Chương 10: The choice

After a while, we started getting sleepy. The fire was reduced to glowing embers, crackling softly as the last blackened log split and slowly folded in on itself.

"I don't wanna go to bed," Nadia huffed.

"It's, like, ten p. m. or something. Going to bed this early is for losers."

"I think it's a bit later than that," I argued.

"Nope. We ate, did…" She blushed.

"Well, that, and then cuddled for a bit. Hardly any time at all." Then, smirking, she added, "Although it could have been faster. I admit my technique must have been lacking."

"You were great, Nadia." Her smirk faltered. For a second, I saw something else, something softer, in her face, before she looked away.

"Anyway!" she said quickly, jumping to her feet. She put a massive log onto the embers, making a swirl of sparks.

"Don't wanna sleep! Come on!"

"Well," I proposed, "how about a drink? There should be some ages-old alcohol lying around here somewhere."

"Right! I remember seeing a bottle in one of the cabinets. The one over the sink, all the way in the back."

"Then wait right here." I returned a minute later, holding the bottle up for her to see.

"Alcohol doesn't go bad, right?" There was no expiration date that I could find, and whatever numbers had once been printed on it were smudged beyond recognition. The label was yellowed and peeling away.

"Because this looks old."

"Vintage," Nadia declared, taking the bottle from me while I lined up two glasses. They were the big water ones, but who cared? She poured a generous splash into each and raised hers.

"Half-empty vodka from who knows when. Bottoms up!" She gulped the whole thing at once. I struggled to do the same, coughing as the stuff burned its way down my throat.

"Yep," she said. Her grimace looked about as bad as mine.

"Sucks. Another?" I nodded weakly, already knowing I was in for a very special night. We stayed tangled together on the sofa, talking about this and that, both looking for any excuse, any random topic, anything to make the moment last just a little bit longer. The alcohol burned, but we slowed down and took our time. Eventually, even the massive log Nadia had thrown onto the fire collapsed into a crumbling bed of red, but the heat remained. The alcohol certainly helped loosen us up.

My head felt light, but we had paced ourselves enough to remain on the pleasant side of slightly drunk. Little touches, little kisses, and long stares into each other's eyes filled the small moments of silence.

"So you just went from almost homeless to this?" Nadia asked after I began telling her a little more about my story. She gestured around us with her glass.

"A whole mansion? Damn. Prince Charming indeed. What else are you hiding?"

"Not much," I said. I gave her the ordinary and, admittedly, sanitized version of the story. My grandfather had been the last family I had left. He had lived on his own near Central City, but whenever I found myself in trouble, he somehow found an excuse to call me over for work, drinks (for him), and more money than the work was worth. Then he died and left me the house. It sounded like a fortune when put that way.

So I made sure she was very well aware that the house was actually three floors of damp, mold, broken pipes, and bills I could barely afford. She knew, of course, having lived here for a few days.

"So your gramps left you this, right?" she asked, playfully punching me in the arm.

"What else did he leave behind?" She must have guessed that I'd inherited the house days ago, because now that I was confirming it, she didn't look surprised in the slightest. Maybe it hadn't been such a wild guess after all. I said nothing.

"Debts," I croaked, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"Well, not mine. His. They swallowed everything else. This was all I got, and the place eats money faster than I can earn it."

"You don't earn any money," she deadpanned.

"Yep."

"Huh."

"And of course, there's the massive hole in my heart." My attempt at a smile failed.

"When he died, I was alone, Nadia." The words landed flat, but then I felt her sweet, soft lips press against my cheek.

"Hey, handsome," she murmured.

"You are not alone now, are you?" I smiled.

"You're right. I'm not."

"There." She settled against me again.

"You loved your gramps very much, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"What was his name?"

"Gus," I said.

"Gus Hale." Her gaze held mine for a moment too long. Then she raised her glass with a flourish.

"To Gus, best grandpa in the world. And those debts? A problem for another day."

"And the broken house?"

"That too. Unless it rains. If it rains, we need buckets to catch the leaks." I laughed. The fucking buckets!

"Thank you, Nadia. This…" I pulled her a little closer.

"It's really nice."

"Of course," she said softly.

"No more drinking, maybe?"

"One last glass. Come on!" I let her convince me. It didn't take much at all. She grinned and lifted her glass.

"To us. A pair of total losers." I touched my glass to hers.

"Losers together."

"Together," she agreed. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. I kissed her. She kissed me back. A quiet pause settled over us after the last toast. In it, the decision I had been circling for days finally pushed its way to the front of my mind. Fuck it. If I didn't say it now, I was going to regret it. Nadia's weight, warm and curled against me, gave me the last push I needed. The vodka had made it easier to be brave, I'll admit, but only a bit.

She had been here with me for days now, helping around the house despite having every reason to feel like a prisoner in all but name. And yet, here she was, all soft warmth against me. She had respected my boundaries. She hadn't asked again about what I had done to her. She had helped me cook, helped wash the dishes, and somehow turned this broken old house into something resembling a home. A place where there was laughter, happiness and joy in this cold and grey winter.

And then there was the way she looked at me, as if I were the one bright thing at the center of her world. Her words from the other day echoed through my mind. You fixed me, Adrian. She had asked nothing in return. Even when she asked how I had caught her with the cellar door almost open, she had known it couldn't have been my time slow. I had given her no real answer, and she had never asked again.

"You know," I said, breaking the silence. I had her undivided attention. She looked up at me from where she lay curled across my lap, wide, warm eyes seeing me and only me.

"It wasn't the time slow."

"Wasn't what?" she mumbled, the words softened by tiredness. And alcohol, I suppose. I couldn't help chuckling at how cute she was.

"When I caught you. The day we met." I took a breath.

"It wasn't my time slow. I don't have a slow anymore. And your power, Nadia…" Another breath.

"I know you've been wondering about it. It isn't gone." I expected her to sit up straight. To pull away from me, perhaps retreat to the other side of the sofa. Instead, she took my hand and pressed my palm against her cheek. The tension I hadn't known I was holding melted out of my body.

"There," she said softly.

"Better?"

"You…" I chuckled.

"How can you be like this?"

"What? So perfect?" Her crooked smile returned.

"Dunno. Must be innate talent, since I currently have no superpower to blame." She turned her face slightly against my palm.

"Speaking of, you were about to come clean, right? I must tell you, it's far too late for that now, Adrian." I was starting to worry.

"I'm already falling for you," she said after holding my gaze for one long, terrifying moment. Then she broke into a giggle.

"You got me," I said weakly. Inside my head, there was an explosion of thoughts. Nadia? Falling for me? No. I was falling for her. Hard.

"No, but really. You don't have to tell me."

"I want to." I hesitated, trying to decide how to explain it without explaining everything.

"Your power is inside me. Somehow. I'm holding it through something about myself that I don't fully understand." Or rather, that I won't say to you. Again, I was omitting important details. If she knew, she didn't show it.

"I changed my own power," I continued.

"The time slow I told you about? I removed the random trigger and turned it into something I could control. A time stop. That's how I caught you." Her mouth opened, but I kept going before I could lose my nerve.

"And I think I might be able to do something similar with your power. It isn't wrong at its core. It's a gift about life, not death, Nadia. Something twisted it, and now it makes that life flow the wrong way, and there is no off-switch. But the corruption looks separate from everything worth saving." There. The words were out now.

"If I'm right, I might be able to separate the two. Remove the corruption, keep the good part, and…" I swallowed.

"Maybe give it back to you once I've fixed it." For a long while, she only stared at me. Her mouth hung open until, eventually, she breathed a quiet "Oh." Just that. I had expected almost anything else. Anger. Questions. Demands. Some small, ugly part of me had even expected her to use her body as leverage now that she knew what I was holding. You know, to make me pliable. She knew I was falling for her. She had to. Why else would she— But no.

She had touched me and reassured me and kissed me well before she knew there was anything in it for her. Now she knew I held her only chance of getting her power back, and she still didn't reach for the obvious lever. She only looked at me with the same devoted eyes as before. I don't think I could have respected her more.

"Thank you for telling me," she said.

"I have to ask, Adrian. Do you really think you might be able to give me back the life-giving ability without the lethal aura?"

"I think so. Maybe I could even turn the aura around and make it heal instead of drain." I shook my head before hope could carry either of us too far.

"But I can't promise any of this. Whatever is holding your power inside me isn't finished with it yet, and I've never tried to give a power back before. I could be wrong."

"Then don't promise." She folded both hands around mine." Maybe is already enough, handsome charmer prince." That was all. No demands. No attempt to wring certainty out of me. She made a small, contented sound and tucked herself more firmly against me, holding my hand between hers. ◈◈◈ Nadia stared up at the heavy wooden beams crossing the ceiling of the massive room Adrian had given her. The bed was equally massive and, despite its age, the comfiest place she had ever slept.

Most nights, she climbed beneath the covers content and fell asleep within minutes.

Perhaps her standards weren't the best, but there was just something about this bed… Who was she kidding? She knew full well why it felt so nice. The following thought came unbidden. There's another bed I bet would feel even better. She felt her cheeks redden and went back to counting the beams on the ceiling. It wasn't working. She was practically vibrating with energy and joy. Fuck. She really was falling for him. She didn't know if Adrian had believed her when she said it. He should have.

Nadia might keep things from him, she was keeping things from him, but she would never lie to him about something like that. Not ever. Her thoughts gravitated toward him, as they did most nights. How nice he was. How gentle. How handsome. And now her cheeks were burning. How big. She had almost gasped when she saw his massive cock. Really, what the fuck was she supposed to do with all that? Could she even handle him by herself? She shook her head, feeling like an infatuated schoolgirl. At her age, no less.

All giddy and warm and full of butterflies. God, it felt good. The man who had caught her at the cellar door and, instead of looming over her and demanding answers, sat beside her while she calmed down. The man who let her fall asleep against him on that wonderfully soft sofa. Whose hand found hers when she called herself a biohazard and knew she was hiding the tears behind another shitty joke. He just knew, didn't he? How?

And he'd held her when her confidence abandoned her during their first intimate touch, never making her feel foolish or silly or inexperienced. And tonight, he had told her the truth because keeping it from her had troubled him. Her stupid jokes probably made him cringe. He never showed it, but surely they did. One day, she might ask him. Probably when drunk. It had not been his slow ability. Of course it hadn't. She had done the math. He should never have caught her.

He had explained that his old slow no longer existed. He had changed it, removing the random trigger and turning it into a true time stop. But that was still one power and the rules of the Onset were clear. One power per person. Never two. And yet, Adrian had something about him that he did not fully understand. Something that had stripped away her power, reverted her mutation, given her back her old body, and then held the power inside him. Whatever it was, it was still working through it. It could alter powers.

Perhaps improve them. Perhaps even return them. It was not his natural power. The rumor was real after all. The rumor had never been only about exotic technology. It had involved an old man on the hill. The old man had a name in her mind now. Gus Hale. Adrian's grandfather. The man who had owned the house. The pieces fit too neatly to be a coincidence. Whatever Gus had created or found, or hidden here, its effect was somehow in Adrian. Nadia turned the facts over in her mind, testing them from every direction.

Each time, she arrived at the same conclusion. Almost certain but not completely. The same incomplete certainty was true of the hope Adrian had given her. The life at her power's core had survived. The lethal aura surrounding it appeared separate. He thought he might be able to remove the corruption and return what remained, perhaps even turn the drain into something that healed. Might. He had made no promise. He had never done it before, he said, and whatever held her power inside him was not yet ready.

She desperately wanted to believe it. And she could press him. Search the house while he was away buying groceries. Pick apart every word he said until she found the answers he was still hiding. She could use the way he looked at her to coax— No. The refusal came so quickly and with such force that it surprised her. No. Just no. Pressing him, prying into his secrets, searching his home behind his back would mean turning Adrian into a problem to solve, a target. She refused.

Whatever he was holding, whatever he was hiding, he would bring it to her himself or he would not. She would not search. She would not pry. She would not ask twice. Because he was her Adrian, the man she had fallen in love with. And she trusted him.