I can’t see or feel any injuries, he doesn’t seem hurt, at least not physically. Just… terror. So heavy and soul-deep even as I keep gnawing at it.
And now we’re so close, I can see every individual eyelash, every raised line of the silvery scar etched through his brow. The deep depth of his endless gaze as his darkness stares back.
I try to lean away, hands falling from his waist, just enough to not be nose-to-nose. He grunts and closes the space I tried to make. Foreheads touching again.
I frown. “I don’t understand—”
Before I can finish, his normally metallic tendrils slither out, twisted with more black than I remember, curling around his right bicep.
But they’re not tendrils for long, they merge together into one and create… Smudge.
It slithers down his arm, and before I can think to pull away, onto mine. Ezekial’s normal soothing warmth is laced with a chilling cold that makes me shiver as Smudge coils around my wrist, then tugs, bringing my arm back over Ezekial’s shoulder.
“You... want me to touch you?”
Again, no words. He just stares.
The little snake slithers along Ezekial’s shoulders, lifting its head beside his cheek so its beady, empty sockets can stare at me too.
“Maybe we should, uh… get some of this blood off you?” I try with a small smile.
He doesn’t return it. Smudge blinks.
Okay, let’s try again.
“If you let me clean you up, we can do more of this.” I brush my fingers along the nape of his neck. “I just really don’t want someone else’s blood on me.”
Ezekial stands abruptly, holding me with one arm, and flits. Next thing I know, I’m set down on the counter in the bathroom. His hands on my hips, staring down at me.
I smile at him. “Great! Now...”
But the light reveals more than I was ready for. He’s covered. His arms, his chest, his neck. Blood so thick it’s crusting. More than one person, more than several, whatever he came from… it was a massacre.
One Kane was still in, and I just sent my remaining bonds into it.
Fingers slide under my chin, tilting it up to meet his bottomless gaze. His darkness stares out at me, waiting.
“I’m worried about them,” I whisper. I think he hears. Smudge flicks its tongue once, then melts back into his arm. “Can you feel them? Are they okay?”
His thumb brushes the edge of my jaw, my cheek, as though he’s using touch to reassure me. Then he slowly blinks once, and I take that as a sign.
“Can you take this off?” I nod at his chest plate. His hand never leaves my face, thumb still brushing. “…Please?”
His dark gaze is locked, but gradually, his hand drops. He steps back, reaching behind him to unbuckle the ruined armour, letting it fall to the ground in a heavy thud. All the while, his eyes never leave mine. Even as he uses one hand to grip the back of his t-shirt, and pulls it off in a smooth, effortless motion.
Fuck, that was sexy.
No. No, no. I cannot objectify Ezekial while he’s like this. Vulnerable and fractured.
But then he starts on his belt.
The soft clink of the buckle is all it takes to reignite the memories of us together, on the kitchen counter…
Another small grunt, and my eyes snap to his. And I swear, for just a second, his lips twitch like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Then my mouth drops open, because he’s standing in front of me in nothing but boxers. Ezekial kept his clothes on the last time we were intimate, and now…
His body is...
