Page 22 of Something Worth Keeping
Julian’s lips twitched. “Nice save.”
They reached Julian’s building. The streetlight flickered overhead, casting uneven shadows across Julian’s face. Cillian’s entire existence narrowed to the man standing beforehim - small, fragile, and irreplaceable.
“Thank you for dinner,” Julian said. “I enjoyed it significantly more than I expected to.”
“Your praise is effusive.”
“That was praise. I genuinely had a good time.”
Cillian stepped closer. Julian didn’t retreat. The beacon’s heartbeat kicked up - not from fear, but from anticipation. Cillian could taste it in the air between them, sweet and sharp.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Cillian said. “I believe that is how a human date is concluded.”
“That’s very courteous. Asking permission.”
“I’m not asking. I’m providing information.”
Julian smiled. “Then you should probably…”
Cillian leaned in and kissed him. Julian made a small sound of surprise, then his hands came up to grip Cillian’s jacket. The kiss was careful at first, testing, learning the shape of each other. Then Julian opened his mouth, and Cillian’s restraint cracked like ice over deep water.
His shadows surged forward, wrapping around Julian’s waist, his shoulders, his legs and ass, cradling him and holding him close. Julian didn’t flinch. Instead, he pressed closer, one hand sliding up to thread through Cillian’s hair.
When they finally broke apart, Julian’s glasses were askew, and his breathing was uneven.
“That was...” Julian paused, clearly searching for the right word. “Adequate.”
Cillian laughed - an actual laugh, rusty from disuse. “Adequate?”
“I’m joking. That was exceptional. You should do it again.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I kiss you again, I won’t stop. And we’re courting properly.” Cillian straightened Julian’s glasses with careful fingers. “Go inside. Lock your door.”
“Will you watch from the street again?”
“Yes.”
“That’s still creepy, but I’m growing accustomed to it.” Julian stepped back. “Goodnight, Cillian.”
“Goodnight, Beacon.”
Julian disappeared into his building. Cillian waited until he saw the light turn on in the fourth-floor window, watched Julian move through hisapartment, and only then did he check his phone, which had been vibrating against his thigh through dinner.
Three messages from Thorn, each more urgent than the last.
[Thorn - 7:43 p.m.]: Meeting. Now.
[Thorn - 8:15 p.m.]: Vane situation escalating. Need all operatives present.
[Thorn - 9:02 p.m.]: Cillian, if you’re ignoring this because of your mate, we need to discuss priorities.
Cillian’s shadows coiled tight. He looked up at Julian’s window one last time, watched him settle in his chair with a book, and then dissolved into darkness. He would be back later to make sure Julian was actually sleeping in his bed.
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