Page 54 of Take You Home (Redwater Demons #3)
Chester’s hands tremble the slightest bit as he adjusts Obie’s placement of a few blades. “No, I don’t have a problem with JJ marrying a demon,” he says, mimicking Obie’s emphasis of the word. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been actively conspiring with a demon god for the past month.”
He retreats to the opposite side of the interrogation table, standing at the long end to check the restraints.
Frustrated, Obie stands directly across from him, the two feet of cold metal the only barrier between them.
“Then what is the problem?” he demands, flicking his wrist and making a handful of supplies fly to their appropriate shelves.
Chester scrubs a hand down his face, looking irritated at the help, but Obie just scowls back.
“You’re not telling me something, Locke, and I don’t like it.
We can’t afford to hide things from each other, not anymore, and??—?”
“You!” Chester bursts out, throwing his arms out wide and finally meeting Obie’s glare head-on. “You’re my problem!”
The words cut deeper than Obie expected. He jerks away, trying to hide it. “Me? What did I do?”
“This!” Chester snaps, gesturing sharply at the instrumentation table that Obie helped set up and the shelves that he helped restock.
“All of this! You keep doing all of these goddamn sweet things for me, like?—like helping me with my job and showing me memories of your family and taking me to watch my best friend get engaged, and it’s driving me insane! ”
Obie stops short, his heart stuttering. “What? You??—?”
But Chester isn’t done. “Do you have any idea how difficult this is?” he demands, his voice rougher than usual.
“You saved me, Obie. I literally tried to curse you, and in return, you saved me. You saved me from everything the Sanctum would’ve taken from me, saved me from the future they would’ve forced me into, saved me from the fact that I kept trying to hurt my friends and?—and myself. ”
Obie’s pulse is pounding in his temples, faster and faster as he starts to realize what Chester is trying to say. “Chester??—?”
Chester leans forward, his eyes blazing.
“You walked into my life, and you didn’t give up on me, and you gave me a purpose.
You gave me something to fight for, something to live for.
And I’m just supposed to stand here and pretend that doesn’t mean anything to me?
That you don’t mean anything to me? I’m just supposed to be okay with the fact that, the moment I defect, we’re going to break the binding spell and go our separate ways and act like the past few months never happened?
I can’t?—I can’t just do that, okay? I can’t go back from here.
I can’t go back to a time before I knew you, before I?—before I??—?”
The roaring in Obie’s ears is getting louder with every word, fast and uncontained and exhilarated. There’s honest grief on Chester’s face, honest longing, like he’s been trying to cling to something he knows he can’t have, but??—
But he can have it. Why would he ever think he couldn’t?
Obie’s heart cracks at the thought. Has Chester ever been allowed to have what he wants?
Has he ever been able to talk about his wants and needs and desires, ever been able to be vulnerable around someone without worrying about the consequences?
Has he ever thought that he even deserves love and affection? Or does he still just think of himself as a tool in the Sanctum’s arsenal?
As a tool in Obie’s arsenal?
Obie isn’t going to stand for that. Not for his hunter. Impulsively, he reaches out and frames Chester’s face between his hands, sparks dancing through him at the sudden intimacy of it.
Chester cuts himself off abruptly, shoulders hunching like he’s bracing himself for a blow. “Obie, what??—??”
I want to kiss you.
Chester stops dead. “What?”
I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now, actually. Obie concentrates on keeping the words as clear and focused as possible, pushing them directly through their telepathic link. Sending them straight into Chester’s head, so he can’t doubt that they’re true. Do you?—do you want that, too?
Chester’s breathing is unsteady. He swallows hard, his wide eyes boring into Obie’s .
Obie lets the silence stretch for a few beats before prompting, Chester? Did you hear me?
“Oh,” Chester says out loud, laughing shakily. “I, um, tried to answer. I said, ‘Kind of.’”
Obie’s heart leaps. Then how about you try the truth this time?
Chester’s breath shudders out of him. A split second later, his voice winds through Obie’s head, firm and solid. Yes. Please.
It’s like all the tension in Obie’s chest?—the anger of the past few minutes and the stress of their undercover mission and the constant frustration of being so close to someone he thought he couldn’t have?—evaporates at once.
Good, he sends through the bond, and then he leans over the interrogation table, crosses the barrier of everything that’s kept them apart for so long, and kisses him.