Page 15 of Soul Hate

M y hand flies across the paper in front of me. Its dryness sucks all moisture from my fingers, the inky quill scratching quickly over the soft surface. One hand supports my forehead as I bend over the pages.

I pause, assessing the words in front of me.

It’s a letter to the Di Maineri Bank, requesting a reassessment of available funds for another budget. I’ve already sent one stopping the removal of funds that don’t align with the original budget to Dorado, my sister’s assistant.

I went straight to my father’s study and dug up the papers he used when he was suggesting work on the current budget. They’re sprawled over my desk now, as I try to make the numbers add up to allow for Bellandi’s new Grand Temple.

Because if Patricelli and Bellandi want it, then we’ll need to make room for it. What does that leave for the remaining money? Will there be enough for everyone else?

But my proposal also needs to be a bit outrageous. Enough to have the two of them arguing for weeks. I need to slash repairs budgets for the church, City Guard and the dock, but do it in a way that won’t align the two against me. I need to get them arguing with each other.

Sitting in my study, surrounded by my books and my plans … it’s empowering. My hand flies; my mind has kicked back into gear as I start juggling the problem ahead. Inspirational words from my favourite authors, bound in bright leather cases, sit proudly on wooden shelves behind me. The furniture is painted with bright climbing vines. My large desk is made of a rich, deep wood and the stamps of my years of dedication litter its surface. A cup ring here, an ink stain there, all currently covered with a mountain of different papers.

Outside the patterned window, the sky is bleeding crimson as the sun claws the sky with bloody fingernails. It slides inelegantly behind the horizon, tossing its last half-hearted rays of marigold light over my city.

Rubbing my forehead, I reread the words of my letter, making sure I haven’t missed anything important.

“Renza? Renza, where are you?”

Nouis’s deep voice carries down the hallway. An involuntary smile stretches across my face at the sound of my name on his lips. He walks past the open study door, then steps back in a double take.

“Renza?” he asks surprised. He stops in the large doorway, confusion puckering his brow.

“Hi.” I smile, setting my quill down.

“Is everything … okay?” he asks, gesturing to the piles of papers.

“There’s likely going to be a new budget coming to the High Chamber, and I was pulling together some ideas for it.”

“Already?” Nouis walks into the room, crossing to the desk. I nod, chewing my lip as I look over the sprawling nature of my work.

“Politics never sleeps.”

“How did all this happen?” Nouis frowns.

“Bellandi had already commissioned work on a new Grand Temple using the High Chamber coffers, so I reminded him he can’t do that. He had no right to make those orders.”

Quiet outrage simmers on my lips as I fold up my second letter to the Di Maineri Bank. This one requests a reassessment of all the High Chamber accounts.

“No right? Isn’t he an Electi like you?” Nouis asks, leaning down to pick up one of the papers. The thick muscles of his arm flex with the moment, making my insides simultaneously clench and melt.

“Meaning we needed to vote on changes. There was no vote.” I throw down the letter in my hand, rubbing my brow.

“Everyone is a bit frantic and on edge at the moment. I’m sure he’d have brought you in before anything serious happened,” Nouis reassures, playing devil’s advocate. “Besides, people find comfort in religion. I certainly do. Not to mention rebuilding the Grand Temple would be a good international symbol. We won’t be afraid; we will move forwards. Halice has always been a place that looks towards the future.”

I sigh, thinning my lips at that answer. Nouis is right, I suppose, but I can think of far better ways to send that message.

“Doesn’t matter now.” I sit up straight in my chair, surveying my evening’s work ahead of me. “I’ve put a stop to Patricelli and Bellandi running around pretending I’m not here.”

“How?”

“The High Chamber accounts need votes to authorise spending. I simply reminded them that as acting Head of the Bank, I cannot authorise a deviation from the current ratified budget without an official vote.” I flash Nouis a wicked grin. His face ripples with delight.

“Sounds like you showed them.” His words barely contain his mirth. He gestures to the papers over my desk. “Can I help at all?”

“You want to?” Surprise colours my tone more than it should.

“Of course.” Nouis walks to my side and surveys the hectic layout. His warm hand goes to my shoulder. The silk of my tunic is barely enough to hold back the goosebumps he pulls to surface, or the breath that hitches on my throat. His touch is addictive, that easy, wonderful warmth sinking deep into my muscles. I lean into him, craving the sensation of having him near.

“I also run a bank you know. Money is something I’m good at.”

“Okay!” I grin. “Bellandi and Patricelli want to fund the building of a new Grand Temple, and eventually I won’t be able to stop that. We need to find the money.”

Nouis walks over to a small round table in the corner of the room. He snags one of the wooden chairs and pulls it over to the desk next to me. He’s so close that his arm brushes up against mine, his tall frame and dark hair outlined in candlelight. My mouth goes dry, and my heart drums so loud I’m surprised he can’t hear it. He takes the pages, and leaning back, instantly gets to work.

I can’t help it. I reach for him, wrapping both hands around his arm. I drop my head to his shoulder, pressing my forehead against him. I soak in his calmness, his readiness, his impossible aptitude and generosity.

How would I manage any of this without him?

His other hand comes up to rub mine in comfort, soft shivers blooming where our bare skin touches.

“How did things go with Patricelli today?” I keep my voice quiet.

“Oh … as you’d expect,” he sighs, running a hand through his silky black hair. “Denied all knowledge of what his men were doing. Got all big and blustery about his men finding the attackers.”

“Jerk,” I scoff.

“I don’t believe him”—Nouis shakes his head—“but rather than have that argument I demanded to know how he was going to fix it. He promised he would, but said that sometimes violence was required to move forwards.”

“Urgh! That’s barbaric.” Disgust rolls off my tongue, bitterness taking root at the back of my mouth.

“I’m going to keep a closer eye on it. And on him. If that works for you?” Nouis offers, gaze darting to me. “I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“No, of course. I think perhaps Idris could use the supervision,” I mutter, leaning back in my seat and folding my arms.

“After that I went and found that City Guard, Captain Collier? Thanked him for saving you,” says Nouis, scratching his jaw. “I wanted to empower him to report to us anything he feels isn’t right. Of course, orders are orders, but there’s no harm checking them.”

“That’s a good idea.” I grin, giving his arm a grateful squeeze.

“I have a couple of those,” he teases, leaning closer. My spine shivers, my heart thumping as he leans closer. His face is so close to mine, I’m awash with his scent of almond and vanilla. He reaches for my face, trailing a slow finger down the side of my cheek as he brushes a stray brown lock back behind my ear.

I lean forwards. His every touch sends sparks flying across my skin, a warmth taking root in my belly and spreading through my gut. He pulls back but not far, a grin shared across both our lips as he presses his forehead to mine.

“Come on, let’s work out some of this budget. Then we can have some dinner,” he whispers. I nod, pressing a quick peck against his smile before turning back to my work—for some reason struggling to focus on the numbers and not think about the tall, dark, intelligent man working by my side.

* * *

“Here,” says Nouis, gently draping his jacket around my shoulders. I smile, standing with him on the balcony. I look out over Halice, awed by the peaceful city. Painted streetlights glow around every twist and turn, a whisper of a thousand slumbers drifting into the clear night sky. Light bounces off the various roofs of this sleeping city. Three stand out, their glass domes insides lit up like dreams. The High Chamber, the largest and most vivid with its exquisite colours, the Di Maineri Bank headquarters, and then the Watchtower, the clear glass dome showcasing the old emergency bells.

We both lean against the solid stone banister, its cool touch soaking into our skin. The calmness of a restful night bolsters the success of the day. Nouis reaches for my arm, straightening one of the white pins on my black sleeves.

“I was thinking I should get some Halician clothes,” he muses quietly. That deep voice is so rich I could melt into it.

“You’d look good in them,” I smile, although I will miss the tighter fit of his usual attire.

“It’s more practical. Looser. Lighter. Designed for the heat,” Nouis says softly. “The last few days have been blistering.”

“It’s High Summer. The heat will break soon.”

“I should’ve thought about that when I packed my wardrobe.”

“I know some good tailors we can visit, if you want?”

“Yes. Though I think I’ll stick to wearing trousers. A lot of men here walk around without them, their tunics reaching their knees like a dress.”

“What’s wrong with a dress?” I frown. Nouis chuckles.

“Nothing. Just not my taste.”

“Is fashion much different in the Holy States?”

“Very. Everyone here seems to wear loose tunics or dresses. In the Holy States, men wear tight doublets like this, with thick trousers. Women wear fitted corsets tops with a skirt down to their ankles. No knees out for the world to see.”

“Sounds uncomfortably hot.”

Nouis cracks a wicked smile. “It works for our climate,” he chuckles, running his fingers lightly over the back of my neck, fingers playing with the ends of my ponytail. Delicious tingles run flying over my skin.

I lean into him, not for his warmth but craving the touch of his skin. His strong arms wrap around me, strong and secure. Is this the embrace of a friend or something more? We both want more, but will Nouis believe me when I tell him this isn’t a distraction. I take a deep breath, enjoying the calmness of the night, letting it fill my insides and keep me steady.

“Would you like a drink?” offers Nouis quietly. I nod, though I’d hate to lose the embrace of his arms. He kisses the side of my head, pulling his arms away.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, before slipping inside.

I take another deep breath, a smile flirting with my lips as I study my sleepy city. Suddenly I can see it, my way forwards. Together we could achieve so much. Of that I have no doubt.

This city will thrive.

Disgust coils in my stomach. The hairs on my arms jump. My breath feels hot. Sucking in a deep breath while fighting down the boiling in my blood, I search for him.

For Idris Patricelli.

He isn’t behind me, or in the dimly lit corridor. Instead I follow that sensation around to just below my balcony. I search the darkness for a minute, then spy a flash of Idris’s infuriating golden head marching down the road, glaring at the distance, face red with fury.

He stops where he stands, head snapping up to glare at me on the balcony.

“You!” he snarls, jabbing a finger in my direction. “What the hell are you thinking? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Bile clamps my jaw shut. My fingers dig into the railing of my balcony.

Breathe… Breathe… What did the book say?

I shut my eyes, growling to myself as I try to slow my racing heart. I force myself to take a breath in through my nose, desperately stamping down on the coiled loathing spreading like venom through my veins.

“Explain yourself, Patricelli.” I snarl back.

“Have you always been this self-serving or are you just a heartless opportunist?” Idris snaps at me.

My eyes fly open as I glare at the prick. “You dare come to my home yet again, just to launch insults at me? While my sister lies unconscious in the next room? Where is your sense of honour?” I scream back. My breathing is ragged; my heart is racing; my vision is tinted red.

“ My honour? Coming from you?” Idris slams his fist into the cypress tree on his right, the leaves shuddering with the blow. “What are you playing at with the temple? With the budget? I knew we’d disagree on some things, but I never thought you were so power hungry you’d destroy Halice to get it.”

Me? Destroy Halice? Oh, that’s rich!

“Listen here, tourist,” I snarl, “if you want to criticise Halice and her laws, maybe live in the city longer than a fortnight. Learn how our laws work. Respect the Electi and the process of the High Chamber. All of them, not just your friends who support your own self-serving agenda.”

“My agenda? My agenda?” Idris laughs, anger pulsating on every syllable.

“What the hell is going on?” shouts Nouis rushing out onto the balcony, slamming the two drinks on the table. “Patricelli? Go home. Now.”

“You! You’re no better.” Idris seethes, punching a wild fist up towards him. He growls in frustration, kicking a stone. It fires off his foot, bouncing off the walls to smash through one of my windows. I flinch, faltering back a step as the crash echoes across the night.

Idris freezes, seeming to only now realise what he’s done.

“THAT’S IT! GET OUT NOW OR I’LL MAKE YOU!” roars Nouis.

Idris glares at Nouis as his arm wraps supportively around my back. He spins on his heels, marching off into the night. I force my eyes away from his retreating form, digging my nails into the stone railing and forcing myself to calm down. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

“Are you alright?” Nouis asks gently, rubbing my arm supportively as Idris’s nauseating presence drains from my body. I nod, rubbing my brow.

“Maybe I shouldn’t back him as an Electi,” I mutter. I mean, what did I really know about the man? I knew his father. Jacopo was a good man. I don’t know Idris.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” says Nouis quietly, “Honestly, the man is so angry … I wonder how he’ll ever hope to keep up his part of your agreement.”

“Agreement? You mean … the Soulhatred?”

“I know you’ll be fine. You have composure, honour, strength,” Nouis says as I take the wine from him. “But him? So much anger has to boil over eventually.”

I sip on my wine thoughtfully, remembering the force of my tree trembling under his blow.

“I’ll talk to him again tomorrow,” Nouis sighs, “at a far more reasonable hour when there is less drink in his system.”

“I should do it. He’s angry at me.”

“Which doesn’t help the bond. Don’t tempt Fate, Renza. I can do it,” promises Nouis gently.

I sigh, before taking another sip of wine. It’s probably best I leave wrangling Idris to Nouis. Just his presence a few feet away was enough to make me murderous. If I actually have to talk to him, with good reason for my anger, who knows what’ll happen?

“While your chef is brilliant,” says Nouis softly, dragging me from my thoughts, “you don’t have to wear his creations.”

“What?” I lift a hand to my mouth, eyes going wide. Nouis grins, that wicked mischief sparkling in his eyes as he lifts a finger to the corner of my mouth, brushing the crumbs away. Embarrassment crawls in my throat, and I groan.

“Hey, it’s okay. Cake crumbs are a good look for you,” Nouis teases.

“Oh really,” I chuckle as Nouis steps closer. I gaze up at him, as slowly he wraps an arm around my waist, holding me tight. I smile. A real, true smile. One not tainted by the grief that has consumed me. Or the anger or the tiredness. Real and free.

Nouis has done that.

He leans down, his lips hovering over mine like at war with himself. A war between his head and his heart. I know it too well, and I’m tired of fighting it.

I press my lips to his, and my world shrinks to him and only him. The feel of his soft mouth on mine, the way his hand moves to the back of my head. Sparks fly. My pulse races. My heart gallops in my throat as I lean into this kiss. Into him.

I slide my hands up his chiselled chest, knotting my fingers in his hair. I deepen the kiss. He tastes of wine and his lips move with slow, sure confidence. He’s not in a hurry. He’s determined to enjoy every single second he has me.

I press myself against him, needing to get as close as I can. One arm circles around my waist, pulling me tightly to him as the other hand runs down my back slipping lower and lower.

My insides melt; my breathing is ragged. Nouis moves us both backwards, his mouth still leisurely exploring mine. My back hits the stone wall of the house. Pressed between him and the stone, Nouis’s hands continue to wander. His hand ventures down to pull my leg up and over his hip, before sweeping back to take a nice, firm handful of my ass.

I moan into his mouth. Nouis breaks the kiss, planting hot kisses onto my neck.

“Renza,” he breathes my name.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I groan, head rolling back as my legs begin to tremble.

“Are you sure?” Nouis asks, those green eyes bright with hot, heavy desire.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I answer, reaching for him again. He smiles as our lips meet again.

“Thank Fate,” he groans, suddenly his arm cuts downward and he knocks my legs from under me. I gasp as he effortlessly sweeps me up and swiftly marches us to my bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind us, flashing me a wicked, mischievous grin before placing me gently on the bed.

He kisses me, long and leisurely until my mind is spinning. The world narrows to only his touch, how his fingers trace the length of my hipbones and linger on the edge of my trousers before slipping beneath. I arch up, the fierceness of my response from the simple touch shocks me but it elicits a dark, proud chuckle from Nouis.

Breathlessly he breaks the kiss, yanking his tunic off. I gape at the chiselled, dark soldier, kneeling shirtless between my legs. The look in his eyes melted my core and drenched my undergarments. His muscles flex deliciously in the golden candlelight, as he leans closer claiming my mouth again. I shuffle further back on the bed, and pull off the decorative belt at my waist. I reach down, pulling my silk tunic up and over my head, throwing it to one side.

Nouis lets out a strangled breath as he climbs back over me.

“Fate’s Mercy, you’re perfect,” he moans, running his hands over my stomach to gently knead my breasts. A gasp is pried from my lips at the pleasure of his mouth against my skin. His tongue explores the slopes of my torso, taking his sweet time to worship every inch of my sensitive skin. I tremble with anticipation, back arching off the bed as he lowers his lips to my nipples. I’m a quivering mess as he pays them his devotion, building a storm inside me that scrambles any thought or sensation that doesn’t come from him. His hands play with me like a masterpiece, sweeping hard strokes up and down my body before paying attention to the small details with care. My insides are hot and clenching, desperate for release.

I can feel his thick, long length between us, and my mouth waters. I reach down for him, a sharp breath cracking through his teeth. He buckles as I stroke. Fate knows I can drive him as wild as he makes me calm. I do away with his trousers, the thin fabric gone. I look down at him, losing a breath as I drink in the large, delicious sight of him at full attention.

Nouis closes the distance between our bodies, pressing me against him without crushing me. I can feel every sculpted inch of him, every glorious muscle flexing as he positions himself. His hands firmly grip my ass as he nudges towards my entrance.

“Nouis,” I moan, wrapping my legs around his hips as he fills me up with a blissful, vexing slowness. The world evaporates, and there is only him. Groans of pleasure escape from his lips as he kisses me, savouring this moment as he starts to move. He is gentle and careful, his lips moving to trace patterns along my neck.

It’s not enough. I want him in his entirety. I want to be filled with him. I want to feel him utterly unleashed. I grab his firm, muscular arse hard, digging in my nails and pull him home, letting my desire ripple through my teeth.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Nouis buries his head into my shoulder, driving home, again and again. My moans are loud as he fills me up. Each time he withdraws with an agonising, breathless slowness, taunting me with the very tip of himself. Over and over, a hard delivery and languid withdrawal so pleasurable until my breathless whimpering fills the room. Stars build in my body, piling higher and higher until the mountain collapses. My body shudders and shakes with the glory of release, the world splinting around the two of us.

“Renza.” Nouis claims me, finding his release at the sight of me ruined.

Panting, the two of us lie there for a long moment. I gaze up at him with his cheeky, satisfied smile. His tousled hair spread out over the pillows, his strong arms wrapped firmly around my waist. My teammate. My partner.

I could really get used to this.

And suddenly I can picture it all. Waking in the morning to his tousled hair amongst the pillows. Kisses and sweet nothings before breakfast. Coming home from High Chamber to his smile and calming nature, chasing the stresses of the day away. The two of us spending our late summer evenings just like this on the balcony, working together for this city.

“Well, I think we’ve thoroughly ruined our friendship,” I whisper. Nouis laughs, burying his face in my hair.

“It was worth it. You are worth everything,” he whispers in my ear. I smile, settling my head against his. He was right about waiting. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Because this wasn’t about my grief. This was about us.

And the beginning of something incredible.