She turned into some scrappy looking town once the storm caught up to them and it had begun to rain in earnest. Water sloshed over the roof of the car in thick rivulets that threatened to overwhelm the windshield wipers, and Eve took a moment to feel grateful they weren’t in her old, beaten hunk of a vehicle. A gas station loomed ahead of them, red and orange amidst the dark.

“Pull over.”

“What?” The sudden words had startled her, and she shot Samir a quick glance. He hadn’t so much as turned to look in her direction for hours now.

“Pull over,” Samir growled, and Eve made a soft affronted nose but did as he asked.

“I think a thank you is in order.”

Samir shifted, turning to her with his palm out and his lips parted as though to retort, but after a moment, he only pressed his mouth together and sighed. “Phone.”

“What?”

“You have a phone, I assume? I need to make a few calls.” Eve gawked at him. Shameless. Still, she could only sigh, slapping the device - a plastic, sliding model - into his waiting hand, where it looked comically small.

“What century do you live in?” Samir muttered, staring at it with some disdain.

“It’s a burner,” Eve replied dryly. He only shot her a strange look, and climbed out of the car, phone already pressed against one ear. The door slammed shut behind him and the rain drowned out the rest.

Careful bastard.

She took this pause to study him.

He’d turned away from her, as though he’d somehow known she’d be able to read his lips, and the lines of his posture revealed nothing. Both feet planted firmly on the ground, Eve could only barely see the sharp line of his jaw shifting in conversation. The make of his suit, now that she could see it in proper lighting, was expensive. A pair of black leather gloves hung from one pant pocket. His loafers: Ferragamo. A proper rich boy.

As though he’d sensed her eyes on him - something that shouldn’t be remotely possible, the windows were tinted - Samir turned back. His head tipped, long strands of hair sliding elegantly along his forehead, and a smooth, easy sort of smirk flashed over his lips.

It was gone so fast, Eve wondered if she’d imagined it.

He hung up.

Then he began to dial again.

Eve grew bored, allowing her eyes to flutter shut slowly.

She woke with a startle, but the hands on her were gentle, cushioning her head where she’d nearly collided with the side of the car.

“Sorry,” Samir said, and he was more muted somehow than he had been earlier, the harsh edges of frustration faded beneath a veil of fine control. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to move you over.”

“Move me?” Eve straightened, blinking the haze of sleep from her eyes with little success. “No need. Get in.” She wiped surreptitiously at her chin. She’d never drooled before, but she could have very well started tonight.

“I’m driving,” Samir snapped, and it’s gruff and low. He met her eyes with stubborness, gray tinting yellow beneath the rising sun.

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“No,” Samir glanced at her. “But I assumed that neither did you.” Their stare-off continued for one breath, another, and then he sighed, fingers curling and voice laced with light impatience. “Come on. You’re exhausted Eve, and so am I. But at this rate both of us will fall asleep at the wheel. And while you’ve been awfully polite about the way I’m sure I currently smell, I, for one, would love to take a hot shower.”

A shower. That did sound nice.

Eve smiled. “If you insist,” she chirped, feeling bolstered suddenly, and received a suspicious glance for her efforts once she had settled comfortably on the passenger’s side. “They got any food stashed in here?”

“Granola bars. But consume them at your own risk. Pretty sure they’re expired.” Samir arched, reaching to the back seat and tossing a box in her direction. Eve watched the strong lines of his arms flex at the motion, and tore a bar that was more chocolate than protein from its wrapper.

Samir started the car again. The tank was full; he must have refilled it while she slept. The man seemed more at ease behind the wheel, some of the tensed muscles unwinding, the tick in his jaw disappearing. Eve took a bite of the bar, which tasted a tad dusty but otherwise fine, and allowed her eyes to linger on his practiced, oiled motions as he pulled the Lincoln into a u-turn and smoothly got them back out on the road.

A strong fighter. Expensive clothes. Suspicious assailants. An escape.

What exactly did this man do?

Samir must have noticed her suspicion, because his eyes slide sideways momentarily, emotionless.

“You’re burning a hole in me. Just ask.”

“Be honest. Are you with the mob?” Eve blurted out. Samir laughed. It was a gorgeous sound, full of joy and low notes - the kind of laugh that had the entire room joining it. She found herself smiling, though she could not explain the reason why.

“No,” Samir replied, still chortling a little bit. “God, no. Despite the occasional offer, I could never sink that low. The things they do to other humans - you can’t even fathom it.”

“Then what are you?” Eve pointedly ignored the tiny feeling of relief at his denial. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“Private security.”

“Private security pay good nowadays?” she asked, arching a brow at his attire.

“It does when you’re the CEO.”

For a moment it was silent.

“What kind of CEO does the dirty work?” Eve asked, after a long pause had slid by.

“I came into a bit of money later in my life."

“What are you, Gatsby?” Eve muttered.

“Might as well be,” Samir said, and his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “But to explain, I invested part of it into a security service agency. We mostly work low danger, high-stake jobs. Jewelry. Art. It was only recently that...” Eve waited for him to say something more, but his eyes only grew distant and he fell entirely silent. Wind stuttered heartily against their windows.

“You’re not going to ask me anything?” Eve asked, when the tension had grown unbearable.

“Isn’t it a secret?”

“Kind of.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Then no.” The rain sloshed overhead with no signs of lightening up.

“Well then, mr. CEO, you’re paying for our hotel room.”

Samir looked at her. It was almost apologetic.

“Can’t. Assholes took my wallet.”

-

The motel was one of those spaces that felt as though it had been transplanted from another place in time. It was situated between a tomato field and liquor store, complete with glowing neon sign. Eve stretched, her back cracking as she arched. Samir, having seemingly gathered the vestiges of his energy, got out of the car.

By the time Eve managed to also drag herself to her feet, the man was already crouched at the back of the Lincoln, using the car keys to twist off the screws holding the license plate in place. She reached above him, popping open the trunk to grab the plastic bag with a change of clothes.

“You’re gonna get us a ticket,” Eve said, a yawn punctuating her words. Samir peeled the Nevada plate off with a short grunt, and lifted a brow up at her.

“You gonna pay it?”

Eve snorted. “No.” She shut the trunk.

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered, moving around to do the same to the front of the car. “We should be in the clear anyways. Got rid of the tracking back at the gas station.”

Admittedly, Eve hadn’t even thought about that. Grudgingly, she nodded, lips pressed together.

“I’ll go get our room.”

“Singular?”

“Yeah,” Eve threw a glance over her shoulder, lip turned up in disdain. “Call me cheap if you want.” Samir only raised his hands, the car keys swinging from where the keychain was looped around one finger.

“You’re paying, you’re the boss.”

“And you’re sleeping on the couch,” Eve retorted, but withheld her huff on account of the man’s consideration the past few hours. As much as she hated to admit it, she was tired. And the magic earlier had taken more out of her than she had expected. The weariness was bone deep, the very blood of her body weighing her down as she turned on her heel and strode into the reception area.

She used a fake name - obviously - and had the key in hand within three minutes. Samir pushed off the hood of the car, where he was leaning when she came out, and followed her up a set of rickety, creaking steps to the second floor of the building.

It was nothing to write home about.

Two twin beds, a table and two chairs. A TV from a forgotten decade. Garish, floral coverlets.

“No couch,” Samir commented as he shut the door behind them, shifting his weight when the room abruptly grew too quiet. Eve’s plastic bag of clothes crinkled in her grasp. But the fluttering of her eyelids was more urgent than the sudden, strained tension.

“I’m gonna shower,” she pushed past him and towards the door on the side wall.

“Go ahead.” Samir had busied himself with squinting suspiciously in all the corners of the room, dragging a chair over to a vent to check inside. Eve pulled her shirt up and over her head before she’d even reached the bathroom, and Samir did not so much as shift a glance in her direction.

The hot water was heavenly. The soap felt faintly as though it had been watered down, but even that was forgivable, since it got the mud (and more importantly) the smell off her skin. Her hair - a fierce, and unrelenting red - colored a dark brown beneath the spray. She didn’t have the energy to use conditioner on top of shampoo, nor did the motel offer any.

Still, by the time she emerged, Eve felt almost entirely human.

She’d never worn anything particularly fancy to bed, a ratty old t-shirt and a soft pair of cotton shorts, silkened by dozens of runs through the wash. Samir had removed the outer layer of his suit by the time she emerged, jacket hung neatly across the back of one of the chairs, and Eve forced herself to glance away from the chiseled lines of his body, pressed against the ruined dress shirt.

“All yours,” she muttered as she collapsed on the nearest bed.

“I’ll be a while,” he warned - that transparent gaze lingering as he stepped inside. There was something lightly strained to his words.

“Night,” Eve muttered, arms reaching for a pillow to yank it down to her head. “I won’t be awake.”

A soft mutter intersected with the start of the shower water, and it sounded almost angry. Right. She’d promised him answers. But Samir had waited this long, and he could certainly wait until tomorrow. The world went black only a handful of seconds later.

She woke, and it could have been because of the shuffling sounds of Samir in the bathroom, but more likely because of the burning, tearing pain of her body. Eve turned onto her side, sucking in harshly, fingers curling into that ugly, brown and pink coverlet so she could muffle her scream.

Too much magic. The human body wasn’t built for magic. She’d channeled it, at least, used a medium. Without that shitty speaker, there wasn’t a chance she’d still be alive now.

Those shitbags.

If they were going to trap her in a body like this, they should have taken away her ability in its entirety. Human emotions were such finicky things. Handle them the wrong way, and they’d destroy her body from the inside out. They’d probably been counting on that. She couldn’t live without them after all.

Fed on them.

Another scream wrapped around her throat. A whimper escaped in its stead.

The door to the bathroom blew open, so the sound must have been louder than she’d expected. Samir. He was shirtless, and still wearing that same dirty pair of dress pants, but clearly freshly showered. She tried not to let his presence fluster her, and made a valiant effort to sit up. The man only watched her with narrowed, suspicious eyes, one hand still on the bathroom door handle.

His hair was pushed back from his forehead, wet, and he looked even better like this.

Better than what?

Eve didn’t allow herself to linger on that thought for too long.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked, and his breezy voice did little to calm her clattering heartbeat. She was weak. Too weak, right now, to allow this near stranger to suspect that anything might be amiss.

“Stretching,” Eve managed after a pause and pushed herself to her feet. With great determination, she took several unsteady steps forward. Her organs throbbed as though they might rupture. Still, she succeeded, and looked up at Samir with a weak, satisfied smile.

He seemed much bigger up close, broad-shouldered and golden-skinned, smelling like soap and soft, amber musk. There was a tightness in his arms, as though he was fighting not to touch her. Hit her, maybe. He could kill you right now! Her brain supplied helpfully as it forced another shudder through her limbs.

“Don’t lie. You’re shaking like a leaf.” His skin is cool - or maybe hers is feverish - and then he’s tugging her forward with surprising care. Eve fell against his chest. His long fingers slotted into the curve of her waist and a palm pressed against her forehead, practiced, methodical. “And you’re burning up.”

“S’ok,” Eve chattered from behind clattering teeth. “Happens.”

“Often?”

“No.”

“Eve.” Samir’s voice is low, dangerous, and Eve tried not to think about how he sounded angry about this. “Often?” He repeated.

“Sometimes,” Eve acknowledged, nodding. His touch slid from her forehead but remained firmly on her waist, holding her upright.

“Why?” Samir asked curtly. Eve didn’t look at him nor answer. Instead she shook off his touch, and he allowed her to do so. She succeeded in walking another three steps to pour herself a glass of water and chug it, as though that might somehow help her cool down. She even put it back down on the table, although her sight had gone fuzzy and there was no way to be certain of where the table was, exactly.

The room swam muddily as she turned back.

“Shit,” Samir muttered when she swayed and he leapt to catch her. “Don’t die on me. I don’t want to deal with your corpse.”

“Not gonna die,” Eve gasped, knowing that tears had begun to streak down her face. At least she wasn’t screaming. Though there was some strange sound nearby, like an animal in distress. It sounded terrified, injured, as though it had been stepped on, or maybe hit by a car. And then Eve realized that these sounds were coming from her, and she shut her mouth so hard her jaw ached at the impact.

The world tilted and tipped, feet coming clear off the floor as Samir swung her up and into his arms. It lasted only for a few moments, so that he could lay her on the bed, and the warmth would have been comforting if she wasn’t already so damn hot. He didn’t make a sound as he peeled back the covers on his own bed, then transferred her over. The duvet cover settled heavily across her limbs, and practiced hands pressed it in around her body, effectively cocooning her in its warmth.

“You must have had siblings,” Eve managed to blurt out, squirming, sticky with sweat. The effort wasn't very impressive, and she curled into herself as spots danced in front of her eyes, fingers flaring out in a spasm. Samir grunted and caught her hand in his. It was different from the way he’d held it earlier that day - gentle and teasing as he’d pressed it to his lips. Firmer. More steadying now.

She clutched at it as though his hand alone could save her amidst this storm, and he let her.

The laughter that trickled out of Eve was wet and broken. She could see her fingers, nearly white with the strength with which she clenched at him, and Samir had hardly flinched.

Eve could sense the man below them. Lust. The receptionist, a hundred paces away. Boredom.

But this man - only silence. Not a single emotion. Not one tell-tale hint of the way the man felt, tickled her mind.

And when she touched him like this, that emptiness was all she could sense.

Eve was so tired.

“Sleep,” Samir ordered.

And she did.