Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Noam
“Richard!” I rolled over, the world spinning as I tried to get to my feet. Everything around me was out of focus, my head pounding. He lay unmoving a few feet away, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead, staining the marble floor beneath him.
Panic gripped my chest as I crawled toward his motionless form on my hands and knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through my body.
“Please, please, be alive,” I begged, tears blurring my vision. I couldn't lose him, not now, not like this. Richard was the first person to ever make me feel safe, to treat me with genuine kindness. He couldn't die because of me. Over the past two weeks, he had become my lifeline, but until this moment, I hadn’t realized just how deeply I cared for him.
He was everything I had prayed for when it had felt like all hope was lost. He was the personification of quiet, of patience, a man with a beautiful soul who reached into the darkness and guided me to his light.
“Richard, wake up!” My voice cracked as I gently shook his shoulder. “Please, you have to wake up!”
Is he dead? Oh god, please don't let him be dead .
“Help!” I screamed, my voice echoing off the marble walls. “Please, somebody help!”
I turned back around, my hands hovering uselessly over him, afraid to cause more damage. He had protected me, shielded me from the worst of the impact. And now he was hurt, badly, because of me.
Because of the demon that possessed my father.
Sobs racked my body as I leaned over him, my tears dripping onto his still face. “I'm so sorry,” I choked out. “This is all my fault. Please, Richard, you have to be okay. You have to...”
Running footsteps sounded behind me, and I whirled around to see Kyson and Dane sprinting toward us, their faces etched with shock and worry.
“What happened?” Kyson dropped to his knees beside Richard, his eyes wide as he took in the blood and Richard’s crumpled form.
“M-my father,” I managed through my tears. “He ran us off the road. Richard… He saved me but...” A broken sob escaped me.
Dane crouched down, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Noam, this isn’t your fault.” His voice was soft but firm. “Richard will be all right. He’s strong.”
I shook my head miserably, unable to believe him. How could he possibly be all right after this?
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks at his words. Richard had risked everything for me without hesitation. And now he was badly hurt, maybe even... No, I refused to even think it. He would be okay.
He had to be.
“Kyson, go get Malachi,” Dane instructed, his tone serious. Kyson nodded and took off.
I curled my hand around Richard’s, letting him know I was here for him. I can fix this. I can fix this. I can fix this. I had to. It was my father who had just tried to kill us. Martin. I’d never hated him more than I did right now.
The hallway had been empty, but suddenly Malachi was there, eyes filling with darkness as he took in the scene.
Kneeling beside Richard, Malachi pressed his palm to Richard’s chest, directly over his heart, and closed his eyes in concentration.
I held my breath, terrified of what he might say. Seconds ticked by in agonizing slowness.
Finally, Malachi opened his eyes. “He’s healing,” he said, his deep voice laced with relief. “His body is mending itself as we speak.”
“H-healing?” I stammered, hardly daring to hope. “How?”
“Richard is a phoenix,” Dane said casually, causing my mind to short-circuited. Had he just said Richard was a bird?
“Dane,” Malachi said gently, “maybe you shouldn’t blow Noam’s mind right now.”
Too late.
“I’ll get him to his bedroom where he can rest.” Malachi picked Richard up like he weighed nothing. Richard’s head lolled to the side, and a sob caught in my throat.
I tried to follow, but my legs gave out from under me. Dane caught me before I hit the floor, holding me steady.
“Easy, buddy,” he murmured. “You’re in shock.
I jerked away at his touch. “I’m fine,” I insisted, though my whole body was trembling. “I need to make sure Richard is okay. This is all my fault.”
“No it’s not,” Dane said firmly. “You didn’t ask for your father to be an asshole. Richard did what he had to do to keep you safe. He cares about you, Noam. More than I think he even realizes.”
And… I cared about him. I knew he sat outside the grocery store while I worked. I’d spotted him a few times through the large glass windows. At first, I was pissed, feeling like he was trying to claim ownership of me.
But after I thought long and hard about it, it hit me that he wasn’t trying to control me but protect me. In that moment of revelation, my feelings for him had deepened.
Kyson appeared, both men walking with me to Richard’s bedroom.
“I told him,” Dane said to Kyson. “That Richard is a phoenix.”
Kyson glanced at me, the side of his mouth curled upward. “Blew my mind when I found out.”
Mine too.
“I just thought demons and vampires existed,” Kyson went on.
I staggered to a stop. “ Vampires ?”
“Shit, you didn’t know?” Kyson looked wide-eyed at me.
“Where exactly is Richard’s bedroom?” Dane glanced around as I silently had a meltdown.
Kyson shrugged. “I always thought Dick slept in a cupboard in the kitchen.”
My brows shot up, as did my temper. “Did you just call him Dick ?”
The two blinked at me, and I was just as shocked at my snarl. Where in the hell had that come from? I’d never acted aggressive toward anyone in my life. Not when Martin used his belt. Not when my coworkers talked about me behind my back. Never.
“I’m-I’m sorry.” I truly meant it, and I didn’t want to get kicked out of the castle for overstepping. Kyson had been nothing but nice to me, and I didn’t want to lose his friendship. Or Dane’s. They were the first friends I’d had in a very long time, and I enjoyed hanging out with them.
A slow grin formed on Kyson’s face. “That was totally badass, Noam.”
I was stunned Kyson hadn’t torn my head off for speaking to him that way. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Seriously, where is Richard’s bedroom?” Dane asked.
“Fuck no.” Kyson chuckled. “I’m actually proud of you for sticking up for Richard. Nice.” His smile turned into a smirk. “But I’m still calling him Dick.”
“Let’s try this way.” Dane led leading us down another hallway.
My mind was still reeling from everything that had happened. Richard was a phoenix. Malachi and Giovanni were vampires. And my father was possessed by a demon who had just tried to kill us.
It was all too surreal, like something out of a fantasy novel. Yet here I was, living it. It was too much to process. All I could focus on was making sure Richard was all right because I refused to think he wouldn’t be.
We eventually found Richard’s bedroom, following a trail of tiny droplets of blood on the marble floor. We were literally following the proof of Richard’s pain. I had to force those thoughts away, or I wouldn’t be able to stop crying.
Richard lay on the large bed, his eyes closed and face pale. Malachi stood beside him, arms crossed and expression grim. My heart seized at the sight. He still looked like Satan to me, and I was still scared of him.
But gazing at Richard? It made my heart constrict painfully. He looked so vulnerable, so still. If it wasn't for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought the worst.
As I drew closer to the bed, Malachi walked out, Kyson and Dane following.
I sank down on the edge of the mattress, staring at Richard’s features. Without the usual intensity in his eyes, he appeared younger, the lines of strain smoothed out.
With a trembling hand, I brushed my fingers lightly over Richard’s brow, smoothing back a lock of his dark hair. His skin felt warm to the touch, not cold like I’d feared.
This was the first time I’d willingly, deliberately touched Richard. Not in fear, not in instinct, but in comfort. It was my first real glimpse at him without his armor.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “I never meant for you to get hurt because of me.”
Regret and guilt churned in my stomach like shards of glass. All Richard had done was try to help me, to protect me, and look where it got him. Broken and bleeding.
What if he blamed me for what happened? What if he never wanted to see me again?
“Please wake up,” I softly begged, squeezing his fingers. “I need you to be okay. I... I need you.”
The words felt raw and honest in a way I’d never felt before. But it was the truth. In the short time I’d known him, Richard had become my anchor, my protector, my friend. Maybe even more than that, if I was brave enough to admit it to myself.
I was falling for him. And that realization scared me almost as much as the thought of losing him.
A gasp caught in my throat, and I pulled back as an eerie glow began radiating from his body, soft at first, like the flickering light of a dying ember. Then, in a single heartbeat, the glow ignited, blazing across his form in brilliant gold and crimson.
Fire licked at his skin, consuming him from within, but instead of burning, it pulsed with an ancient power, surging through every fiber of his being. His body lifted from the mattress as if weightless, his limbs stretching, reshaping, bending to something beyond human.
Then, all at once, he changed.
A brilliant, otherworldly bird emerged, massive and radiant, its feathers a cascade of molten gold and burning copper, each one shifting and shimmering like live flame. His wings unfurled in an explosion of light, their edges lined with the deep reds of a smoldering sunrise, the core of each feather burning with a fire that didn’t consume but radiated life itself.
The heat rolled off him in gentle waves, warming my skin but never scalding, as if the very essence of him recognized me, held back just enough to avoid harm.
His beak gleamed like obsidian, his eyes—Richard’s eyes—still the same, yet not. Brighter. Wiser. Otherworldly.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Terror and awe warred inside me. I was staring at an actual phoenix.
I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Years of getting my skull bounced off walls and floors had finally caught up to me, because this… this couldn’t be real.
But the heat I felt, the overwhelming presence, the sheer majesty of him told me otherwise.
I couldn’t move. My breath hitched as golden eyes—molten, piercing—pinned me in place. The air thickened, heavy with something unnameable, something ancient. The flames along Richard’s wings flickered with every slow, measured breath, licking at the air in a silent rhythm that mirrored the pounding of my heart.
I should have been afraid. I should have turned away, shielded my eyes from the impossible sight before me. But instead, my fingers twitched at my sides, drawn forward as if some unseen force was pulling me in.
The light from Richard’s body cast shadows along the walls, the rich hues of his plumage shifting between deep crimsons and blinding golds, every feather a masterpiece of living fire. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I reached out, hesitant, disbelieving.
My fingertips barely grazed the smooth, impossibly soft feathers. Heat pulsed against my skin, not scorching but warm, like the lingering sun on skin. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers splaying wider, marveling at the way his form pulsed with quiet, restrained power.
The bird shuddered beneath my touch, the great wings flaring slightly before settling. I laughed—soft, breathless—my nerves unraveling just enough for awe to take hold.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
The phoenix moved, not away but closer, tilting its head just slightly, a motion both predatory and intimate. The space between us shrank, and for the first time in my life, I felt seen. Truly seen. As if something beyond words had settled between us, threading us together in a way I couldn’t begin to explain.
And then, in a single pulse of blinding light, the phoenix was gone.
I stumbled back, blinking against the sudden shift. The fire had vanished. The glow had dimmed. And where a magnificent creature had stood now stood a man.
Richard.
Naked.
His chest heaved, his skin glistening with residual heat, steam curling faintly from his arms. His dark hair was a tousled mess, his lips parted as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. But it was his eyes that held me captive—desperate, unguarded.
Like he was starving for me.
My breath stilled. My fingers tingled where they had touched the phoenix’s feathers, as if the fire still lingered beneath his skin.
Richard didn’t speak. He only stared, his jaw tight, his pupils blown wide.
I didn’t know how to breathe.
Not in a way that made sense, not in a way that felt like my own. My lungs had forgotten their rhythm, caught between the steady pulse of survival and the erratic stammer of something else entirely. Something sharp. Something vast.
Richard took a step forward.
I flinched, nothing dramatic, just a tightening of my muscles, the barest jerk of my shoulders. A reaction I couldn’t smother fast enough. But he saw it.
This was not survival mode.
This was not pain.
This was not something I had ever been taught how to handle.
The moment he pinned me with those fire-lit eyes, something inside me buckled. He wasn’t just looking at me. He was seeing me. As if he could peel back every layer of armor I’d ever built and lay me bare without ever touching me. And worse? I wanted him to.
I wanted to know what it would feel like to be stripped down, undone, without fear being the thing keeping me tethered.
He was always careful with me. Like he knew I’d bolt if he so much as breathed wrong.
And I might have.
I should have.
But I didn’t.
Because this wasn’t fear in the way I’d always known it. This wasn’t survival flashing bright behind my ribs, screaming for me to run, to fight, to get small, to disappear.
This was something else.
Something infinitely more dangerous.
Because Richard didn’t just see me, he unraveled me. He stood there, body carved from fire and shadow, and knew me in a way no one ever had before.
I felt it. In the quiet tension of the room. In the way his chest rose and fell, steady and sure, while mine stayed locked, my breath shallow and uneven.
I had spent my life prepared, every exit mapped, every escape route carved into the back of my mind like an instinct.
But there was no way out of this.
No plan.
No escape.
Just him. And me. And the knowing weight of his gaze as it held me in place, pressing against something deep inside me I hadn’t realized was hollow until now.
I swallowed hard. “Richard—”
He moved closer. Just a step, but I felt it like gravity shifting. His fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for me but knew better. Knew I might retreat before he had the chance.
But I didn’t move. Not away, at least. I stayed. Like a desperate man, I stayed.
His gaze flickered, something breaking open in his expression. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Noam.” His voice was soft, rough at the edges, like he was holding something back.
I wasn’t afraid of him. I was afraid of what he meant.
Everything about him—his presence, his patience, the way he never pushed but never let me go either—made me feel like I was standing at a ledge, staring into something I couldn’t name.
I could jump, or I could walk away. But for once, I didn’t know which one I wanted more.
My fingers curled inward. I felt wired, strung too tight, like one wrong move would shatter me completely.
Richard felt it. I knew he did.
Because when he moved again, it was careful, slow, giving me time to pull away. But I didn’t.
My hand trembled as I reached out. I didn’t know why I did it—instinct, maybe, or sheer stupidity.
Richard exhaled through his nose, shifting just slightly, just enough that my touch deepened. The way he reacted—eyes half-lidded, body going perfectly still, as if waiting for me to decide—made something coil tight in my gut.
I swallowed hard. My fingers curled, pressing in, caressing over the soft skin under my touch. And then, he moved.
A slow lean forward, his head tilting, his heat brushing against me. He made a soft sound, something between a sigh and a pleased hum, and the warmth of it sent shivers through me.
I stood there, still as death as his fingers brushed my cheek. Barely there. Just the whisper of a touch. His knuckles grazed my skin, and I ached from it.
I didn’t know what I was doing when I turned into the touch.
Didn’t know what I was thinking when I let my eyes briefly flutter closed, my breath hitching as he traced the angle of my jaw, as his fingers ghosted over my lips.
Naked, sweat-damp, and looking at me like I was something holy. I sucked in a breath, pulse stuttering.
He was still close, his chest rising and falling. His lips were parted, his golden-brown lashes low over burning eyes, the weight of them stealing every single thought from my head.
I should have taken a step back, but I didn’t.
Richard moved first, his fingertips grazing the underside of my jaw, tilting my chin up with agonizing slowness. I shuddered at the contact, at the sheer heat of him, at the way his thumb lingered against my skin like he was memorizing the shape of me.
His breath was warm against my lips when he finally spoke.
“I won’t hurt you.”
God help me. I believed him.
Then he kissed me. Steady, like a promise before a storm.
His lips were warm, soft, but firm, coaxing, testing.
I gasped, and Richard answered. His hand slid into my hair, fingertips pressing against the nape of my neck, holding me in place like he thought I might slip away.
Like he was afraid to lose me.
I kissed him back, leaned in, hands catching his wrists, my chest pressing flush to his. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and his mouth opened beneath mine, deepening, tasting, taking.
I didn’t pull away. Because Richard kissed me like I was worth it. Like I was something worth holding on to.
And I wanted to believe him, even if it ruined me.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t have an escape plan.
Because I didn’t want to run.