Chapter Six #2
Julian’s pen stilled. Pink flooded his face again, creeping down his neck. “Oh.”
“Was that not clear?”
“It was extremely clear. I just wasn’t expecting that level of... directness.” Julian cleared his throat. “So, this is a fated mates situation. Like in the romance novels.”
“I’m unfamiliar with romance novels.”
“They’re books about people falling in love. Often with supernatural elements. Fated mates is a common trope. They involve two individuals destined to be together, usually marked by an undeniable bond.” Julian looked up from his notebook. “Is that accurate to your experience?”
“Yes. Although ‘falling’ implies a lack of control. I didn’t fall. I recognized you, and my entire existence reoriented around that recognition.”
“Hm. All right.” Julian wrote something else. “Fifth question. What do you eat?”
“Corruption. Sin. The darkness in human souls.” Cillian watched Julian’s face for disgust or fear. But Julian was still curious. “I only hunt those who hurt others. Predators. Abusers. I consume what they’ve become, and it sustains me.”
“So, you’re essentially a supernatural sanitation worker. You remove societal contaminants.” Julian nodded. “That’s elegant, actually. A self-sustaining justice system.”
“Most people would call me a monster.”
“Most people are statistically average intellects who fear what they don’t understand.” Julian met his eyes. “You protect others by eliminating threats, and you gain sustenance in the process. That’s efficient. I appreciate efficiency.”
Cillian felt something warm unfurl in his chest. “You’re not disturbed.”
“Why would I be disturbed? I watched you drain a Vane Syndicate enforcer, and my primary concern had nothing to do with him.” Julian tapped his pen against the notebook.
“I’ve spent three days researching guardians and cross-referencing folklore.
Your existence makes sense. My reaction to you makes sense.
This conversation makes sense.” He paused.
“What doesn’t make sense is why you didn’t just knock on my door instead of watching through my window. ”
“I was concerned that appearing in your private space would violate human boundaries I don’t fully understand.”
“But you did appear in my private space. You moved me to my bed. You left me gifts on my balcony.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Cillian struggled to articulate the distinction. “Those were... offerings. Protection. I was courting you from a distance. Actually manifesting and demanding your attention felt too aggressive.”
Julian considered this. “So, your logic was that watching me sleep and stealing things for me was less invasive than knocking on the door and introducing yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Cillian, that’s completely backward.”
“I’m beginning to understand that.”
Julian’s mouth curved into the smallest smile, and Cillian wanted to capture that expression, keep it, and build a cathedral around it. “Sixth question. What happens now?”
“I would like to court you properly. With your knowledge and consent.” Cillian leaned forward, his shadows instinctively reaching across the table before he reined them back.
“I want to know everything about you. Your favorite books. Why do you talk to your succulent, and when did you name it? What made you become an archivist? I want to bring you coffee at 7:15 a.m. and listen to you correct people who are factually wrong. I want to stand between you and anything that might harm you.”
“That’s very comprehensive.”
“I’m an ancient entity who has never felt desire for another being until I saw you standing in an alley, telling me where to hide a corpse. I don’t know how to want something halfway.”
Julian was quiet for a moment, his pen forgotten. Then, “I have obsessive tendencies. I don’t understand social nuance, and I frequently offend people without meaning to. I will correct you when you’re wrong, even if it’s inconvenient. I keep very rigid schedules, and I don’t like disruptions.”
“I know. I’ve been watching you for three days.”
“Right. The watching thing.” Julian’s smile widened fractionally. “We should probably establish that as generally not acceptable behavior going forward.”
“Noted.”
“But I’m willing to explore this. The fated mates situation. With clear parameters and open communication.”
Every shadow in Cillian’s body surged toward Julian. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself contained. “Yes. Whatever parameters you need.”
“Good.” Julian flipped to a new page in his notebook. “Then let’s start with the basics. Tell me about yourself, Cillian. And I’ll tell you about me. Like normal people having coffee.”
Cillian looked at this impossible human - this beacon who had looked at his darkness and seen something worth keeping - and felt something he’d thought lost to him eons ago… Hope.
“I am approximately four thousand years old,” he began.
“I have seventeen documented kills in the past month alone. I own three identical Armani suits from 1987 that I haven’t bothered to replace because I don’t understand modern fashion.
I have been utterly obsessed with you since the moment you told me to use the dumpster three streets over. ”
Julian’s full smile was as bright and beautiful as the man himself.
“Perfect. See, we can do this. I’m twenty-eight.
I have an eidetic memory and moderate social anxiety.
I’ve been suspended from my job for being too accurate.
I named my succulent Gerald because it looks like it might finally live now that it’s out of that oppressive environment in the office.
And…and…I think you might be the first person who’s ever really made sense to me. ”
“We’re going to be magnificent together,” Cillian said.
“That’s a hypothesis I’m willing to test,” Julian agreed.