Control (Dark Romance)

Chapter 12

Nikola's P.O.V

"Nikola."

I usually had a hard time cleaning anywhere other than my bedroom. It made me feel ill, but today there was no rumble in my abdomen or imagined worms slithering beneath my skin.

"Nikola."

I flip the damp cloth before swiping it over the leather-bound grimoire. This one was in pristine condition. The owner— Azalea Grichen, clearly took the documentation of their life seriously, and for that, I was sure to show an equal amount of care.

"Nikola."

Once I'm done with the outside, I lightly sweep across the pages to rid them of any dust before setting Ms. Grichen's grimoire with the others I'd already gone through. I reach for the next but pause when I find my Ma standing in front of the waiting stacks.

I don't bother asking how long she'd been there or how many times she'd tried to get my attention– clearly, it had been a while.

"Yes?"

"Tu fredonnais," she states, and I immediately frown.

"I do not hum," I reply because it was simply something I did not do.

"You did just now," she counters, a way-too-proud smile stretching across her lips. "You've been doing it for a while. Oh– don't make that face. It's nice to see you so happy."

"Because humming only occurs when one is especially thrilled?" I retort in French, and her smile becomes impossibly wider.

"In your case, it seems so," she replies before her gaze shifts from amused to hopeful. "I take it things are going well? With you and Hagen?"

Well? The situation between Hagen and I exceeded the confines of 'well'.

In all my planning, I'd never imagined that Hagen would be so receptive of me this soon. We did not fight or argue, and although that was an achievement in itself, somehow, I'd gotten to scent mark him as well.

A pleasant thrum settles deep inside of me at the thought of the memory that had been keeping me sustained for days on end now. Knowing that Hagen carried my scent was pleasing in ways I never imagined, and for the first time in my life, the constant burn to have him was quiet— sated.

"It's better than I anticipated," I admit truthfully, not inclined to share too much detail with my mother.

"That's good," she says calmly, her attention returning to the grimoire in her hands. "I hear it's the same over on their side."

I turn to stone before fixing my gaze on my smirking mother. Thankfully, she doesn't torture me any longer or make me beg.

"My sources say that Hagen is the happiest he's been in a while," she reports calmly, and I envy her for being so controlled when her words were making me anything but. "Apparently, he's glued to his phone."

My lips twitch upwards as I recall the back-and-forth we'd been caught in last night after I'd accidentally mentioned my distaste for most animations. I'd 'offended' my mate and 'almost got myself rejected through text'.

Somehow, I'd bought myself an hour of Hagen trying to sell me on cartoons, and I loved every minute of it.

I, by no means, was a 'texter' and generally hated using my phone, but for Hagen, I didn't go anywhere without its weight overburdening my pocket.

"I told my source that I was happy to hear that because I know someone who's the same," Ma continues, her smile turning almost giddy as she drops the reporter act. "It was just nice to hear that this—" she gestures at me, "wasn't one-sided."