39 - Elaina

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“Where the fuck is Nick?”

I knew that would be her first question. Ainsley and Nick have a stronger bond, but that bond is impacting what she really needs. So, despite her wants, I’m going to give her what she needs, even if it breaks my heart in two having to.

“I asked him to sit out this time,” I say simply.

“Why?” she quickfires.

Nick and I always tackle every problem together. We’re stronger as a unit. Where Nick has an innate way of getting people to open up to him, it’s harder for me. He’s the pilot while I’m just the co-pilot. I’m only ever soft with people, never push, never probe for more than they’re willing to immediately offer, but Ainsley deserves more from me. She needs more from me. And Nick isn’t getting anywhere with his usual methods so that leaves me to try this approach. I’m hopeful she’ll finally open up about what’s bothering her if he isn’t here to let her redirect our attention away from whatever that is.

“Nick has something of a blind spot when it comes to you,” I answer honestly.

She cocks a brow.

“He lets you redirect your focus when things become uncomfortable,” I ping.

“And you plan to push my ass in whatever direction you think that stubborn squib needs to go?” she returns fire.

“Not push you,” I clarify. “Guide you if you’ll let me.”

“No offence, Elaina, but you’re about the least likely to push any fucker into doing any-fucking-thing,” she slamfires.

“That’s why I’m not pushing you, more giving you the chance to really open up and say what you’re thinking without the temptation to deflect.”

She shoots out a breath. I know she’s getting annoyed, but I also know she’s less turbulent with me, and it’s unlikely she’ll throw a standard tantrum if I nudge a little more than is usual for me.

“I spark blocked those thirsty as fuck wielders,” she reports.

“Ainsley, that’s wonderful news!” I chime. “We’ve been worried you weren’t progressing.”

“Well, I was a little constipated,” she admits, “but I’ve sorted that shit out now.”

“How did it make you feel to exhibit that sort of self-control?” I encourage her.

“I’d probably have celebrated it more if Esha hadn’t been strangling me to death at the time,” she backstops, waving her fingers over her purple throat.

I gasp. “Was this just Esha being Esha, or was there more to it?” There are some issues where Esha’s concerned. Ainsley and Luke are sleep sharing, and that hasn’t sat well with Esha regardless of her having so openly ended things with Luke.

She volleys a feral groan.

“So, it’s obviously a more situation,” I deduce. “Let’s talk about that.”

“Luke keeps rejecting me.” She leans back and folds her arms across her chest.

I clapper my head, her words not making sense. Anyone can see Luke’s interested in Ainsley, but she hasn’t seemed to show the same interest back in any way that’s clear to me. In fact, it seems the opposite. “Rejecting you how?”

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“He told me the only way he’ll sleep with me is if I get this fucking shackle off,” she complains, shaking her wrist in front of her.

“But he’s already sleeping with you.”

“Banging.”

“But you already spar at the Stadium.”

“Sex,” she dryfires.

I inhale sharply. “That does pose something of a risk.” If she wants some real-time examples of all the dangers being intimate poses when feral sparks are involved, Grady’s nothing if not a persistent cautionary tale.

“I’m sick and fucking tired of everyone trying to control me!” she roars, “and my powder keg.”

“Could the way you’re feeling have more to do with the control you’re struggling with in general than Luke’s rejection?”

“No, I’m pretty sure the shootout I had this morning was specific as shit to his sex refusal,” she accurizes, “on account of this stupid fucking shackle.”

“You’re the most tactile person I know,” I tink. “You’re constantly seeking physical connection. While you’re awake. While you’re asleep. Whether it’s fists for fighting or bumping, hands for holding, fingers for poking, or the kisses you place on every cheek in proximity.

“What you’re trying to experience with Luke is just another extension of those feelings. You’re centering it on sex, but it’s about more than that. It’s about intimacy. That’s something you need when you’re awake too. You’re wired for the deep end, so you always revert back to the most basic emotions you can understand. If you’re not punching Luke, and you’re not asleep with Luke, you’re resorting to what you feel is the most reasonable facsimile of those things in a basic state. Lust.”

“I always thought you were soft like Asher, but that epic speech was all Atlas.”

“You need to talk to him,” I plink.

“I’m saying salty fuck all to him,” she refuses. “He’ll just say something else to piss me off. Or I’ll say something to piss him off, which’ll be worse, because when he finally does get pissed at me, and I definitely fucking deserve that, he’ll just be done with me like he got done with Esha when she finally drove him the fuck overboard.”

“Luke does have a fuse, Ainsley, but it’s much longer than yours.”

“I don’t pack heat for long,” she concedes. “That’s one of the benefits of having such a short as fuck fuse. Quick to ignite. Quick to burn out. But I have an abundant ass supply, so talking isn’t a fucking option.”

“Then maybe you need to try something else,” I suggest. “You’ve wrapped everything around Luke lately. What about other people?”

“I’ve looked.” She clicks her tongue. “I’m having a hard time finding a viable replacement prick.”

“Then maybe you need to start looking in places you wouldn’t normally look,” I persist. “The Registry, perhaps?”

She recoils her nose. “You want me to bang Fiona?”

I chinkle my chimes. “No, that might make Frank a little sad, and no one wants a sad Frank. I meant surrounding your spark well with more than just candidates for sexual gratification. You need companionship. You have Grady, but you should have more support than that, and fresh scenery might be exactly what you need to settle down your raging hormones so you can actually think straight about your situation.”

“Is this why Nick isn’t here?” She narrows her scopes. “Because he’d make a hit list instead of telling me to grow my damn friend pool?”

“Of course not,” I backwind. “I’ll get him working on a list if that’s what you really want.”

She volleys another feral groan. “I don’t really know what the hell I want.”

“Well, you’re never going to figure it out if you keep letting your water slosh you around,” I tinkle.

“Needy cunt does it constantly,” she snicks. “Maybe that’s the spark I’m meant to choose.”

“You think you’ll be able to choose between them?” I really didn’t expect her to openly talk about a preference, especially this early in our one-on-one approach. There’s such glorious balance between her sparks, picking between them will be a very difficult decision for her.

“It’s either that or wind up as one of your damn vault volatiles,” she clips, “if the Dark Royal Guard doesn’t hold me down and kill them all first.”

“No one can make you choose,” I assure her. “It’s against the law for them to force you to choose, and those shattered sparks are making honest to goodness progress lately. Nathaniel goes days without episodes now. Dustin might even be released soon, since he’s doing so well, and he’ll be the first wielder to hold both dark and light simultaneously. Things are changing for the better, Ainsley. If you don’t want to give up any of your sparks, don’t. But if you do, just please give the others a chance. Even if your water spark is your final pick, there are still many, many more fish in that particular sea.”

“Now I see why Nick’s not here,” she quickfires.

“Why?”

“He’d never have told me not to pick,” she realizes.

“No,” I agree. “You’re special to him, and he worries terribly about you.”

“You’re not fucking worried?” The prospect seems to hurt her which wasn’t my intention.

“Oh, I’m worried,” I confirm. “Just not for you. I’m worried for the person daft enough to try and make you choose against your will.”

She brrrts a laugh.

“You have time,” I remind her. “Take some space for you to get your head on straight. Regardless of what happens, you have us. Always.”

“A little space,” she echoes. “I can work the shit out of that.”