Julian
He wasn’t dead.
That was the first thing Julian realized when awareness returned. He swam up from a dark abyss, inch by inch, and his eyelids felt weighed down. A groan tore from him, his head turning blindly. Where was he? What happened? He didn’t remember going home. Was he in his bed?
No. His bed was still ruined. The paladins. The restaurant. A blade sinking into his gut, and concrete scraping against skin as he tumbled down into the dirty waterway. He should be dead. So why wasn’t he?
“Open your eyes, little jewel.”
Valac.
Julian stretched a hand out, and fingers threaded through his. He whimpered, and lips touched the back of his hand. This was worth opening his eyes for. He pried them open, blinking the blurriness away, and met the deep, burning violet of Valac’s intense gaze.
Julian had no idea where they were or how Valac was here, but hewashere. That was all that mattered.
“Hi,” Julian croaked.
Valac’s face broke into a smile. He rose, planted a knee on the bed, and captured Julian’s mouth. He squeaked, his stomach swooping as Valac’s plush lips guided his mouth open to admit his tongue. It was over almost as soon as it began, like Valac had needed one quick taste before he could focus on anything else. When he moved away, he didn’t go far, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning into Julian’s space, his big hands gripping Julian’s shoulders possessively. Like he was afraid Julian would be ripped away from him if he let go.
“What happened?” Julian asked. “How are you here? I thought you were still in Hell.”
“I was on my way back when I felt you go unconscious. I rushed as quickly as I could once I realized you were injured. As soon as I reached the surface, I was able to teleport directly to your side. I brought you here.”
“How—How long ago was that? When did you find me?”
“I don’t know. It is not yet dawn.”
He got off work at eight, and he was supposed to be at the shopping center for his night shift at nine. With a wince, he realized he was probably going to lose that job now. Frustration boiled to the surface, and his hands tightened into fists in his lap. His head fell back against the pillow, and he stared up at the ceiling while emotion made his eyes burn. He hated this. Hatedthem. Why couldn’t they have just left him alone? That was all he’d wanted.
“Julian.”
His name had never been spoken so softly, so reverently, before. To his horror, his chin wobbled. He choked down a wet gasp and dropped his head forward to hide his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should be better than this. They shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me. All they did was…”
Stab him. All they did was stab him and throw him into a waterway to die alone. Why hadn’t he died? Gut wounds killedslow, but they still killed. Smearing the tears from his cheeks, he pushed the sheet down and pulled his shirt up. It was tacky with his own blood, but there was no wound on his stomach. No gauze or tape or stitches holding him together.
“I’m healed,” he said dumbly. “How am I healed? He stabbed me. I should be dead. Why am I not dead?”
Valac’s hand rose, and a finger touched Julian’s bottom lip. “They told me my blood would heal you. And it did.”
“They…”
“The Sentinels. Talon.”
Julian looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. This wasn’t a hospital. He was in a windowless triage room, on one of six cots. There was a metal cabinet against the wall to his left and a rolling metal tray beside his bed that seemed to be acting like a bedside table, because there was a glass of water with a silicone straw on it.
His mouth tasted strange. There was a hint of iron, but also something vaguely sweet, like licorice.
“You gave me your blood,” Julian said, digesting what that meant. Hedrankdemon blood while he was unconscious. That should gross him out. Drinking any kind of blood should gross him out. Certainly, the thought of drinking human blood did. He’d tasted his own enough over the years to know it was disgusting. Nothing like the aftertaste he had now.
“I did,” Valac said hesitantly. “Are you angry with me?”
Julian considered his answer first. Was he? Valac may not have asked for permission, but Julian didn’t feel violated. Valac saved his life. It also explained how Nathan Accardi had been perfectly fine after getting shot in the gut—twice. He’d have to be pretty entitled to be upset about themethodby which Valac saved him.
“No,” he said slowly, “I’m not angry. Are all those guys drinking demon blood?” It came out a little more strangled than he’d like, but this was a lot of information to absorb.
Valac visibly relaxed. “I believe so. It makes them heal faster and age slower.”
“Age slower?” Julian repeated. “How much slower?”
