Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Wylder
Before Wylder could react, Silva had a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He stepped in front of Wylder.
“Stay behind me.”
The dark shapes coming toward them were a blur in the shadows between streetlights. Silva moved suddenly, darting to the left, and a clang of steel filled the air.
Wylder sucked in a breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Silva became a blur of motion in front of him, the air from his body and their attackers washing over Wylder without him ever really seeing what was happening mere feet from where he stood.
Finally jolting himself to action, Wylder pressed his back to the brick building behind them and tried to follow the fight that he had no chance of surviving without Silva.
One moment, the singing slash of steel against steel rang out again, then a harsh yell, and Silva was in front of him. There was a streak of blood across his cheek and a dark spot staining the right side of his abdomen.
“Silva,” Wylder said, reaching out to get a hold of him.
“I’m fine, but we have to move.”
Wylder glanced over Silva’s shoulder, and there in the street were three bodies. He couldn’t make out all the details in the darkness, but at the sight of one severed head, he swallowed hard and looked back at Silva’s face.
“Come on. There will be more. We’ve got to get off the street.”
Silva
Getting Wylder off the street was the only thing Silva could think about. The shallow gash across his belly stung like a bitch, but he ignored it. Glancing up at the street signs, he grabbed Wylder’s hand and took off at a jog, knowing Wylder would keep up with him.
Zavia hadn’t been kidding about the underbelly being in a state of unrest. Alban had never shied away from giving him information before, and Silva had certainly never been attacked in the street in plain view of anyone caring to look.
They’d been vampires, and he could only assume they were aligned with whatever group Ansel had spoken of. They wanted the door open. The fact that they knew enough to come after Silva meant they knew who’d been guarding it for the last thirty years.
The only silver lining was that it felt like they’d wanted to take Silva alive, being more focused on wounding him than killing him or getting to Wylder. Which meant they didn’t yet know that Wylder was the key. He hoped, anyway.
He had two safehouses in this city. The closest one he hadn’t set foot in in a long time. He regretted that now as he turned between two buildings. He hoped the wards he’d placed had held up over the years.
“Where are we going?” Wylder was right on his heels, keeping up with the pace Silva set without missing a step.
“Safehouse.” Silva glanced over his shoulder to meet Wylder’s turquoise gaze. “It’s not far.”
The safehouse was actually more of a studio apartment in an old four-story, red-brick building. When they reached the building, they slipped into the foyer. It was empty. Scuffed hardwood floors and the mixed smell of multiple dinners cooking greeted them.
“It’s up here.” He pulled Wylder to the old staircase and started up, ignoring the way the steps creaked beneath his feet. At the apartment door on the third floor, he placed a hand on the knob and whispered the incantation to unseal the wards.
He let out a relieved breath when the lock clicked open. Pushing the door open, he waited for Wylder to walk through, then closed and locked it up tight again—locks and wards.
A light flicked on behind him. Warm yellow light from the lamp he’d found at a secondhand store filled the space. He turned around to find Wylder with a little grin on his face.
“I’ve always wanted to hide out in a safehouse.”
Silva chuckled then winced when it pulled at the cut on his stomach.
“Shit.” Wylder came forward, getting into Silva’s space and reaching for his shirt. He lifted it enough to reveal the angry, bleeding line. “That’s going to need stitches.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Silva—”
He placed his hands over Wylder’s to stop his fussing. “It’s already healing. I just need to eat and rest.”
Wylder stared at him for a moment. “Okay. Then sit and take off your shirt. I’ll get you some food and find something to clean that with.”
A strange sort of tingling warmth spread in Silva’s chest. He was used to being alone. Had been for a very long time. If anyone else tried to order him about that way, it would grate on his nerves, and he sure as hell wouldn’t comply. But this was Wylder. Which apparently made all the difference.
The apartment wasn’t large. It was one main room with a small kitchen nook to one side and a bathroom.
He walked over to the couch and started pulling off the cushions.
It folded out into a bed. The only one in the place.
Other than a small two-seater table and a desk, the couch was the only large piece of furniture.
“I’m beginning to think you have a problem with the concept of rest.”
Silva smiled but didn’t stop setting up the couch bed. “I’ll need a place to lie down, won’t I? And since we both can’t fit on the couch as is, we’ll need the bed.”
Wylder stopped rummaging in the kitchen cabinet to look at him. Silva swore he saw Wylder’s eyes darken before they narrowed.
“Okay. True. But you could sit your ass down at the table, let me find us something to eat, and then I could set up the bed.”
Silva had to turn his face away to hide his smile.
He never imagined he’d enjoy being fussed over, but here he was, completely endeared by his mate getting a little huffy.
“Of course. How silly of me.” He walked away from the now cushion-less couch and sat at the little table.
“Honestly, I could just jump in the shower to wash the blood off and be good to go.”
Wylder pulled a couple of foil packets out of one of the cabinets and flicked on the light over the sink before inspecting them. “Where’s the date on these?”
“They use a Julian date code. Let me see. They should still be good.”
Wylder brought them over. Silva found the number stamped on the packages. “Oh yeah, these are still good. Grab a couple spoons, would you? Looks like we’re eating beef stew.”
Wylder
The food wasn’t as bad as Wylder had been expecting, and he was relieved when Silva actually took his shirt off and let Wylder tend to his wound. Silva had been right, of course. It was already almost healed.
“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” Wylder said, running a warm washcloth over the pale skin of Silva’s lower abdomen.
Silva was sitting on the small bit of counter next to the kitchen sink.
Wylder kept his movements as clinical as possible, but he could feel the heat in his cheeks rising every time his gaze strayed to the defined cut of Silva’s shoulders and chest. He was lean and so, so beautiful.
“What’s that?” Silva’s voice was lower than usual. Quieter, too. Maybe Wylder wasn’t the only one having trouble concentrating.
“Healing so fast. If they’d cut me like this, you’d be stitching me up right now.”
“I know.” Silva lifted his hand and traced a finger over Wylder’s cheekbone. “That’s why I said to stay behind me.”
With a wry smile, Wylder set the washcloth aside and stepped closer. Silva parted his knees, inviting Wylder to step between them. “I could barely see them, let alone fight them. I’ve been in my share of scrapes over the years, but that…”
“They wanted to take me alive.” Silva gestured to his stomach. “This would’ve been worse if they hadn’t. I know you want to help protect the door, but I’m glad you stayed back. I dated a human once who thought they could fight anything.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”
Silva tilted his head. “I hope your standards for a date are a little higher than a fight in the street and an MRE for dinner.”
Wylder laughed, leaning close enough he could feel Silva’s breath on his face. “I don’t know. It’s definitely been a unique experience.”
Silva hummed, sliding his arms over Wylder’s shoulders and closing the distance between them. The first brush of their lips was hesitant, warm, and powerful enough to pull a low groan from Wylder’s chest.
At the sound, Silva descended on him. He drew Wylder in with arms and legs, devouring his mouth until his entire world was slick wet heat and Silva’s body under his hands.
“Wylder.” Silva pulled back enough to speak.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to make love to you for the first time while we’re in a crusty old safe house hiding from vampires.”
A chuckle spilled out of him before he could stop it. “When you put it like that.” Still, he kissed Silva again, reveling in the fire burning through his belly every time Silva’s tongue brushed his. With every stroke of Silva’s fingers through his hair.
“That’s the opposite of helpful, you know.”
“Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. Not at all. He pressed his lips to Silva’s cheek and kissed his way down to his jaw line and back toward his ear before pulling back.
“You’re a menace.” Silva cupped Wylder’s face, silver gaze searching his own. “But we can call this whatever you want. You’re my mate, and you wanting to be with me is all that I need.”
“I do want to be with you.” Wylder traced his fingers up Silva’s arms until they were palm to palm and threaded the fingers of both their hands together. “I feel it too, you know. That we’re mates. I want to know everything about you, and to be honest, I’m kind of feeling the safe house.”