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Dylan was awake when the sound of the wind swiftly rising signified that Alma was going through another surge of the elemental power transforming her body. He scrambled out of bed, taking the stairs at a run; Alma wasn’t screaming this time, thank goodness, but the sudden sharp rise in the local wind speed was definitely not something that should be allowed to continue. The experiences he had seen his brother go through, that Alma was going through, dulled anticipation of his own future experience coming into his full abilities. He knew the process would be, at the very least, painful and he would find himself and his power out of control. The “power surges” as Finn and Alma had termed them were unpleasant judging from Alma’s screams the first time it had happened to her.
Dylan entered Alma’s bedroom behind Finn. He wondered, as he had multiple times before, whether it would have been a better idea for him to take the room next to Alma’s instead. While they had flipped a coin in the interest of fairness, Dylan knew his brother annoyed and frustrated Alma and that the enigmatic, flighty woman had the same effect on his brother. He recalled his father telling him when he was young he seemed suited for the role of “peacekeeper” in any situation. It was a designation that would cement his partnership with his hot-tempered, impulsive brother. They had other siblings, but the two—Dylan and Finn—were the best suited to protect other elementals, to act as bodyguards or negotiators in tense situations. Dylan, with his easygoing nature and readily soothing manner was the model diplomat, while Finn never hesitated to put his life in danger to meet his goals.
Finn, perhaps remembering he had made matters worse the previous time that Alma had been in this state, hesitated next to her bed, looking down at her. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t even awake. But the wind intensifying outside rattled the windows. It was enough to tell both Dylan and Finn something was amiss. Even if they had been deaf, the way Alma was moving, writhing in the bed, in her sleep, was evidence enough. Dylan was relieved on his brother’s behalf that it seemed Alma had worn pajamas to bed this time. Her nudity hadn’t bothered him—other than confirming that Alma was undeniably a beautiful woman even without clothing, something he had suspected anyway. Dylan had conceded that a relationship with Alma and he wouldn’t work out; he couldn’t give her the demanding, challenging pressure she needed from a mate.
The two stood and stared at Alma for a long moment, neither sure what to do. The previous time she had experienced a power surge, she had been awake by the time they had caught on. The wind speed rose sharply. Dylan cringed at how the windows in Alma’s room rattled in their frames, the high-pitched wail of the wind moving through nooks and crannies of the building itself. He looked at his brother in concern, and felt himself blushing slightly as Alma let out a low, throaty moan. It was obvious that she was in the throes of a vivid and apparently erotic dream, her senses cranked to the hilt. Finn touched Alma, and Dylan knocked his hand away. Dylan had contacted Alma’s grandmother after the first power surge and mentioned the lightning that had accompanied it.“Was Finn in contact with her when it happened?”Lorene had asked sharply.“Lightning is the manifestation of air and fire combined. They’re both unstable elementals, their powers came together. It’s dangerous—try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”He hadn’t told his brother, and Dylan was still digesting the importance of what Alma’s grandmother had said, but he understood the warning.
Just as Dylan knocked aside Finn’s attempt to awaken Alma, the wind shifted, becoming more violent. Dylan and Finn jumped, startled when the windows rattled harder, the sound of the wind shaking the panes of glass. Before either of them could organize another thought, the glass shattered, the fragments being sucked out into the night. Wind surged through the room, scattering loose paper and knocking heavier items around. Dylan knew he had to act. Alma wasn’t going to wake soon, at least not before her abilities made more of a mess than could be easily explained by freak weather.
Dylan placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, pinning her down to the mattress as he focused all of his thoughts on the spell he had used before. He murmured the spell, feeling the cold, calm pressure of his water energy flowing through his body. He repeated the incantation again and again, calling upon his ability to dampen and suppress the flow of energy rocking Alma. He sent waves of calming energy through Alma’s body until the squall gradually died down. The howling, keening, and wailing wind faltered. Alma shivered. Dylan felt the power coursing through her body tingling through his touch. He let go of her as the wind calmed to a draft.
“Alma,” Dylan spoke softly. “Alma.” He kept his voice above a whisper, but he wanted to wake her.
Finn stared at the broken window, then glanced from it to the woman he had sworn to protect. Absorbing the shock of the broken window, he moved between Dylan and Alma and gave the woman an abrupt shake. “Wake up!”
Dylan rolled his eyes at his brother’s methods—but they were effective. Alma gasped, her dark eyes flying open. She squinted at the men hovering over her and rubbed at her face, shaking her head in confusion.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice sleepy and plaintive. Dylan smiled slightly. He could tell from the residual flush across her face and chest that her power surge had been precipitated by the same dream-based eroticism that had accompanied his brother’s experiences in the destruction of bedroom furniture less than a year before.
“You broke your window,” Finn said bluntly, gesturing to the empty frame.
Alma sat up alert, startled by the accusation, looking in the direction Finn was pointing. Dylan sat on the edge of her bed shaking his head. While his brother had many sterling qualities, dealing with crises that didn’t call for either beating someone up or destroying property was not one of them. Alma took in the sight of her broken window for a moment and then turned in confusion to Dylan.
“What? How did I break it? I was asleep…dreaming—” She blushed a deep crimson. Dylan didn’t need intuition to know she was remembering the contents of the dream.
“You damned near created a tornado around the building,” Finn said, throwing himself down at the foot of her bed. He smirked. “Sounded like a good dream you were having. Let me guess: Alex?”
Dylan forestalled an angry, embarrassed retort from Alma by picking up a stray stuffed animal that had fallen off of a display shelf in her room and throwing it at his brother. “It doesn’t matter what she was dreaming about,” Dylan said firmly. “You were having another power surge. The wind grew strong enough to shatter the window. I think most of the shards flew out, but be careful walking around.” He gave her a little smile. “We can get someone in to fix the window. How are you feeling?”
Alma was shivering but seemed unaware of it. Dylan wondered if he had gone too far in correcting the flow of energy running through her body, countering it with the weight and calm of his own.
“I feel cold…and like I shoved a fork into an electrical socket.”
Dylan chuckled, knowing the description was probably an apt one. Only a few days out from her birthday, when she would assume her full powers, Alma was expected to experience a great deal of power. Electricity was an odd manifestation for air-based elemental sensations, but Dylan knew from his studies it wasn’t impossible.
“I might have overdone it a bit with the spell,” Dylan admitted. “It was pretty intense. Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep? Or would you rather not with the broken window?”
There were security concerns to be considered; while a window wasn’t a huge barrier to entry, the lack of one created a vulnerability if someone was watching the house. It would be stupid of Dylan and Finn to be there to defend Alma against other elementals, only to have her fall prey to a regular human burglar.
“I can sleep on the couch. Might be better.” Alma continued to shiver, pulling the blankets around her more tightly. Dylan was concerned; he glanced at Finn, on the point of asking his brother to use his magic to correct his overzealous use of power to calm her.
“Just make sure you don’t wreck the windows downstairs too,” Finn suggested with a little grin. Alma scowled at him, for a moment looking hurt, then stuck her tongue out at Finn.
“At least a window isn’t as embarrassing to replace as a bed,” she retorted. “I think I’m going to make myself a hot chocolate before I go back to sleep. Would you like one, Dylan?”
Dylan grinned, knowing it was Alma’s intent to snub his older brother, and agreeing with her both in principle and practice.
“I’d love one.” Dylan stood, gesturing for Alma to precede him out of the room.
She climbed out of bed, deliberately avoiding Finn as she pulled on a thick bathrobe and padded out of her bedroom. Finn shrugged, but Dylan knew that he was frustrated with himself. He couldn’t be angry at the snub—he had earned it—but he couldn’t not feel slighted. While Finn wasn’t the most thoughtful of people, or the most introspective, Dylan knew his older brother wasn’t unintelligent.
“You know, big bro,” Dylan said with a little grin. “Considering the lust you have, and how much charm you have with the women, you are really, really striking out with Alma. Maybe you should think about why that is.” Dylan left his brother to contemplate in silence.
He was certain he knew something neither Alma nor Finn could see; that if they would get past the barrier of their tumultuous tendencies, they would actually be good for each other. It was odd for him to realize that he was the “mature adult” of the three. He understood where Alma was coming from—she loved her freedom and was too self-determined to comfortably settle for an arranged marriage, or for a relationship that didn’t stimulate her.
Dylan was surprised at how well he got along with her. Although he had a diplomatic tendency, he’d found most air elementals to be all style and no substance, to be flashy and charming but ultimately very shallow and often annoying. While Alma wasn’t without flaws, he admired that she put work into becoming a respected translator and that she had ambition and motivation as well as enough discipline to back it up. She was flighty in her personal life and in her emotions, but from a professional standpoint, she was a different creature.
Dylan watched Alma move around the kitchen with absentminded grace, reaching without looking for items she needed. He smiled to himself, noticing she preferred to make her hot chocolate from scratch—which didn’t align with what he thought he knew of her speed-oriented personality. She took out a small saucepan and rummaged for items she needed in the pantry: unsweetened cocoa, sugar, salt, vanilla extract, and milk from the fridge. Dylan appreciated Alma’s culinary skills; he had a basic ability to cook, and his brother Finn made dishes without burning them, though he still occasionally mixed-up salt and sugar, which didn’t always bode well for coffee. Alma had spent enough time with her grandmother, growing up steeped in a family that loved food; she was both proficient and comfortable in a kitchen. In some ways, Dylan thought Alma was contradictory; he had seen her settle for peanut butter on saltine crackers for lunch in the midst of work, bringing the food to her mouth and eating it without tasting it; he had seen her devour the worst greasy spoon hamburgers he had ever eaten while they were traveling; but certain things—like hot chocolate—seemed to have an importance to her.
