“I don’t know what Nic told you, but when he’s done helping them find the kids, he’s leaving the guild. I know he sent you away, and you’re probably very hurt and confused. And you should be! Nic’s kind of a dumbass when it comes to relationships. But I’ve never seen him conflicted about anyone the way he is about you. He didn’t send you away because he doesn’t want you, I promise. He just… needed some time. After he finds the kids, he’ll join us here, and we canbothtell him how stupid he’s been.” His brows lifted hopefully. “But it’ll be easier for Nic if the paladins think these guys had held up their end of the deal by stopping you.”
Begrudgingly, the fight drained out of him. If Nicolas was really going to leave the guild, Ashmedai’s kills might be making that harder to do. He wasn’t convinced that Nicolas would ever want him, but that didn’t change the fact that Ashmedai wanted him to be safe. If he’d promised Daniel he would leave the guild after he found the kids, Ashmedai needed to do what he could to make that happen. “Fine. One week. Then they’re mine.”
“That should be long enough to prove to them that we’ve done our part,” Nathan agreed, standing by the table with Storm. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Weariness settled in his bones. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t even want to hunt. All he wanted, more than anything, was to go to Nicolas’s quiet apartment, inhale his scent, touch his warm skin. It was the only thing that would grant him peace.
He barely felt himself move away from the others. No one stopped him this time, and the moment he slipped outside into the darkness, he disappeared.
He meant to go to the apartment. His subconscious had other ideas, because he appeared in Nicolas’s bedroom. The lights were off, the curtains drawn, and a silent lump laid in the middle of the bed, burrowed beneath the blankets.
Nicolas.
His soft breaths did more to soothe the hollowness in Ashmedai’s bones than anything else all week. He was powerless to resist now that he was already so close. Leaningover the bed, careful not to put too much weight on the mattress, he inhaled, dragging Nicolas’s sweet scent into his lungs over and over. It was so good, but not enough. Never enough.
Nicolas stirred, turning his head, and Ashmedai barely had enough time to pull away before their noses brushed.
“Ash…” he murmured in his sleep.
Ashmedai leaned closer. “My light,” he breathed, claws trailing ever so softly down the side of Nicolas’s face. “I miss you.”
Nicolas’s eyes fluttered, and Ashmedai pulled away, disappearing before they could open all the way and focus on him.
Ashmedai reappeared in his quiet apartment, wishing he could hold the scent of Nicolas in his lungs forever.
Chapter 11
Nicolas
His dreams were filledwith darkness and heat. Flashes of molten pleasure, the prick of claws on sensitive skin, Ashmedai’s rattling voice in his ear. Nicolas slept deeply, boneless and safe, and waking alone was a gut punch. He blinked up at the ceiling, stomach tossing, and stretched a hand across the cold, empty bed. The dream was so lifelike. He’d felt whole again, there in the dark with his demon. Reality had never felt worse.
No, he told himself. Ashmedai wasn’thisdemon. That was crazy. But his heart wasn’t in it. He was starting to think he’d sent his heart away with Ashmedai.
Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed for another day in Hell.
James and the others put him through the wringer again. More training, more drills, more lies. It actually wasn’t quite as bad as last week. He’d passed their first test. He wasn’t one of them yet, but he was no longer an outsider. He’d never been less enthused about making progress in theworkplace. When it was over, the last thing Nicolas wanted to do was go see Sloan, but he was summoned before he could escape for the afternoon. With a sigh, he grabbed his bag from the locker room and headed toward the administrative building. Whatever Sloan wanted, it was better to go ahead and get it over with now.
On the walk over, he coached himself on keeping his face passive. He hated demons, he hated the traitors, and Sloan was a good man. Sloan knew what he was doing. Sloan could do no wrong. Sloan was a goddamn saint.
By the time he made it to Sloan’s office, his spine was straight and his expression was calm. He knocked on the half-open door, and the commander looked up from his computer.
“Paladin Garcia, please, come in. Have a seat.”
He sat in silence, and Sloan didn’t speak right away, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth and studying him quietly.
Finally, Nicolas couldn’t take it any longer. “What’s this about, sir?”
“Daniel.”
A slight twitch of his head, his brows drawing together. Interest, but confusion. Sloan wouldn’t see how his heart was pounding underneath the calm, lightly concerned exterior. “What do you mean?”
“When did you last speak to him?”
Nicolas passed a hand over his face. “To be honest, sir, not since I told him I wanted to join James’s squad the day of my cleansing. He didn’t like that very much. We’ve been at a bit of an impasse since then. I won’t apologize, and he won’t either. Why? Has something happened? Is he okay?” Heleaned forward. Even if they’d had a fight, it wouldn’t be odd for him to show worry. Everyone in the guild knew Nicolas was a protective big brother.
“He didn’t show up for patrols last night, and he hasn’t been answering his phone.”
He wouldn’t, because Nicolas had instructed him to leave his guild-issued phone behind in his apartment. They only texted through their burners now, which Nicolas didn’t dare bring with him to HQ. It was hidden in a shoe box in the top of his bedroom closet.
