Page 33 of Eternal Light

So Jay shakes him again and lets his enigma fangs drop, his eyes flashing red.

James’s eyes go wide, and then he throws back his head in a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Enigma? Well, I never would haveexpected that. Such a sissy-boy. Maybe your little bitch of a human got better dick from Hayes? How does it feel to get sloppy seconds from yet another of Carnell’s spawn?”

James punctuates the taunt with a hard push, and Jay is not ready. It pushes him back on his heels—but Jay doesn’t let go. He just holds on and uses the momentum to swing him around with a shake.

“Fuck, I wish I was sticking around long enough to see your face when Carnell breaks your pack apart into tiny pieces, boy.”

There’s a crack of sound like lightning as Jay pulls back his arm to give his dad a long-awaited, well-deserved punch to the jaw, when his face is suddenly covered in hot fluid.

Everything slows as both he and James look down.

There, on James’s chest, is a two-inch hole blooming in blood.

His father is a dead weight under his hand, and he lets him slip to the ground.

“Jay!” Gideon yells and tackles Jay to the ground with a hand behind his head.

It’s hard enough that they end up between the Buick and the SUV beside them.

“Don’t you fucking move. Goddess, please.”

Gideon has his shirt off and uses it to hold Jay to the ground. He’s got his phone in his hand, but Jay can’t hear what he’s saying over the noise in his ears. Jay can see his father’s feet sticking out from under the front of the car; there’s a creeping pool of black blood crawling under the Buick.

Why is there so much blood?

He thinks of his mates and of how hot the asphalt feels under his back. Black spots flash in his vision, and Gideon is pressing so hard on his chest that it hurts.

Why does his chest hurt?

There are sirens hurting his ears, and the last thing Jay thinks before he passes out is that he’s never broken a promise to Gideon before—and he hopes he isn’t going to now.

7

The Moon Remains (Nix)

There are a hundred reasons why Nix should let Rowan and Luca distract him with sex. Let Luca kiss his freckles one by one and lick the slick from his body like it’s the sweetest ambrosia. He could beg Rowan to hold him up with his strong arms, to sink his perfect cock in so deep that Nix would be feeling him there for days.

Nix feels a responding burn in his belly and clenches his thighs at the thought of those perfectly good reasons—but then he remembers how Jamie had pulled him into a hug and whispered how much he loved him. How he had held Nix’s face in his hands before kissing him softly, how he’d met his eyes one last time before pulling the door shut.

And for just a second, Nix had thought:that felt like goodbye.

It had made the last time Jamie had left him like this flash through his mind before Nix forced it away, burying it underthe new memory of Gideon’s warm hands and his repeated reassurances that everything would be fine.

They felt like platitudes now that they’re gone. And the more Nix thinks about it, the more it feels like he should be spending this time worrying—not showing Rowan how Luca has been helping him train out his gag reflex.

Nix has recently tried to settle into a distract-rather-than-deny coping mechanism, something his therapist and Luca talk about as being a useful tool in a broad mental health toolbox.

But this doesn’t feel like the time for that.

So, instead of joining his loud and enthusiastic mates in the nest, Nix sat in the bathtub. And instead of enjoying a post-coital cuddle an hour after Grayson had taken his guardians to The Guild, he’s in the kitchen, wishing he had stuff to stress-bake some brownies.

After a thorough search of the fridge and the cabinets, he discovers they have flour and sugar, eggs and butter, but Nix’s mom’s recipe calls for instant coffee and real chocolate. He could make do, but they wouldn’t be the same—wouldn’t feel the same. The comfort comes from the ritual as much as the final product. Remembering his mom wouldn’t work if it didn’t include the sharp bite of coffee or sneaking crumbs of dark, unsweetened chocolate. Sadly, neither ingredient is a staple on the Safe-House Shopping List for Stressed-Out Bakers.

Maybe he could try chocolate chip cookies. They’re Jamie’s favorites—and suddenly he’s thinking about Jamie and Gideon again. Pulling the small bag of chocolate chips out of the cupboard, he shrugs and pops a few in his mouth. Close enough.

Rowan probably won’t notice if he eats these without the requisite sniffing and offering—especially since the noise from the bedroom is reaching its loud and satisfying climax.

Sigh.