Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Emory
While Julien was back in his gym early the next morning, Emory poked around his living area.
The guy was way too neat.
The place was like something out of a magazine spread, with not one thing out of place and absolutely no clutter.
From the cozy yellow exterior, Emory had expected a warm interior, but it was the complete opposite.
Julien’s home didn’t look lived in at all.
Like it was just a place he passed through on his way to bed.
Emory was dying to get a look at Julien’s bedroom.
Surely there were some signs of life in there.
But not out here.
He picked up a candlestick and sniffed the unused candle set into it. No scent. It was one of many candles in the room, and not one had ever been lit. He set the candlestick back down and looked around.
There wasn’t even a television. No books on the shelves—just boring decorative items like vases and more candles. And none of it held a layer of dust either.
Did Julien beat back the dust himself, or did he have a housekeeper?
Still curious, Emory walked into the small kitchen, which smelled of fresh coffee, and opened a few cabinets. Everything was stacked neatly no matter which one he opened. He even looked in the pantry only to find rows of perfectly placed canned goods and bags of healthy-looking snacks.
It was honestly sad.
The house itself was pretty and could have held a lot of cozy warmth, but it felt…cold.
Like the man who lived here.
Wandering back into the living room, he went to one of the front windows and gazed at the perfectly manicured lawn.
The sun was still rising, throwing light onto half the lawn.
Emory supposed he could join Julien in the gym, but the man’s general unfriendliness kept him away.
Julien was obviously used to being alone and seemed to prefer it that way.
Which was fine with Emory.
So he watched as Julien’s neighbors trickled out of the houses one by one to leave for their jobs, and when he heard Julien coming up the basement stairs, he turned.
And felt like he’d been punched in the chest.
Julien wore a sweat-soaked white T-shirt that clung to every muscle. His shorts were pretty damned short as well, revealing glistening thighs, also thick with muscle and dusted with dark hair. The sharp scent of sweat came into the room with him, his intriguing personal scent there as well.
It was like Emory’s senses were overtaken completely by the absolute hotness of a sweaty Julien. Like seeing the man not perfectly coiffed for once made him more appealing.
“All clear?” Julien asked in that sexy, deep voice of his.
Emory swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat as he worked not to let his gaze roam over that incredible body again.
“Yes. There’s no sign of the penumbra right now.
I don’t sense its magic either, so I don’t think it followed you home.
I would have sensed its magic last night if that were the case.
It is a night creature, which is why I was surprised to sense it in your office during the day yesterday. ”
Julien walked farther into the living room. “You said it feeds on fear. Do they kill as well?”
Emory nodded. “Xavier doubts that’s what it’s after, but they do occasionally kill, once they’re full from the fear. Don’t worry, I won’t let things get that far.”
Julien just nodded. His gaze moved to the table with the candle Emory had picked up, and he frowned. He started to take a step then seemed to think better of it, though his gaze stayed on that candlestick.
Silence stretched out between them as Emory watched the man obviously resisting a powerful urge. He finally chuckled. “You really want to move that candle back where it goes, don’t you?”
Julien looked back at him, the frown still heavy on his face. “I like things in order.”
“And why is that?”
Julien didn’t answer for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “Because bad things happen when there’s chaos.”
And a candlestick out of place was chaos? Emory just blinked at him as he tried to make sense of that, coming to the conclusion that Julien had just shared an inkling of something in his past that had shaped him into this uptight man. Bad things. What bad things?
And why did the thought of something bad happening to Julien fill him with some pretty strong damn feelings?
The silence returned before Julien’s lips tightened. “I’m going to shower, then have breakfast. Are bagels okay with you?”
“You don’t have to feel responsible for feeding me.”
“You’re here, and you have to eat, too. There’s coffee already made. The mugs are in the cabinet above the coffee maker. Feel free to have some.”
With that, he turned and walked up the stairs.
Emory watched him, still wondering about what might have happened to make Julien say such a thing.
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and turned back to the window.
So…there was a reason this man lived the way he did.
This knowledge certainly changed the way Emory saw him. It also made him curious.
He could hear the shower running from upstairs, and he couldn’t help but picture that big, muscular body covered in water and suds.
Then he pictured himself in there with him before a light shudder ripped through him.
Emory was not a fan of lingering in water.
He could retract his wings when necessary, but for some reason, water always brought them back out.
He much preferred having his wings out, but he hated the heavy feel of them wet.
So erotic showers were not his preference despite knowing that Julien probably looked fantastic all slippery and wet.
Just the glistening sweat on his thighs had drawn Emory in. He did like a sweaty man.
The water shut off, and about fifteen minutes passed before Julien came down the stairs dressed in a black suit. He was adjusting a slim, black tie as he walked. His hair was still wet, combed back off his face.
“Did you help yourself to the coffee?” he asked as he got to the bottom of the staircase.
“I’m more of a tea drinker, so I wondered if you would be okay with us stopping by a store on the way to your office.”
“I have tea. Black, chamomile, and Earl Grey.”
“Black with a bit of honey would be great.”
Julien nodded and strode into the kitchen. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have the kettle going, but there’s not enough time today.” He filled a mug with water and set it into the microwave to heat.
“I’m not picky on how it’s made, so this works for me. And thank you.”
“It’s not a problem.” Julien poured himself a cup of coffee and turned to rest his backside against the counter. He stared at Emory as he sipped the brew.
Emory waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. Just stared a couple more moments before turning to pop bagels into a toaster. He then took the mug out of the microwave and handed a tea bag, honey, and a spoon to Emory.
The silence felt truly uncomfortable as Emory fixed his tea the way he liked it. No words were spoken as they ate their bagels and cream cheese, and by the time Julien wiped down the counters and loaded their dishes into the dishwasher, Emory felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin.
Julien was going to drive him absolutely nuts.