Chapter 1: Rain, Ruin, and a Blue-Haired Stranger
The rain came down in sheets, silver and relentless, turning the clearing into a slurping bog of black mud that grabbed at their boots with every step. Nickie's slingshot monokini had long since given up any pretense of coverage, the wet fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin she wanted to claw off. Water dripped from her chin, her elbows, the tips of her hair. She looked like a drowned cat and felt about as graceful.
"Fucking hell," she muttered, stumbling over a root she couldn't see. "This is bullshit. Absolute bullshit."
Nokturna didn't answer. She was too busy wringing black water from the lace of her sleeves, her pale fingers working the fabric with methodical precision. The rain had turned her sleek hair into a wet curtain against her cheekbones, and her dark eyes scanned the treeline with the wariness of someone who'd been burned before. Many times. By many people.
"The path's gone," Nickie said, stating the obvious because someone had to. "Just... gone. Like it was never there."
"It was there." Nokturna's voice was quiet, controlled. "Something moved it."
"Paths don't just move."
"Neither do trees. And yet."
Nickie kicked at a fern that seemed to recoil from her touch, its fronds curling like skeletal fingers. The whole forest felt wrong. Too quiet. Too watchful. The moss on the oaks glistened with a sheen that wasn't quite rain, and the air smelled of wet earth and something older. Something that made her skin prickle.
"Okay, so we're lost," Nickie said, ticking off points on her fingers. "We're soaked. Our magic is tapped. And we're standing in a mud pit that's probably eating my boots as we speak. Great. Fantastic. Love this for us."
"You're spiraling."
"I'm being realistic."
Nokturna finally looked up, her expression unreadable. The rain had smeared what little makeup she wore, and her silver jewelry gleamed dully against the gloom. She looked like a ghost. A very annoyed ghost who was about to tell Nickie exactly where she could shove her optimism.
"We wait until morning," Nokturna said. "Find higher ground. Regroup."
"And freeze to death in the meantime? Hard pass."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Nickie opened her mouth to fire back something clever, something cutting, but the words died in her throat.
A light.
Small. Warm. Golden.
It bobbed between the trees like a will-o'-the-wisp, but steadier. Purposeful.
And then the figure stepped out of the dark.
He moved like the rain didn't touch him. Like gravity was more of a suggestion than a law. Long blue hair cascaded past his shoulders, dark with moisture but somehow still gleaming, and his pale eyes caught the lantern light in a way that made Nickie's breath hitch. He was beautiful. Not handsome in the way of the men she'd known—rough and sharp and predictable—but something else entirely. Delicate. Androgynous. The kind of face that made you question things about yourself you'd never thought to question before.
His lips curved into a smile that was equal parts charm and amusement.
"Lost lambs," he said, his voice velvet and smoke. "How delicious."
Nokturna's hand moved to her hip, where a blade usually rested. It wasn't there. She'd lost it somewhere in the bog, and the realization made her jaw tighten.
"We're fine," she said flatly. "Just passing through."
"Through my forest? In this storm?" The stranger tilted his head, and his hair shifted like water. "Forgive me, but you don't look fine. You look half-drowned and entirely furious."
Nickie snorted. "She always looks like that."
"Nickie."
"What? You do."
The stranger's gaze slid to Nickie, and something flickered in those pale eyes. Interest, maybe. Or hunger. It was hard to tell with beautiful people. They all looked at you like you were either a meal or a mirror.
"I'm Faust," he said, extending one elegant hand. His fingers were long, pale, adorned with silver rings that seemed to glow faintly in the lantern's light. "I live nearby. Alone, mostly. But I have a fire. Dry clothes. Wine, if you're inclined."
Nokturna didn't move. Every instinct she possessed—and she possessed many, honed over years of lifting wallets and slipping through windows—screamed at her to run. Or fight. Or both. Faust was too calm, too composed, too perfectly unbothered by the storm raging around them. Nobody lived this deep in the forest without a reason. And nobody appeared out of the dark like a vision without wanting something.
"Pass," she said.
Nickie, predictably, was already grinning.
"Wine? Fire?Dry clothes?" She was moving toward him before Nokturna could grab her arm, her wet boots squelching in the mud. "Lead the way, blue hair. I'm sold."
"Nickie, wait—"
But Nickie was already following the lantern, already falling into step beside Faust like they were old friends. The wizard glanced back at Nokturna, and his smile widened. It was a knowing smile. A patient one. The kind of smile that said he'd been expecting resistance and found it amusing.
"Your friend is wise to hesitate," Faust said. "You should listen to her."
Nickie waved a dismissive hand. "She's always like this. Trust issues. You know how it is."
"I do."
Nokturna stood frozen in the rain, watching them walk away. The lantern light grew smaller, swallowed by the trees, and the darkness crept back in like a living thing. She could stay here. Could take her chances with the cold and the mud and the creeping sense that something was watching from the shadows.
Or she could follow.
"Fuck," she whispered.
And she followed.
Nokturna caught up to them just as the trees thinned, revealing a structure that shouldn't have existed this deep in the forest. The house was old—older than old—its stone walls furred with moss and its windows glowing with that same impossible golden light. It leaned slightly to one side, like it had drunk too much rain and forgotten how to stand straight.
"Charming," Nokturna muttered.
Faust glanced back at her, and that smile was still there, patient and knowing. "It has character."
"It has rot."
"Tomato, tomato."
Nickie snorted, already climbing the crooked stone steps to the heavy oak door. "I don't care if it's held together with spit and prayers. If there's a fire inside, I'm moving in."
The door swung open without Faust touching it. Nokturna noted that. Noted the way the air inside was warm and dry, the way the flames in the massive hearth leaped and crackled like they'd been waiting for company. The interior was cluttered but clean—books stacked on every surface, herbs hanging from the rafters, strange instruments and stranger artifacts gleaming in the firelight. A cauldron hung over the flames, though it wasn't bubbling with anything sinister. Just water, from the smell of it. Maybe stew.
"Suspiciously cozy," Nokturna said.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Faust gestured to the room with a graceful sweep of his hand. "Please. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll find dry things."
Nickie was already peeling off her monokini, the wet fabric hitting the stone floor with a wet slap. She stood in nothing but her underwear—black lace that was equally soaked—and stretched her arms above her head with a groan of relief. Her tanned skin gleamed in the firelight, water still beading on her shoulders and the curve of her spine.
"Oh my god, that's better," she said. "I was starting to think my nipples would never recover."
Nokturna stayed by the door, water pooling at her feet. Her dark eyes tracked Faust as he moved through the room, gathering blankets and what looked like a robe from a trunk near the fire. He moved like he had all the time in the world. Like their presence didn't unsettle him in the slightest.
"You're not going to undress?" Faust asked, glancing at her. "I assure you, I've seen it all before."
"I'm sure you have."
"Turn around," Nickie said, tugging at Nokturna's sleeve. "Come on. You're dripping on his floor and making me cold just looking at you."
Nokturna hesitated a moment longer, then sighed. She was being paranoid. Probably. The wizard was strange, but he wasn't threatening. Not yet, anyway. And her lace was starting to chafe in ways that made her want to claw her own skin off.
She undressed with quick, efficient movements, peeling away the wet layers until she stood in her underwear—black silk, simple, nothing fancy. Her pale skin was almost luminous in the firelight, her slender frame traced with the faint lines of old scars and newer bruises. She didn't bother hiding them. They were part of her. Maps of where she'd been and what she'd survived.
Faust handed her a blanket without comment. His eyes flicked over her scars, but there was no pity in his gaze. Just acknowledgment. Maybe even respect.
"Drink," he said, pressing a cup of wine into her hands. The cup was silver, etched with symbols that seemed to shift when she wasn't looking directly at them. "It'll warm you faster than the fire."
She drank. The wine was dark and sweet, with an undertone of something she couldn't identify. It spread through her chest like sunlight, chasing away the chill that had settled into her bones.
"Not bad," she admitted.
"I don't serve bad wine. It would be a waste of a good evening."
Nickie had already claimed a spot by the fire, wrapped in a blanket that she'd let fall open at the front. She was shameless. Always had been. The firelight danced across her skin, and she sipped her wine with the satisfied expression of someone who'd just gotten exactly what she wanted.
"So," Nickie said, stretching out her legs. "Faust. What's a guy like you doing all the way out here?"
"Living."
"Obviously. But why here? Why alone?"
Faust settled into a chair across from them, crossing his long legs at the ankle. His blue hair had dried to a silken cascade that caught the firelight, and his pale eyes reflected the flames like mirrors. He looked like something out of a painting. Something dangerous that had learned to wear a human face.
"I prefer solitude," he said. "People are exhausting. They want things. They take things. They leave messes behind."
Nokturna snorted into her wine. "Sounds like you know from experience."
"I know many things."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting for now."
Nickie laughed, low and warm. "I like him. He's cryptic. It's hot."
"You would think that."
"Because it's true."
The fire crackled. The rain drummed against the roof in a steady rhythm that was almost hypnotic. Nokturna found herself relaxing despite her instincts, the wine and the warmth and the strange, magnetic presence of the wizard working together to ease the tension from her shoulders.
"So you're a hermit with a nice house," Nickie said. "What else? You got a wife hidden somewhere? Kids? A secret garden full of corpses?"
Faust's smile widened. "No corpses. No wife. I'm afraid I'm terribly boring."
"Somehow I doubt that."
"Believe what you like."
Nickie shifted, the blanket slipping a little lower. "What do you believe in?"
The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been. Faust's eyes moved over her slowly, appraising, and then slid to Nokturna. The weight of that gaze was a physical thing, like being touched without hands.
"I believe in pleasure," he said finally. "In experiences. In the taste of wine and the warmth of fire and the company of beautiful women."
Nokturna met his eyes. "That a line you use on everyone?"
"Did it work?"
"Not yet."
"Then I'll have to try harder."
Nickie shifted again, and this time the blanket slipped entirely, pooling around her waist. Her breasts were bare in the firelight, her nipples hardening in the warm air. She didn't move to cover herself. She didn't even seem to notice—or care—that she was practically naked.
"Speaking of pleasure," she said, her voice pitched low. "How long has it been since you had company, Faust?"
The wizard's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes darkened. Something hungry and old and barely restrained.
"A while," he said. "I told you. People are exhausting."
"Maybe you just haven't met the right people."
"Maybe."
Nokturna watched the exchange like she was watching a snake charmer at work. Nickie was always like this—all impulse and heat and no thought for consequences. She'd been that way since they were kids, stealing apples from market stalls and running before anyone could catch them. It had gotten her into trouble more times than Nokturna could count.
But this was different. Faust wasn't the kind of trouble you could outrun.
"I should mention," Nokturna said, setting down her cup, "that if you try anything we don't like, I'll cut your throat and use your blood to paint the walls."
Faust's smile didn't falter. "Noted. Though I assure you, I have no intention of doing anything you don't like."
"That's not what you said earlier. 'Lost lambs,' remember?"
"Ah. That was just me being dramatic. I spend too much time alone. Sometimes I forget how to talk to people."
"You seem to be doing fine."
"Practice."
Nickie had moved closer to him without Nokturna noticing, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. She was standing over him now, the blanket forgotten, her body a study in shadows and golden light. Her hand landed on his shoulder, and she leaned down to whisper something in his ear.
Faust's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. When they opened again, they found Nokturna's.
"Your friend is very forward," he said.
"Your wizard is very patient."
"I've had centuries to practice."
"Centuries?"
But Nickie was already climbing into his lap, her thighs straddling his, her hands sliding into that cascade of blue hair. She kissed him before he could answer, messy and eager, and Faust responded with a low sound in his throat that was almost a growl.
Nokturna should have stopped it. Should have yanked Nickie off him and dragged her out into the rain. But something held her in place—the wine, the fire, the way Faust's eyes flickered to her even as he kissed her friend. Measuring. Inviting.
Watching.
Nickie broke the kiss, panting. "You want this?"
Faust's hands settled on her hips. "I want many things."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting for now."
Nickie laughed, the same reckless laugh she'd always had, and ground her hips down against his. Faust's eyelids fluttered again, and the firelight seemed to flare brighter, responding to something none of them could see.
"Do you want to join us?" Nickie asked, turning her head to look at Nokturna. "Or are you just going to sit there being all broody and mysterious?"
Nokturna took another long drink of wine. The silver cup was warm in her hands, and the fire was warm on her skin, and her body was warmer still, aching with something she'd been ignoring for too long.
"Fine," she said. "But if he turns out to be a demon, I'm blaming you."
"If he turns out to be a demon, I'm marrying him."
Faust laughed, a rich, dark sound that sent a shiver down Nokturna's spine. "I'm not a demon. Though I've been called worse."
"Like what?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he rose from the chair with Nickie still wrapped around him, her legs locking around his waist. He carried her to the pile of furs and blankets spread before the hearth, lowering her down with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the hunger in his eyes.
"Come," he said, looking at Nokturna. "Unless you'd rather watch."
Nokturna's throat was dry. She wanted to stay angry, wanted to stay cautious, wanted to be the voice of reason she'd always been for Nickie. But the night was dark and the fire was warm and she was so very tired of being careful all the time.
She stood. Crossed the room. Let her own blanket fall.
Faust's eyes traced over her pale body like he was memorizing it. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Both of you. I forgot how beautiful people could be."
"You forgot?" Nickie asked, already pulling at the fastenings of his robes. "How long have you been alone?"
"Long enough."
His robes fell open, revealing a body that was lean and pale and surprisingly scarred—much like Nokturna's own, though the marks were older, deeper, telling stories she couldn't begin to guess at. His chest was smooth, his hips narrow, and his cock was already hard, thick and pale and curving against his stomach.
Nokturna's breath caught. She wasn't shy about sex—had never been shy about it—but there was something different about this. Something charged. Something that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a drop she couldn't see the bottom of.
Faust reached for her, and she let him. His fingers closed around her wrist, cool against her flushed skin, and he drew her down to the furs beside Nickie. The three of them sprawled together, limbs tangling, breath mingling, the fire crackling behind them and the rain falling soft and steady against the windows.
"I'm going to fuck you both," Faust said, and it wasn't a question. "I'm going to take my time with it. I'm going to make you feel things you've forgotten how to feel. And in the morning, you'll go on your way, and I'll stay here alone, and we'll both remember tonight as exactly what it was."
Nickie licked her lips slowly. "And what's that?"
"A gift. A distraction. A moment of warmth in a cold, wet world."
Nokturna reached up and tangled her fingers in his blue hair, pulling his mouth down to hers. The kiss was sharp, biting, tasting of wine and magic and something darker underneath. He kissed her back like he was trying to devour her, his tongue sliding against hers, his hand finding her hip and squeezing hard enough to bruise.
"I don't remember giving you permission to be poetic," she said against his mouth.
"You didn't. I'm just good at it."
He pulled back, and Nickie was already reaching for him, guiding his hand between her thighs where she was slick and ready. She moaned as his fingers found her, arching her back, her head falling against Nokturna's shoulder.
"Fuck," she breathed. "That's it. Just like that."
Faust watched her fall apart under just his fingers, his thumb circling her clit in slow, deliberate circles. "You're greedy. I like that."
"You haven't seen anything yet."
"I intend to."
He withdrew his hand, and Nickie whined at the loss of contact. But he was already moving, positioning himself between her legs, his cock sliding through her wetness, teasing her opening without pushing inside.
"Please," she whispered. "Please just—"
He pushed inside her in one slow, smooth stroke.
Nickie cried out, her hips rising to meet him, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders. Faust paused, buried to the hilt, and turned his head to look at Nokturna.
"Touch her," he said. "While I fuck her. Touch her everywhere."
Nokturna didn't need to be told twice. Her hands found Nickie's breasts, cupping them, thumbing the hard nipples, rolling them between her fingers. Nickie whined, thrusting her chest into Nokturna's hands, her body writhing between them.
"More," she gasped. "God, more—"
Faust moved. Slow at first, pulling out just enough to make her feel empty, then pushing back in with measured, deliberate thrusts. The firelight painted them in gold and shadow, three bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt older than words.
Nokturna leaned down and took one of Nickie's nipples into her mouth, sucking hard, using her teeth just a little. Nickie's fingers found her hair, holding her in place, and her hips were bucking now, meeting Faust's thrusts with desperate urgency.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
"Not yet," Faust said, his voice strained. "Not yet. I want to feel you come on my cock. I want to watch your face when it happens."
Nokturna released her nipple and looked up. Faust was watching her with those pale, burning eyes, and something passed between them—an understanding, a challenge. He thrust harder, and Nickie screamed, and Nokturna's own body throbbed in sympathy.
"Come for me," Faust said, and it was a command. "Now. Let go."
Nickie did. Her body arched like a bowstring pulled taut, her mouth open in a silent cry, her fingers digging into Nokturna's shoulder hard enough to leave marks. Faust kept moving through it, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling, gasping, boneless.
He pulled out slowly, his cock slick and glistening, and turned to Nokturna.
"Your turn."
She was ready. She'd been ready since the moment he'd first touched her. She rolled onto her back and pulled him over her, her legs parting, her body opening to him like a flower to the sun.
"Don't be gentle," she said.
Faust smiled, that dangerous, knowing smile. "I wasn't planning on it."
He pushed inside her with a force that made her gasp, filling her completely, stretching her in ways she hadn't been stretched in... well. Ever. Her back arched, her nails raked down his back, and he hissed in pleasure-pain.
"That's it," he growled. "Fight me. I like it when they fight."
She did. She fought him for every inch, biting his shoulder, raking her nails across his hips, grabbing his hair and yanking hard enough that he winced. He responded by fucking her harder, faster, brutal and relentless, driving her into the furs with each thrust.
Nickie had recovered enough to crawl over, her lips finding Nokturna's neck, her hands sliding down her belly to find where Faust was buried inside her. She stroked the slick skin where they were joined, and Nokturna cried out, her hips bucking wildly.
"You look so good like this," Nickie murmured against her ear. "So fucking good."
"Shut up—"
"I'm serious. I've never seen you like this. All that caution, all that hiding, and underneath you're just as desperate as the rest of us."
Nokturna wanted to argue, wanted to push her away, but Faust chose that moment to hit something inside her that made her see stars. Her hips bucked and she came with a scream that echoed off the stone walls, her body clenching around him, her vision going white.
Faust kept thrusting through it, riding her orgasm, his breathing ragged. She watched him through the haze of pleasure, realized he was waiting for her permission.
"Come inside me," she said.
He did.
His hips stuttered, his mouth fell open, and he buried himself to the hilt with a groan that was almost pained. She felt him pulsing inside her, hot and thick, and something in her chest cracked open just a little.
After, they lay tangled together, three bodies slick with sweat, the fire burning low and the rain still drumming outside. Nickie was already half-asleep, her head pillowed on Nokturna's shoulder, her breathing slow and peaceful.
Faust's fingers traced patterns on Nokturna's stomach, symbols that glowed faintly against her skin.
"What are those?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"Wards. Protection. You'll sleep well tonight. No nightmares."
"How do you know I have nightmares?"
He didn't answer. Just pressed a kiss to her shoulder and rose to add more wood to the fire.
Nokturna watched him through half-closed eyes. The wizard. The hermit. The stranger with the pale eyes and the blue hair and the scars that told stories she wanted to read.
She didn't trust him.
But she wanted to.