Chapter 15
Julian
He wasn’t dead.
That was the first thing Julian realized when awareness returned. He swam up from a dark abyss, inch by inch, and his eyelids felt weighed down. A groan tore from him, his head turning blindly. Where was he? What happened? He didn’t remember going home. Was he in his bed?
No. His bed was still ruined. The paladins. The restaurant. A blade sinking into his gut, and concrete scraping against skin as he tumbled down into the dirty waterway. He should be dead. So why wasn’t he?
“Open your eyes, little jewel.”
Valac.
Julian stretched a hand out, and fingers threaded through his. He whimpered, and lips touched the back of his hand. This was worth opening his eyes for. He pried them open, blinking the blurriness away, and met the deep, burning violet of Valac’s intense gaze.
Julian had no idea where they were or how Valac was here, but he was here. That was all that mattered.
“Hi,” Julian croaked.
Valac’s face broke into a smile. He rose, planted a knee on the bed, and captured Julian’s mouth.
He squeaked, his stomach swooping as Valac’s plush lips guided his mouth open to admit his tongue.
It was over almost as soon as it began, like Valac had needed one quick taste before he could focus on anything else.
When he moved away, he didn’t go far, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning into Julian’s space, his big hands gripping Julian’s shoulders possessively.
Like he was afraid Julian would be ripped away from him if he let go.
“What happened?” Julian asked. “How are you here? I thought you were still in Hell.”
“I was on my way back when I felt you go unconscious. I rushed as quickly as I could once I realized you were injured. As soon as I reached the surface, I was able to teleport directly to your side. I brought you here.”
“How—How long ago was that? When did you find me?”
“I don’t know. It is not yet dawn.”
He got off work at eight, and he was supposed to be at the shopping center for his night shift at nine.
With a wince, he realized he was probably going to lose that job now.
Frustration boiled to the surface, and his hands tightened into fists in his lap.
His head fell back against the pillow, and he stared up at the ceiling while emotion made his eyes burn.
He hated this. Hated them. Why couldn’t they have just left him alone? That was all he’d wanted.
“Julian.”
His name had never been spoken so softly, so reverently, before. To his horror, his chin wobbled. He choked down a wet gasp and dropped his head forward to hide his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should be better than this. They shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me. All they did was…”
Stab him. All they did was stab him and throw him into a waterway to die alone.
Why hadn’t he died? Gut wounds killed slow, but they still killed.
Smearing the tears from his cheeks, he pushed the sheet down and pulled his shirt up.
It was tacky with his own blood, but there was no wound on his stomach.
No gauze or tape or stitches holding him together.
“I’m healed,” he said dumbly. “How am I healed? He stabbed me. I should be dead. Why am I not dead?”
Valac’s hand rose, and a finger touched Julian’s bottom lip. “They told me my blood would heal you. And it did.”
“They…”
“The Sentinels. Talon.”
Julian looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time.
This wasn’t a hospital. He was in a windowless triage room, on one of six cots.
There was a metal cabinet against the wall to his left and a rolling metal tray beside his bed that seemed to be acting like a bedside table, because there was a glass of water with a silicone straw on it.
His mouth tasted strange. There was a hint of iron, but also something vaguely sweet, like licorice.
“You gave me your blood,” Julian said, digesting what that meant.
He drank demon blood while he was unconscious.
That should gross him out. Drinking any kind of blood should gross him out.
Certainly, the thought of drinking human blood did.
He’d tasted his own enough over the years to know it was disgusting. Nothing like the aftertaste he had now.
“I did,” Valac said hesitantly. “Are you angry with me?”
Julian considered his answer first. Was he?
Valac may not have asked for permission, but Julian didn’t feel violated.
Valac saved his life. It also explained how Nathan Accardi had been perfectly fine after getting shot in the gut—twice.
He’d have to be pretty entitled to be upset about the method by which Valac saved him.
“No,” he said slowly, “I’m not angry. Are all those guys drinking demon blood?” It came out a little more strangled than he’d like, but this was a lot of information to absorb.
Valac visibly relaxed. “I believe so. It makes them heal faster and age slower.”
“Age slower?” Julian repeated. “How much slower?”
Valac’s mouth quirked. “Much. As long as they continue to ingest it, they’re basically immortal. They don’t age.”
“Holy shit,” Julian breathed. “So I won’t age while I have your blood in my system?”
“Yes. For a few weeks.” Valac opened his mouth to say more and then shut it quickly, eyeing Julian with an intensity that made him squirm.
Julian didn’t have to hear the words. If he wanted more of Valac’s blood in a few weeks when this dose wore off, Valac would be happy to supply it. And this time, Julian would be awake.
Clearing his throat, he nodded at the glass of water on the metal tray beside him. “Is that for me?”
Valac barely glanced at it. “Yes. One of the humans brought it in here. The scarred one. He said he was very thirsty after he lost a lot of blood from a stab wound, so he thought you would want it.”
Luke. That had to be Luke Morgan. They’d tried to kill him, too. It looked like they were part of a very exclusive club now.
“They probably have questions.”
“They don’t matter,” Valac said. Then he sighed. “Actually, that isn’t true. But explanations can wait until you’re ready. You should rest.”
“I don’t want to rest. I need to…” He needed to go home.
He needed to check on his house, go pick up his car from where he’d left it at the restaurant.
Call his boss at the shopping center and try to explain why he didn’t show up for his shift.
Put the pieces of his life back together after the paladins tried to take it from him.
“There will be time for all the things you need to do,” Valac said. “You can’t do any of them if you faint because you’re still weak.”
Weak. He was weak. Because they’d tried to kill him. As far as they knew, they’d succeeded. They didn’t know he had a demon friend who’d swooped in and saved him from the brink of death.
Friend? Is that what he and Valac were? That didn’t seem like a strong enough word to encompass everything they were to each other.
No. He could think about that later.
Julian pushed himself upright. “I’ll endure. I can’t just lay here while the rest of the world goes on. I have too much to do.”
He pushed back the bloodstained blankets with a grimace.
Hopefully they weren’t completely ruined.
His clothes, on the other hand, were a different matter.
There was no salvaging them. Soaked in dirty water and tacky with blood, he cringed just looking at himself.
Scooting to the edge of the bed, he pulled his shirt overhead and let it fall to the floor.
“They brought you some clothing,” Valac said. His glowing eyes were glued to Julian’s chest.
There were definitely more important things to worry about, but Julian had never been more aware of his own physical flaws.
In the weeks since he’d left the guild, he’d stopped training.
That combined with the cheaper meals and general lack of sleep had taken a toll.
He’d lost some of his muscle mass. His collar bones and ribs were more visible than ever.
Gone was the muscular warrior. He was just a skinny, stressed-out waiter now.
He was a shrimp compared to Valac, who stood tall, broad and imposing, his pale body on display and swept with artful black lines that undulated like waves across his skin.
But Valac looked at him like he wanted to eat him.
Like Julian was water and he’d been stranded in the desert.
Slow heat flowed through his body as the tension crackled between them, like a wire drawing tight.
Julian’s lips parted, because he couldn’t seem to draw in enough breath.
He felt Valac’s gaze like a physical touch, raking down his body and back up, learning every divot and curve.
“Valac,” he rasped, and the glow of his eyes met Julian’s, burning dark with want.
“Yes,” Valac said, as though answering an unspoken question. “Here.” He stood, leaving a vacuum of space beside Julian as he crossed to the cot across from his own, where clean clothes were folded and stacked. “These are for you. I believe they are Alex’s. He said you and he were closest in size.”
“Yeah, yeah, I was not blessed with height.” He maintained that five-foot-eight wasn’t short, but he was often the shortest in every room, and it was no different here at the skating rink. Valac downright dwarfed him.
“I think you’re perfect,” Valac said simply, handing him the clothes.
Julian huffed out a laugh, unable to hide the way his face flushed at the compliment. “I’m beginning to think you’re biased.”
“No more than the others are biased in favor of their own humans.”