Nicon

XXI

XXI

    NICON HAD LEFT Elysie's room shortly after he had entered, but had politely told her to be ready in an hour.  Her stomach was erupting in butterflies and her chest was beating erratically as she got changed, finishing getting ready with half her time to spare.

    He had never asked her to be ready so early in the morning and the possibilities of why were driving her senseless.  Syd had not been in her room in the past two days, and she was growing slightly concerned for her companion.  Nicon had told her last night after the dinner that Killian was due to return to commanding his group of wolves within the week, but had promised her a proper goodbye before he left. 

    Elysie sat on the edge of her bed as she waited for Nicon to arrive.  Her sketchbook was sprawled out on her lap, her leather bag hanging over one of her shoulders familiarly.  She had attempted to sketch something, anything, but her sight was still suboptimal and the pencil fit oddly in her hand.  She was currently going the longest she had without sketching in her book, and she felt an emptiness as she looked at all of the blank pages in the small journal.

    She sighed and tossed it back into her bag carelessly before removing the strap from her shoulder and sliding the bag down to the wooden floor.  Her patience began to wear thin after a few minutes of listening to the familiar tick of the clock so she rose from her seated position and started to pace along the floor. 

    When Nicon finally reached her room, he knocked twice.  When there wasn't an answer, he entered the room quickly, his ears honing in on the comforting beats of her heart.  They were slow, and when he finally spotted Elysie, dressed and curled in a ball on the windowsill, her head resting on the palm of her hand and leaning against the glass frame, he stood for a moment and just watched her.  He thought she was beautiful, any man would be mad not to.  Innocent.  Pure.  Mine, he thought.

    "Elysie," he said softly as he approached the windowsill with tentative steps.  His arm was outstretched, but he pulled back before his fingertips could reach her sweater-covered shoulder.  He was glad that she wore the clothes he supplied her with, but the alternative were the tattered, bloody, and unsalvageable clothes from her fall.

    Instead of brushing his hand against her shoulder to wake her, his lips gently touched her forehead and he set a soft kiss on her brow.  He stepped back after, his lips still tingling, and he wondered what it would be like to really kiss her.  He didn't want to force her into anything, or rush it, but his wolf was becoming impatient with the fact that Nicon's mate still remained unmated.

    "Elysie," he repeated.  Her heart beat quickened slightly and she stirred, her chin dropping as her hand slipped.  Catching herself, she looked up at him with a sleepy smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

    "Hi," she said hoarsely, her voice tainted with sleep.  "My apologies for keeping you waiting."

    He held a hand out to her and she took it in her own as Nicon used his strength to effortlessly lift her up.  "You didn't, don't worry yourself over such trivial matters."  Her lips quirked upward and once she was on her feet, she held out her arm at an angle so he could take hers in his.  "It's usually the male who escorts the female," the King said amusedly, but took Elysie's arm nonetheless.

    "Where are we going?" she inquired.  The excitement was overpowering in her tone and she had a twinkle in her eyes that was unmistakable.  He only hoped the place he was taking her would live up to her expectation.

    "Do you like surprises, Elysie?" he asked instead.

    She grinned.  "Yes."

    "Good."