Chapter 7

7

XAVIER

I retreated to the bedroom to take a much-needed break.

The air was stale, the mattress throwing up dust when I sat down on the bed. Over on the lopsided bedside table sat Rae's empty notebook. She always told me she wanted to keep a diary in it, never putting pen to paper.

"I miss you," I said to the room.

The last night I saw her, she swore we'd smell the last of the cheese that week.

"I know a witch who can help me," she'd declared.

In that moment, I knew she was doomed. Her trust in a witch was misplaced, especially back then with things so black-and-white. Demons stayed away from witches and warlocks unless drawn into a fight. Yet Rae saw things differently, ahead of her time. And it ended her life.

Rae's killer lured her into a house where she was tortured for information, then cut down with Arcana. Her parents burned that house in response, her father losing his life, her mother retreating into solitude somewhere in this realm.

To this day, I never knew where she'd gone.

It was strange how life turned out. Here I was, hiding in our spot, finding myself falling for a witch, longing to hold him through the rest of this horror until peace found us.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Roman's head appeared in the gap. "Hi. Are you busy?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Cool." He entered slowly, his energy meek. "Butterfly's ready to look me over. Says you should join us."

"Good news." I didn't move, afraid of the next stage.

"Can I sit with you?" Roman asked so softly.

I patted the space beside me. "I'd like that."

He sighed. "Man, I thought you hated me." He shook his head, shoulders sagging.

My hearts answered with sharp twinges of pain. "What? Why would I hate you?"

He scratched at his left palm, a flush of crimson creeping up his neck. "Because of the device. Because of how dangerous my thoughts can be. I'm a walking disaster."

"No, you're not." I put my arm around him. "You're amazing."

"Stop."

"And you're my Roman." My hearts raced, a rush of anticipation flooding my insides with happy tingles. His very existence made my purpose for drawing breath so crystal clear.

"Yours?" he said.

"If you want to be."

He smiled, resting his head on my shoulder. It sent giddy heat to my core, spreading toward my groin.

"I want to be," he added. "When we were having our dinner date before this shit hit the fan, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be more than friends." He sat up, his cheeks showing off his bashfulness. "Why do I feel so…" He lowered his head. "I'm so embarrassed. We've fucked twice now but asking you this question makes me want to hide under this manky duvet. Wild, right?"

I adjusted myself to face him, taking his lovely face in my hands. "I'm shaking on the inside."

His smile shamed all the stars. "Cute."

"I know."

He groaned. "If you say so."

"You're saying I'm not cute?"

The glitter on his skin shimmered, his amber eyes delicious fires. He parted his lips, releasing a nervous breath. "Of course you're cute."

If I kissed him now, I might never stop.

His eyelashes beat like the wings of a butterfly—the nice variety of the insect. "I don't want to go back out there," he said. "I like it here."

I traced the pads of my thumbs under his eyes. "I could never hate you, Roman. I just don't know how to help you right now. This new power of yours is beyond me."

"Xavier…"

It was my turn to sigh. "I want you so much. To wrap you in my silk and carry you off into the sunset. And then we can watch many more sunsets together. Sunsets, sunrises, whatever you like."

He licked his lips, his eyes hypnotic, ready to claim every part of me. "Xavier… I…"

"But I can't do that with that thing in your chest," I continued. "I can't be the man you deserve until that wanker out there fixes you." I couldn't hold back the responding growl rumbling out of my chest.

"I love it when you say wanker."

I smiled. "Well, he is."

Roman cupped my face with one hand. His skin was slightly rougher than mine, his touch exquisite. I gasped, remembering every single second of our intimate moments, longing for more.

"I can't be the man you deserve, either," he said. "But I will be. I won't let this ruin what's happening between us. I want to…" He paused to swallow, his throat bobbing. "I want to be with you."

With those six words, the stars aligned. He was my destiny, my hope. I pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as I could.

"You've turned my universe inside out, Roman Gold."

"Is that a good thing?" he responded, his tone a wistful breeze in my ear.

"More than good. Spectacular."

He lifted his head, the tip of his nose brushing mine.

So close. So wonderfully close.

"Can I kiss you?" he breathed.

I quivered, my cock springing to life. "Day or night."

He let out a soft chuckle before his lips connected with mine. Delicate, wet, a confirmation of our current status. I responded with a gentle moan, my hands finding the back of his head, pulling him in closer, the kiss deepening, our lips working together in perfect harmony, our tongues meeting in a soft wrestle.

Roman moaned back, shuffling closer, his hands on both my thighs. Sliding closer and closer to my hardness. The anticipation upped my temperature, made me kiss him harder. The moment he made contact with my cock would be the moment I tore his clothes off. No holding back, resistance dead.

I already pictured him above me, riding me, never breaking eye contact until his eyes rolled back as he cried my name in ecstasy.

Not here.

Not now.

Hands moving closer. Fingertips inches away. My robe and his grubby clothes were the only things between us. Easily cast aside.

I moaned into him, kissing him harder, ready to throw caution to the wind. Our current situation didn't matter. Only our pleasure did, and this impeding union of our flesh.

He wants me.

I want him.

I cannot resist you any longer…

Before I lost myself to my lust, a series of images tore across my mind—blood-soaked images of Ismael standing atop a mountain of corpses.

I pulled back from the kiss.

"What's wrong?" Roman asked.

The image faded in and out to a steady heartbeat. Ismael strode down a bloody path, mocking the dead, face contorted with wicked glee. He paused halfway down the dead mound to pick up a severed head by its hair.

Black hair streaked with fine strands of silver, glassy amber eyes wide and empty.

Roman.

A dead Roman.

"No!" I roared, tumbling off the bed.

"Xavier!"

Ismael tossed the head as if it were nothing, laughing as he flung the blood from his hands.

And then he looked directly at me, a sneer so cruel it almost turned me to stone.

"I will take everything from you," he said.

I tried to charge at him, my heartbreak becoming hate. But I couldn't move, my legs not here, not one drop of power within me to use against him.

"You won't have him!"

My lungs burned, my throat closing up. Ismael mocked me, laughing, the king of violence and blood and death. The biggest threat Earth and the demon realm had ever faced. Worse than the wars, worse than The Rift.

"Talk to me, Xavier." A hand ran up and down my spine.

Him.

It's him.

My imagined Ismael vanished. I found myself on all fours on the dirty floor, my mouth full of ashes.

"I'm here," Roman said. "I'm here."

I sat up on my heels, struggling to catch a breath.

"What happened?" he asked, regarding me with living eyes. His head remained on his neck, life still radiant within him.

My strength gave out, my eyes brimming with hot tears. "You're here. You're here. You're here."

"What happened?" he wondered.

I dragged him into a hug, reveling in the reassurance, terrified by what I saw. I tried to reject any prophetic properties to the images, though dread kept driving a fist into my soul.

No. Roman wouldn't die like that. It was my mind playing tricks, fear trying to get the better of me.

I will never lose you…

My human witch held me, continuing to stroke my back. "Easy, now. Take it easy."

My tears broke free, hot streaks down my cheeks. I didn't cry much, and these hurt like liquid fire. I begged them to stop, for my body to not be so weak in this moment.

But I only sobbed harder, temporarily broken in Roman's arms.