Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

Mac stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of Paris's bedroom, watching as the waves crested under the moonlight, listening as they broke against the sheer cliffs below. He'd been born and raised in Talahalusi; his family lived in the trees and cultivated the land. He'd spent his fair share of time in YB, but Crow Mountain with its tangled limbs and knotty roots, its trailing vines and blooming meadows was home. That said, he couldn't deny the swell of the waves, the thunder as they crashed to shore was peaceful and centering in its own way.

The bathroom light behind him flickered off, plunging the room and condo back into moonlight.

Paris's footsteps approached, then his heat wrapped around him, skin to skin, his arms circling Mac's waist as he slid in under his arm and nestled against his side, his soft cock pressed against Mac's hip. Desire tempted, but after the fast and furious release in the kitchen, then a much slower, languid one in bed, the sated want he felt for Paris was more like a warm blanket on a cold morning, a comfort. Like the ocean was to Paris. "I understand now why you keep painting it," Mac said. "Why you need it. This view is something else."

"It was the only good thing about living here." He nuzzled his pec and held him tighter. "When this is over, I don't know if I can stay in Talahalusi with you."

Mac's heart crashed like the waves below, but he couldn't say he was surprised. Someone so full of life, so bright was bound to come to his senses eventually. Of course Paris wouldn't want to be tied to him, to the duty that came with him. "I understand."

Paris's answering chuckle was a surprise, as were his words. "I don't think you do." Circling the rest of the way in front of him, Paris pushed him up against the nearest casement and cupped his cheek. "I just meant the lake isn't the same as the ocean. We may need a place near the coast too. Maybe the cabin, so long as I can drive out to the beach whenever I want."

Mac angled his face to kiss his palm. "We make it out of this..." Alive, together, in one piece. "I'll take you there myself. Every day."

Paris stretched up to brush their lips together, more of that soft comfort Mac had realized he liked, that Paris gave so effortlessly. He settled against his chest, fingers playing with the smattering of hair there. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"I woke up, and you weren't there." He covered Paris's hand with his, holding it over the spot where their bond hummed. "I couldn't feel you here."

"I couldn't risk it. Not until I firmed up control. And I couldn't risk Pati and her child either." He glanced away from the ocean and up at him, brown eyes searching. "They're okay? She told Kai when they were on the phone, but I?—"

"Safe and sound," Mac reassured him, carding his fingers through his hair. "And two other victims as well. You did good, Paris."

"I can do more good."

Sighing, Mac closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the same of the too good man in his arms.

"I'm here because of you, Mac," Paris gently pressed. "You helped me find the confidence to own this, to use it for good."

"You're a target, Paris. For everyone who wants this, and for the giant who knows exactly where you are now."

Paris shivered and lowered his head, resting back against Mac's chest and looking out at the calming ocean. "It really wasn't him?"

Mac coasted a hand up and down his spine. "It was the one from the ridge."

"Why did I see the other one then?"

"He'd likely been there too. Maybe it was him when you saw them."

A beat of comfortable silence later, Paris inhaled deep and straightened in his arms, lifting his chin and meeting his gaze. "Let me do this, Mac. There's a wealth of information and connections here. We can use this for good, against the giants and Chaos."

Like Mac could argue him anything when he blazed with such confidence and conviction. But he could lay down some ground rules for the sake of safety and the bond between them. "No running off without telling me the plan."

"I'll try." Mac opened his mouth to object, but Paris's raised hand stalled him again. "I act before I think sometimes. My heart gets ahead of my head, but that's me, Mac. I'll try to be better, but I can't say I won't ever do it again. And for the record, I did have a plan yesterday morning, hours to think about it as I painted, but then I saw you asleep so soundly, and you needed it so much. I couldn't bear to wake you."

Mac lightly grasped his chin, drawing him in for a kiss, to whisper against his lips, "Next time, wake me." He drew back and brushed wavy brown strands off the pretty face that had become the center of his world. A world he had no choice but to bring Paris all the way into now. "All right, then," he said. "But if we're going to do this, we need to discuss it as part of the bigger plan, with everyone."