“I can do that…”
“I know that, too.” Viktor pulled off one shoe, then the other, setting them neatly aside. “Let me take care of you.”
He helped Ant stand long enough to remove his blood-stained shirt and pants, replacing them with soft cotton pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt - yes, it was one of Viktor’s, but Antdidn’t seem to mind. Ant swayed through the process, barely keeping his eyes open.
Viktor guided him to sit again and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp washcloth. He tilted Ant’s face up gently.
“Hold still.”
He wiped away the dried blood below Ant’s nose, cleaned the dirt and some dust residue from his cheeks, and carefully removed the grime from around his eyes. Ant’s eyelids fluttered closed as Viktor worked, his breathing slowing.
“That’ll do,” Viktor murmured, tossing the washcloth toward the bathroom.
He pulled back the covers and arranged the pillows so Ant would be comfortable. Not that he thought Ant would even notice. His mate was almost asleep, sitting up.
“In you go.”
Ant crawled under the blankets and immediately curled onto his side, his eyes already closed. Able jumped up to claim his usual spot at the foot of the bed, circling twice before settling with a heavy sigh.
Viktor stripped down to his boxers and slid in behind Ant, carefully wrapping one arm around his mate’s waist.
“Viktor?”
“Right here, babe.”
“Don’t let go.”
Viktor’s heart gave an extra thump. Ant never asked for things. In all their time together, he never admitted weakness and hated it when Viktor assumed he needed help. Ant had always been the type of person who kept his emotions to himself and took everything in his stride as a logical puzzle to be solved. Viktorrealized in that moment how badly Ant was feeling if he was asking for comfort.
“Never,” Viktor promised, tightening his hold. “I’ve got you.”
Ant’s breathing evened out almost immediately, his body going lax against Viktor’s chest. But Viktor could feel the lingering tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched against the sheets.
“What is it?” Viktor asked softly.
Silence. Then, so quiet Viktor almost missed it.
“I was frightened.”
Viktor froze - his vampiric side immediately on the alert. “Of Claudius? You saw the Justiciary take him away.”
“No. Not him. Of the vision.” Ant’s voice was barely a whisper, his words slurring with exhaustion. “When the ward-trap caught me, and I couldn’t break free. I kept watching Ronald die over and over, and I could feel myself...dissolving. Like I was becoming part of the memory instead of observing it.”
Viktor’s arm tightened reflexively.
“I wasn’t afraid of dying,” Ant continued. “Dying is just another part of life. But I was terrified of being lost in that loop forever. I was scared that I’d never find my way back to you.”
Fuck.Viktor buried his face in Ant’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent. “You found me. I’m right here.”
“That’s because you came for me.” Ant’s words were fading, sleep pulling him under. “You always come for me...”
His breathing deepened, and within moments Ant was fully asleep, his body finally releasing the last of its tension. It was Viktor who was the one left lying awake, holding his mate close.
He was scared.Not of that fucking Claudius, or being in a coven, or even the wards themselves. It was the thought of beingtrapped, of losing himself, and of never returning to Viktor that had frightened him.
Viktor stared at the ceiling, processing his own tangled emotions.I was scared, too, babe. Scared of not being strong enough to get us out.
Going back to Claudius’s estate had been like stepping into a nightmare he’d spent a very long time trying to forget. The suffocating hierarchy, the casual cruelty, the way Claudius treated humans as cattle, and viewed other vampires as either assets or threats. Viktor had left that world behind when he got sick of the paranoia and violence. He’d spent the rest of his time drifting – traveling over most of the world until he ended up working for Tony Manzano, running cons, and using his skills to survive in the shadows of human society.
