Page 52 of A Sip of Sin

Karma’s a bitch.It was all coming to a head—every mistake and poor choice he’d made in his life—the people he’d let die that night, to the wrong ones he’d let live, their faces permanent in his memory.

“I won’t stand a chance alone.”

Chapter Twenty

Hollen

“Am I hungover?” Hollen let out a groan, his voice cracking halfway through. His mouth was bone dry, every muscle aching with a pounding in his head that was second to none.

He cracked his eyes open, wincing at the too-bright light filtering through the sole window of his bedroom. He’d expected wood, not the dusty gray paint and faded pictures of his own bedroom. Munro’s calming scent was missing, replaced with laundry detergent and the litter box in the corner.

He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. The nights he’d spent with Munro were some of the best of his life, even if he couldn’t recall exactly what had happened the night before. They must’ve kissed again—possibly more after Munro had sent Rhys away, the missing hours lost to pleasure.

“Shit. What time is it?” He rolled out of bed, grunting as he placed his feet on the carpet and steadied himself. At one point, he was sure the carpet had been plush and maybe even white, but now it was a flat gray thing that barely cushioned the concrete and wood beneath.

A shiver racked his body, his stomach grumbling. As he stumbled to the window, he realized that it wasn’t the sun filtering in, but a light from the apartment building that banished shadows from the front stoop. Usually, he would keephis blinds shut to ward off the yellow pest, but he must’ve forgotten to do that the night before, too.

George stirred, already tucked just under the top layer of his skin. He was everywhere, his warmth easing the aches of each muscle. “It’s late.” His voice was so loud, as if he were whispering against Hollen’s ear and not from inside his head.

The headache sharpened, and he clutched at the wall. “I feel like crap.” Hollen lowered his face into his hands. “Last night…what happened?”

He racked his brain, but other than a few flashes of taking tea to tables and Rhys showing up, there was only darkness. He had the strangest recollection of drowning, but that was impossible. “I don’t remember much after Rhys showed up. I don’t even know if I finished my shift.”

His brain was decidedly blank, a few hours missing with nothing to replace them. Maybe his memories were hidden just behind his headache—or maybe they would come back when he wasn’t so exhausted. “It must’ve been a late night.” He cracked a yawn.

“You’re getting weaker,” said George softly. “The bite is still taking its toll. You need to stay in bed.”

“Nah.” Hollen waved his hand. There was too much to do and too many bills to pay to think about wasting a day in bed. “I’ll be fine after a shower.” The heat would do wonders for his muscles, as long as Adair hadn’t gotten there first.

George tugged something in his chest, snapping his attention to him. “Hollen, you can’t.”

Hollen let out a long sigh. “Remember that conversation we had when you first spoke to me?” He smoothed his pajamas over his legs before treading toward the bathroom. “This ismybody—not yours. You can offer advice, but the final decision is still mine. I’ve been living with myself a lot longer than you have.”

It was hard to think of a time when George wasn’t there, that whisper of a conscience in his ear narrating the most ridiculous parts of his life. It was even more difficult to think of where he would be without George—a different job, life and lover… He didn’t want to know.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” said George.

“Safe is overrated.” Hollen ducked into the bathroom, blinking in the bright light. One look into the mirror and he had to wince away from his reflection. “Okay, so maybe I don’t look the best.” His eyes were sunken and dark, his face pale with a few streaks of red where the imprint of his pillow remained. “At least I’ll match my uniform.”

“Hollen, baby, are you in there?” Adair called through the bathroom door. A moment later he was turning the knob and letting himself in. Hollen leaned heavily against the sink, dreading the moment Adair saw him. It was tricky enough to hide how desperate their situation was without Adair seeing him like this.

Adair was stunning, with his golden skin and bright eyes, even in baggy track pants and a tight top that was fresh and smelling of laundry detergent. His hair was pulled back as if he were ready to head out. Sometimes his dance practices would run late, especially with more upcoming competitions.

“Hollen?” Adair traced his gaze up and down. “Is that you?”

“Umm…yeah?” Hollen blinked in confusion before glancing down at himself. It was the same scrawny body he’d expected to see. “Am I supposed to someone else?”

“I met Gorgo last night, and we had a chat.” Adair shifted, glancing to the side. “He seems nice—crazy, but sweet.”

Where the hell was I when this happened?Hollen racked his brain but came up empty. There was no trip home last night, and certainly nothing after that. “I’m not sure what happened last night.”

He should probably be alarmed, but with exhaustion weighing heavy, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Probably for the best,” said Adair, muttering under his breath. “Well, I just wanted to wish you a good day. I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Bye.” When the words came from his mouth, it wasn’t in Hollen’s usual high tilt, warped instead in George’s baritone that thudded straight from his chest.

Hollen jerked back in time to see something shift across his eyes—his green flashing to yellow before turning back again. He could have sworn that there were tattoos on skin, gone before he was certain they were even there.

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