Chapter 38
Aiden
I can’t sleep. There’s no way I can when Julian’s eyes have been shut since he flew out of the car.
He’s fine. He’s not bleeding, there’s no bruising, and our bond is stable, so he’s fine. I know that. But seeing him splayed out on the ground hadn’t been funny. It had been terrifying, and I still can’t look at anything other than his sleeping form.
You should’ve kept a better eye on him, Max sneers in my head.
I know, I snap back, but even when he quiets, the guilt doesn’t.
It’d been with me all night, and now all morning. The more hours that tick by with Julian doing nothing else but breathe, the more this guilt vacuum-seals my skin around me until breathing is so painful that I want to crawl out of my own body.
I comb my fingers through his hair. I untangled it from the nest it’d been in last night and kept it aside while I wiped off his smudged make-up.
He cut his forehead in his fall, leaving behind a trail of dried blood over his brows.
I’d wiped that up too, changed his clothes and put him in bed, but he stayed knocked out cold through it all.
Just a faint snore to show he’s still with me.
I shouldn’t have gotten him so drunk.
I should’ve left him with the beers.
I shouldn’t have pushed.
If I hadn’t, we would’ve gotten home in one piece, and I wouldn’t be sitting here, willing Julian to wake up.
The change is sudden. It starts with twitches behind his eyelids, and then a slight frown before a loud groan as Julian curls over to hide from the sun. He forcefully opens a single eye that dances around the room in confusion before it settles on me.
Silently, he stares at me for a while before that lone eye shuts, and he groans again. Hungover then. I wince for him.
“Drink this,” I whisper, holding out the glass of red ginseng and tomato juice I’d made for him the second the sun started coming up. His hangover will be gone soon enough, thanks to our genes, but this little concoction would speed that up.
He squints at the cup like it’s poison, likely not thrilled at the idea of consuming more liquid. Still, he drags himself upright, downs it in one go, and immediately collapses again.
“My head,” he groans, rubbing his temples. His fingers brush the bandage on his forehead, making him freeze. He peels it off, and relief hits when I see smooth skin underneath.
He dangles the bloody bandage, frowning. “What happened there?”
“You slammed into a branch while standing through the sunroof. It took you straight out of the car,” I explain around the guilt choking me.
“Really?” He snorts, then instantly regrets it. “Ow.”
I blink at him, waiting for the anger and the blame, but it doesn’t come. “You don’t remember much, do you?”
“Uh.” His brows dip but he quickly relaxes them with another wince. “There was a microphone … some ping-pong balls,” he whispers, visibly straining to remember. “I think something with a goat … maybe …”
I chuckle, a bit of the pressure on my chest easing.
Julian’s good. And he’s not angry with me. He’s just hungover, and water and time will get rid of that.
“I’m sure there’s more than enough pictures and videos online to fill the gaps.”
His face pales, turning five shades lighter in an instant. “No …”
“Oh yeah.”
“Dear Goddess,” he groans before he makes the bold decision to sit up, and then an even bolder one to shuffle to the bathroom. “Never again.”
I listen to make sure he makes it inside without slipping and breaking something, then head to the kitchen to get him some water and toast. The distance only adds to Max’s ever-present unease, but I try to ignore it.
Julian is fine, I tell him tightly. He’s drained and he’s got a hangover.
Fine?! Max snarls as his anger turns vicious. He can’t even recall most of the night.
That’s normal! It happened to me the first time I drank that much.
No one forced you to do that, he shoots back, and it’s like a cold bucket of water over my head.
Shame hits. I blink, seeing the blood gushing from his forehead all over again, and my stomach turns.
“I think it’s clearing,” Julian mumbles as he walks into the kitchen, slow and steady. “The hangover, I mean. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.”
I try to muster up a smile, but it falls just as quickly.
“I’m getting you toast,” I say to him, and as a reminder to myself to move. I grab the loaf and butter. “It should soak up what’s left.”
“Sounds good,” Julian says as he gingerly slides himself onto the kitchen stool. “I can’t believe we snuck out last night.”
“Yeah,” I mumble as I push the toaster down.
“And that I had so much fun!” he adds, only when my eyes dart up, he’s back to consoling his temples with his fingertips. “I keep forgetting,” he mumbles as he peeks his eyes open.
I slide a glass of cold water over to him, and he unwinds like a limp noodle from the first sip. I chuckle, and his eyes flit to mine, warm, before they narrow slightly.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course,” I dismiss quickly as I return to the toast. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who got ripped out of a car.”
Again, he giggles, but this time, he doesn’t wince, and I thank Goddess for that.
“Tell me what you remember,” I say.
He tries. He recaps the night to the best of his ability, filling the gaps with nonsense. I keep making toast. Refill his water, watching and listening. But every blank he stumbles on twists the guilt deeper.
“In conclusion,” he says finally, “I’ve decided to watch none of the unmentionable videos or pictures. If I don’t know what I did, then I can’t be embarrassed.”
I nod idly, and the smile on his face evaporates. “Aiden, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I promise, straightening from the counter, but Julian doesn’t let it go this time.
“You’ve been acting like a zombie all morning, and you’re not even smiling,” he replies sharply. “I thought you’d be teasing me and filling in what I don’t want to know, but you’re quiet, and you feel sad.”
“I’m fine.” I’m not.
“No, you’re not.”
“It’s nothing,” I say with a forced smile. “I’ll make you another tomato juice mix.”
“I don’t need one.” Julian protests, but I’m already turned and opening the fridge.
I tug the vegetable drawer open, filling my hands with tomatoes until I feel Julian’s warm hand on my arm. Even without looking at him, I can feel the worry radiating off him, and I know it’s because of me.
“Hey,” he whispers as he gently forces me to turn around. I let the tomatoes go before I meet his gaze. It’s soft and imploring, caring in ways I don’t deserve.
Closing the fridge, Julian tugs me closer. “What’s going on?”
Shoulders slumping, I admit defeat.
“I don’t even know,” I mumble. “I feel bad for how the night ended. I know you had fun and that you’re fine, but I still feel bad. You were hurt, and I’m the one who let that happen.”
“You didn’t,” Julian denies, but I shake my head.
“I gave you too much to drink and didn’t watch you properly,” I state through clenched teeth. “I didn’t take care of you, and knowing that makes me sick. Max won’t let up about how I should have been more careful with you, and he’s right. I should’ve—”
He tilts my chin, makes me meet his eyes. His expression softens into the gentle one he only shares with me.
“Aiden, I’m fine,” he says as he reaches up to push all his hair back. “See?” He points to his skin. “Not a scratch.”
“You were hurt though.”
“And it’s gone now,” he says. “I didn’t even feel it. I was so drunk.”
I hum noncommittally, and he sighs. Sure, it’s healed now, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Julian frowns at me before he pulls my head down, bringing our foreheads together so that he can look me straight in the eyes.
“Max,” he says, voice hard. “Fuck off.”
I choke, coughing on the laugh that bubbles out of me.
He kisses me, softly, coaxing me to open for him, and I do with a smile still on my lips. I kiss him until my muscles unwind and my body gets the message. He’s okay.
When he pulls back, he lingers close, letting his lips brush mine while his clear blue eyes search my own.
“Max still buzzing around up there?” he asks with a slight glare that makes me smile widely.
“You silenced him a bit,” I say, and he grins back at me.
Julian is stubborn. I need to speak to Alex, Max grumbles with some annoyance.
My smile slips. I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Our wolves take control from time to time, controlling our bodies same as us, whether that’s in their wolf form or on two legs. Max speaking to Alex right now felt like a recipe for disaster.
I’ve been locked up long enough, Aiden, he growls, nudging against my consciousness. I want to speak to Alex.
“What’s he saying now?” Julian asks, sounding like he might just beat Max if he keeps this up. I snort at that visual.
“He wants to speak to Alex,” I answer, and Julian takes a step back.
“That sounds like a horrible idea,” he says.
“Agreed, but he’s a bit insistent, and Max rarely is.”
“They hate each other,” he whispers, as if that’ll stop them from hearing.
“Used to,” I mumble with a shrug. “And it’s bound to happen sooner or later, Julian. The longer we drag it out, the worse it might be.”
Julian grimaces, but nods. He agrees with me, even if he doesn’t want to.
You can resist your wolf, sure. But do it too much, and nothing good ever comes of it.
“Just don’t kill each other,” he mumbles as he lets his eyes fall shut.
I follow suit, letting my consciousness fall back into the deepest recesses of my mind, and along the open path, Max moves up to fill it.
Don’t make me regret this, Max.
Too late.
Maximus
“Hello, Alexander.” I stretch as I smile at my mate. He returns it, though his is sly as he carefully distances himself from me.
“Maximus.”