I stared in the mirror, glancing at the shiner Mikale had left me for interrupting his Great Plan. I introduced a better one that suited everyone’s schedules. Nero had voted it in, and it had been well received. Mikale of course had been pissed, but Nero outranked him. Nero. I felt his kiss still. Sweet and everything I wanted, but was it what I needed? I stared into the mirror.

  “I don’t need sweet. I need–” I muttered, leaning closer to dab concealer on. I gave a mighty leap as my door slammed open, and Mikale trailed in.

  “Can you believe that asshole? As if your plan was better than my own!” he cried, slamming his four-barreled gun down on my dresser, by the wall, across from my vanity.

  I glanced at it nervously and smiled. “Of course,” I said, leaving the mirror’s side and walking over to him. I kissed him tentatively, but he shoved me away and growled.

  “You probably planned this with him. Didn’t you? You whore!”

  “No! MIkale,--”

  He lashed out with a kick, landing between my ribs and sending me colliding with my vanity mirror, knocking it askew. I put a hand to my already bruised side and hunched over in pain. It felt as if a hammer had hit me between my ribs. I looked up to meet his fist. It collided with my healing and concealed bruise and made me cry out. Tears left me.

  He can’t do this to us! Fight Back!

  No! Stay as you are! Don’t Fight!

  Yes, what does a worthless girl fight for anyway?

  I stood frozen in horror. Was I hearing things? No! Was someone talking to me? I glanced around. Nothing met my eyes. I moaned as that simple act brought pain.

  Mikale growled and yanked my head back, pulling on my ponytail. “If I ever hear that you were working with him behind my back, Datha,” he whispered, shaking me. Then he wasn’t there. The sound of a fist hitting flesh sounded, then Nero’s calm voice echoed toward me.

  “You’ve gone far enough, Mikale,” he said.

  The sound of a gun being charged and loaded sounded before a reparte echoed, and I glanced up. Nero had opened space vacuums to capture the projectiles the minute they left Mikale’s gun. He smirked as he opened a rift behind Mikale and shoved him through. He closed it and turned to me.

  He’s kicking ass!

  He's hurting our meal ticket!

  Correction he saved us from a worthless scumbag!

  I say do it again, except send us through too! We deserve it!

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  “Quiet! I hissed, making Nero turn to me. I tried to smile and hissed, grabbing my face.

  “You weren’t leaving him, so I made him take a break…in Urdu,” said Nero, helping me to the bed and wiping off the concealer. He touched my face gently.

  “I see the bastard has already struck,” he muttered, turning my head sideways and kissing my bruised eye softly, making me melt a little inside.

  He’s dreamy!

  Better than Mikale by a mile!

  “Shh!” I cried, wanting them to quiet and leave me in peace. Tears flooded my eyes as I wondered if these things had a voice canceler.

  He did kiss us.

  “That was real?” I muttered, watching as Nero walked to my bathroom, finding it stocked with many things to cure bruises. He picked the nearest bottle of disinfectant, salve, bandages, and a few towels and came back.

  Kiss him!

  Touch him!

  Tell him we need his–

  I blushed as Nero passed the disinfectant on my scrapes before placing bandages on them. He twirled his hand, a small pocket dimension ripped open. It was cold. He scooped some ice from it before twirling his hand counter clockwise. The rift zipped closed like a sealed bag. He pressed the compress to my swelling eye and started to unlace my corset. I brought my hands down, blushing.

  Oho!

  Now this! This makes my day!

  Touch us more, please! Touch us!

  I was distracted as my psyche clamored with amorous voices. I didn’t hear Nero, but I felt his next movements as they left me in my off-the-shoulders top. Nero started to work the little buttons on the blouse. My blouse opened, and I found him staring for a minute, before he ran a hand up my bruised side gently. I whimpered.

  “I should've sent him to Crognag,” he muttered, as he undid the salve’s lid and dipped his fingers in. He skimmed them across the cream and lathered my bruised ribs with it. I moaned softly at feeling his fingers knead my bruises.

  How would they feel elsewhere?

  How would they feel lower? Way lower?

  Kiss him!

  I met his burning gaze and wondered if he was thinking the same. He finished his ministrations and drew me closer.

  “Datha,” he sighed, pulling me into a hug. “I won’t be here the next time this happens. You have to choose.”

  “But!”

  He didn’t keep us away!

  We’re here to stay!

  You ran from us, but we’re here now. Heheheh!

  All: Your Fate!

  I gasped and whimpered.

  “No!” I cried, grabbing my head. “No! Nonono!”

  Nero glanced at me with wide eyes. “So it starts,” he muttered, kissing my forehead. Immediately, all the voices quieted, and I knew blissful silence again.

  “What did you do?” I questioned, tears in my eyes.

  “Something I learned from Noali. But it only lasts a few hours, and I can only do it once a day,” he said, tugging on a lock of my hair. “You need more help, but you shunned the person who could give it.”

  “Who!” I cried. If this person knew a way of controlling or even stopping these things, then I’d grovel at them.

  He smirked. “Myra.”

  I take that back. I wasn’t groveling to my brothers would be killer.

  “Anyone but her,” I muttered as he came closer. He gently pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger and lifted my head slightly.

  “I wasn’t asking. You’re already on thin ice, and the slope of this mountain you must climb is the steepest I’ve yet seen.”

  I winced as he ran a finger down my cheek with green energy, healing me. “Why didn’t you–”

  He walked a few steps to my right and grabbed my bag. “Because you’ve never asked me to.”

  I blushed as he rummaged through my underwear, picked quite a few, and stuffed them in my pack along with shirts and pants. He grabbed some socks and loaded them in there, then he rifled through my weapons, dropping my knives and pistols in.

  “For camping gear we can share,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the room. “Come. Mikhale will only be in Urdu for another half hour.”

  I winced, grabbing my ribs and hissing, before stretching into my holster and pulling out my gun. I cocked it and pointed it at him. “Not so fast!”

  He stopped turning around and narrowing his eyes at me. “Datha, I’ll knock you out and drag you to Noali’s if I have to!”

  I smirked and whistled. “No, you won’t.”

  He smirked then was a blur of movement as he kicked the pistol from my hand and used the butt of it as a battering ram against my skull. I crumpled forward, feeling him catch me as everything slowly faded into nothing.