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“Laszlo, the man is impossible!”
Laszlo nodded from where he was sprawled out on the couch, watching his ladylove pace across the floor. “Well, he—”
“He never listens, does he? It’s always just ‘blah, blah, blah, Nadja,’” she said, her voice going mocking as she puppeted her hand in mimicry of one of Nandor’s long, drawn out speeches. “Never anything important at all! And Guillermo may have to put up with that, but I certainly don’t.”
Laszlo nodded again. “Yes, well—”
“He argues with every one of my good ideas, and his ideas are all just so—“ She stopped mid-step, clearly trying to find a word bad enough for Nandor’s ideas.
“Inane?” Laszlo tried.
“Fucking shitty,” she finished. But the stop in her pacing seemed to have stalled out her momentum, and she just sighed. “Really, Laszlo, it’s just so exhausting.”
“I know,” he said, and held out a hand to her.
She looked at it, and Laszlo could see the exact moment when her anger melted away and her eyes went soft, soft in a way that they only did when looking at him. She just looked tired now, and when she took his hand, there was a gratefulness to it that made his heart twist a bit in his chest.
He pulled her over, down, until she was tucked against his side. There was a gentleness to his movements that seemed a stark contrast to the fury that still lingered in the room, and, well, he knew that Nadja didn’t always need to be treated gently. She was the strongest woman that he’d ever known. But she always deserved to be treated gently, and that was something that he’d keep reminding her of until they day they died.
Which wasn’t going to be any time soon.
“I think you need a break, my darling,” he said to her, and she snorted where her head was laid against his chest.
“I think I’m doing that right now.”
“No, no, I mean…” He trailed off. What did he mean? He knew that Nadja couldn’t simply run away from these new duties of hers. She’d always craved power like other women gazed at new coats in shop windows, and now she’d finally attained a level of recognition that she’d always deserved. But that didn’t mean that she was bearing all that pressure entirely gracefully.
He could see it every night when she left to attend to Council duties. The way she’d pause at the door for just a moment, visibly shoring herself up. Back a little straighter, shoulders a little squarer, a tightness there that made Laszlo wince in sympathy. She was holding everything in, all the things that made her Nadja, so she could present herself with aplomb and savage grace. And it was slowly driving her mad. He could tell.
Each morning he’d have to unwind her again before they slumbered, lips and teeth and soft, measured words, and it was getting harder and harder each time. It was almost a relief to feel her slumped against him now if just because — well, she didn’t relax like this very often. Not anymore.
Gone were the days when they would make love for hours, enjoying themselves and each other, and Laszlo missed the easy smile on her face, the way she’d giggle when he’d touch her. They still fucked, of course. Nothing was going to put a stop to that. But there was a quickness, a ferocity to it that he didn’t quite like. It wasn’t that it wasn’t fun. It was always fun with Nadja. And he’d always liked it when his beautiful wife took charge and demanded exactly what she wanted from him.
What he didn’t like was the way that it felt like stolen moments. Like almost an afterthought to the fast-paced world that she now inhabited. Like she was shoving down all that love and sweetness like it was a weakness of some kind, like it wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the world.
He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he just pressed a kiss to her hair and listened to her sigh. He’d love it if she could take a break, a real one. While away the hours with him here in their boudoir. Maybe even take a little vacation. For her sake, if not for theirs. He wanted to see her smile in the moonlight again, light and artless, and he wanted to banish all this dratted tension that kept her all tied up in knots.
She would go far in this cursed world of theirs and he knew it. He’d never dream of holding her back. She was in her element when she demanded power like a queen, dark and regal, and she had never been more beautiful than when she was covered in the blood of their enemies.
Fuck, she was beautiful when she was angry.
But while his job as her husband was to support her in her endeavors, it was also to watch out for her mental health when she wouldn’t. And Nadja never, ever did.
There was a reason why Laszlo had opted out of all this Council nonsense as soon as it had been offered to them. It all sounded like a monstrous headache to him, and one with little to no reward. He wasn’t surprised to see things going tits-up as often as they had. He wasn’t surprised to see that it was all affecting Nadja, too.
She’d get used to it. He had to tell himself that. She’d get used to it. She’d slowly learn the tightrope she had to walk between power and joy. Strength and happiness. She’d be able to let both sides of her soul flourish. One day.
In the meantime, though…
He stroked his fingers through her hair, slow, and pressed another kiss to the top of her head. He could feel her starting to relax against him, and that was really all he could hope for, wasn’t it? He couldn’t make her job any easier or any less frustrating. He couldn’t make New York’s vampires any less recalcitrant and he couldn’t make Nandor any less stupid. He certainly couldn’t make either of them less stubborn.
All he could do was hold her just like this, gentle and tender and sweet, and give her a place where she could be herself. Be whole. Where she didn’t feel the need to play up her strengths and hide her weaknesses. Where she never, ever had to pretend to be anything she wasn’t.
He loved Nadja exactly how she was.
And later, after she’d calmed down a little and was feeling more herself, he’d kiss her. Slow, then fast, then devastatingly hot, and he’d burn away all those niggling little worries that she could never quite let go of, not without some help.
He take her apart and put her back together again like he had very often since she’d started this new endeavor, and it would last. For a little while, it would last. Until she had to stand at that door the next time, breathing in deep and locking away a little part of her once again.
But that would be tomorrow.
Tonight, he had a beautiful woman in his arms, snuggled up against him, and that would be enough. For now, these stolen moments would be enough.
And one day, they’d have their break.