Night's Honor (Elder Races #7)(84)

They’d hit magic hour.

•   •   •

Julian came back over to the stretcher to check on Xavier. When he saw that Xavier’s eyes were open, his savage expression lightened considerably. Squatting by the stretcher, he brought his face down to the same level as Xavier’s.

“You scared me there for a while,” Julian said.

Xavier stiffened as another spasm of pain hit. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“I’m not ready to live in a world without you in it,” Julian told him in a quiet voice. He held out his hand, and Xavier clasped it.

“You won’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

Julian said in his head, I have news that is somewhat ironic. Are you up to hearing it?

Xavier couldn’t keep his eyes open, and he closed them. Tell me.

Gavin got the edited recording to me. A few hours earlier, I took it to Justine and backed her off, just as we’d planned. She left Evenfall around when you did, right after sunset. If I’d held off confronting her until tomorrow, she might still be in residence.

Xavier didn’t buy it. As soon as Justine received word of the botched assassination attempt, she would have slipped out of Evenfall on some pretext or other. He gritted his teeth as the remnants of the poison knotted his muscles.

He promised, Soon as I’m on my feet, I’ll go after her.

No, you won’t, Julian growled. His grip tightened on Xavier’s. Not this time. I’ve sent you on the hunt for me countless times over the years, but Justine is my issue to handle. No one attacks my progeny and lives.

As Julian stood, Xavier opened his eyes. Looking up at his sire and king, he said, Good hunting.

Julian touched his shoulder. Get better. And watch your back.

Always.

After ten more minutes, the paramedic announced Xavier was stable enough to be moved. Pain still wracked his body, but he refused to go to the hospital. Now that he had survived past the magic hour, there was nothing the hospital could do for him, anyway, except to offer him fresh blood, and he could get that need met in the comfort of his own home.

They transported him to his town house in the ambulance. He refused to let go of Tess’s hand, so she rode with him. She looked horrific. Blood soaked her everywhere, and her face was tight and pale with exhaustion and stress, her eyes lined with dark circles.

He had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful.

He must have closed his eyes and dozed, because the next thing he knew, the medics were pulling the stretcher from the ambulance. Tess stayed by his side as they took him inside and down the main stairway to the master suite belowground.

He wasn’t tracking what happened very well, because Raoul wasn’t present—but then suddenly he was.

“He needs to take it easy for a few weeks,” one of the medics told them. He met Xavier’s eyes. “You survived, but that doesn’t mean the poison is gone. It’s going to take several days for it to fully flush out of your system. The best thing you can do is force liquids.”

“Understood,” Xavier said.

Raoul slid an arm under his shoulders and eased him off the stretcher. When he made as if to help Xavier to his king-sized bed, Xavier resisted.

“No. Take me to the bathroom.”

“Xavier, it doesn’t matter right now if you’re clean or not.”

“It matters to me, damn it.” He looked for Tess, who hovered nearby anxiously. “Help me into the shower?”

She came forward quickly and slipped an arm around his waist. “Of course.”

He limped with her into the bathroom.

He liked his comforts, and his bathroom reflected that. It was spacious, with a walk-in shower and a large sunken tub with Jacuzzi jet heads. After a quick glance around, Tess said, “I don’t think we should try the shower.”

He didn’t disagree. Even with her support, he was shaky on his feet, and the muscle cramps kept hitting him unexpectedly.

She helped him into the tub, and he stripped off his soiled, blood-soaked clothing while she turned on the water, checked the flow and adjusted the faucets. “Climb in,” he said. “You too.”

He thought she might argue, but she didn’t. She stripped off her filthy clothes, dropped them into the pile with his and climbed into the tub. For a while, they just soaked, and he grew more comfortable as the warm water eased his muscle cramps.

He stroked her back, following the delicate ripple of her spine. God, he loved her body, her sleek skin, those gorgeous legs, the soft swell of her pink-tipped breasts. He loved the cranky, vulnerable look in her eyes.

Scooping up a handful of warm water, he wiped at her streaked face. “You saved my life,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

Her face moved. She took hold of his forearms and checked the wounds at his wrists. They had already closed over, but the marks where she had cut him were still long, red and angry-looking. Tracing one of them with a forefinger, she said, “You saved my life too.”

“We saved each other.” With a deep sense of relief and fulfillment, he pulled her into his arms. She hugged him back tightly, and they rested together.

He disconnected again, and only woke up when she let out the tub of rusty-looking water and ran more. Matter-of-factly, she poured shampoo into one hand and worked it through his hair. As her slender fingers massaged his scalp, he let out a low sound of pleasure and went boneless.