But the laws of nature are not the same when in guardian form.
I press both of my palms into the glass, leaning into it. I rest my forehead there.
I want to dissolve through it and go in that vault. I want to wrap my arms around Jaxon and whisper in his ear that things are going to be okay. I want to settle into his lap and run my fingers through his wild hair. I want his lips to brush against my throat.
But I can’t do that right now. One or both of us would be dead in twenty seconds. We’d destroy the entire compound in the fight.
“Jaxon,” I say, even as my heart aches, “you’re mine. I’m yours. And it has to be enough.”
He’d said those words to me twice that night before everything led to this. It wasn’t a promise. I’d begged him not to make me any promises. But those words were a prayer. It was the both of us begging the dark to let us have some happiness, for once in our lives.
Jaxon holds my gaze, and I see as his breathing grows harder, faster. His nostrils flare, and it’s a physical thing to see how hard he’s struggling.
I slide my right hand up the glass, imagining it is his chest I’m touching instead. I turn my head slightly, imagining it is his warm skin I’m leaning against.
It isn’t just his physical touch I miss. Though the chemistry between us is electrifying.
It’s him. I miss talking to him. I miss feeling like he understands me. That I can be myself around him. I’m not always the best person. I don’t always make the right choices.
Jaxon understands me in a way no other person in either verse does.
“Please try,” I say softly as I stare at him.
He breathes harder, his eyes intense as he holds my gaze. His shoulders heave up and down. His hands shake.
I feel like I’m watching a bomb that is half a second from exploding.
“Serena.”
My head whips to the side. Ascelin stands there, his brows furrowed, his eyes intense.
I stand straight, letting one hand drop away from the glass. When I look back at Jaxon, I note that he’s sitting a little straighter, his eyes cast in Ascelin’s general direction, though he can’t see him right now.
Ascelin walks to my side, stepping into Jaxon’s view.
Jaxon stares at Ascelin with fiery eyes. Once more, he’s breathing harder, and for just a moment, his light pulses even brighter.
But he climbs to his feet. He doesn’t take a step closer, but he stands there, against that back wall, staring Ascelin down with intensity.
Progress. It’s progress.
Tiny baby steps.
“I need to talk to you,” I say through a dry, tight throat.
“’K,” Ascelin says simply.
He turns and walks down the hall, and I follow him to his bedroom. There are fewer and fewer places for privacy in this place now, so I’m not surprised when it’s here that he leads me.
We step inside, and he closes the door behind us.
Ascelin’s room is impeccably clean. Really, that’s partly because it’s nearly empty. His bed dominates the center of the space. There is a closet off to the side with no doors. His clothes hang neat and organized. There is a nightstand next to the bed and there are a few books on it, all books on war and history. And then there is a chair in the corner.
It's so…sterile.
Like he’s never settled in here. Like he’s always expecting to pack up and go home any second.
“I’m not sure who keeps talking to the newcomers about me and Jaxon,” I say as I walk to the far side of the room and stand there, “but it’s getting really old.”
Ascelin’s eyes narrow, but there’s something in them that looks more hurt than angry. He folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not me, Serena.”
He’s not lying. Ascelin has never much been one to lie. I guess I’m not surprised by this. Ascelin isn’t one for a whole lot of words in general.
“Well, if you ever get wind of who it is, would you mind telling them to shut their mouth?” I ask. Hot anger flashes through my veins. I’m so sick of this. I’m so sick of everything.
“Serena, what’s really going on?” he asks. “Because you’ve never given a damn about what anyone thought of you. So, how about we just cut the crap?”
My eyes flash over to meet his. We’ve lived in such close quarters for so long, he knows me well. And he’s right. I don’t care what others think about me. And it isn’t the reason why I asked to talk to him.
“I don’t want things to be like this between us,” I say, opening up with some honesty. “You and I have always gotten along. We’ve worked together for more than a century. But things are weird now, and…” I trail off, my eyes rising to the ceiling for a moment. “I think things have been weird for a few years, and I just pretended things weren’t any different.”
Ascelin’s eyes drop away from mine and instantly, he looks uncomfortable, but he’s trying to mask it. He folds his arms over his chest, still looking at the floor.
I take a step forward. My heart is beating fast. This is awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t want to have this conversation, but we’re in this position because I’ve avoided it for so long. “I know you’re lonely. I’ve been lonely. We’ve endured decades of disappointment and hardship together. But…” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. “But that doesn’t mean we belong together.”
After a long moment of suffocating silence, his eyes rise up to meet mine. “We’ve been stuck here for so long,” he begins, “and I never said anything, because I didn’t want to make things worse, but I fully believed we were never going to find the gatekeeper and we were never going home. You were so lonely and sad, and so was I. It makes sense to me, Serena. You’re…” He stops, his gaze dropping to the ground again. This isn’t easy. Every bit of what is happening in this room is hard. Every day that we’ve been trapped here is compounding it. Finally, his eyes rise back up, and I see the conflict in them. “I just think you and I make sense. That we could be good for each other.”
I can see it in his eyes. What he really means is that we could keep each other company.
He isn’t wrong. We could keep each other company. We do get along, when he’s not being a jealous dick. We were each other’s only options for a very, very long time.
“I’ve been watching you for over a hundred years, Serena,” Ascelin says. His voice is rough and low. I’ve never heard anyone who had a voice like his. It’s like gravel. “You’re beautiful. And I think any man would have a hard time not imagining what things might be like after such a long time in such close quarters.”
I smirk. He’s not being pervy, I know him too well to think that. My eyes slide back over to meet his. “It’s not like you’re ugly to look at, either.”
It’s true. Ascelin is…ruggedly pretty. He’s built like a soldier and it’s immediately obvious in looking at him that he knows how to handle himself. His jaw is sharp, accentuated by the short facial hair he’s changed throughout the decades. Dark, well cut hair sits thick, matching his brows that hood intense, brown eyes.
Ascelin is hot. But even through all this time, he hasn’t drawn that kind of feeling from me.