Nathaniel
Epilogue Continued
I WATCH AS LANDON’S entire body betrays him; his skin flushed red yet paler than I’ve ever seen it. His eyes are clenched shut, and as each scream falls from his lips, I feel my own panic heightening.
“It hurts,” he chokes out. “Nate, make it stop!”
He crumbles forward, the entirety of his muscular body collapsing against mine.
“Shh,” I coo, “Just breathe, babydoll. Just breathe.”
I’ve learned that if I show my own fear, Landon only panics further. I have to be the strong one this time.
But inside my chest, guilt claws at my heart.
I put him here. I am the reason he is writhing in pain. And in truth, I don’t know what that liquid is doing to him. I know what I read, how it’s supposed to pull that dissolved repression chip from his body, but I haven’t seen it. There’s no documentation.
I’ve spent the past six months digging into it, trying to find someone to test it out. But no one was willing to risk never getting their gift back, and we haven’t come across any more criminals to repress.
I debated doing it myself, but if I had died, Landon would be alone. He would have never forgiven me.
But if Landon dies? Shit. Maybe I should have tried it first anyway.
Another particularly agonizing scream leaves Landon’s lips, and I push him until he’s sitting on his heels, eyes firmly shut, and his hands gripping me so tightly I believe he’ll draw blood with his nails.
“Hey, look at me,” I demand, taking a firm hold of his shoulders. “Little Lanny, look.”
Vibrant green clashes with the brown of my own eyes, and he looks so fucking terrified that I’m immediately transported back to that warehouse, watching as the realization that he’s been repressed racks his body.
“Nate,” he sobs, tears soaking his cheeks and falling onto the carpet below.
“I know, I hear you. Just focus on me, breathe through it.”
Other than that, I’m not sure how to help him here. I can’t pull the liquid from his stomach; I can’t go back in time.
All I can—
Landon’s eyes widen to the point of concern, his mouth falling open as he coughs, pouring blood all over his pants, his chin, and the floor between us.
Oh fuck. What do I do?!
“Shit,” I hiss, furiously wiping at his chin.
And between several bouts of blood, he cries, saying, “Help… please… I don’t… I don’t want to die.”
He’s losing too much blood. There is a puddle now, soaking into my jeans and scaring my psyche. Have I killed him? Was my desperate attempt to fix him all in vain?
If I lose Landon, nothing else remains for me. He is the center of my entire universe, the single most important thing to me. I can admit it now.
“Fight through it, Landon,” I command, gripping his face as his blood trails up my forearms in thin lines. “Focus on me and fight. You will make it through this. You will live.”
He has to. There is no other choice.
Either we both walk out of this cottage, or neither of us does.
Landon takes a deep breath, only choking slightly as he says, “Show me.”
And I know he means the stars. He wants to see what comforts him most—Landon wants to return to where he belongs, in that dark, endless night.
But not today. Not right now.
“I’ll show you. I’ll show you what you need to see,” I promise him.
Illusion pours out of me in a hurry, desperate to snag his attention and relieve some of this pain. And I do show him—I show him exactly what he needs.
Landon is suddenly sitting on the front porch, watching the rain fall. It’s a dreary day, but the kind of dreary day people pray for. The perfect, peaceful moment.
And in the front yard, dancing in the raindrops, is our future. The illusion version of Landon spins in circles, arms spread as he tilts his face to the clouds, laughing so loudly it rattles our bones.
But he’s not alone. No, there I am, wrapping my arms around his waist and dragging him against me. Our clothes are soaked through and sticking to our skin, the perfect picture of forever.
And running laps around our feet is a child. Our child. The one we’ve never directly spoken about, but the one I know Landon craves. Between his newfound affection for Abigail and how many times I have to hear, “If I were a dad…” I know he wants to raise a child of his own.
As the illusion plays, the real Landon freezes, except for the little spurts of blood still escaping from his lips. His wide eyes trace the scene before him, his hands loosening and falling slack at his sides.
He’s still trembling, the pain racking his body every few seconds, but he’s calmed quite a bit.
“See this?” I ask him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “If you fight, if you stay here with me, this is what our future looks like. You want it, don’t you, sweet Lanny? You want a life with me?”
Another sob leaves his throat, but I don’t believe it’s from just the pain this time. His eyes are welling with more tears, his face so flushed and beautiful that I cannot help but lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, tasting his blood.
It burns, but I let it simmer on my tongue anyway. Consider it a small part of the punishment Landon never truly gave me.
“Nate,” he whispers, and his throat is so raw and fucked that it almost hurts to hear. “Is that…”
The features, even the gender of the child, are hidden from view. I’m not sure what he’d want, and I don’t want to ruin it. But there is no mistake that it’s a child, clinging to his illusioned persona’s leg and giggling so sweetly.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “It’s us. It’ll be us, so just hang on, alright? Push through. You’re so fucking strong, baby. You can do it.”
But he’s stopped coughing, his body stilling next to mine. Slowly, Landon turns his face to me, covered in blood and tears and awe.
“I love—”
And then he’s gone. One second, he’s staring right at me, awake and aware, and the next? He’s out, slumping into me and drifting away so peacefully.
I take a solid five seconds to just stare. To try and sear this image into my brain, just in case he never wakes up again.
But then I’m moving, unwilling to let that happen.
I prevented his death once before, and I will do it again.
I will always save him.
By the time Landon wakes again, I’ve called the doctor who tends to the Chastains. He checked Landon’s vitals and hooked him up to an IV in our bedroom, promising that his blood loss wasn’t bad enough to warrant a transplant.
Then he left, giving me firm instructions to keep him hydrated and resting.
And now, an hour later, Landon has woken up. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, his eyes blinking and startled. Then he feels the IV, feeling the point at which it’s stuck into his skin, and his eyes frantically try to find me.
“Right here,” I call out from the chair in the corner of the room, rising to round the bed and sit at his side.
“Nate,” he whispers, his voice coarse and raw.
I pass him a glass of water, watching as he downs the entire thing without taking a breath.
“You’re covered in blood,” Landon observes after a moment, handing the glass back to me.
“Your blood,” I tell him, and I can see the moment that he remembers the vial, the liquid, and the pain.
And as he begins to tremble, sliding his hand into mine, he closes his eyes and sinks back into the mattress.
Remembering, processing, feeling.
But I’m antsy. I can’t seem to think about anything other than did it work? The need to see him happy again, to see him whole, is so overwhelming that I can’t breathe.
And the need to redeem myself? To right my wrongs? That’s pretty devastating, too.
“Lanny,” I whisper, bringing the back of his hand to my lips. “Did it… are you whole again? Did it work?”
His eyes fly open, green exploding around us as his gaze connects with mine. It’s a long, agonizing moment of silence as we stare at each other, and just as I’m starting to get irritated with his lack of response, he opens his mouth.
“Kiss me.”
An overwhelming, arousing sensation overcomes me. The shimmer in the air is damn near visible, my body reacting before I can even comprehend the new reality I’m in.
My lips slam into his, tasting his dried tears and the remanence of his blood. A loud, desperate groan leaves me at the taste of him mixed with the intoxicating feel of his gift.
“Oh god,” I choke out, licking into his mouth like a starving lion. “More. Fuck, Lan, more.”
He obliges, grinning wildly as he commands, “Be honest, do you still love me? Tell me if it’s true.”
“I love you,” I breathe out, my eyes flickering between his and those lush lips. Each breath we take is shared from this position, and I love it. “But… is what true?”
Suddenly, the overwhelming joy in his eyes is shadowed by a fleeting panic. “Tell me you mean it—what you showed me.”
Oh. He means the future I presented to him through my illusion. Us, together, as a family.
“It’s true,” I promise. “One day, we’ll be a family.”
Landon breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, and happiness returns to his eyes as he leans up and kisses me again.
It’s the kind of kiss that speaks for itself. One that gives the other party a clear view inside the mind. And in Landon’s mind? Pure fucking joy and love.
“I’m complete again,” he whispers against my lips. “You fixed me.”
But guilt still lives heavily inside of me. It still eats at my heart and my consciousness.
“I’m sorry that I broke you in the first place,” I offer, dropping small kisses to his jaw as he settles back into the bed again. “I should have stopped him. I should have protected you.”
“You did,” Landon insists gently. “You killed for me.”
“It wasn’t enough.” I know it wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever repair the damage I’ve done, not truly.
But maybe… maybe this is the beginning of trying.
“We’re going to have such a long, happy life together,” Landon says, staring up at me with those dreamy, sated eyes he normally only gets after I fuck him hard. “I can’t wait to face the world with you as this version of myself.”
“I’ll face the world with you no matter which version you are,” I counter. “But I’m happy you’re better. I’m happy you’re whole again.”
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Don’t thank me. Just… stay. Keep staying by my side, and I’ll never need to ask for more.”
Landon smiles, this time gentle and sweet, as he pulls me down to lie next to him.
And sure, the effects of this medicine are unknown to us. There could be complications down the road. But as of right now, Landon is happier than I’ve ever seen him.
There has never been a more perfect moment than this. Than him. And as he curls into my side, soaking in my warmth as he dozes off, I’m overcome with affection and fear.
Affection for the man I would give anything to keep by my side, and fear that I might one day be forced to stand alone.
I’ve always known love is a terrifying, dangerous thing. I learned a long time ago that no one is more vulnerable than a man with something to lose.
What happens to a feral dog after it’s been domesticated? It clings. It becomes dependent. I don’t want to be the man who had nothing and was gifted everything, just to lose it all again.
But a whole life spent clinging to what we have in desperation sounds a lot better than never having him at all. I will stay Landon’s domesticated, feral beast until I’m forced from his grasp.
I never thought I’d be so happy to be so afraid. Our forever has just begun.