VEE

We head back to the house, with no explanation from Xander about the outcome of his conservation with Syv. Halfway home, Xander turns his music on at a volume to confirm he doesn't want to talk, a favourite trick of his.

The moment we enter the house, Xander tosses his keys on the table in the lounge and Seth drops onto the sofa and rubs his face.

"Are we having a meeting about what Syv told you?" I ask Xander.

He shrugs and walks past me, and I stare after him. Rude. If they have a meeting without me, there'll be hell to pay. Seth sits quietly. Is his mind full of stories about demons and vampires? Wondering if we spiked his drink?

Joss nods and studies me with an expression I'm uncomfortable with; he's not happy either. "What's happened to make Xander grumpy?"

"Xander-ness." He heads after him. Do I follow? What the hell is happening here?

"I get the hint they don't want me involved in situations unless it suits them." Seth picks up the neatly folded blanket and pillow from the end of the sofa. "I'm tired anyway. They're an odd group of men."

"You already know that."

He removes his glasses and polishes them with vigour on his T-shirt. "Are you in a relationship or something? You know, all five of you? Is that how you knew them?"

"Some of us are," I say. "Was it water you wanted?"

I've never needed this conversation with anybody human, and I would’ve found an explanation strange if anybody had the conversation with me a few weeks ago. I'm certainly not comfortable talking to a guy about this. What if he thinks the situation applies to every male in the household and he can join in?

I look back at the softly spoken guy whose acceptance of the situation grows. He just sat in a bar talking to odd people and one said he was a vampire. Friends of someone he witnessed me decapitating. Xander keeps a close eye on Seth, but would he leave if he had the chance? Is Seth used to being on the fringes, the way I was, or are there friends and family looking for him?

"Are you okay sleeping on the sofa?" I ask.

"I'm fine.” He lowers his voice. "I'm not sure I'll stay around though, Vee."

"I want you to Seth. I don't think you're safe."

"I don't feel safe anymore. Anywhere."

I reach out and squeeze his hand. "Everything will work out."

"Will it?" he whispers.

Seth follows me to the kitchen where he pours a glass of water. We're under Xander's silent scrutiny, and I ignore the rude bastard. Seth says good night to him, which is polite considering their mutual distrust.

Xander quietly closes the kitchen door and rests against it. "Spill, Xander,” says Joss. "It pisses me off when you hold back.”

He rubs his nose. "Syv says she's seen that symbol before, but can't remember where. She thinks it's an ancient magic that few know."

"And she just happens to know?" asks Heath and arches a brow. "How coincidental.”

Xander shakes his head. "Syv‘s job involves retrieving magical items people want; she sees a lot that’s hidden from most. She thinks we need to talk to the Collector who’s one of her biggest clients. Syv says she can get us an introduction, but that threatening him won't work."

"Well, that leaves you out," laughs Joss. "I guess you'll need to wait outside the house."

"Ha bloody ha.” He pauses. "Syv told me she has a list of Taron’s regular clients and is prepared to sell them to us."

"What the fuck?" growls Ewan. "She has a bloody nerve."

"We're running short on time and options," snaps Xander.

Heath pulls on his bottom lip. "How do you know she isn't bullshitting you, Xander?"

"Because Syv won’t risk what happens if she crosses us. I think her self-preservation and greed wins in this situation."

My tired head can hardly cope with this. "Who's the Collector?"

"Fae dude," replies Ewan

"But won't he refuse to talk to you because of Portia?" I don't look at Xander. I don't want accusations I'm slyly digging at him.

Xander rubs a hand across his mouth. "‘Fae dude’ is a huge understatement. He's older than Portia, older than any fae in this world as far as we know. Possibly immortal. He was one of the originals who escaped just before their realm became unliveable. He doesn't bother with the hierarchy the fae created in the human world and couldn't give a crap about Portia's little empire."

"And why is he called the Collector?" I ask.

"He collects things." I throw a beer cap across the room at Joss and his sarcastic comment, and it bounces off his head. "He pays for artefacts and books, and has a collection some would kill to get their hands on. Demons and fae have both tried to get him onside, but he won't budge."

"And—surprise surprise—the fae don't trust him," puts in Xander.

"I can imagine why if he keeps company with assassins. Is he looking for something in particular?" I ask.

"Not sure. Mostly anything brought through from his realm. As one of the originals who escaped, he’s also has the strongest magic."

"He’d be dangerous if he gave a shit," says Xander. "But he's self-serving. Plus fae and demons? Not happening. You've seen how fae would rather keep the status quo."

Heath perches on the table edge. "Yeah, he’s watched one world destroyed, maybe he can help us stop the same happening to this one.”

Xander shakes his head. "I don’t think things are at that stage yet, Heath.”

"Right. So we pay him a visit tomorrow?" asks Joss.

"Tomorrow?" Xander digs hands into his jacket pockets. "Tonight."

"Shit, no way," replies Ewan. "C'mon, man, we've been going non-stop for days."

"I don't want anybody else killed."

"And what if we make mistakes, Xander?" says Heath in a low voice. "We can only keep going for so long. Our bodies are human, even if we're not."

I look at the dark sky outside the window. Why does Heath need to remind me of that?

"Okay. I'll go on my own."

"Xander," says Heath in a warning tone. "Don't."

He jerks his head at me. "Vee. Tell them. You're the one who wants humans to stop dying."

"Yes, but it's almost 1:00 a.m."

"You can't see him without an appointment anyway," puts in Heath.

Wow. This guy must be something if the Horsemen need to make an appointment to see him.

"I don't need to rest." I step back as Xander pushes past Heath and walks to the kitchen door, then wince at the noise as he exits and the door slams.

"You don't think he's going, do you?" I ask.

"Nah. He left his car keys in the lounge.”

"At least he's walked away," says Joss. "He can walk off this angry energy he has, because it’s building too high right now."

"Should I talk to him?" I pause. "Don't do that!"

"What?"

"The looking at each other because you're hiding something."

Heath makes a derisive sound. "Who wants a drink?"

"You just said you were tired.” I gesture at him as he pulls out the whiskey bottle.

"Just a night cap. Ewan? Joss?"

"Yeah."

The guys’ quick drink becomes several more "quick drinks”. I’m part of them, but sometimes prefer to be out of the "guy stuff.” There’s also something uncomfortable here, a different tension to the one that has followed us around recently.

"I think I’ll head to bed; I expect Xander will drag us out the door in a few hours.” I make to leave, but Ewan catches my arm.

"I need to talk to you,” he whispers.

Oh no, not another lecture over what I asked Joss to do. "I’m tired. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

He huffs. "Fine. But find me as soon as you wake up.”

Leaving Ewan with the promise I will, I head upstairs, not paying attention to my surroundings and almost trip over Xander sitting on the top step.

"Why are you there?" I ask as I step past him. "I thought you went out?"

"I'm calming down." He doesn’t look up. Xander’s long fingers grip the stair he sits on, and his hair’s mussed as if he’s been pushing his hands through. There're plenty of other places he could sit, why here? "And I need to talk to you about something."

Not another one. "Okay..."

"Vee." He stands and faces me, and his mouth thins. "Why didn't you tell me what happened to you the last time we were at the Warehouse?"

"Oh.” Shit.

Xander bites down on his lip, a trait I've noticed when he tries to hold back anger, but his harsh tone betrays him. "I know you were attacked. I'm pretty damn pissed off with Ewan, but I outright asked you if you were okay. Why lie to me? How did you lie?"

My heartrate ticks up at his building angry energy. "I just evaded the question, remember? I was embarrassed and didn't know how you'd react. I didn't want anybody to know."

"But I was there to protect you, and I failed."

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ears. "You didn't fail. Ewan was there for me and—"

"And you wanted him to help, not me?"

"Is this jealousy?"

"No, this is pissed off. This is you coming between the four of us."

I stiffen. "What?"

"We swore you wouldn't, but we never kept secrets before. Now, because of you, Ewan did. Things are shaky enough without you causing problems."

I swallow hard as a familiar anger builds to match his. "I'm not having this conversation with you, if you’re going to attack me like this." I keep my tone as calm as possible and walk into the bathroom.

I grip the sink and take deep breaths. Why accuse me like this? He's seen the extra power I bring to the situation. Okay, maybe Ewan and I should've told the others, but I wanted to forget.

The thoughts tumble around my mind as I brush my teeth. Xander and I were calmer; our battle in the hotel room brought a new equilibrium. Now this.

I walk out to find Xander outside Heath's room, resting against the wall. I sigh. "Xander. If you have an issue about this, can we talk about things with Ewan around too? With all of us? I agree, we need to address the situation, and I apologise for not telling you."

A muscle ticks in his jaw and his scowl remains. Seriously? I calmed down and apologised, but he's not apologising for his unwarranted accusation?

"Good night," I say.

He doesn’t move to allow me past him, and my arm brushes his on the way into Heath's room. I try hard, but I can't help sniping when he doesn't respond to me. "Grow up," I mutter under my breath.

Shock takes over as Xander half-shoves me into the room and slams the door behind him. "What the hell are you doing?”

"Talk to me, Vee."

"Back off," I warn.

"Tell me why you both lied to me."

"Because I didn't like or trust you that night!"

He snaps his head back as if I slapped him. "You don't have to like me, but you need to bloody well trust me."

"I do. Not then, but now."

"Like or trust?"

"Trust. I can't comment on the like part."

"Is that right? You seemed to like what I did to you the other day." He moves closer and looks down at me, and the anger in my veins switches to a different feeling as he stares at me openly for the first time in over a day. My heart thuds, cheeks heating at his silent scrutiny. "Didn’t you?”

"Don't go there," I whisper. "Don't start that again."

He holds out a hand to touch my face, and I push it away, so he seizes hold and drags me towards him. "I'm angry, and I'm fucking hurt, Vee. Do you know how many days I spent on my own looking for you? Has anybody told you that?"

"No."

"Where do you think I was when you first arrived?" His grip on my hand tightens. "I was halfway across the fucking country searching."

"Why? Heath worked at Alphanet. He knew who I was."

"There were other people out there who we thought were 'Truth.' I followed false leads over and over again until Heath told me he'd found you." He pauses. "For weeks, my whole life centred around finding you. Nothing else mattered."

I stare back at the mixture of hurt and anger held in his eyes. "I didn't know," I say in a quiet voice.

"They fucked about, and you almost got hurt. But I started the search. I found you existed."

I attempt to pull my hand away, but his grip remains tight. "And I'm not what you expected? Is that your problem?"

"I never expected to react like this around you. I thought if after we fucked the other night you'd be out of my system, but the opposite happened.”

I reel at his choice of word, at him belittling what happened between us to something that insulting. His words wrench my heart as if he'd pushed his hand into my chest and grabbed hold himself. "You arsehole.”

He drags a hand down his face. "You're fucking me up, Vee. Sometimes, I think maybe Logan's right about you and—"

At the mention of Logan's name, power rushes through me and takes over. In a reflex move, I yank my arm away and slap Xander his face

The slap is harder than I intended, and I wince at the smacking sound. "Don't you fucking dare!" I hiss at a stunned Xander. "Don’t you dare accuse me of that too.”

He touches his face and moves closer again. I cringe away in case he returns my attack. "How do you explain what you do to us? To me. I'm watching them lose focus because of you."

"Shut up," I hiss again.

"It's true. Look at me. I lose control around you. I can't think straight. And for what? For you to pick and choose who you ask for help?"

"That was once! You're the one causing the divisions. Look at how your decisions screw things up. Portia. How you react to me. You're losing your grip and desperate for someone to blame other than yourself.”

I smack him in the chest, and he stumbles at my strength.

"How can you talk about trust and say things like this? You're hurting me, Xander. How can I talk to and trust you if this is how you treat me?"

"Because this is what you do to me. Each time I'm around you, a part of me screams out to connect with you and take away the frustration and anger."

"You're contradicting yourself now," I growl.

He seizes hold of me again. "You matched me; you didn’t yield, and I can't... Just can't."

"Can’t what? Cope?”

Something else pushes through Xander's anger and pulses toward me.

Fear.

But what scares him? Me? Himself? His loss of control in every situation recently?

"Stop being selfish and understand how this is for me."

He drops his hold and steps away; in his eyes, there’s an awareness he’s pushed too far and shown too much. "I'll see you in the morning."

I suck in a breath as Xander walks away. Actually fucking walks away from his problems. Again. I stand, at a loss over what happened, and listen to the low voices downstairs. Surely others heard that commotion?

I sit on the edge of Heath’s bed, trembling after the encounter with Xander. This is why we stay apart. This is why I haven't approached Xander before to talk about what happened. Every fight with Xander, each look or touch, passes the raw passion he holds. With him, I don't need the spark caused when I use my powers, because the flame is always burning.

Screw this. He’s right.

I can match him.

I stride into Xander's bedroom. He's shirtless, the light through the open curtains illuminating every glorious square inch of his defined chest and abs. He pauses in his undressing, fingers at the belt of his jeans. Xander may have removed his shirt, but he still wears the darkened expression from a few minutes ago.

Before he can react, I walk straight over, grip his hair, and push my mouth onto his. Xander responds in kind, one hand tangling in my hair and the other around my waist. I close my eyes, breathing him in, inhaling the memories from the last time we connected. Gripping my hair tighter, Xander kisses me deeply and snatches my breath.

Usually when we're close, his need to stay distant keeps us apart, but when we touch, it's as if our bodies react instinctively. The way his lips move, how his tongue strokes mine. His touch. Our bodies are tuned to each other, and that will never change.

I'm not fuelled by my powers in this moment, but by the need for Xander's touch. I want his skin against mine, and that touch to take away the ache that builds every time he rejects me.

I unbutton Xander's jeans as he pulls the buttons on my top, our mouths sealed in an unrelenting kiss. He breaks away for the briefest moment as he pulls off my shirt and throws it to the floor. Our lips and bodies connect again, and I drag my nails down his chest to his waist. I pause and meet his eyes filled with a burning intensity to match the heat of our skin.

The fervour from our fight before remains, but this time our short, sharp breaths aren't hurtful anger. Our walled up need is ready to break through. Continuing to look Xander in the eyes, I slip my hand inside his jeans and wrap my fingers around him.

Our teeth collide, tongues battling, as the hunger for each other grips us. The mint taste from brushing my teeth mingles with Xander’s, a powerful reminder of the last time we clashed. My breasts push against his hard chest, peaked nipples brushing sending shivers across my body and heat between my legs. I move my hand along his hard cock. Xander groans into my mouth, and he pulls away, mouth parted in pleasure.

There's no fight for control here. I have it.

As if we already synchronise after one time, our clothes land on the floor in the same way as the hotel room. This time he doesn’t get to hold me to the wall.

I push Xander, and he falls back onto the bed, eyes dark and curious. I'm on him before he can move, straddling him, aware of my slick heat sliding against his hard length pressing between my legs. He inhales sharply and grips my backside

No words.

I splay my palms across his chest, which rises and falls rapidly beneath them. He draws a finger along my stomach, triggering vibrations from my belly downwards. I lean down to place my lips on his; Xander runs his tongue along my bottom lip and I part my mouth, launching back into a battling kiss.

Pulling back, I hold his broad shoulders, pushing him against the bed. Xander’s strength matches and could outweigh mine, but his hooded eyes and lazy smile taunt me he’s in control of himself. Looking down at him, I reach between us and slowly lower myself onto him.

I watch for surprise on his face, but none shows. He grips my ass, and I rock my hips, lost in the sensation of him filling me as I move.

Our gazes lock, I drag my hair over my shoulders and continue to slide against him, luxuriating in the pleasure rising with each movement as our urgency continues. I steady one hand on his chest, riding him as I hold his other hand over my clit. He matches my thrusts, refusing to look away from each other. The connection to him forges again, and I tip my head back, eyes closed, mouth parted feeling the familiar rush building inside.

I’m caught by surprise as the energy releases, rushing from me as I hit the place away from the world where nothing exists apart from pure pleasure. The shockwaves pulse outwards, from my body and something nearby crashes to the floor as I cry out. I collapse onto Xander, panting against his ear as the aftershocks run through. With a growl, he roughly turns me over and positions himself behind me, and I gasp out a breath as he slides himself along my sensitive flesh before slamming himself into me.

I could fight back, match his strength, show him I can win, but I understand. This is us, acknowledging we need to meet halfway. Xander wraps my hair around his hand and pulls my head back, and the sharp pain joins the exquisite feeling of him moving inside. My muscles clench around him as he brings me to the edge again; and he swears and makes a guttural noise as he pushes into me one last time.

Glass shatters.

"Fuck, not again,” he pants as shards hit him from the broken lightbulb. I suppress a laugh, lost in our moment where our crazy strength bursts around the way it does whenever we fight—demons and ourselves.

His chest is damp against my back as he drops himself onto me, moving hair from my neck to kiss the skin. We lie for a moment, in the silence that joined our frantic sex, before Xander rolls onto one side and hugs me to him.

I don't know what to say. What to think. I lie with my eyes closed coming down from the high and overwhelmed by the intensity of the power that grips us.

"Xander,” I whisper. "Talk to me.”

His heart thumps against my ear as I lie on his damp chest. "And say what?”

"What you’re thinking.”

He runs his fingertips across my swollen lips. "You don’t want to know.”

"I do.”

Xander grips me tighter and distracts me with kisses.

He’s lying. What Xander means is he doesn’t want to say.

So no more words are spoken.