Page 28 of The Immortal Covenant

As they melted together into the plush pillows, Malorg caught the unabashed affection on Sarilian’s face and wondered what his own expression revealed. Usually, he was an expert at masking his emotions, but something about Sarilian tore past all his carefully constructed walls, and he couldn’t resist capturing Sarilian’s lips once again with his own.

When their frantic kiss broke apart, Sarilian reached up and brushed a hand through Malorg’s mussed hair. “That wasincredible, Mal,” Sarilian whispered fondly, his bright gold eyes wide and sated.

Mal.

Only one other Immortal had ever called him that…and Uryqh would never get that chance again. Malorg’s contentment turned to ash in his mouth. That niggling voice of doubt in the back of his mind grew deafening. Suddenly, Sarilian’s adoring looks, the warmth of his body wrapped tight around Malorg’s, was all too much, suffocating him until it became a struggle to breathe.

Drawing on his duskflame, Malorg flickered in and out of the shadows to escape Sarilian’s grip and put a few much-needed paces between them. “Thank you,” he said a touch too formally.

Sarilian raised a brow, a confused smile flickering over his perfect lips. “Thank you? You speak as if I did you a favor by coming here. As if there’s somewhere else I’d rather be.”

Malorg averted his eyes and shrugged. “It must be tedious traveling all this way to meet.”

That had been an unfortunate effect of their disparate magic. Malorg would’ve gladly alternated their visits between both their domains, but his illusion spell couldn’t function as reliably in the Dawnlands. That, coupled with Twilight’s far laxer atmosphere, made it the superior location for illicit rendezvouses.

“I don’t mind.” Sarilian shifted to prop himself up on his arms amid the pillows. He must have read some portion of Malorg’s tension on his face because his lips parted in a soft smile. “You’re not the only one to enjoy yourself here. So, no morethank yous, okay?”

“Fine,” Malorg grunted, more of that unfamiliar warmth spreading through him despite the physical distance separating them.

Eternal Dark, he still couldn’t believe that someone as vibrant and full of life as Sarilian foundhimdeserving of attention.He was an empty husk—a shell of a person going through the motions after having long since given up.

“Anything you’d like to do?” he asked, mostly to distract himself. “We could visit the Market or the Gallery.” His eyes roved over the paintings and tapestries that now covered his small room’s walls and the assorted knick-knacks cluttering his shelves and table. “On second thought, perhaps we should avoid the Market for a while.”

Sarilian smirked and patted the pillows beside him. “All I want right now is you. Now, stop brooding long enough to rejoin me.”

Malorg scowled. “I don’t brood.”

“Right. Sure. Of course not.” Malorg’s scowl deepened, but Sarilian only chuckled at a look that would have made most of Malorg’s fellow Infernals retreat in fear. “Fine. How about you come finish your not-brooding over here, then?”

Grumbling under his breath, Malorg gave in. No sooner had he settled onto the cushions than Sarilian’s arms enveloped him in a reassuring embrace. With Sarilian’s chest against his back, Malorg sensed the heat of his dawnflame and the steadythumpof his heart.

Many times over the past centuries, Malorg had railed against the Progenitors for granting Immortals emotions like pain or sorrow or doubt—for deliberately cursing them with mortal frailty. But, wrapped in the safe cocoon of Sarilian’s arms, he had to admit there were definite benefits to being human as well. It almost made him believe that this wouldn’t all end in ruin.

“I didn’t thank you because I view this as a transaction.” Malorg’s voice came out hesitant, and he was grateful Sarilian couldn’t see the vulnerability on his face. “I thanked you because you finally gave me back what I’ve been missing.”

Sarilian’s soft lips ghosted over Malorg’s neck, sending shivers skittering along his skin. “Oh, yeah?” the Celestial whispered. “And what’s that?”

With a shudder, Malorg pressed back into Sarilian’s tantalizing touch. “Hope in a brighter future. I may not believe in the Covenant, but I believe inyou.”

Sarilian inhaled sharply. Before he could reply, Malorg turned and kissed away the Celestial’s words. Enough talk. Now, he just wanted tofeel.

As he gave himself over to Sarilian’s warmth, he sought to smother his doubts, striving to exist fully in the moment. The thought of losing Sarilian the way he’d lost Uryqh terrified him, but he wouldn’t let those fears control him—not while Sarilian, for whatever inexplicable reason, chose to remain by his side.

The two of them lay chatting—or rather, Sarilian chattered on about the latest happenings in Daybreak while Malorg grunted along—when a sudden sharp knock interrupted them. Malorg’s gaze fastened on the door, his eyes narrowing as he ran through a list of those who might disturb him.

He’d long since outgrown any commanders who might try to issue him orders, and he had no friends worth mentioning. Certainly none that would pay him a house call, except maybe for—

Paling, Malorg leaped to his feet and resummoned his outfit. He let out a soft curse as his gaze scoured the room.

“What is it?” Sarilian asked, his voice tightening with concern. “Do you know who it is?”

“I can guess.” Seeing nothing incriminating lying around—though exactly what there might have been in the first place, he wasn’t sure—he gave Sarilian a careful once-over. Like Malorg, Sarilian had dressed himself, though they’d let the magic disguising him lapse once they were in private. Malorg held out a hand. “Here, let me refresh your illusion.”

Sarilian nodded, pursing his lips as Malorg reapplied the duskflame disguise. Thankfully, that process had gotten easier over time. Either Sarilian’s body had begun to acclimate to the duskflame, or Malorg had grown more skilled at the spell from frequent practice.

“Should we be worried?” Sarilian asked.

Yes.“No,” Malorg said at another impatient knock from the door. “Just stay there and don’t say anything. If it is who I think it is, we—”

---