the door swung fully shut, Adrian collapsed onto the bed with a low groan. "I don't know how I'm going to survive this farce. Either I'll be murdered in cold blood, or I'll die from pure frustration trying to decode the nonsense they keep throwing at us," he grumbled, pulling one of the pillows over his head.

Helena fastened the latch and sent her mate a wry smile. Walking over to his side, she patted his shoulder. "There, there. At least you don't have Oskar trying to get a look at your cleavage every time you lean over slightly. Anyway, for the time being we can forget them. Have a nap and refresh yourself; we're going to visit Herra later."

He peeped out from beneath the pillow and looked up at her. "Anything I should watch out for?"

Brushing back his hair and tugging his glasses off, she set them on the bedside cabinet. "He's a nice man, but he's also Imber born and bred, so don't be surprised if he teases you or makes poorly timed dark jokes. Then again, you are my mate, so you should be used to it by now. Other than that, don't drink anything he offers you. He often forgets that wolves don't drink blood, and there's nothing like a mouthful of bloodied tea to make you gag."

Adrian pulled a grimace. "I've never had the displeasure of drinking blood, and I'd be happy if I never had to."

Helena perched on the edge of the mattress. "I once spent a week infiltrating a vampire coven. It was awful, and I was sick multiple times from all the blood I had to chug down," she said, absentmindedly running her fingers down his chest.

"That certainly sounds like a story," he said, closing his eyes.

"I'll tell it to you one day. Anyway, go to sleep. It's going to be a long night."

He said something back, but she couldn't hear the exact words since he was already halfway asleep. There was a smile on her lips as she watched him doze. His mouth hung open a little, chest rising and falling with an easy rhythm.

While he slept, Helena tiptoed around, changing her attire and sharpening blades. Outside the sky steadily darkened and from her raised view, Helena could see the light emanating from below the fabric canopy. A steady humming of music drifted to her ears.

"Time to go, I think," she murmured to herself, shutting the window in her wake and latching it securely.

Rousing Adrian turned out to be quite the task, especially as Helena didn't quite have it in her to raise her voice. The man was already under a considerable amount of stress and he didn't need her barking orders. Eventually he was persuaded to leave the warm confines of his blankets and with several minutes of fusing, they were both ready to depart.

They said quiet goodnights to the vampire sat at the welcome desk, receiving one in reply. Once outside, they joined the night shift. In some ways, Helena preferred it. There was something about the casual anonymity of it all that appealed to her antisocial side. No one batted an eye when you covered your face or took side alleys. It was a nice break from the judgemental eyes of the creatures of daylight. Alas, Adrian didn't seem quite so comfortable with all the sneaking around and he had securely glued himself to her side.

"Keep your eyes peeled for a street called Faroe," she murmured, peering at him from beneath the low-sitting lip of her hood.

"Alright," he murmured in reply.

They continued walking through the lofty streets and Helena pointed out places and people as they passed. Adrian absorbed the knowledge as he always did, adding in quiet, witty commentary.

Finally, Adrian glanced upwards and tapped Helena on the shoulder. "Faroe," he said, pointing to the barely illuminated sign. It hung from the side of a building, only the light of a nearby shop making it legible. The street beyond was thin and almost completely deserted.