Page 49

NEXT BY MAY

“N o.”

A simple word. Two letters, one syllable. Most toddlers understood it, and yet, it wasn’t computing.

After a week full of inane research projects, deadlines and paperwork, the last thing I need is to spend more time with my “coworkers.”

Not that I’m really working here. This is little more than community service. I’m paid but the salary would make a man weep. If I didn’t have an array of business interests and shady deals on the side, I’d have to shop wholesale like the rest of the department.

“But you have to come,” Gideon insists.

The tall, blond colossal pile of muscle looks dumb enough to be called Chad, but after getting to know him I can attest he’s actually of perfectly average intellect, if a little too courageous for his wellbeing.

“You saved my bloody life. Least I could do would be buying you a damn drink.”

“Do you know how much paperwork I’d have to file if I’d let you die?” I point out. “It was entirely self serving. No drink needed.”

Ordinarily, I would have cashed in a favor, but as the warrior assists in repaying them at the bar, I’ll pass.

He might want me there, but he’d be the only one this side of the city.

All right, that’s not quite accurate. Plenty of highvale dwellers like me just fine, especially in dark alleys, secluded corridors or in stationary cupboards. I’m the guy they want to fuck, touch, kiss, and make deals with in the dark. But if I showed up in one of their bars, the hypocrites would gasp and faint and give me a wide berth. It’s no exaggeration to say I’d happily poke my eyeball with a fork rather than endure it of my own free will. My time uptown is mandated by the magistrate. The end.

“Don’t make me do it,” Gideon says. “I don’t want to, but I will.”

I wonder if the bloke has finally lost his mind. One too many spells cast his way. “Do what?”

“We both know I can make you come. I just have to call her.”

I swallow, leaning back in my seat.

“You wouldn’t.”

That’s plain blackmail, and Gideon is a good guy. He wouldn’t resort to that, now, would he?

Her is five foot three of flawless freckled skin and easy smiles, wild fiery curls and those deep, molten eyes. Her is my opposite. As light as I’m dark, sweet and soft and adorable while they call me the prince of darkness.

She started warrior training a month ago and since then, she’s been on our floor far too often to visit Gideon, her cousin.

I don’t know her and I don’t want to. We’ve never so much as exchanged a word. Because as soon as she appears, I lose my ability to speak, and think, and do anything but loom there like a great useless in a three piece suit shadow.

Proof that Gideon isn’t the himbo he appears to be: the dick noticed.

I’m not attracted to her as such—when I want a shag, it’s never a problem. But my darkness courts her light, like moth to flame.

Honestly if Gideon made her ask me for drinks, I’d probably make a run for it, court ordered magistrate work be damn.

Kleos Valesco, daughter of the high magistrate and the light witch herself, does not speak to the likes of me, and we all like it that way. It’s a miracle Gideon took to me despite who his family is. And despite mine.

The evil light wizard smirk. “She asked about you, you know. Wondered how you’d ended up up here. The first dark sorcerer to ever work as a protector.”

I feign indifference. I’m not bothered by what I did to end up here. If I got the chance I’d murder the guy all over again, and the magistrate can’t truly disagree, or I’d be rotting in a cell rather than filing paperwork seven mind numbing hours a day and getting hexed at occasionally.

“If the pay was better, I wouldn’t be.”

“Posh git. The pay’s fine.”

I laugh, but as I said, I could have cried. It’s touch and go. My other jobs don’t pay any less than a thousand bucks per hours—or minute depending on what I’m doing—and this one is at a hundred a day.

A hundred. A day. For risking my perfect skin.

And I’m not getting paid any less than other guys at my level—I asked. This is standard.

“But if you’re suffering so much why not let me buy you a drink?”

“Because—“

“Knock knock!” A crisp, cheerful voice as sweet as morning dew calls.

Oh, sweet darkness, no.

She’s here.

Kleos walks in, smiling as she holds a metal tin up, shaking it. “I baked your favorite. The Tyrant called a break so I figured I’d bring them to you.”

She bakes. Because of course, she bakes. I bet she hums while she does it and some bloody birds start singing with her.

Kleos walks in and her light blinds me all over again. It’s not a willing response; I go still on instinct, my eyes following her, like it would follow any threat.

“You know you can call mom Auntie Hilda. Tyrant is a little vague in this place. Too many potential identities.”

“She made us run around the training arena twice. No one else deserves the title as much as her.”

She opens the tin and I catch a whiff of butter and softness and happiness and I would literally kill for a bite.

Of the cake, just to be clear. I do not go around biting random chicks. Unless they beg.

“Blimey, Kleos! These look so cute.”

The fucking sweetheart beams. It’s disgusting.

“Do you have time for tea?”

“Oh, yes please. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“No, we just came back from a stakeout a few hours ago. Paperwork time.” I catch a certain glint in the blond hulk of a man’s blue eyes. “In fact, that man just saved my bloody life. We were in pursuit and I didn’t notice a five mark Trap—when you’re in the marked hexagons, you can’t get out until whatever spell is trapped in there is done. That one was a slicing hex—it would have fucking cut me in two.”

Kleos gasps, and break the status quos. Because now she’s looking at me and her mouth is moving which means she’s talking. “However did you get him out of there? I read about them. They’re almost impossible to break down fast?”

She’s asking me a question, I’m fairly certain. I even know the answer. I could tell her about the theory of balance: a strong spell requires a strong anchor and it’s almost always easier to fuck with the thing keeping the magic up than to try to handle countercurses. I just fucked with one of the five points holding the hexagon up. That’s exactly what I’m describing in my report. I could say it.

Except that would require speaking to her, while looking into those eyes and being all but assaulted by her light.

Let me explain one thing: I, Lucian Saltzin Regis, son of a fury and a necromancer, current holder of the title of high sorcerer in the underworld, wielder of blood magic, shadow magic, and dark magic, do not do well with light. It’s like shoving a fictional vampire in sunlight—the Transylvanian kind, not the sparkly kind. Light depletes my power, hurt my skin, and fucking exhausts me. The underworld is alive nocturnally for a reason. This one year community sentence on the uptown of highvale has been physically and mentally taxing. But coming out at eight in the morning, enduring midday sunlight and light magic all around me is nothing to her presence.

The thing with Kleos is, she should hurt me. She should burn. But she doesn’t.

She’s a strange puzzle I can’t look away from. One I shouldn’t try to make sense of because that would require spending more time in her presence.

“That’s Lucian for you. The man is a fucking beast,” Gideon praises. “You should see him in action some day. Makes me glad he’s walking the straight and narrow because if we ever have to go after him? I’m taking the day off.”

Kleos laughs with him. “Well, thank you for helping my cousin. I’m glad he has such a competent partner. Would you like a treat? They’re just cupcakes.”

Except they weren’t just anything. They were decorated with ice cream and sprinkles and little spelled sugar butterflies twirling above them, and I’m pretty sure they’ll taste like acid, because if light magic was a cupcake, it would be those ones.

I’m salivating.

“Go on,” she presses, holding the box a little closer, stepping towards me.

“Err—Kle, don’t be offended, but Lucian doesn’t do too well with proximity,” Gideon warns her from the coffee station in our cramped office. “And strangers. And general human interactions requiring speech, apparently.”

Next time, I’m letting him die.

I make myself lift my eyes to hers. “You’re very kind.”

I take a damn cupcake and stare at it.

My fingers don’t burn on contact which is promising.

“I hope you like it. It has a touch of magic, but it’s healing magic—neutral, not light as such.”

I take a bite. Close my eyes. Chew.

Christ, I think I’m hard.

“Healing magic?” I find myself echoing.

It’s as close to small talk as I can manage.

She fucking pouts and now I know I’m hard. That’s not allowed. Retreat. Retreat.

“Well, see, I’m joining the department as a researcher, but my parents insisted that k went through the warrior training, just in case of an attack, you know. And our mentor is a dragon.”

“I thought you said she was a tyrant?”

Her eyes widen. “So you were paying attention! Well, she acts like a tyrant, yes, but she’s a literal dragon. It’s Gideon’s mom, you know. She’s a shifter. So her idea of endurance is completely unrealistic and I can’t survive the day without some pain relief.”

I feel like skinning a dragon.

Which is absurd. I know for a fact it’s good to be pushed in training. Anyone working here is at risk of attack—demons, gods, hexed colleagues, random objects lying around over there. Being prepared saves lives. I should tell her to suck it up.

“You should try faebloom. They grow at midnight in the park, near the streams. They eliminate cramps.”

“I heard of those! We grow them right here? I never knew.”

“There aren’t many above ground. They favor darkness.”

“Like you,” she says, smiling. “I’ll look for some.”

Gideon has her tea ready, so she retreats to his desk, and sips the earl gray with a lemon slice.

I eat my damn cupcake and pretend to pay attention to the paperwork I already wrote.

Half an hour later, she’s finally gone, taking the light with her.

“Soooo, drinks?” Gideon pushes. “Or shall I call her back.”

“I hate you.”

Read Vow Forever Night in May 2025