Askai wanted to think about anything at the moment but the storm that was building inside him—a volatile mix of Jordan's suspicious safety, Vance's maddening control, and his own suffocating confinement.
That's when the door lock clicked and Vance finally stepped into the room.
Gone were the easy, dismissive manners of the morning and that infuriating, lazy smile. He looked exhausted, his shoulders heavy beneath the expensive material of his clothes, and suddenly many years older than his actual self.
God only knew what silent battles they were fighting; each man, stripped down to his rawest core, was battling his own private hell.
A traitorous, soft feeling—a perverse instinct of sympathy—reared its head inside Askai, attempting to cool down his simmering discontent, but he instantly nipped it in the bud, burying it beneath a fresh wave of resentment.
"I need to get out of here," Askai said, pushing off the back of the chair, his voice dangerously steady despite the tension coiled tight in his gut.
Vance gave that infuriating, familiar shrug as he walked toward the gleaming mini bar-counter in the corner.
"You can try."
What the hell did he just say?
The sheer dismissal in the words was a slap across the face.
Askai fiercely turned around, advancing on him.
"Call your fucking dogs off, Vance, or I'm telling you now, someone is gonna get hurt. And it won't be me."
"As long as it's not you." This was not the reply he had expected. But it did something funny to his stomach, feeling he was a complete stranger to. So he replaced those feelings with familiar ones.
Vance pulled out a bottle of amber liquor and two heavy, crystal glasses.
"I swear I would keep off the West! There you have it. What more could you possibly want?" Askai asked, throwing his hands out in frustration, an utterly useless plea, but Vance still kept his back to him, treating him with utter indifference.
Askai crossed the remaining distance between them and, driven by sheer, desperate fury, forcefully turned Vance around, the crystal glasses rattling on the counter. Vance kept avoiding his gaze, treating Askai as if he were a brat screaming his lungs off for some overly expensive toy.
"Vance," Askai hissed, threateningly low, forcing the other man to look him in the eye "What the hell is going on?"
"Get used to these walls, Askai." Vance finally met his eyes, his deep unnerving gaze shadowed with something Askai couldn't decipher—concern? Possession? He brought up his hand, his long, warm fingers gently rising to caress the curve of Askai's jaw, a feather-light touch.
The words were a stark, terrifying irony to the feelings his touch evoked in him. Vance's voice promised condemnation while his fingers whispered of sweet freedom from worry, a warm sanctuary.
His head always lost its usual spin in Vance's presence.
"There is a war going on out there," He continued, his voice low and persuasive. "A real one. I can't risk sending you out there, Askai. Not for your own sake."
"I can take care of myself!" Askai choked out, the words ripped from his throat. He was terrifyingly close to spilling his ultimate secrets, almost told Vance to his face how many bloody turf wars he had fought and won with nothing but a pipe and sheer nerve.
He had been at the centre of storms that had changed the face of West.
But he had an uncanny spirit of survival, and it was that same spirit that was keeping his mouth from blurting out anything stupid now. If Vance knew the truth, the war—and the farce—would end right there, with disastrous results for Askai.
"I have Jordan and other friends," he blatantly lied, adding layers to the false identity Vance had constructed. "We will storm it out like the other people out there."
"You are not like other people," Vance contradicted, already fixing another potent drink for Askai, dismissing his entire argument. He looked at Askai with the deep intensity of a man regarding his most prized possession. "I don't care whether they live or die. I care about you. So you are staying here, right where I can see you."
Askai took the newly poured drink from his hand, the words burning hotter than the liquor. He took it better when people told they wanted to kill him.
He poured the drink down his throat in one swift, punishing gulp. Bad move. The potent alcohol almost burned the entirety of his chest, and water sprang instantly to his eyes, forcing a sharp, ragged gasp from his lips.
"Easy, Tiger," Vance chuckled, the rich sound returning, instantly softened by the sight of Askai's distress. His hands were suddenly on Askai's back, one gently caressing the tense muscles between his shoulder blades while the other expertly poured him a generous second drink.
But Askai pushed his hand away, the touch too distracting, almost touching something fragile beneath him. He did not want to break.
Maybe he already did.
"You can't keep me here," he said, forcing the words out. "I have to go to…"Jordan. The name lodged painfully in his throat. "…college," he finished weakly, clinging to the most mundane excuse he could find.
That earned him a low, amused laugh—warm, indulgent. "College?" Vance echoed. "Which class is it this time? Reynolds'? I'm sure they wouldn't mind giving you a private session right here. I'll make the call."
"Of course, If they didn't, you probably have other vacant rooms with their names on them," Askai retorted, the fight draining out of him. That just earned him another laugh. It was hopeless, he realized.
"What are you doing in that college anyway?" Askai blurted out, without giving it any thoughts first. He inwardly cursed the drink but downed another anyway.
"Haven't you heard?" He asked, quirking a brow. "I am pursing advanced -"
"Oh don't give me that crap!" It was definitely the drink. "You do not attend the classes even from your suite! Professor in the college give you a wide berth and Elite scions practically hovers around you as if you are some queen bee. Everything is just ..weird. Too Elite ..even for this Elite University!"
Askai finished, his hand moving the glass in circle. He knew he was going to regret his words later but at this point he did not even care.
Vance's mouth split into a grin, sharp with amusement. "You're very observant."
Askai rolled his eyes. "That was not an answer."
"What do you think I am doing there?" He asked, sipping his own drink.
"I think" Askai leaned in, as if whispering some secret, "You are taking advantage of the neutral ground. This University is a sacred ground and no hostile act can take place on its land. It's an unspoken rule that no one has ever broken. It's a perfect sanctuary."
Askai shot him a lopsided smirk and all the smile vanished from Vance's eyes. They again looked troubled.
"Why the hell do you know so much about the West? All this sanctuary stuff? Are you hiding from someone? Is someone trying to kill you? I told you - "
Askai lifted his finger to Vance's lips, his thoughts all in a mush, another hand was still stretched to pull in another drink.
Somebody should stop him.
"Blub blub blub .... just hush" Askia cut him off, "Even if they are trying to kill me—which they aren't—it's almost impossible." He smiled, wide and foolish, trying to bring back the warmth he'd chased away. "Trust me." He could confess being an angel right now, just to see that grim look gone from his face.
He nodded for emphasis, as if that sealed it.
Vance finally smiled—and drew him closer.
"Well," he said softly, "if you say so."
"That's still not my answer," Askai protested, nearly whining now. I will absolutely regret this.
Vance threw his head back and laughed, unrestrained. When it faded, he sighed theatrically. "Alright. You win." His smile returned, gentler this time. "It's very simple actually. Every Regale has graduated from NU. It seemed only fair that my name grace the Alumni Board as well."
"No," Askai frowned. "It would've been fair if you'd actually graduated. What happened?"
"Life isn't fair," Vance offered lightly, glass hovering near lips Askai shouldn't have been staring at.
Askai shook his head so hard trying to clear away such thoughts, the room tilted in front of his eyes. Vance caught him instinctively, arms firm and sure.
"Were you agreeing or disagreeing?" Vance asked, laughing softly.
"Neither," Askai groaned, slipping out of his hold and reclaiming his balance with stubborn pride.
He reached for yet another drink. The warmth spread too easily now, smoothing sharp thoughts, dulling fear.
Vance watched him with a look Askai couldn't quite place—not an equal. Something closer to indulgence. Like a boy acting out of turn.
It irritated him. He straightened, overcompensating, while Vance stepped closer.
"Why don't you let go of that ridiculous pride?" Vance murmured, voice low and coaxing. "At twenty-two, you're far too young to carry it so fiercely."
He brushed Askai's fringe aside, the touch feather-light. Then his fingers tipped Askai's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet as Askai leaned weakly against the counter.