Page 47 of Something Worth Keeping
His shadows spread through the room, weaving additional defenses while Julian slept. The mate bond pulsed between them with each heartbeat, a rhythm Cillian had never expected to experience. He cataloged every detail - Julian’s warmth, hisweight, the small movements he made even in sleep and the faint smile on his face.
Cillian had never understood what it meant to be complete until a too-honest archivist looked at a monster and saw something worth keeping. He pressed another kiss to Julian’s temple, his shadows curling around them both.Mine,he thought, and felt the bond hum in agreement.
Chapter Seventeen
Julian woke surrounded by warmth. Not the usual thin-blanket, cheap-heating-unit warmth of his old apartment, but a solid, encompassing heat that surrounded him completely. He blinked his eyes open to find himself cocooned in shadows and muscle, Cillian’s arm draped possessively over his waist, his chest pressed against Julian’s back.
The shadows shifted as Julian stirred, stroking along his ribs in greeting.
“Good morning,” Cillian’s voice rumbled against his ear, sleep-rough and content.
Julian turned his head enough to see Cillian’s face. No trace of the void-creature who’d dismembered three men in an alley. Just a ruggedly handsome man with ink-dark hair and eyes that shifted from charcoal to something warmer as they focused on Julian.
“Morning.” Julian’s voice came out raspy. He cleared his throat. “What time is it?”
“Eight forty-three.”
“You’ve been awake for a while, haven’t you?”
Cillian’s lips curved. “I don’t sleep much. I was watching you.”
“That should be creepy.”
“But it isn’t?”
Julian considered it. By any normal standard, waking to find an ancient shadow-being observing him should trigger every survival instinct. But as he’d assessed from day one, that had never happened to him. Instead, he felt...safe. Protected. Claimed in a way that satisfied something deep in his chest, he hadn’t known needed filling.
“No,” Julian admitted. “It isn’t.”
The shadows purred.
Cillian pressed a kiss to Julian’s shoulder. “Hungry?”
“Starving, actually.”
“Then I’ll make you breakfast.” Cillian extracted himself from the bed with fluid grace, already pulling on dark pants. “Stay here. I’ll bring it to you.”
Julian sat up, wincing slightly at the pleasant soreness in his body. The shadow-marks had faded from his skin, but he could still feel them - a phantom warmth that reminded him of Cillian’s possession. “I can walk to the kitchen.”
“I know you can.” Cillian’s eyes darkened as they traced over Julian’s bare chest. “But I want to feed you in bed. Indulge me.”
Julian leaned down, reaching for his discarded t-shirt from the night before and pulling it on. “I’m coming to the kitchen. I want coffee, and Iwant to see how you make breakfast.”
Cillian’s expression shifted to something Julian was learning to recognize as frustrated affection. “You’re stubborn.”
“You’re learning.”
/~/~/~/~/
The kitchen was empty when they arrived, morning light filtering through the reinforced windows. Cillian guided Julian to a chair at the long table, his shadows pulling it out before Julian could reach for it himself.
“Coffee first,” Cillian announced, moving to the industrial espresso machine with the confidence of someone who’d memorized Julian’s preferences.
Julian watched him work. The way Cillian moved could never be considered human - he was so veryprecise, measuring grounds, adjusting temperature, timing the extraction with the focus most people reserved for disarming bombs. His shadows assisted, retrieving the milk from the refrigerator, sliding a mug across the counter into his waiting hand.
“You take this very seriously,” Julian observed.
“You require caffeine to achieve optimal cognitive function.” Cillian set the perfect cappuccino in front of Julian, foam art forming an intricate pattern that might have been a shadow-creature or might have been an abstract design. “Therefore, coffee is a critical resource.”
