Chapter Seven
Archer groaned in appreciation from the soothing heat of the bath. Lying in the opulent marble bath in a steam-filled oasis was not how he’d expected to end such a chaotic day. However, he was extremely grateful.
“I brought you some fresh orange juice.”
Ezekiel's voice cut through the haziness of his thoughts.
Archer’s eyes flew open, suddenly aware of his nudity. He’d never been particularly modest about such things. But he still felt out of sorts from the events of the day. In his fantasy that had arisen about being alone with Ezekiel, he’d wanted to present himself in a more enticing way.
As Ezekiel kneeled on the plush rug next to the tub, Archer turned to find he was being watched intently by the gorgeous Slayer. Archer’s stomach tightened—the usual annoyance at being scrutinized replaced by a flutter of something else, something wild and reckless.
"Sorry," Ezekiel said, handing him the juice. He tucked a stubborn hank of unruly hair behind Archer’s ear. The touch was brief but sparked a trail of fire on Archer’s skin. He held the juice in one hand and allowed the other to drift over his burgeoning erection.
“No worries.”
Archer’s words came out strangled, his vocal cords not quite on board with playing it cool. “You don’t have to hold back.”
“Good to know,”
Ezekiel remarked, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He moved back, settling on his haunches, yet the warmth between them remained.
Archer noted that Ezekiel had slipped out of his clothes and was now wearing a gold satin bathrobe. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit how badly he ached to see the goods. However, the one thing Ezekiel was spot on about was the need to decompress from what they’d endured that day. Plus, he still had many questions. And from what Ezekiel said earlier, there were still more secrets to be revealed.
Archer sipped the juice, savoring the tart sweetness as it slid down his throat. He set the glass aside and leaned back, letting the warm water lap at his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed, despite the surreal circumstances.
“So,”
he said, trying to keep his voice casual. “You mentioned there were some things you needed to tell me.”
Ezekiel nodded, his expression growing serious. “Yes, and I hope you'll hear me out before reacting.”
Archer raised an eyebrow. “That doesn't sound ominous at all.”
Ezekiel laid a hand on Archer’s arm. “It's nothing bad. It relates to some of the unique aspects of our biology.”
Archer straightened a bit. His previous state of relaxation was slowly diminishing. “Unique aspects? Like the whole healing light thing?”
“That's part of it, yes.”
Ezekiel took a deep breath. “Archer, as Nephilim, you have abilities beyond normal humans, but also beyond what a gargoyle possesses. But there's something else you need to know about male Nephilim specifically.”
He paused, seeming to gather his courage. “You can bear children.”
Archer gave a quick shake of his head, his stomach plummeting. “This is a joke. C’mon Ezekiel. I’m a doctor. I guaran-fucking-tee you, no human male is capable of becoming pregnant.”
He let out a derisive snort. “I’ve experienced many amazing and unexpected revelations today. But I’m not buying into that. You can forget it.”
Ezekiel appeared stricken. While it hurt to see Ezekiel upset, he didn’t believe him - couldn’t believe him. Why Ezekiel was making up such a goofy story was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to encourage the delusion.
He sighed. What had he been thinking? He’d been on the verge of falling into Ezekiel’s arms, ready to join the Shadow Slayer cause and save the world. He rolled his eyes, mostly at himself.
God, I’m a fool.
The water had cooled, and so had his desire. What he truly needed was about twelve hours of sleep and some time alone to process his thoughts. And being around the delectable Ezekiel, who had the nerve to smell so fucking delicious, wasn’t helping him keep a clear head.
Archer rose from the tub, no longer worried about being naked in front of Ezekiel. He needed to get away from him, needed some space from everything. All the unbelievable things that had happened to him that day were about to make his brain explode. Piling anything else on top of that would tip him over the edge.
“Let me help you, dearest.”
Ezekiel steadied him by his elbow.
Archer drew away from him, stepping out of the tab and yanking a towel from the rail. “I’m okay,”
he snapped.
Ezekiel's face fell at Archer’s harsh tone, but he stepped back. “I understand this is a lot to take in,”
he said softly. “I didn't mean to overwhelm you. But you had to know before we…”
He rubbed his forehead. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if I didn’t say anything.”
Archer wrapped the towel around his waist, avoiding Ezekiel’s gaze. “Look, I appreciate you helping me today, making sure I was safe and all that. But I need some time alone to process everything.”
“Of course," Ezekiel replied, though Archer could hear the disappointment in his voice. “I’ll take one of the other rooms. I left a snack tray on the nightstand and laid out a robe for you on the bed. If you need me, I’ll be in the last room down the hall.”
As Ezekiel turned to leave, a pang of guilt hit Archer. Despite his frustration and disbelief, Ezekiel was a good man. He was thoughtful and kind, and his only thought all day had been to help. An undeniable pull still existed between them, even if he wasn't ready to fully acknowledge their connection.
“Ezekiel,”
he called out softly. The Slayer paused in the doorway, looking back with hopeful eyes. Archer sighed. “I'm sorry for snapping. I need time to consider everything. I hope you can understand.”
A sad smile graced Ezekiel’s lips. “I’m trying. We might be fated, but I’m realizing we come from such different worlds. I can’t simply expect you to accept everything without a second thought. I promise I’ll work on being less insistent. I’ve been lonely for many centuries and was so excited to meet you finally. But that doesn’t give me the right to push you before you’re ready. I apologize for that.”
Archer rubbed the back of his neck, still unable to meet Ezekiel’s eyes. “Thanks for that.”
Ezekiel was almost out of the room before he paused and looked over his shoulder. “Let me leave you with one more thing. Before today, would you have ever believed that a wound could be healed with a stream of light pouring from your hands?”
Archer turned away, unable to answer. By the time he was ready to respond, Ezekiel had left. His shoulders dropped, and he tossed the towel on the floor. He made his way into the bedroom, half expecting to see Ezekiel there, sitting on the bed, waiting.
Instead, he was alone, the way he’d asked to be.
Some things never change.
With a pained growl, he swept the food off the nightstand, the tray hitting the stone floor with a clatter that echoed through the room. Archer collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.
Sleep. I need some damn sleep.
He opened his eyes, groaning at the sight of the big mess he’d made. His temper never did him any favors. With a resigned sigh, he set about cleaning everything up. He also decided that in the morning, he’d confront Ezekiel about the claim of male pregnancy. If he could somehow prove it was a reality, then he’d deal with the repercussions of that knowledge.
But if it was all bullshit, then he was done. Maybe everything had been an elaborate illusion, somehow. Perhaps there was a hidden agenda behind the events of the day he wasn’t aware of. Regardless, he was determined to get some answers.
* * * *
Ezekiel’s stomach was in knots, his heart thundering as he walked at a fast clip back to the kitchen. He couldn’t remember where they kept the liquor in the Boston lair, but he was determined to find out.
Despite having no choice but to tell Archer the truth, his reaction had gutted him. Instead of spending a night in each other’s arms, his mate was upset and angry, and he was miserable and heartbroken. When he reached the kitchen, a startling, contemporary contrast to the rest of the lair, he flipped on the light switch and almost jumped out of his skin.
“Cassiel, why are you sitting in the dark?”
She was perched on a cantilever chair upholstered in a black fabric with colorful geometric designs. Ezekiel found the decor in the kitchen to be foul, but the Boston gargoyles seemed to appreciate the modern look.
She took a slug from a longneck bottle of beer. “Pondering.”
He pointed to the chrome fridge. “Any more of those in there?”
“Yup. Grab me another one while you’re at it.”
After he popped the caps off both brews, he took a seat across from her. She downed the rest of her first beer then started in on the second. He took a swig of his own, curious why she seemed so frustrated.
“What’s on your mind, Cass?”
“Don’t call me that,”
she grumbled.
And he thought he was in a bad mood. “Why not? You call me Zeke even though you know I hate it.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s different when I do it.”
“How do you figure?”
He smirked.
“Because I’m awesome.”
She snorted out a laugh, and Ezkeiel joined in.
He grinned. “At least you’re humble.”
They laughed a little more, then Cassiel’s features darkened again.
Ezekiel sighed. “Come on. What is it?”
She glanced around the room as if verifying no one else was listening. “Something Ronen said before you got here to heal him. He was delirious, of course, not making any sense, barely conscious. At one point, he called me Lysander.”
“One of our defectors who came back to the fold?”
“Yeah. Him.”
She shook her head. “At the time, I thought, wow. Ronen’s so out of it that he doesn’t even recognize me. But almost immediately after you healed him, Michael gave us our orders, so I pushed it to the back of my mind.”
“And now it’s back to the front again?”
She took another long pull of her beer. “Yeah. I started thinking, what if Ronen said Lyusander’s name because the little fucker was there while he was being tortured. Maybe that bit of telling memory didn’t get erased from his mind.”
Ezekiel let out a low whistle. “Ooh, that’s not good. Yet Michael seems convinced that the defectors are legit, that they can be trusted.”
“Ppph.”
She made a jerk-off motion with her hand. “Whatever. I don’t trust any gargoyle who flipped like that. I think Michael’s gone soft. Doesn’t make sense that he’d let them infiltrate our lairs again.”
“Well, we are hurting for recruits.”
And the way things were going, he and Archer wouldn’t be contributing to the forces any time soon. “Archangels are gifted with sight way beyond ours. He must know something we don’t.”
Cassiel frowned, pursing her lips. “Maybe. But my gut tells me something’s off. And my gut’s rarely wrong.”
Ezekiel nodded, taking another swig of his beer. He respected Cassiel's instincts - she was one of their most skilled fighters for a reason. “Have you shared your concerns with Michael?”
“Not yet,”
she sighed. “I wanted to be sure before I said anything. Plus, there hasn't exactly been time for a heart-to-heart with everything that happened today.”
“Fair point,”
Ezekiel conceded. “But promise me you'll talk to him soon. If there's even a chance the defectors aren't truly on our side, we need to know right away.”
“Don’t worry, I will. First thing when he gets back from Mt. Shasta.”
She tilted her head, eyeing Ezekiel curiously. “Speaking of concerns, why are you down here drowning your sorrows instead of up there cuddling with your hot new mate?"
Ezekiel winced. “I might’ve gone too far.”
“Uh oh,”
Cassiel said, leaning back. “Trouble in paradise already? Spill it, Zeke.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I told Archer about the whole male pregnancy thing. He didn't take it well.”
Cassiel's eyes widened. “Damn, you dropped that bomb on Captain Science already? Bold move.”
“I had to.”
Ezekiel groaned. “Things were heating up between us. I couldn't in good conscience let things progress without him knowing the full truth.”
“Let me guess. He freaked and kicked you out?”
Ezekiel nodded glumly. “Pretty much. He said he needed time alone to process everything. I can’t blame him, though. It’s a lot to take in, especially for someone rooted in science and logic.”
Cassiel grunted. “No shit. Poor guy's whole worldview just got flipped upside down in one day. Finding out he can get knocked up was probably the cherry on top of the mindfuck sundae."
“I know, I know.”
Ezekiel rubbed his temples. “I just... I've waited so long for him. Now that I've finally found my mate, I want to dive in headfirst. But I need to remember this is all new to Archer. He needs time and space.”
“Look at you, being all mature and shit," Cassiel teased. She reached across the table and patted his hand. “For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing.”
Ezekiel gave Cassiel a grateful smile. “Thanks. I just hope I haven't ruined things before they even had a chance to begin.”
“I wouldn't worry too much," Cassiel drained her beer then let out a loud belch. “From what I saw earlier, that man is definitely into you. He just needs time to wrap his head around his magical new world. Give him space tonight, but don't let him stew for too long tomorrow. You two need to talk this out before the next gargoyle crisis hits.”
Ezekiel nodded, feeling slightly better. “You're right. I'll give him the night to process, then approach him in the morning.”
He finished the last of his beer. “What about you? Are you heading to bed soon?”
Cassiel shook her head. “Nah, I'm too keyed up. Think I might go for a fly, clear my head a bit.”
“Be careful out there, Cass.”
She pointed at him. “Don’t start with me Zeke.”
She mock-punched his stomach as she passed him on her way out of the kitchen. “Get some rest, reaper. Tomorrow is another day.”
He tossed both of their empty bottles in the bin with a loud clank, his mind still whirling.
Hopefully, the new day wouldn’t bust his balls.