Page 71 of Warrior's Cross

Preston actually smirked, a reaction he obviously tried to suppress.

He reached over and shoved the doors open, and he waved Cameron into the room.

The curtains in Julian’s bedroom were drawn, and the little bit of dull morning sunlight managing to leak around the edges was the only light in the room. It was still easy enough to make out the two huge cats on the bed, their tails flipping in annoyance at the disturbance. Beneath them, under a quilt and several pillows, was a lump that had to be Julian, curled on his side and unmoving.

“Is... is he okay?” Cameron asked shakily, trying very hard not to run right to the bed.

In response, Preston cleared his throat against a slight laugh. The figure in the bed groaned and shifted just enough to disturb the cats, who both meowed plaintively as their tails twitched harder.

“Preston,” Julian’s hoarse voice said from under one of the pillows. “Please kill me,” he requested miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that will have to wait. You have a visitor,” Preston responded with a grin at Cameron. He nodded his head, urging him to go further into the room.

The unusual humor from Preston got a half-smile out of Cameron, and he shook his head as he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, trying not to disturb the nearby cats. “Julian?”

Julian shifted slightly under the quilt, and his hand moved slowly to push the edge of a pillow up to reveal one dark eye blinking up at Cameron blearily.

“Cameron?” he asked in confusion, his voice almost comically muffled by his quilt.

“Yeah,” Cameron said quietly, reaching to pull the quilt down slightly. He pushed the pillow away from Julian’s head and smoothed back his hair. He was pale under the flush ofwhat was probably a fever. “What’s wrong?” Cameron asked worriedly.

Julian answered with a plaintive groan and closed his eyes. “I’m dying,” he answered, his voice just on the verge of a whine. “What are you doing here?” he asked with the oddest hint of hope in his voice.

“Ah, I’m not really sure?” Cameron tried, glancing to Preston.

“You asked me to bring him, sir,” Preston offered helpfully.

“Don’t you remember?” he asked, barely restraining a laugh as he turned and left the room, closing the doors behind him.

“I did?” Julian asked Cameron as he opened his eyes again and blinked slowly. At the end of the bed, one of the cats stood and stretched languidly before it began stalking his way slowly toward Cameron.

“Julian—” Cameron looked from the door to the cat to his lover and back to the cat, just in case. He had only had one experience with the two animals, but he had seen just how mean and possessive they actually were. He thought he’d be safe as long as he didn’t move closer to Julian. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you sick?” He laid a hand against Julian’s forehead. He felt fevered as well as looking it, and Cameron frowned harder.

“They shot me,” Julian answered, his voice actually cracking and ending in a squeak.

Cameron blinked. “Shot? Again?”

Julian shook his head and groaned, beginning to struggle to drag the quilt off his shoulders. When he pulled it all the way down, Cameron could see his bare shoulder and chest were clearly bruised and battered, with several red welts that looked like scratches that hadn’t quite broken the skin. His forearms were bandaged heavily and his hands were bruised and badly scratched. On the upper part of his right arm was a single CareBears Band-Aid, and he pointed at it petulantly with the other hand.

“Shot,” he spat as he pointed at it again emphatically.

Cameron stared at the Band-Aid for a long moment and then bit his bottom lip. Now, he knew why Preston was trying so hard not to laugh. “That’s just... terrible,” he managed to get out before he had to clamp his lips shut again.

The cat began to walk his way up Julian’s body, crouching on his master’s hip as Julian waved his hand. His tail twitched back and forth, sliding against Cameron’s arm as it did so.

“It’s not funny,” Julian insisted miserably. “Bad kitty!” he shouted suddenly, just before the cat pounced on him, batting at the whites of the bandages on Julian’s waving fingers and then attacking his face and biting Julian’s chin before hopping to the other side of the bed to lick himself clean.

Cameron couldn’t help it. His laughter rang out, and he almost fell off the bed as Julian burrowed back under his bedcovers for protection.

There was another tussle as the other cat joined in, pouncing on Julian’s feet as he moved beneath the covers.

“Bad kitties,” Julian muttered pitifully.

Smiling, Cameron watched his normally stoic lover so helpless and pitiful, and he found it oddly endearing. He savored it. “You’re not feeling that bad,” he remarked. “Not if you’re wrestling with those monsters.”

“They’re evil,” Julian insisted as he tucked his toes under Wesson’s loudly purring body, causing the cat to give a throaty meow of complaint.

“But you love them,” Cameron pointed out in amusement.

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