Eric Linnaeus | Book 3 | Chapter 4 - Dating a Human is Complicated (Patreon)

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𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 ℍ𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕤 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕ᴍᴀʀᴋᴏs ʙᴇʟʟᴇʀᴏsᴇ: ᴀᴘʀɪʟ, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿 - ғᴇʙ, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟶.

─── .✦········· ───

The journey to the center of Leúchtend was peculiar; the streets were empty, and no guards stopped us. We had been betrayed, and it was a trap. Even my Pet could sense as much. Regardless, it was too late to turn back by then, and against my better judgment, it would seem I am rather fond of my little cousins. So I could hardly leave them to face their father alone. It was unfortunate, however, that Mathéo should choose to fight as well.

It was a mistake to face Lazarus in the first place, but to contend with both at once? Foolish. With their attacks coming from all sides, there was little I could do other than defend and hope that it would allow the twins enough time to find one another. They have always been stronger together than separated, and I relished in Lazarus’s frustration as he was unable to touch me.

Regrettably, my luck ran out when an attack collided directly with the shield I had generated, and the resulting discharge threw me to the ground. I landed heavily, and pain radiated outward through my rib cage as several bones broke. My scythe landed out of reach, and it was all I could manage to avoid Lazarus’s sword falling on me. After that, I recall very little before blackness overtook me.

I didn’t expect to wake again. So when I steadily regained consciousness, I was mildly skeptical, and took a deep breath in as I summoned the will to open my eyes. There was always the possibility that we had lost, and I was to be tortured the moment I awoke. Instead, slender arms wrapped around my torso and a warm body pressed against mine.

Claire was holding me tight, and the force with which she had thrown herself at me hurt my broken ribs, but I found I didn’t particularly care. It was nice to have her near, and I held her close. Her hair was silky against my neck, and she smelled like roses. Plump tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto my shoulder. I couldn’t understand why she would be crying. Had someone hurt her?

“I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry I ever let you leave without saying that…” she whispered in my ear between sobs, and I froze. I wasn’t entirely sure that I had heard her correctly. This careless, scatterbrained, beautiful person… What was she thinking? Saying something like that to someone like me? Moreover, what was I doing believing her?

My feelings for her are ridiculous. I find myself concerned for her well-being, afraid that someone might harm her. It bothered me greatly to find that she had come to Leúchtend. She was so obviously not a Pet. If she spoke out of turn or was caught wandering about alone, she could very well end up as meat in the evening meal, and I resented Ávila for allowing her to come. Leúchtend is a dangerous place at the best of times, for anyone, and with many of us injured, it was even more so.

Achaicus was wounded and Nathaniel unconscious, while I was hardly in any better shape. My Calla was still recovering from damages, and should anything happen now, we would be in some trouble. Of course the ghouls remained close at hand, guarding the infirmary from both inside and outside of the room. But I won’t pretend to have any faith in their abilities. I’m certain that in a castle full of Fae, they would quickly perish should it come to a fight.

Of those I believe to be capable, the Orphan was the only one who remained able to fight. That in itself concerns me. There are rumors surrounding his whereabouts on the night of the attack, and Killian is nervous even to be in the same area as Nathaniel’s Pet.

He was restless, and when the Orphan looked over, Killian flinched away. Naturally, curiosity got the better of me, and I paid him a visit when the opportunity presented itself. There were several things I wished to discuss with him, for it seemed he was also the one to discover Lazarus’s escape. I fell into step with him silently one night after dinner.

“Killian,” I greeted him evenly, and he startled.

“Fuck’s sake, Markos. Has anyone ever told you that you need to wear a bell?” he muttered as he recovered.

“I can’t say they have.”

“Well, you should.”

“What has you so on edge?”

“…Nothing.”

“Very well, I wish to speak with you.

“…Alright,” Killian agreed reluctantly.

He escorted me to his room, and I sat back on the couch casually. It was important that I made him feel comfortable if I wanted the truth.

“You want, I don’t know, tea? Or something?” Killian offered awkwardly.

“Green tea,” I mused.

He didn’t answer; but heated a China teapot with his energy and poured the drinks before sitting heavily on the opposite couch. The way he held the delicate cup was haphazard, and I had to refrain from cautioning him.

“So, what do you want to know?”

“To begin, I would like you to tell me about Lazarus. You’re in charge of the guards now, are you not? Therefore, any failure of theirs, is a failure of yours,” I reminded him sedately as I sipped the tea.

His expression then was a mixture of annoyance and guilt. “Like I said before, he’s gone. There’s no trace of anything in his room. I had four fucking guards stationed at any given time with a two-hour rotation. The room was never left unattended. But some fucking how, four men disappeared, and Lazarus with them.”

“Did you screen the guards for loyalists before assigning them?”

“…Everyone knows the rules. Achaicus defeated Lazarus; he’s in charge now.”

“Yes. Now, did you screen the guards for loyalists or not?” I repeated.

Killian set his jaw, “I didn’t think I needed to,” he admitted through his teeth.

It was all I could do not to let my exasperation show. This man—I’m certain only primitive thoughts wade through the puddle of a mind he has. He had no understanding of politics, nor any idea how to play the game. Without Baltzar’s constant guidance, Killian is almost a continual danger to himself and others.

“And why, pray tell, would you think you didn’t need to, given the circumstances?”

“Because is it the fucking rule that whoever wins a Challenge is the leader or not?! How was I to know people would disobey that!”

“The same way you know the sun will rise tomorrow. It is a certainty, you clay-baked imbécile. Are you certain you’re Fae? With the utter lack of instincts you have, one could easily wonder.”

Killian at least had the good sense not to answer me back. Instead, he looked away, his ears heating with embarrassment at my scolding. Perhaps I was too harsh on him. He is naive because he did not grow up among us. His family are country trash, having risen to nobility simply because their daughter was nice-looking and fertile.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking a minute to settle my frustration before speaking again, “Tell me about Nathaniel’s Pet.”

“…What about him?” he mumbled, dejected.

“I overheard you speaking with Baltzar the other night. Care to tell me what you told him?”

“Why? It sounded to me like you didn’t believe me.”

“I’ve given it more thought, and I’d like to know what you saw.”

He readjusted uncomfortably but obliged my request. “Like I told Baltzar, I don’t think Nathaniel’s Pet is human. That, -whatever he is, got stabbed, then just popped out of the rubble like a fucking spring daisy.”

“And you’re confident of what you saw, he was stabbed in a vital area?”

Killian hesitated a long moment before he spoke more quietly, “…Nathaniel’s Pet was pinned to the ground, and he said Lazarus would regret killing him… Then Lazarus ran him through with his sword, right through the chest. I can’t say if it was directly through the heart or not, but what should that matter? Everything important humans have is in their chest, and I’ll swear it on anything; he was dead after that.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m not fucking blind, okay?” he sneered, “That Pet was dead. Blood pooled where he lay, and he wasn’t breathing. Dirt and debris covered him while Achaicus fought, and he still didn’t move.”

That was interesting.

“I don’t understand how he’s alive and well, sitting in the infirmary like a damn guard dog. When he looks at me, I see murder in his eyes. I don’t know what the fuck he is, but I swear I’m not lying-”

I chuckled, and Killian glared back at me, “Something funny?” he demanded.

“How much do you understand about human Pets?”

“I don’t know. That they’re bonded to their fae, right?”

“Correct. And you recognize how strong Nathaniel is?” Killian looked like he wasn’t understanding; that was good. “Nathaniel has contracted that human not to die. That’s all.”

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Part of his contract is that he should heal from all wounds, until such a time that Nathaniel no longer has use for him. That’s all,” I lied with a nonchalant shrug.

“He’s strong enough to do that?”

“Oh yes, Nathaniel is just as strong as Achaicus.”

“The fuck did nobody tell me that before?!” His annoyance scarcely concealed the relief in his voice.

“I did tell you nothing comes back from the dead like that.”

“You could have just said earlier that it was a contract,” he muttered, and I smiled.

“Perhaps, but this was far more entertaining.”

In reality, that wasn’t true; we can’t contract such things. However, it is believable enough to suggest the twins have the power to do so, and it was best that Killian stop proclaiming the Orphan had died and revived. I had long suspected the boy wasn’t human. There’s something in him—an ominous energy, twisting and writhing.

When he was a child, I noticed particular marks below the surface of his skin and on his bones. Such things are usually a sign of magic usage at an early age, and I had initially assumed that Nathaniel had used magic on him for some reason or another; until I realized he was unaware of it.

For a time I was convinced he was simply pretending not to know, but gradually, I understood he was truly unaware. To Nathaniel, the boy was little more than an illegal Pet he had smuggled home, and so I let it rest. Now it seemed it was time to investigate further. A creature that could revive from death? There are only a handful that are capable, and all are dangerous.

Regardless, what bothered me most in this matter was that, for whatever the Orphan was, if he intended no harm, why masquerade as human? Was it merely a coincidence that Nathaniel found him? After all, if the twins live long enough, they have the potential to grow into some of the most powerful Fae to exist. It wasn’t beyond comprehension that another species might not be pleased with that and could have sent the Orphan to us on purpose to eliminate them when it is least expected.

As it was, the boy sat tensely beside Nathaniel. The contract markings on his throat glowed, and energy radiated off him as a clear warning. He was prepared to fight, or perhaps to kill Nathaniel while he slept - I mused idly. It was almost regrettable that his abilities had grown to the point where I believed in earnest that few would get past his ill temper.

“Orphan,” I called his attention. While the others slept was the only opportunity I would have to speak with him in private.

“What do you want?” he answered as bluntly as ever.

“I believe Lazarus knew we were coming.”

The Orphan paused momentarily, and I knew he understood the implication. “Why would you assume that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“He was waiting for us when we arrived. It appeared his plan was premeditated.”

“How so?”

“Releasing the dragon from its confines takes time, as does clearing the streets. I am certain he knew we were coming, although I am yet to understand how.”

“…I thought he might know. But I wasn’t sure,” Eric agreed carefully.

“You suspect someone?”

His attention moved to me in the darkness, and the faintest smile played on his lips, “I suspected you.”

How entertaining, “Is that so?”

“You were the only one who had anything to gain, as far as I could tell. But Charles told me you turned down Lazarus’s offer… so I suppose that means it probably wasn’t you.”

It should never be said that the Orphan isn’t an intelligent man. He has a unique ability to reach logical conclusions. Still, his attitude is unpredictable. “Will you protect them? If something should happen?” I asked casually.

“I will always protect my friends.”

“I’m not talking about the humans. Will you protect Nathaniel and Achaicus?” It was a loaded question, and I’m sure he knew it.

“I know who you were talking about.” Eric turned away, indicating he was done speaking with me, and returned his attention to Nathaniel. At least for now, it seemed he would protect his master. Although, knowing what I do now, I am no longer certain of his intentions.

─── .✦········· ───

When we returned to Dunkel, I kept an especially close eye on the Orphan. If he went anywhere, I wanted to hear about it. For you see, in addition to my concern over what he was, something else bothered me: his reaction to learning Lazarus had escaped, or rather his lack thereof. Like all Pets, he masks most of his emotions, but in this case, he was too calm.

The news didn’t surprise nor bother him, so I’m confident he knows more than he is letting on. Was it possible that he was somehow involved? Had he set Lazarus free? He rarely left the infirmary while we were at Leúchtend; would he have had the time? And if so, what are his motives? Whatever the case, the Orphan can’t be trusted and must be monitored. If I raise my concerns with Nathaniel, he will likely not listen until I have some kind of proof-…

“What are you thinking?” Claire inquired, interrupting my thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“You’re frowning a little. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” I assured, there was no need to worry her.

She was lying naked on top of me with her ear against my chest, and I had been idly running my fingers across her skin. Tracing my fingertips down the length of her spine, from her shoulder blades to the tattoo at the small of her back, and back up again as we rested. Her body is extraordinarily unlike that of Fae women. Her hips are wide, and her breasts are full and soft. I find I quite like it when she presses them against me, even if it is unintentional.

“Want to know what I was thinking about then?” she purred.

“Of course,” I mused curiously.

“Do Fae get married?”

“…Yes,” that was an unexpected question.

“Do you want to get married?”

“I suppose I will have to one day.”

She propped herself up to look at me, her expression was one of mild annoyance, “I didn’t ask if you would get married; I asked if you wanted to?”

I didn’t know what to say; I was sure this was some kind of test. So I was certain there was a correct and an incorrect answer. “I suppose that would depend on who asked,” I answered diplomatically, and she smiled, amused. I assumed that meant I passed.

“You really looked like you had to think about that,” Claire teased.

“Why did you ask?”

“No reason; I was just curious. I want to get married one day.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just like the idea of it… You know, getting to dress up all pretty and walking down the aisle toward someone you love. Rose petals and glitter fluttering through the air—sounds kind of stupid now that I’m saying it aloud,” she laughed openly as if it were nothing short of ridiculous.

Admittedly, it was impractical. Glitter doesn’t float in the air, nor do rose petals. Still, her enthusiasm for it was endearing.

“Human marriage is quite different from Fae marriage.”

“Is it? What do fairies do?”

“Fae…” I corrected her gently, though the mischievous look in her eyes showed she already knew that as I explained, “Children and property will be agreed upon, then we will merely sign a piece of parchment declaring cohabitation. Ordinarily, it’s all arranged by one’s parents for some kind of gain. It’s rather similar to a contract, only it is between two fae, so it can’t be called such.”

She hesitated and I wondered if perhaps it was too much for her to comprehend. After all, she didn’t understand Fae contracts regardless and when she spoke again, it was quieter, uncertain, “…Do you want children?”

“Someday… Why do you ask?”

“…No reason, I was just wondering, you know—Oh!” She stopped short, surprised, as I turned over, trapping her underneath me.

I kissed her neck, and her breath stuttered as I spread her thighs with one hand. I don’t know what compelled her line of questioning, but I didn’t want to hear about it anymore. It reminded me that, eventually, this game would be over, and talk of marriage and children was undoubtedly an end.

What was I supposed to do? Tell her that Calla was intended to bear my children? That my contract with her was near enough to a marriage between fae and human? I can’t explain why exactly, but I knew I didn’t want Claire to realize that. I would never have picked her… So why do I find myself wishing things were different? That I could have chosen her?

I want to give this stupid little human everything she wants. If I could freeze glitter in the air for her, I would. I’ve even considered asking permission to break the contract with Calla and take Claire as mine instead. Would I be allowed to do that? As far as I knew, it hadn’t been done before.

“Markos…” Claire breathed as my fingers traced parts of her that made her quiver.

“Yes?” I taunted playfully, kissing the length of her collarbone.

“Please?” The simple word made me shiver. The way her voice sounded; on the edge between anticipation and impatience—I could lose all control over it.

My fingers slipped inside her, and her back arched with a soft gasp. Personally, I didn’t like going more than one round because cleaning after is bothersome, but this was a good compromise, and I enjoyed the micro-emotions that crossed her face.

Claire shuddered, giving an involuntary whimper and partially closing her legs as I gently pressed upward. This was a game I would win. I kissed down her sternum, closing my eyes as I focused on the reactions of her body: the sweet scent of dewy sweat on her skin, the subtle twitches around my fingers, and the instinctual arch of her spine.

Her hands wandered, tracing my chest and traveling down my back before pulling my pants down. I hadn’t intended, nor expected her to touch me, and I decided then that I couldn’t stand it. Taking both her wrists in one hand, I pinned her to the bed and dragged her hips to mine with the other.

She wrapped her legs around me, and I groaned, putting my head back. She was soft and wet. Her warmth enveloped me. Why did she have to feel so good? Who on earth sent this girl to torment me? She was weak, fragile… bewitching. I suppose there are worse ways to be defeated.

“Kiss… me,” Claire demanded, and I obliged the request without hesitation.

I let her have one hand back as I interlocked my fingers with hers, and she kissed me fiercely, as if she were starving. She was in no way shy, and her need for me was intoxicating. Her nails scraped the back of my neck with every slow thrust, and I pulled away to kiss her chest.

Her skin was supple, and I found my lips parting over her shoulder as I struggled with myself; I wanted to bite her. To sink my teeth deep into her flesh, not because I thought she was food in particular, and certainly not because I wanted to hurt her. But rather, because I couldn’t get close enough to her, even intertwined as we were, it was unbearable.

Every soft sigh or quiet moan from her tested my self-control, and I held her down more tightly. I speculated if she even understood the danger she was in as I adjusted the pace. I’ve never had impulses as strong as I do with her. I wondered if Nathaniel struggles with Eric in this way or Achaicus with Molly? How do they control it?

Claire’s nails scraped the back of my neck, and she pulled my hair, forcing me away from her shoulder. “Don’t… you uh~ dare…” she huffed breathlessly, and all intelligent thought left me. Her firmly placed request was blindly attractive and unexpected; moreover, had she guessed what I wanted to do? Where the hell did this woman come from!?

When we were finished, we lay breathless. Claire was dazed as she curled toward me, and I kissed her forehead. It was some time before either of us could speak, but eventually, I found the breath to do so, “Did I scare you?” I asked quietly.

“No,” she assured, “I just thought it looked like you were going to bite me.”

“…I was,” I murmured; perhaps I shouldn’t have admitted that.

“It’s okay. Getting bitten by a fairy wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen.”

“What would be the worst?”

She thought about it, then smiled mischievously, “If you’d stopped what you were doing because of it.”

Humans. Ruled by their emotions and pleasure. I didn’t even justify her teasing with a response, so she continued. “Will I ever get to meet your parents?”

The change of topic caught me off guard, “Why on Earth would you want to?”

“To thank them for making such an amazing son.”

“I-, that’s preposterous.”

“It is not! I meant it when I said I loved you…” she pouted childishly, again such foolish words for her to say.

“…My father is in Europe, and if I have a say in it, you won’t meet him. He is a weak man, and I’m ashamed to call him my father.”

“And your mother?”

“What about her?”

“What was she like?”

Were these questions never-ending? “It doesn’t matter…”

“Well…” she hesitated, guilty, “I mean, you don’t have to answer. But I’d like to hear more about you… and you never talk about your family…”

“I don’t talk about them simply because there’s nothing to say. My mother rarely spoke to me. She was disgusted to be in the same room as my father or I. She hated us…”

“Why?” Claire asked quietly; her expression held so much concern that it made me uncomfortable.

“I don’t know why…” that was the truth.

I had always known my mother disliked me, although I could never understand it. For her, I behaved perfectly. Whatever she asked, I did; I was obedient and placid. Where others may have argued or behaved unruly, I did not. Yet when I picture her face, I often think of a doll—perfect and still, without emotion. I never saw her smile, nor have any other expression.

She spoke in a flat monotone, and her cohabitation with us was nothing more than that. It wasn’t a home, and we weren’t a family. She didn’t wish to be near me; if by chance she had to be, she didn’t acknowledge my presence. Often, she would ask me to wait outside, and I did so for hours, despite the weather, until Father came home. These were things I had never told anyone, and I was sure Claire wouldn’t want to hear about them.

“My mother expired long ago,” I answered simply at last.

“What happened..?”

“…She hanged herself.”

“Oh my god… Markos, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging me more tightly to her.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not as if you were there.”

“I’m sorry something like that happened to you. It must be really hard…”

I shrugged uncomfortably, “It’s fine.”

“You can talk about it… If you want…”

A long moment of silence lapsed between us, in which I struggled to formulate any kind of response as she waited for me to answer. I don’t believe I had ever heard anyone say that to me before.

“It’s also okay if you don’t want to,” she reassured quickly when I couldn’t find any words, and I knew it then for certain.

I was in love with this stupid little human.

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