Page 22

“Just to bed.” He yawned as his phone pinged. He glanced at it and grimaced. “Xavier is pissed I ditched the twins.”

I was pissed too. Worried sick. But I kept my thoughts to myself. “I worry less when they keep an eye on you.”

Ivan sighed. “I’m not a kid.”

He was. But I let that go too.

He set the plate and water in Angel’s room and made his way to his own, taking a whole box of pastries with him. Peanut Butter followed, merping the whole way, and Nox appeared in a poof of purple smoke at his side, chirping excitedly. Guess my familiar was choosing sweets over me tonight.

Whatever. I had a grumpy, exhausted boyfriend to get to bed.

I heard him exit the shower and was surprised to find him in my robe as he entered the bedroom. Maybe he was worried about finding Ivan in here.

“You should eat,” I prodded, taking in the bags under his eyes. “And sleep.”

He glanced at the sandwich, tugged on some boxer briefs, but left the robe on before he grabbed the food, ate it without argument, and chugged the bottle of water. I stared at the strange, dark line wrapping around one hand—black, liquid, and seeming to slink up his arm like it was alive. What was that?

He flinched when he noticed me looking and tucked the hand into the robe pocket, looking away.

I wanted to ask. Wanted to cross the room, take his hand, and demand to know what was happening to him. But the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders—it told me he wasn’t ready. So I let it go. For now.

But I filed it away. Another thing to worry about. Another thing to fix.

My mind drifted back to the bakery. To Gwen. To the words she’d spoken to Ivan.

Thread of fate.

What had Gwen meant by that?

Angel and me?

Our mate bond?

Or something deeper?

Angel tucked himself under the covers, half on his side, eyes closed. He looked exhausted, ready to fall asleep, but fighting it.

“Can you…” He waved his hand at the open space beside him and held up the blanket.

I only debated for a breath before sliding between the sheets.

I’d been able to touch Ivan. Could Angel hold me?

His arm wrapped around me, pulling me tight to his chest. His body heat instantly soothing. He let out a deep, contented sigh as I pressed my forehead to his. If he hadn’t been so obviously tired, I might have tried to press the limits of this weird energy. But having him hold me was absolute heaven.

Angel fell asleep from one heartbeat to the next.

I breathed him in, wishing this would last forever.

Stupid, I reminded myself. You’re dead. You don’t get forever.

But for right now, in the dark, with his arms around me and his breath warm against my hair? I closed my eyes, hoping the rest Nat suggested I needed, would take me too.

Sleep, however, had other plans.

The late hours dragged as I lay there, breathing Angel in, feeling strangely… zippy. Underlying anxiety, maybe. Or just my general inability to be normal about anything. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the black veins crawling up his arm. What was it? Was he fading? In the dark of the room, I couldn’t examine them, and dared not wake him since he desperately needed sleep.

As the clock neared midnight, I carefully extracted myself from Angel’s embrace, grateful he slept on, and snuck out of the bedroom. I checked on Ivan—Peanut Butter curled on his chest, both breathing slow and deep—then headed back to the library. Nox followed as he always did.