Page 30 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

XAVIER

F or the first two hours, the rat checked in on Roman every thirty minutes. Back and forth, not saying anything to me, the living room TV playing the news. Nothing about Anerley yet, the focus on the queen’s two prisoners.

What fate awaited them? They were responsible for carnage, so many killed in the riot.

I muted the speculating voices, considering my departure on the sofa. This was the perfect window for me to leave this city, this country, yet I remained in this flat under a blanket of duty. Tanith would strike again. If not at me, then at the witch. I couldn’t allow that to happen to him. And?—

The rat emitted tiny snores.

And I wanted to stay, to be close to Roman. He’d heard my truth. What would he do with that?

What would I do with it?

The next thirty-minute slot arrived, Darcy lost to sleep. I got up, making my way to the witch’s bedroom. His door was ajar to allow for the rat, moonlight streaming through the window. It painted him in a spectral, milky silver, highlighting every beautiful detail in his bruised face.

My breath caught in my throat.

He lay on his back, an arm above his head, his sweater riding up ever so slightly to expose his flat stomach and the band of his underwear. It was as if I were seeing him for the first time, in a new light.

“Moonlight,” I whispered.

Intriguing. Handsome. Powerful. Skilled. I deduced he might be a spy for the queen, possibly more than that.

I moved closer to the bed. He lay so still, the rise and fall of his chest so gentle. I drank in his chocolate scent, the richness, the sadness, longing to run my fingertips across his skin. Even the softest brush of my little finger would suffice.

He called to a long-dead thing inside me, flooding it with life after so many centuries gone.

The first since Ismael to wield such resuscitating power.

His eyes fluttered open, amber pools finding me. “Xavier?” Voice so weak, so tired.

I stepped closer, my shin bumping the side of the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… What’s wrong?” He yawned, showing me the inside of his mouth.

A cozy looking place.

“I was checking on you,” I replied. “The rat is asleep.”

“Oh.” His eyes were closed again.

“I’ll leave you to sleep.”

He reached out, hand brushing my leg. “Stay.”

“Pardon?”

“Stay with me,” he whispered again. “Don’t want you to go.”

A swirl of unease in my chest. Not unpleasant, but certainly unsure. “You want me to sleep with you?”

A brief opening of his eyes. “Yeah. On the bed. Sleep….” He yawned again. “Sleep with me.”

Sparks danced across my flesh. “Sleep with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you sure?”

A soft moan of a yes, his eyelids so heavy. He rolled onto his side, his back to me. “Be the big spoon.”

I smiled, taking in the lines of his body, the exposed flesh of his lower back. “Very well.”

With apprehension, I settled beside him, my body inches away from his. He reached around and took my arm, barely able to lift it, surprising jolts reaching my two hearts.

I shuffled closer, wrapping my arm around his curled body, my crotch pressed against his backside. He moaned again, pushing his spine into my chest.

So mortal, so delicate in the face of time. It felt right him being in my arms, our bodies a perfect fit.

My hand rested on his chest, close to his heart, every beat wonderful, as fascinating as him. I couldn’t sleep now. To close my eyes took his image away, and I enjoyed seeing him like this too much to lose sight of it.

You have waded too deep.

“I like being little spoon,” Roman muttered, wiggling. His denim-clad buttocks ground into my groin, tempting my cock to firm.

Gentle snores, the witch fell back to sleep. His breath was soft waves on a calm sea, his body a blanket, both lulling me into a deep sleep.