Chapter 92: Isabel

POV: Niko

An hour passed the way hours passed at events like this.

Slowly. Painfully. With all the enthusiasm of watching paint dry on a very expensive wall.

There had been auctions, speeches that ran longer than they needed to, and a brief cheer routine that Niko watched with significantly more interest than anything else on the program. Carly had been pulled into mandatory conversations with Headmistress Saltzman and various staff members almost immediately after their moment outside, leaving him at their table alone.

She kept stealing glances at him from across the room. Pleading eyes, small apologetic smiles that said she was almost done and she knew and she was sorry. He waved her off every time. This was her world. She belonged in it completely, and watching everyone in the room respond to her that way was, genuinely, a little intimidating.

He nursed a glass of bourbon he'd compelled the bartender into pouring and allowed himself to eavesdrop on what she was discussing. He knew he should have stopped. He couldn't.

Congratulations. Senior year. After graduation. Plans. Goals. Future.

None of what she said seemed to factor him in.

He turned the glass in his hand and told himself that was fine. They hadn't talked about any of that yet. It was too early. Too much happening in the present to start building the future out loud. He cared about her and wanted more time with her, and he assumed she felt the same. But assumed was doing a lot of work in that sentence. What if she didn't? What if this was just a way of getting through the last semester? What if neither of them actually knew what they wanted past graduation?

He drained the rest of his glass.

He put it down on the table harder than he intended.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

The noise in his head was getting louder. The thrum of blood in every person in the room was getting louder too, pulsing steadily through the crowd, his control fraying at the edges like a rope with too much weight on it. He hadn't fed. He'd forgotten again, and the reminder of that was getting harder to ignore.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He tapped his fingers on the glass table. Sat up straighter. Breathed in long and unnecessary and out again.

You can do this.

"Nik."

The voice hit him like a hand around the throat.

Every muscle in his body went rigid. His hands, resting on the table, curled into fists. His eyes went completely still. The color drained from his face in the space between one heartbeat he didn't have and the next.

He knew that voice.

He had spent over a year trying to get far enough away that he wouldn't hear it anymore.

He looked up.

She was standing across the table from him, hands clasped in front of her, a careful smile on her face that he recognized immediately as the one she used when she didn't know how a room would receive her. Strawberry blonde hair, shoulder length, not a strand out of place. Almond shaped eyes holding the particular shade of light she only switched on when she was trying to seem approachable. Royal blue dress. Diamond accessories. Studded heels.

She looked exactly as he remembered.

He had been counting on her not being here.

"Wow." She said, after a silence that stretched long enough to become its own statement. "It's so great to see you, Nik. You look wonderful."

He let the silence run another beat before he answered. "I can't say the same."

She nodded slowly. She'd been expecting that. At least she'd had the sense to expect that.

"What." He said, from the way she kept looking at him.

She shook her head. "My apologies. It's just been so long—"

"Not long enough." He stepped back when she moved forward. "What are you doing here?"

The hope she'd carried in with her was already visibly smaller than it had been a minute ago.

"I understand this is unexpected." She said. "I know how you must feel—"

"You have no idea how I feel." He said quietly, through his teeth. "And don't presume to think you do. You're on my turf, so I'm asking you once more. What are you doing here?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Watch your tone. I understand you're not pleased to see me, but I won't be spoken to however you please—"

He laughed. Short and dark and completely without warmth. "'Not pleased' is a masterful understatement. I see the gift for minimizing things hasn't gone anywhere. And as far as my tone, I don't see anyone standing in front of me who's earned a different one."

"Nik, please." She said. "I didn't come here to fight."

"Well I'm not sure what welcome you were expecting, but you must have known it wasn't going to involve a hug."

She opened her mouth.

"Hey, sorry that took forever. Those faculty members can seriously talk for days."

Carly appeared behind him, sliding her arm around his waist from the side, her warmth pressing against him before she even finished her sentence. Her laugh was still sitting on her lips when she sensed the tension in his body and looked up at his face.

The laugh disappeared.

Her eyes moved from him to the woman across the table.

"What's going on?" She asked carefully.

The woman smiled, wide and practiced, and extended her hand. "Hello. I'm Isabel Monroeson."

Carly's expression shifted. She knew the name. She hadn't known the face. Though she should have guessed — everyone in this family was architecturally, unreasonably beautiful. It should have been obvious.

She looked at Niko immediately.

He closed his eyes briefly.

"Carly." He said, voice carefully flat. "This is my mother, Isabel. Mother, this is my friend Carly McPherson."

The word landed like a stone dropped in still water.

Carly felt it hit her chest and settle there, cold and specific.

Friend.

Isabel's eyebrows rose a fraction before she corralled her expression back into something smooth.

"McPherson?" She said to Niko. "I wasn't aware you'd become acquainted with any McPherson witches. Let alone befriended one."

Carly stepped in before Niko could respond and whatever was rising behind his eyes could surface. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Monroeson."

"Isabel, please." The smile warmed. "I insist."

Her handshake was firm and graceful simultaneously. Everything about her was. And Carly remembered feeling similarly in the early weeks with Niko — that particular kind of inadequacy that came from proximity to someone whose composure was weaponized. Isabel had it in spades, the same quality Niko possessed, the controlled exterior over something colder underneath.

"Carly McPherson." Isabel said the name slowly, almost to herself, studying her with the kind of attention that felt like inventory. "It's almost frightening, how much you look like your mother. You're very beautiful."

Carly was grateful she already knew about the connection between the two families. Tonight had enough surprises. She didn't need another one landing fresh.

"Thank you. My mother mentioned you know each other. She's here somewhere tonight, actually." Carly said, moving past it quickly. "Niko didn't mention you'd be coming."

Her attempt at making conversation visibly irritated Niko further, though he stayed quiet.

"It was meant to be a surprise." Isabel said. "My youngest, Reba, is on your cheer team. She mentioned Nik would be here tonight, and I thought it was too good an opportunity to miss all three of my children who aren't at home."

Niko snorted under his breath.

Of course it was Reba.

Hearing Isabel describe her own scheming as maternal concern made him want to put his fist through a table. She'd been using Reba and Deacon as vehicles for the same maneuvering for as long as he could remember. The difference was they didn't always realize it.

Carly elbowed him gently in the side.

"Well, I won't keep you both." Isabel said, her attention moving to Carly again with something that seemed closer to genuine warmth than anything she'd shown Niko. "It was wonderful to meet you, truly."

"Likewise." Carly said.

Isabel gave Niko one last look. Soft. Pitying. The specific combination that made him feel fourteen years old and furious at the same time.

Then she turned on her heels and walked away.

The relief was instant. And then Carly was turning to face him, arms crossing slowly over her chest.

He already knew what was coming.

"Friends, hm." She said. "So we're just friends now."

"Please don't make this into something right now, Carly. I'm not in the mood."

She scoffed. "Sorry for not caring about your mood—"

She muttered something fast and quiet under her breath and he felt it hit him before he processed what had happened. His feet locked. His arms pinned to his sides. His body refusing to move in any direction despite his full intention of walking away.

He was being pulled forward instead.

His feet dragged across the floor toward her until he was standing directly in front of her furious face.

He was, despite everything, genuinely impressed.

She released the spell and let him move freely again.

"Did you really just try to walk away from me while I was talking to you?" She said.

He groaned, fixing his hair, running both hands through it. He exhaled long and slow.

"I'm not going to acknowledge whatever that was." He said. "But — Carly. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me. Help me understand, because right now I'm genuinely pissed." The hurt underneath the anger was obvious and clean and made him feel like something in his chest was caving in. "I thought we were done hiding. I thought we were past caring what other people thought. You were the one pushing hardest for that. But you froze around my mom and now completely around yours, so I'm confused." She shook her head. "If something's changed and you're ashamed of us—"

"I would never be ashamed of you." He said immediately, reaching for her hands. "Don't ever say that."

She huffed. "Then explain why the first time I meet your mother you introduced me as your friend."

He hated this. Hated that she was doubting what they had because of his inability to separate the two things. He hated his mother for showing up. Hated that he couldn't tell Carly the real reason yet, not fully, not tonight.

He looked at the floor, working through the words before releasing them.

"It's not you." He said.

Carly let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "It's not you, it's me? Seriously?"

"Sweetheart, just listen. You're not the one I'm ashamed of." He said. "It's her."

He watched the understanding settle into Carly's expression. She'd caught it quickly, without him having to spell out who he meant.

He sighed. "I didn't know she was coming. If I had, I would have taken you up on the staying-in idea without a second thought."

Carly's body loosened slightly, enough for him to know she was listening.

She blinked away the tears forming. "Okay. I get that you're not close with your family. But what does that have to do with us?"

"Everything." He said, too loud, immediately regretting it from the way she flinched and the heads that turned nearby.

He took a breath and started again, lower this time.

"I don't want her knowing the people who matter to me. I cut her out over a year ago and she hasn't earned the right to know what's good in my life. That's why I said friend. Though I'd bet Reba already filled her in, and she was playing dumb the entire time."

Carly took that in slowly. "Okay, but why couldn't you just tell me that? Why don't you ever tell me anything about your family?"

"You know I don't talk about—"

"That was before." She cut him off. "Before everything that happened between us. Before we became a couple. I'm part of your life now. These are things we should be able to talk about."

He shook his head. His face had gone to stone. It was the last conversation he wanted to be having here, in this room, in these clothes, in front of all these people.

She looked down at his hands.

"You're trembling." She said.

He caught it and clenched his fist before she could look any longer.

A combination of Isabel and the fact that he still hadn't fed were taking a joint toll on his control, and they were an ugly pair of forces working in the same direction.

He stepped back when she reached for his hand.

"I need to go."

"Go where? Niko, what's happening?" She said.

"Nothing. I just — I haven't fed today. I need to sort that out." He said, answering her concerned expression.

She searched his face, clearly wanting to say more and not knowing how to. He could see how helpless she felt, and that made it worse.

She'd never seen him this close to the edge of his control. He was pale. Sweating, which didn't usually happen. His eyes cycling between gold and blue with each blink, fangs threatening to surface every few seconds.

"Niko—"

"I won't kill anyone." He said, with a weak attempt at lightness. "I promise."

She frowned. "I wasn't going to say that."

"You were thinking it."

"I really wasn't." She said sharply. "Stop picking a fight with me. I don't care about the feeding. I care about you. Something is clearly wrong."

She stepped into him and pressed her palm to his cheek, warm against the cold of his skin, her eyes searching his with nothing but genuine worry.

"Hey." She said softly. "It's me. Talk to me."

He wanted to.

He wanted to more than he'd wanted almost anything in a very long time.

She'll never understand. And I don't want her to have to.

He pressed his lips together, pulled away from her touch gently.

"I need to go, Carly."

Before she could answer, he leaned in and kissed her. Not soft. Not quick. The kind of kiss that carried everything he couldn't say out loud — the hurt of the night, the care underneath it, the genuine fear that he was going to find a way to ruin this without even meaning to. She kissed him back, just as much, and for a moment neither of them was anywhere except right here.

He pulled away first.

Their foreheads touched. Her eyes opened slowly.

"I'll be back." He said quietly, thumb brushing her cheek. "I promise."

Then he flashed out before she could say another word.

She hated when he did that.

Author's Note:

The spell she used to stop him from walking away was genuinely the most powerful thing Carly McPherson has ever done in this story and I mean that in every sense. And that kiss before he disappeared — the kind that carries everything the person can't say