Page 61 of Something Worth Keeping
When they separated, Cillian was staring at him with something between wonder and confusion. “You walked toward a void-monster.”
“I walked toward my mate who needed grounding.” Julian tugged Cillian’s hand until he sat on the edge of the bed. “You were stuck in a feedback loop of protective instinct without a clear threat to eliminate. I provided focus and verbal cues to help you re-establish cognitive function.”
“That’s a very clinical description of walking toward certain death.”
“It wasn’t certain death. The probability was actually quite low given your established behavioral patterns.” Julian squeezed Cillian’s hand. “You’ve spent more than a week being careful not to overwhelm me with your shadows. You claimed me with those same shadows just last night. You make me coffee exactly how I like it. None of those behaviors suggested you would hurt me while protecting me, even in an altered state.”
Cillian made a sound that might have been a laugh. Julian was going to take it as that. “You’re using my coffee preparation as evidence that I wouldn’t accidentally kill you as a void-monster.”
“All data points are relevant.” Julian pulled Cillian’s hand to his chest, over his heart. “Feel that? Still beating. Hypothesis confirmed.”
The shadows around Cillian’s shoulders finally relaxed. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Julian’s carefully, mindful of the medical equipment. “You terrify me.”
“The feeling is mutual. You destroyed an entire warehouse.” Julian paused. “It was very attractive. After I address the immediate concern of your blood-soaked clothing, I’d like to discuss it in more detail.”
That did get a laugh - a sound that lightened the trauma Cillian was still clearly feeling. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m accurate.” Julian yawned. The medication they’d given him was pulling him back toward sleep. “Now take off that shirt. It’s completely ruined with those blood stains, and I don’t want you smearing any mess on the bed linens.”
Cillian stripped off the ruined shirt, and Julian’s last conscious thought before sleep reclaimed him was that he should catalog the muscle definition for later analysis. That would be an enjoyable research project.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The wound was healing. Cillian traced his fingers along Julian’s shoulder for the thirty-seventh time that day, cataloging the progress. The scar tissue was forming cleanly, with no signs of infection. Silas had confirmed the accelerated healing yesterday, something about the mate bond flooding Julian’s system with enhanced cellular regeneration. The bullet had shattered on exit, and the fragments had been successfully removed. There was no nerve damage and no complications.
Julian was fine. Cillian still wanted to hunt down Marcus Vane’s corpse and destroy it again.
“You’re hovering.” Julian didn’t look up from his laptop. He’d set up a temporary workspace in Cillian’s suite, claiming the ergonomics of the chair were superior to the medicalfacility. “I can feel you staring at my shoulder.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m observing.”
“You’ve checked the wound site forty-three times in the past week. That’s averaging 6.14 times per day.” Julian finally glanced up, eyes sharp behind his glasses. “The statistical outlier was yesterday, when you checked it eleven times between the hours of midnight and four a.m.”
Cillian’s shadows coiled tighter around his forearms. “You were awake?”
“I woke up each time you displaced the blanket to examine the injury.” Julian closed his laptop with deliberate precision. “I didn’t mention it because you were clearly working through protective instinct trauma, and verbalizing my awareness would have interrupted your processing.”
The fact that Julian understood his fractured state and had simply... allowed him to work through it...made something in Cillian’s chest constrict.
“You were shot because I walked into an obvious trap.”
“You were shot because Marcus Vane had a guard with decent aim.” Julian stood and crossed the room. “I was shot because I made a tactical decision to prioritize your survival over my own physical safety. The outcome was acceptable given the variables.”
“Acceptable.” Cillian’s voice came out rougher than intended. “You collapsed from blood loss in my arms.”
“After successfully disrupting the containment apparatus and ensuring your freedom.” Julian stopped directly in front of him, close enough that Cillian could smell the coffee onhis breath and the lavender soap he’d used that morning. “The mission parameters were clear - get you out. Secondary objective - survive. I achieved both.”
Cillian’s shadows surged forward without permission, wrapping around Julian’s waist and pulling him closer. “You shouldn’t have to consider survival a secondary objective.”
“Then you should have told me you were walking into Vane’s trap instead of leaving me at Shadow House with Rook.” Julian’s tone didn’t change. But his hands came up to rest on Cillian’s chest, fingers spreading over his heart. “We’ve already had this conversation. Twice. You were trying to protect me. I protected you instead. The tactical adjustment was necessary.”
The shadows tightened around Julian’s waist, then loosened immediately when Cillian registeredwhat he’d done. But Julian just shifted closer, fitting himself against Cillian’s body like the missing piece of a puzzle.
“Stop retreating.” Julian’s fingers curled into Cillian’s shirt. “Your shadows have been behaving like anxious children all week - touching me, then pulling back, reaching out, and then withdrawing. They’re responding to your emotional dysregulation.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Julian tilted his head back, meeting Cillian’s gaze with that unflinching directness that had first caught his attention in the alley. “But this constant self-imposed distance is hurting both of us. I can feel it through the bond. You’re...fragmented. Unsettled.”
