Chapter Three:
Noah

 

Neither he nor Khaz believed Elias Ivers when he said he’d merely “forgotten” to set up an appointment to have Noah’s mark removed, but there wasn’t much they could do now that he had.

They’d more than paid the price during their night in Tartarus, and they’d had to wait entirely too long despite it.

Noah still had nightmares of Elias’s pet werewolf strangling him, taunting him, fucking him, using him.

The night had been painful all around, from being used as the ‘wolf’s plaything to remembering who he’d been, and Noah was still ashamed of what he’d done when the memories had cascaded over him. He should’ve fought harder instead of giving in to Elias’s sick desires, but at the same time… What would that have done?

Noah took in a deep breath, staring at the door of the modest apartment building they were supposed to meet Elias’s sister-in-law at. He checked the address again, unsure of whether the place met the luxurious requirements an Ivers witch would surely demand. It was a bit plain on the outside, but he guessed the security and the nice landscaping had to say something about the place.

He steeled himself then rang the doorbell, glancing aside at Khaz. “You didn’t have to come with me,” he remarked, running his fingers over the slave mark still tattooed on his inner left arm.

Khaz rolled his eyes. “Like I’m going to let you go to Ivers’ sister-in-law’s place alone?”

Noah shrugged. “I can handle myself,” he said, but secretly, he was glad Khaz had insisted on going with him.

All right, not so secretly, considering Khaz could feel his emotions almost as soon as he did. The bond was a bitch that way, stripping him of his privacy and leaving him confused as to just how much of what they shared was real…

But this wasn’t the time to doubt.

Noah tried not to hate Nyla Ivers on principle, but this was someone who’d pledged herself to a witch in Elias Ivers’ immediate family. She was what he would’ve considered a high-value target before, but now…

Now she was just the one who was supposed to get this monstrosity off his arm before it caused any problems. He had no reason to believe Ivers had failed to pay the debt and clear the record, but he’d certainly stalled on getting the mark removed. So who knew?

Or maybe the sister-in-law was the one who had taken her sweet time.

Either way, one of them had dragged their feet. It didn’t matter who that had been as long as the damn thing was gone by the time he walked out of this apartment today.

A woman opened the door, and Noah got a whiff of liquor before he even fully took in the sight of her. When he did, though, he wasn’t surprised by what he saw. She was very nearly the cutout of a perfect witch: tall, dark-haired, perfectly coiffed and well-dressed, and gorgeous.

At least, he might’ve thought so if it wasn’t for the fact that she also shared the typical aura of witch arrogance he was so used to seeing from them.

“Noah and Khaz?” she asked, her voice surprisingly mild.

Noah had expected something cold and haughty, but another, closer glance at her face showed tired lines beneath the makeup.

It didn’t make him like her, but it made him despise her a little less.

He glanced to Khaz, unsure of what to say.

“Come in,” she invited them. If she was bothered by their silence, she didn’t show it. She reclaimed a glass tumbler, though, the same alcohol scent coming from it. “Drink?”

“No,” Khaz said at the same time Noah silently shook his head.

“Nyla Ivers,” she said as she closed the door behind them. “I’d prefer it if you called me Nyla.”

Noah shot a glance at Khaz, unsure of what to make of that. Didn’t witches get off on being called by their family names?

“Thanks for finally seeing us, Nyla,” Khaz said, taking the name in stride but taking a stab at her for the wait.

“Finally?” Nyla arched a brow, gesturing to the spacious living area before them. “I wasn’t aware I’d kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s only been a few months,” Noah said, bitterness dripping from his voice. He’d been really fucking lucky not to get snatched up by an enforcer and questioned.

Then there had been the effect it had had on his psyche. He’d woken up and seen it every morning, tracing it with his finger and knowing it still marked him as a slave.

“Months?” Nyla asked, staring at him. For a moment, the witch’s mask cracked, and he saw the surprise beneath it.

Noah shot Khaz a glance, trying to figure out if he was imagining the confusion. Witches were good at pretending, but why would she bother? She could easily get away with putting them off as long as she’d wanted.

He wouldn’t put it past Elias to have waited until Khaz had gotten insistent before he’d actually found someone who could remove the mark, but he didn’t know if he could believe some random Ivers witch’s supposed surprise.

“So, what you’re telling me is that Elias decided to take his sweet time in talking to you about it?” Khaz asked, one arm sliding around Noah’s waist.

“Elias is a busy man,” Nyla said, her voice dry. “I’m sure he just… forgot.”

Noah snorted.

The corners of Nyla’s lips twitched, like she was trying not to smile. She took another sip of her drink instead before again setting down the glass. “Let’s get to the mark first then. No sense in waiting any longer.” She beckoned Noah closer.

Again, Noah looked to Khaz, unsure of whether he should trust her. It was like he was about to put his arm in a lion’s yawning mouth.

Khaz nodded, though he looked a little impatient. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with,” he said.

Nyla did smile then, though Noah had no idea why.

He reluctantly closed the distance between them, offering out his arm to her.

The witch took his wrist into her hand. The electric shock of magic shot up his arm to his shoulder, making him wince, and she murmured an absent apology like she knew — though why she would give a fuck if it was uncomfortable was beyond him.

Khaz looked sharply at him, but Noah shook his head. There was nothing overtly hostile about it, just the feeling he was learning was associated with strong magic.

Nyla hummed beneath her breath, the lines of the mark drawing to her touch like bits of metal to a magnet. It briefly left a smudge on his skin before draining away, so slowly he could barely even tell it was happening at first.

Khaz craned his neck, peering over them to see it for himself.

“It’s slow,” Nyla said absently. “This one’s stubborn because it’s been here so long.” Her voice turned a little sour. “If my darling brother-in-law had sent you here sooner, I’d likely already be done.”

Noah and Khaz exchanged a glance.

“It’s nice to see that you two can communicate so effortlessly,” Nyla murmured without looking up from Noah’s mark.

Noah had to resist the urge to ugly-laugh, considering how much it had taken to get them there. If they’d gone to her right after Elias had agreed to remove the mark, it would’ve been an entirely different story — but that wasn’t her business.

“Though if you could save the silent conversations for a real one when you’ve left instead of making me curious, I’d appreciate it.” Nyla’s voice was droll, if still distracted, as she erased the numbers that identified Noah as belonging to Mays and his fucked-up slaver’s den.

Khaz snorted. “So it won’t come back, right?” he asked, fretting over him like a mother hen.

“The mark?” Nyla shook her head. “No. If it does, let me know immediately. I’ll give you my number so you don’t have to rely on Elias to get through to me.”

Noah blinked at her, dumbfounded. Why was she being so nice to them? She didn’t have to be. All she had to do was remove the mark.

“So how did you learn how to remove slave marks? Doesn’t seem like a skill many witches have,” Khaz said casually, leaning against the wall as he watched them.

They had sure as hell tried to find someone willing when Elias had stalled. Most witches seemed to know how to put them on, but taking them off was apparently the real trick.

Nyla shrugged. “I like knowing how to do things.”

“It doesn’t seem like something you’d use very often,” Noah remarked, his sire’s question leading him to wonder just why Elias’s sister-in-law, of all people, knew how to do this.

Especially when she’d commented that this would’ve been easier if it had been freshly-applied, which made him wonder just how many marks she’d removed — and why.

Only about half of his own slave mark had been scrubbed. While part of him was afraid to ask too many questions for fear that she might stop, he was curious.

“It doesn’t seem as though you should look a gift horse in the mouth,” Nyla replied with a sunny smile.

Fucking witches. Did they ever just come out and say something?

“I’m just wondering,” Noah said. “Does your brother-in-law set a lot of slaves free?”

The question seemed to surprise Nyla into a genuine laugh, for all that it was edged with bitterness. “Hardly,” she said, derision dripping from her voice.

“You don’t seem to like him very much,” Khaz commented.

“Does anyone?” Nyla countered without looking up at him. “The conversation is making this take longer,” she noted mildly.

But it was also interesting enough to make the extra time worth it, especially if she wasn’t going to kick them out before the mark was gone. Besides, Noah had waited months. He could wait a few more minutes if they could get something interesting out of this.

“No. But most people are more careful about talking about it,” Noah said.

“Most people aren’t married to his brother,” Nyla said with a shrug, not looking up as the ink slowly bled away. “There are perks.”

“Doesn’t seem like very many,” Noah muttered, breathing in deeply and smelling the liquor that clung to her like perfume. It seemed to him that there might be more than a few drawbacks, too.

“I don’t imagine there are many perks to being Paul Franklin’s son, either,” Nyla said as casually as though she was speaking about the weather.

Noah froze.

“What,” Khaz said, his voice going deadly quiet, “does that have to do with anything?”

Nyla glanced up for the first time, her smile damn near feral. “Everything,” she purred before going back to the mark. “Or nothing at all.”

Fucking witches. Fucking vampires. Fucking supes…!

“Why the fuck would you bring him up?” Noah asked, his voice little more than a snarl. The mark was three-fourths of the way gone now, but he was still close to yanking his arm away anyway.

“Curiosity,” Nyla replied with a slight shrug. “He was such a thorn in Elias’s side. It’s no wonder he didn’t want to let go of you.”

“Are you saying that’s why he wouldn’t leave Noah alone?” Khaz asked, incredulous. “Because he had a score to settle with Noah’s dad?”

Nyla shrugged. “Who ever knows what Elias is thinking?”

“How do you even know about that?” Noah snapped.

“Because it was the most interesting piece of gossip to make its rounds for a while,” Nyla said, flashing them another sweet smile. “Obviously it’s old news now, but things get around.”

Noah groaned, shaking his head. He didn’t want to be the subject of rumors or conversation. He just wanted to be left alone, and he couldn’t even do that. Now, thanks to Reese, he was being drawn back into the rebellion — to what had been his family, once, but now only consisted of people who would never fully trust him again.

If they wouldn’t trust him, they sure as hell wouldn’t trust someone like Nyla Ivers, would they?

But who else’s marks would she be removing? Despite how long it was taking, she knew what she was doing, and that only came with practice… just like knowing how long it took to get rid of them.

Noah wasn’t going to just come out and ask. It would’ve been stupid. Then again, this whole conversation was stupid, with all three of them flirting with danger with each question and reply.

“Did you know him?” Noah found himself asking anyway, his voice hoarse. The last of the mark dissipated, and he was left with a bare arm for the first time since he’d been captured.

Khaz looked sharply at him, but he didn’t intervene.

Nyla took a step back, reclaiming her drink with a proper socialite’s smile firmly in place. “Of course not. Paul hated supes with a passion.”

Paul hated supes with a passion.

She had known him, or at least enough about him — and enough to call him by his first name. Noah had so many questions, but he found himself and Khaz being herded to the door before he could ask any of them.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business. This ran a bit over schedule.” She opened the door for them, offering a dip of her head. “Have a nice evening, gentlemen.”

Before he even knew what was happening, Noah found himself on the other side of the door as it closed in his face.

“What,” he asked Khaz slowly, “the fuck just happened?”

“I’m pretty sure we just got played by Nyla Ivers,” Khaz said, a little dryly, but he eyed the door speculatively.

“Great,” Noah said with a sigh.

“But the mark is gone,” Khaz reminded him, leaning in for a kiss.

Noah couldn’t argue with that, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at the door again either. There were too many questions he wanted — needed — answers to.

But it didn’t look like he was going to get them.

At least, like Khaz had said, he was finally free of the tattoo marking him as a slave.