Page 34 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘Like…’ Jules bites his bottom lip. ‘Take me on a date?’

You are not his boyfriend, his lover, nor his partner in any sense, and nothing between you will interfere with his upcoming marriage.

‘That’s probably not a good idea.’

‘Was it a good idea to fuck me in the rain in broad daylight?’

‘Comparably, yes.’

‘Come on, no one’ll know.’

‘Carrigan is watching everything too closely.’

‘You’re smart,’ Jules says, making the wraparound gesture.

Lachlan shakes his head.

He doesn’t know how to explain that he doesn’t want to leave, and even though he could get free for an hour or two with Danya and Zaitsev’s help, the idea of having fun somewhere away from here makes him feel nauseous.

Sable Key has scarred him in more ways than one.

But it’s Jules’ birthday, and he loves him.

‘Fuck it. All right. Get ready, and I’ll have Danya bring you down to the car under a wraparound.’

✴

In a heaving, dark nightclub, Lachlan dances with Jules.

He resisted hard at first. Doesn’t dance, can’t dance, really.

That innate sense of rhythm Jules has is entirely alien to Lachlan, but when Jules begs, he allows himself to be dragged to the middle of the dance floor, and there he manages to shuffle-sway to the beat while making himself into a kind of pole for his boyfriend to hang on to and dance up on.

Jules smiles in a way Lachlan has never seen before.

It does things to Lachlan he can’t quantify.

He’s so happy, and it shines out of him. Lachlan is basking in it, catching a tan from the radiance of this creature in his arms whose life has been a gilded prison, who had to craft clever ways to escape for a few hours of fun, whom Lachlan loves. God, but he loves him.

It’s light inside his chest; it’s genuine fucking sunshine.

‘You enjoying my terrible dancing?’ Lachlan asks, his lips on Jules’ ear to be heard. Jules laughs and nuzzles their noses together.

‘Can’t be good at everything, baby,’ he tells Lachlan, and then he kisses him. Lachlan shouldn’t kiss him back. He should be looking around, scoping and lighthousing, watching exits, checking his phone for messages from Danya. But the song is perfect, and Jules is happier than Lachlan’s ever fucking seen before, and it’s his birthday.

So he picks Jules up, never once breaking the kiss.

He turns them on the spot, feels the smile break wider across Jules’ lips as they slowly turn, swaying side to side. Jules tastes of club soda, lime and vodka, and Lachlan will buy him a few more too because it’s his birthday. He wants this night to be beautiful in every way possible before whatever happens… happens.

There’s no way Lachlan is letting Danya take the fall for the tattoo.

Come what may tomorrow, he’ll accept it.

He has room for more scars if need be.

The song ends, but Jules keeps kissing him, playing with his hair, that gorgeous mouth making all kinds of welcome mess, and Lachlan’s so fucking hard it hurts, doesn’t care who sees.

‘You’re my world,’ Lachlan tells Jules when the boy breaks to breathe.