“Yes. I was on the stairs. Everything,” he shuddered, and Killian’s arm tightened across his chest, “stopped. I couldn’t breathe.” Maddox groaned and stared down at his broken arm, bent oddly at his side. “Like I was…frozen. And then, darkness. I don’t know how I got out. Didn’t see anything until… the car.”
“Someone at the witches’ ball cursed the lot of us,” Killian said quietly. “I can’t stay long here, Maddox. I’m a danger to you. Help me figure out what to do about your injuries, and then you can have the room. It’s paid up for two more days. But if I don’t get far away from people soon, even your celestial strength won’t save you.”
Maddox fought through the pain, almost passing out more than once as Killian removed his white shirt. But as soon as the bare skin of his back and his wings rested against Killian’s chest, he started to feel better. The contact settled him. Eased his fears over what Azrael would say when he found out the vial had broken. He had to ask Killian to give it back to him.
“All right. Bite down, Maddox.” Killian folded his belt in half and eased it between Maddox’s teeth. “This is going to hurt.”
By the time Killian had bound his arm tightly, set his wing using one of the pillow cases torn into strips, and cleaned the various scrapes and scratches on his hands and face, Maddox didn’t know which way was up. He just wanted Killian’s arms around him again.
“Stay,” he whispered when Killian covered him with a blanket. Maddox threaded his fingers with his rescuer’s and held on. “Please. Don’t leave.”
Killian’s response was lost as sleep wrapped Maddox in a warm embrace, but he thought he felt the man squeeze his hand, and that brought him a measure of peace.
C H A P T E R F I V E
KILLIAN
H e should have left. But the angel’s hand on his brought about such an intense wave of connection and desire, he couldn’t walk away. Instead, he sat next to Maddox for hours. Every time he tried to let go, something stopped him.
His mind raced. Had he been summoned to New Orleans specifically to be cursed? From the other witches running around dazed, all bleeding from their ears, noses, and some even their eyes, the curse had hit the lot of them. If Maddox had been affected too, what about all the other supernatural creatures present tonight?
The woman who’d uttered those vile words…he’d recognized her voice. Somewhere deep in his memories. But for all his efforts, he could not place it now. Pulling out his wallet, he extracted the only photo he had left of Oliver. Of the two of them together. They’d been almost inseparable since birth, and when Oliver had run afoul of a vampire and had been turned, only Killian’s sleeping schedule changed. He started staying up until all hours so he and Oliver could spend time together. Until that terrible moonless night when Killian had tried to protect his closest friend, the man he’d shared his first kiss with, the man he’d been about to take as a lover, from a werewolf with a grudge and a silver dagger.
Killian’s eyes burned as the memories assaulted him. Oliver’s last seconds of existence. The look of betrayal in his eyes. The sorrow. How Killian had tried to save him. Pulled him off the fence and used a healing spell, only to have that magic burn away what remained of his would-be-lover’s heart rather than healing it.
And for ten years, Killian hadn’t used his magic unless he was alone at his estate. Even then, he only tried when Tiny managed to goad him into it. And now, he was unprotected. As was Maddox.
Eventually, he managed to extricate his fingers from Maddox’s grip and curled up in the wing-back chair in the corner of the suite, a blanket draped over his bare chest, watching the man sleep. There was a vulnerability about the angel that tugged at Killian’s soul, and despite the magic that threatened to burst from his fingertips every time he took a deep breath, he couldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted to.
You only need to ensure he makes it through the night. Once the sun rises, get the fuck out, find Delphine, and figure out why the hell she summoned you here.
He owed the angel nothing. So why then, was he so drawn to the man? On the table next to him, the broken vial with a scant tablespoon of sparkling sand drew his focus. Maddox had been acutely afraid of someone finding it, of the witches knowing he’d taken it. Yet he trusted Killian?
Gingerly lifting the vessel, he turned it around and around, sniffed it, and frowned. What the hell was it? And why would the New Orleans coven want it?
From the bed, Maddox groaned, and Killian sat up a little straighter, his back protesting the odd positions he’d contorted himself into all night at the angel’s side.
“Maddox?” Killian said softly. If the man wasn’t fully awake, he didn’t want to startle him. In fact, he almost wished Maddox would sleep another day…or two…just so Killian wouldn’t have to leave him.
Get over yourself. He’s an angel. And you’re…probably going to Hell.
“Where am I?” Maddox asked as he pushed up on an elbow, winced, and fell back against the pillows again. “Who…?”
“Killian. You’re in my bed.” He immediately regretted the statement when Maddox’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Not like that. You were hit by a car. Remember?”
“Oh, fuck.” Maddox pulled the blanket up higher, tucking it under his good arm.
“I did not expect an angel to swear.” Killian limped over to the bed and eased himself down. The wound to his side still throbbed, but at least the new marks across his chest were no longer causing him agony with each beat of his heart. “Here.” Holding a glass of water to Maddox’s full lips, Killian willed his dick to calm the fuck down. An angel was the last kind of man Killian should want. Especially now.
“I’m only half-angel.” Maddox used his good arm to angle himself higher, hissed out a breath, and then grabbed onto Killian. The bolt of electricity that arced between the two shocked them both, but Maddox didn’t let go.
“Take it easy.” He wasn’t certain why he cared so much about the half-angel, but the idea of seeing Maddox in pain didn’t sit well with Killian. “And the other half?” Killian gently guided Maddox so he was sitting mostly upright, his back against the pillows.
“Human.” Maddox extended his arm tentatively. “It still hurts.”
“You broke your arm. Humans take six to eight weeks to heal from something like that. You shouldn’t even be able to move it yet.”
“I think I will heal in no more than two days. My brother, he’s trapped in the earthen realm, and he is often injured in his job. But he heals quickly.”
