They all say the same thing.
The madness comes.
The monster takes over.
There’s no cure.
Not tonight, I tell myself. I’m not solving this tonight.
Through the bond, I feel Killian in the other room. His energy is distant and muffled, like trying to hear someone through a thick wall. Rowan is with him, since he insisted on taking the first watch even though there’s nothing to watch. Killian can’t be moved. The stasis field is anchored to those sigils on the stone table, and disrupting it could kill him. But none of us is willing to leave him alone.
So we wait. I read books that tell me nothing, and Sean sings songs about vaginas.
Could be worse, I guess.
I push myself up from the chair and cross to where Sean is sprawled on the chaise. He watches me approach with that goofy grin still plastered on his face, though I can see the tightness around his remaining eye. The fear he’s trying so hard to hide.
“How are you doing?” I ask, settling onto the edge of the chaise beside him. “Really.”
“I’m fine.” The answer comes too fast to believe. “I mean, the mummy look’s not really my vibe, but that’s temporary. I’ve already got a sweet custom patch on the way. It has metal?—“
“Sean.”
“Okay, maybe I’m a little freaked out.” He reaches up to touch the bandage, then stops himself. “The depth perception thing is gonna suck. And I’m gonna have to learn to wink with my other eye. Very important skill.”
“For what?”
“Flirting with my mate. Signaling. General roguish charm.” He shrugs. “The usual.”
I take his hand, threading my fingers through his. His palm is warm and rough, calloused from years of sports and whatever else wolves do with their hands when they’re not paws. “You’re allowed to not be okay.”
“Yeah, but being okay is more fun.” He squeezes my fingers. “Besides, I’ve got my sexy witch sitting next to me. Things could definitely be worse.”
His good eye meets mine, and I see it there. The vulnerability he’s trying so hard to joke away. Sean processes everything through humor. It’s his armor. The way he survives things that would break other people.
“A kiss would definitely make it better,” he says, his full lips quirking into a smile.
So I kiss him.
It starts gentle, a press of lips meant for comfort more than passion. But Sean has never done anything in halves, and after a moment, his free hand comes up to cup the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss.
When we finally break apart, he’s breathing harder, his pupil blown wide.
“You’re not gonna leave me hanging on that promise earlier, are you?”
I blink. “What promise?”
I know exactly what he’s talking about. I just want to hear him say it.
“The one where you promised to make me feel better.” His grin returns, sharper now. “With undertones of a blowjob.”
“Is that what those were?” I ask, trying not to smirk. “Undertones?”
“Oh yes. Definitely. Very clear undertones. Practically overtones, really.”
I glance over at Micah, who’s watching us from his armchair with an expression that’s trying very hard to be neutral and failing completely. His book has been abandoned on the arm of the chair, and I can see the way his hands are gripping his thighs.
He wants this too. Wants the distraction and connection. Something to focus on besides our packmate fighting in the other room.
