“I don’t think she is. At least not as much so as before,” Merrick replied. “You know her better than I do; what do you think?”
Danny shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Dunno. Addy doesn’t really get mad all that often. I think she hides a lot of what she really feels since the Sundering. But…”
“But you can still see the sadness in her eyes,” Merrick said softly. A lump of regret solidified in his upper chest and sank slowly into his gut.
“Yeah.” Danny looked down and absently toed the dirt he’d brushed onto the floor. “But you can make her better, right, Merrick?”
When the boy lifted his gaze, his eyes—glistening with unfallen tears—held such sadness, such hope, such desperation, that Merrick found himself being crushed under the weight of that question.
Though Merrick wasn’t human, he understood the raw emotion on display. He understood, even after a thousand years, what it felt like to be young, powerless, and desperate not to lose the last person who loved you, the last family you had. He’d been that boy once—but in the end, no one had been there to comfort him, to care for him.
Without thinking to, Merrick drew the boy into an embrace. “I will find a way, Daniel. We will not lose her.”
Danny clung to him for several seconds, his hold almost tight enough to hurt.
The thought of losing Adalynn filled Merrick with despair, sorrow, and impotent fury.
How had she come to mean so much to him already? Eight days meant nothing in a lifetime spanning hundreds of thousands of days. Yet the bond between them was so strong it was almost tangible. He felt it constantly, had been aware of it every moment since he’d first sensed it. No one, mortal or otherwise, should’ve been able to draw him in so quickly and completely.
He knew her passing would leave a massive wound on his heart—a wound that would never heal.
Even Danny had earned Merrick’s affection—Danny, who always wore so brave a face despite the burden of loss, terror, and responsibility thrust upon him. Merrick didn’t want the boy to suffer any more. It wasn’t right, wasn’t fair, wasn’t acceptable. Merrick’s magic could shape reality, could bend the natural laws to his whim. There had to be some way to alter Adalynn’s fate.
There had to be a way to save her.
Danny sniffled and pulled away, averting his face as he lifted a hand to wipe the moisture from his eyes. “I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?”
“Don’t use too much hot water, or I will have to cut your food portions.”
Danny walked toward the door. “Dude, don’t you use, like…magic to heat the water?”
While it felt strange to openly acknowledge his magic to a mortal, it was also somewhat…liberating, like an immense burden had been lifted off Merrick’s shoulders. “I do.”
“So, just magic yourself some more. No need to be so dramatic.”
Despite everything, Merrick smirked as Danny hurried out of the kitchen. Though the boy’s voice had still been raw, it was clear he’d been trying to lighten the mood, had been trying to push aside the sorrow and uncertainty that had suffused their brief but meaningful conversation.
With Danny out of sight, Merrick’s thoughts shifted entirely to Adalynn. Merrick didn’t want her anger; he wanted her joy, her passion, her heart. He needed to talk to her, to apologize, to explain himself, to hear what she thought and felt.
He glanced down at himself. His clothes were sweat dampened and dirty. There was no shame in it—it was proof of an honest day’s work—but he didn’t want to present himself to Adalynn in so disheveled a state. She deserved only Merrick’s best. And regardless, a shower earned by hard work was always more satisfying.
Merrick lost himself in thought—which usually happened only when he was locked away in his study—as he made his way upstairs.
The usual no longer applies. I’ve been consumed by thoughts of Adalynn every day since she arrived.
Once he was in the shower, with steaming water coursing over his bare skin, his thoughts of Adalynn shifted again. His imagination conjured an image of her naked in the shower with him, water coursing over her dark hair and streaming in rivulets over her breasts and belly, and his cock hardened, immediately rousing an urgent, uncomfortable ache in his loins.
Despite the desirous fires that burned in her eyes when she looked at him, despite the way she’d melted when they kissed, she’d not yet come back for more. She’d not yet told him her decision—would she give in or not?
It was maddening.
He felt like he’d been unfulfilled for his entire life, like he’d always yearned for her, had always needed her, even though he’d only learned of her existence days ago. That need had always been present, but he’d only been able to identify it after her arrival. It had flared several times over the last few days, but none of those flares had been as powerful as this one.
Growling, Merrick braced one hand against the wall and wrapped the fingers of the other around his shaft. The ache only intensified. He pumped his fist up and down, each stroke building more pressure within him. Soon, his breath was short, and in his imagination, Adalynn was dancing again—dancing naked, dancing for him and him alone, brushing her bare flesh against his. For a fleeting instant, he could almost feel her touch, could almost feel the fullness of her mana song in his heart.
He reached a sudden, explosive climax that made his breath shaky and uneven and left him shuddering. For a long while, he stood beneath the water with his head bowed and his long, wet hair dangling in his face, chest heaving as he caught his breath.
But something had been missing, something significant. He still felt unsatisfied, still felt that deep, throbbing desire for her—a desire that was only greater now.
He cleaned himself and exited the shower quickly, drying off and dressing in clean clothing with equal haste. He needed to see Adalynn now. He didn’t bother with socks or shoes, didn’t bother tucking in his button-down shirt—which was damp thanks to his also-damp hair—and didn’t slow down for even a moment on his way to Adalynn’s bedroom.
He stopped when he arrived at her door and curbed his urge to barge in; she was upset with him, and he was here to apologize. Bursting into her room could only undermine the sincerity of his intended apology, could only make things worse between them. He lifted a hand and rapped upon the door.
When she offered no answer, he reached for the latch, only to halt his hand in midair. She wasn’t in her bedroom. He would’ve realized that sooner had he not rushed here on a wave of overwhelming, unthinking urgency. He sensed her presence, though it was faint—she was somewhere on the opposite side of the house.
Merrick strode to the loft overlooking the foyer and stopped with his hands on the bannister. He focused on that warm, tingling sensation and reoriented himself.
Downstairs?
He descended the steps and moved into the hallway between the foyer and the parlor, where he stopped again. He turned to face the southern hallway; that was the direction from which he sensed her, though the corridor was dark, everything was still, and all the doors were closed.
But it was not silent. Music drifted down the hall from behind the closed ballroom doors, and he could feel the power in it this time, he knew it was from the piano and not from Adalynn’s cassette player.