Chapter Text
Alec’s POV
Nine years a long time to be undercover, he thinks as strides through the Ourumov Mansion, his annoyance kept tightly under wraps so his flame aura wouldn’t flare to life. He keeps requesting extraction, an end to the mission, and he keeps getting denied. He’s so very tired but there is nothing he can actually do about it. At least, not without betraying James, and he longs to see his friend and lover again, so that is something he is trying to avoid at all costs. He’s pragmatic, so he adapts.
He has just reached his room when he notices that the door is slightly ajar, and can hear at least two different voices from the inside.
Slowing, his hand goes to the gun he keeps on his person as he pushes the door the rest of the way open. Inside, he finds Matrona Ourumova, two henchmen, and the most surprising thing: a teenage boy strapped to his bed.
He doesn’t bother asking what they are doing in his room, instead he merely arches one brow at her and waits for her to begin. It’s a really effective tactic he’s used on several occasions since she hates to feel like she is being questioned and answers almost immediately each time.
“Hello Alec,” she nearly purrs, “I brought you a gift,” she motions to the teen.
Ever since he met her, she has been trying to get into his pants, something he has avoided by getting Ourumov to agree it would not be a good idea. So occasionally she does something new, almost as if she is hoping to ‘win him over’ with her actions, when in truth it makes him hate her more. Just like he hates how familiar she is with his name.
“He’s a hacker, and an artificer, if you can get him to use his talents.” She tells him, “He’s been,” she pauses to flick a glare at the teen, “very resistant.”
The tied up teen glares back, flipping her off with a wordless hiss of anger.
One of the henchmen steps forward to strike the teen, and he immediately steps forward, grabbing the henchman’s wrist and squeezing, allowing his fire nature to flare to life, both breaking and searing the henchman’s wrist.
“Since he was given to me, you won’t touch him,” he growls dangerously.
The henchman whimpers pain from the broken wrist and the burns as he releases the idiot.
Miss Ourumov smirks, watching with interest and heat in her eyes. “I could tell you all about what has been done to your new toy, if you’d like,” she offers, moving closer to him until he allows his flame aura to surround him, making her step back from the heat.
Sometimes it’s really useful being an elemental.
“Don’t bother,” he replies, “I was only stopping by my room to grab my coat. My new gift and I are leaving.” His voice is full of disdain as he says it. “Feel free to get out. Now.”
She freezes for a moment before nodding once and leaving with her henchmen, the one cradling his arm to his chest. The second henchman closes the door behind them.
Now it’s time to deal with this unwelcome gift.