It was late morning when Rowena woke.
She still wasn’t used to the luxury of sleeping in a bed. Sometimes it seemed entirely too soft, but last night, she’d fallen into a blissful stupor. Without reciprocating as she’d promised.
Slay didn’t seem like the type to hold it against her, at least. Carefully, she rolled over in his arms. He had been spooned up behind her, his face buried in her hair again. His eyes were closed, lashes thick and black against his cheeks. Dark stubble lined his jaw, giving him a rugged look. His chin was strong, his cheekbones carved like masterful stonework, but she liked his thick brows most of all. When she first met him, his head had been shorn like every other new prisoner. It had been long enough that his hair was growing back in unruly curls.
Carefully, she brushed the strands away, smoothing them between her fingers. Light as a feather, she dusted her fingertips down the slope of his magnificent nose, then grazed his full lower lip. He truly was so beautiful that her heart ached just looking at him. Snuggling against the pillow—another unfamiliar comfort—she delighted in gazing at his face.
As Ro drank him in, Slay opened his eyes suddenly and touched his nose to hers, finishing with a kiss on her chin. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?”
“Not even slightly.”
“We’re not locked up together anymore,” Slay said quietly. “You could go anywhere or do anything.”
A chilly feeling settled into her soul. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“What? No! I was just saying, you’re not tied to Golgerra anymore and I’m not the second in Ash Valley. No limits, no obligations. Have you thought about the future at all?”
“I just woke up. The only thing I thought about is how much I like your face.” A sudden thought struck her. “You resigned! How did they take it?”
“Dom protested and said he can’t do without me, but honestly that’s more because we’re friends than because I’m particularly good at the job. I told him I’d help him pick some candidates as my successor before we leave.”
“Where are you going?” Ro asked.
“That’s what we need to figure out.” Slay sat up and stretched, rubbed the grit from his eyes. “By the way, I have a favor to ask.”
Ro didn’t even need to think before answering, “Anything. Name it.”
He aimed a lazy grin in her general direction. “I could get used to this.”
“Please do. What do you need?”
Sobering, Slay explained, “There’s a guy named Eamon, friend of Pru’s more than mine, but I’m concerned about him too.”
She could tell Slay was struggling to get the words right, so she covered his hand with hers. “Don’t worry about my reaction. Just explain what you need from me.”
He relaxed, wrapping his fingers around hers, a gesture that always moved her. “Eamon was held by your people for a long time, taken in a skirmish when he was young. He hasn’t been home that long, relatively speaking. We got him back in exchange for some tech that Tycho really wanted before the conclave exploded.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly understanding a lot more than he’d articulated. “I’m so sorry.”
“You and I have both been through it, gotten out of the undercity. But Eamon, it’s like he never left. He’s still trapped there in his head. Last I knew, he was afraid to leave his flat, and I was hoping you’d go with me to talk to him.”
Ro closed her eyes, aching for the wounds this man had suffered. She could imagine all too well what Eamon had experienced as a prisoner. The injuries inflicted by Tycho’s regime would take a long time to heal, if they ever did. Truthfully, it was nothing short of a miracle that Ash Valley had successfully negotiated Eamon’s release, as the tyrant had hated relinquishing anything once he grabbed hold of it.
“I’m happy to go with you. After breakfast? I would like to try making you some food, though I haven’t used a stove too often. Most of what I made was in the field as we marched.”
“The fact that you want to cook for me is already incredible.” Slay seemed to mean those words, and the warmth permeated to her bones.
She rose onto her knees and kissed his nose again. “Take a shower, my love.” Was that too daring? “I’ll see what’s in the cupboards.”
Slay’s eyes flashed molten gold, maybe over the endearment. “Probably not a lot. The fridge was empty last night, and I wasn’t sure how long we were staying, so—”
“No worries. Let’s discuss that after we visit your friend.”
Slay kissed the top of her head and rolled out of bed, offering an excellent view of his bitable ass. Ro admired it until the bathroom door closed behind him, then she put on one of his shirts and headed to the kitchen. As he’d predicted, there was nothing in the refrigerator except ice in the freezer section. The cupboards yielded better results; she found a box of powdered milk, a tin of oats, and a packet of dried fruit. Happy with her find, she got out a pot and measured the water and oats, two to one ratio. She’d made this on a tripod over a fire before, so it should taste okay.
Dried fruit, pinch of sugar, a few spoons of milk powder…
By the time Slay finished washing up, she had steaming bowls of oatmeal ready, and she was happy with how it turned out, creamy and sweet, not bad for a meal created from almost nothing. He seemed amazed as he joined her at the table.
“I honestly didn’t think you’d find anything. You’re incredible!”
“How is it?” she asked, feeling unaccountably shy.
He ate the first spoonful with apparent relish. “Creamy. Sweet. Would you hit me if I added ‘just like you’?”
Ro grinned. “Try it and find out. But I know you didn’t just compare me to a bowl of oatmeal.” She raised her spoon in a mock threatening move.
This is how life should be, laughter at mealtimes over silly things.
“Thanks for breakfast, Ro. I’ve never woken up with someone like this before. And…I’m really into it.”
Startled, she paused mid-bite. “I thought you were with Pru for a long time. Or that’s the impression I got. She didn’t sleep over or cook for you?”
He grimaced a little. “Yeah, I did a lot of shit wrong back then.”
“Everyone does,” she said, returning to her breakfast. “And they learn from their mistakes. I don’t know how you were before, but I’m awed by the person you are now.”
Slay reached across the table, took her hand, and pressed a kiss into her palm. “If you don’t stop being so irresistible, I’m taking you back to bed and licking this oatmeal off you.”
Ro raised a brow and shook her head. “That doesn’t sound remotely enticing.”
He sighed. “I keep trying to make oatmeal sexy, but it can’t be done. I’m sorry.”
“Porridge is not seductive, but it’s filling and nutritious. Eat your breakfast!” Pensively, she added, “I feel like I should tell you that I’m not interested in bringing food into our sex lives. I find it disgusting and so wasteful. Is that disappointing?”
Slay laughed. “I can live without smearing stuff on you, I swear.”
“That’s good,” Rowena said firmly. “Because it’s a line I’m not crossing. Let me eat, shower, and then we can go see Eamon.”
Slay loved watching Ro get dressed.
Not because he wanted her body covered up, but she took such pleasure in picking her next outfit that he basked in that vicarious joy. Today, she had on white dress with lace sleeves. When she moved, it offered tantalizing glimpses of skin. She tied her hair up, revealing the graceful nape of her neck.
“You look gorgeous,” he said, when she sent him a look entreating his opinion.
Ro tilted her head, seeming startled. “How’d you know?”
He paused. How did I know? The mate bond suggested itself as an answer, but he had a certain order in his head dictating how he approached their future. He wouldn’t declare his love impulsively like so many of his other moves.
So Slay lifted a shoulder. “Dunno. I just did. Eamon lives nearby.”
He led the way, but Ro held onto his hand, swinging their arms like she couldn’t be happier, even though this wouldn’t be an easy talk. Hell, her scent might freak Eamon out, but Slay hoped that her Eldritch aspect would let the man cope long enough to hear her out.
Really, he had no idea if Rowena could do any good, but she said the right things to Slay. So why not give it a shot? If Eamon showed any distress, they’d book it out of his space.
“You’re thinking hard,” she said, as they climbed the steps to Eamon’s floor.
Unlike other flats nearby, Eamon’s door was reinforced with metal bands. It would take heavy machinery or a battering ram to break it down. Well, that or a rhino demon shock trooper like those that laid waste to the inner gates of Golgerra.
“Just hoping that I made the right call.”
“I’ll leave if he doesn’t want me there,” Ro promised.
Nodding, Slay knocked briskly, then called, “Hey, bro! Don’t know if you heard, but I’m back. Do you feel like letting us in for a bit?”
With Slay’s sharp ears, he caught movement inside, the other man approaching the door with his customary caution. “Us?”
“I wanted to introduce you to someone special,” Slay said.
She spoke without being prompted. “My name is Rowena. It’s fine if you don’t want me to come in. I realize that I’m a stranger.”
“I’m having a good day, and I haven’t seen Slay in forever. Everyone thought—”
“That I was dead?” Slay supplied.
“Pretty much. Caio suggested having a funeral for you, but neither Dom nor Pru were having it. To hear Pru tell it, there was quite the dustup.”
“You stay remarkably in the loop for somebody who never leaves home,” Slay said, as multiple locks and bolts turned on the other side of the door.
To Slay, Eamon looked much the same when the door widened enough to allow them to slip inside. Quickly, the other man shut and fastened the chain behind them, though he didn’t turn all the bolts. The apartment was exactly as Slay recalled with all the windows covered and paintings lined up all over the place in various stages of completion.
“You’re an artist,” Ro said, kneeling to examine a portrait near the door.
She was careful not to touch anything, Slay noticed, and she straightened without making any sudden movements. Eamon didn’t approach either of them or offer a handshake; Slay knew better than to hug the guy. Like Ro, Eamon didn’t do casual contact, and now that Slay had walked a mile in the other man’s shoes, he could relate to his issues better. Before, he hadn’t been great at seeing shit from someone else’s point of view.
I was kinda an asshole, honestly.
“I don’t have any training,” Eamon said, “but it helps me process.”
Rowena indicated a work across the room. “I love the colors in that one.”
“Thanks.” Eamon gave the right response in abstraction, eyes locked on her. “You don’t have to answer if you prefer not to, but…you’re not Animari, are you?”
Slay read Ro’s tension; she didn’t enjoy being singled out and she didn’t like talking about her heritage. Normally, he wouldn’t ask her to either, but Eamon had to know, or her words wouldn’t reach him. Assuming they even could.
“My mother was Eldritch,” she said quietly. “She told me that my father was a Golgoth guard in the undercity.”
Eamon flinched at the mere mention of the word, his eyes widening. He even took a step back, trembling visibly. Ro didn’t stir or try to reassure him. Maybe she knew instinctively how to respond because she lived with similar trauma.
“How long were you there?” Eamon’s question came in a whisper.
Slay realized he might be superfluous but leaving would distract the other two. He hoped that his familiarity could serve as a buffer and would keep Eamon calm, hopefully long enough for Ro and Eamon to talk. Best I can do is stay still and quiet, try not to ruin the moment.
“My entire life,” Ro said softly. “Until I participated in a failed rebellion. I was about to be executed when Alastor saved me. At that point, I joined his honor guard, and we eventually fought beside him in the war under the banner of the Exiles.”
Closing his eyes, Eamon visibly wrestled a horde of terrible memories. “I can’t forget what happened to me there.”
“They experimented on you,” Ro said, a statement, not a question.
Eamon snapped alert; he seemed startled by her surety, even taking a step toward her. “How do you know?”
“They were obsessed with taking Animari hostages, trying to develop a serum that would allow Golgoth soldiers to heal like the Animari do. They never got it right, and now the program is no more. You may not have heard, but the undercity was flooded, and there are no more prisoners in Golgerra. My friend Chantisse has been elected as prime minister in the first democratic election. The old ways are no more.”
“No prisoners. No experiments. No torture. No work detail.” Eamon let out a ragged sigh, tipping his face toward the dusty ceiling. “Weren’t you scared when you left? If you spent your whole life down there.”
“Terrified,” Ro admitted. “I sobbed and shook the first week after we left the city. I couldn’t get used to the open spaces, and the sky terrified me. The sun was something I’d heard of, but it scared me too. Pretty much everything was horrifying to me. Until it wasn’t. I kept telling myself that I had no choice, I had to cope to repay Alastor for my life. I didn’t have the option of hiding, so I did what I had to, one minute at a time.”
“I feel like you’re judging me,” Eamon said, after a brief silence.
Slay bristled. He hadn’t taken it that way but he managed to keep quiet. Ro could handle herself, and if he snapped, Eamon would kick them both out.
Ro waved both hands in a negating gesture. “I’m sorry for sounding like that. I’m conveying my experiences. If I’d had a safe place to go, maybe I would still be holed up like a badger. Heal at your own pace, and don’t let anyone tell you when is long enough.”
Eamon took another step toward Ro, his voice soft. “Thank you.”
She added, “I will say this, though. If you don’t try to move on, you’re the one who will suffer for it.”
“What do you suggest?” Eamon asked.
Rowena seemed to consider, then replied, “Maybe…think of one thing you want to do more than you wish to hide. Then try.”
Slay held his breath, because already Ro had gotten further with Eamon than anyone else. Everything hinged on Eamon’s response, though.
“What if I fail?” the other man asked.
Ro answered immediately, “Try again. Failure is the step before success, right? And incremental progress is still progress. If you keep at it, one day you might find that you’ve gone further than you imagined you could. I believe in you.”
“Would it be okay if I hugged you?” Eamon asked Rowena.
In answer, she opened her arms. It was a ginger, tentative embrace on both sides, and Eamon scrambled away afterward like a skittish cat. Slay didn’t even feel jealous.
“Good talk,” Slay said. “We shouldn’t outstay our welcome, though.”
Eamon held up a hand. “Stay a moment longer, please?”
“As you like,” Ro agreed.
Slay stared in disbelief. For the first time in forever, Eamon pulled the blackout shade from one of the windows.
“This is the first step,” he said to Ro. “I want to see the sunrise.”