4
It was early afternoon when Nicholas finally stirred from his restless sleep. It had been years since either he or Tamara had kept a daytime schedule like normal people. He sat up wearily, ruffling a hand through his hair and glancing around his room.
“Man, what a night,” he muttered.
His magic shifted beneath his skin, waking up with him. It never ceased to amaze him how that secret inner part of him seemed like a separate being, one that shared his skin. Yet they were always together, he and the magic. Inseparable.
He’d grown up in a house filled with magic users, and he’d known from a young age that he would be a tracker for the Brotherhood. But meeting Tamara—loving Tamara—had made him question all of that. A new wave of guilt crashed at him from all sides, and he lashed out, pun
