Page 16 of Demon Hunter

He’s the best thing in my life.

Ten-years-ago me—hell, even two-years-ago me—would have laughed at the idea that my good friend Dyl and I could become more than friends. I probably would have laughed at the idea that I could ever even feel this way. Dylan makes me understand why people write poetry, and Ihatepoetry. But the love I have for him is so big that sometimes I think it’s going to burst out of me. Keeping our relationship a secret, even from Ian, has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I’m counting the fucking Battle for the Barrier, where we went towarwithdemons.

I understand why he wants us to. I do. He’s apologized countless times, and Iget it.Especially now, after this. His parents were both killed in the Battle for the Barrier, but somehow, he didn’t get notified. They weren’t on the casualty lists, so when he couldn’t reach them, he just assumed they were busy with the aftermath. It wasn’t until two days later that he got a middle-of-the-night call to tell him they were dead.

So yeah, I understand. My family and I still work on the front lines in a lot of ways, me especially, and he’s worried that if the world knows about us, if he’s officially part of another family, he might have to go through that loss all over again. From my perspective, he was incredibly brave to push aside that fearenough to be with me. Love me. Plan a future with me, even if right now, we’re keeping that to ourselves.

So I’ll do whatever he needs me to do—I even offered to move to an admin job. When he was done laughing—everyone remembers my short stint in the archives—he insisted he doesn’t want to change me, and that one day, we’ll share us with the world. But that doesn’t sometimes stop me from wondering if he really feels what I do or if his love for me is more… casual. Transient. Because if he loves me as much as I love him, how can he want to keep us secret?

Insecurities are a bitch.

His fingers stop moving, and he sighs, leaning back in the visitor chair and cracking his neck. It’s something I’ve seen him do so many times, I smile, and that’s the moment his gaze falls on me.

“You’re awake… and happy. You remember where you are, right?”

I scoff. “Hard to forget, with a fucking catheter in my dick. I really hope that comes out soon.”

He grins. “Aw, so you’re not into sounding, then. Good to know.”

My eyes shoot to Marc. Maybe he didn’t hear that. Or maybe he just assumed it was the kind of thing friends say to each other. He doesn’t have the greatest grasp on human interpersonal relationships.

Marc smirks at me, and I swear, if my arms and legs weren’t all in casts, I’d get up off the bed and go smack it off his face. I seriously don’t know how Ian can love him. The only good thing he’s got going for him is the way he treats my brother-bestie.

“Don’t mind me,” he says in his usual bored, condescending tone. “I already know you’re involved.”

I’m speechless.

Maybe he has a better grasp of human relationships than I thought.

“What?” Dylan gasps. “How?”

“What he means is, we’re totally not,” I rush to add, tripping over the words. “We’re just good enough friends that we can make jokes like that. You wouldn’t know, not having reached that tier of friendship with anyone.”

He says nothing, just arches a brow, but pain floods through me.

“Fuck,” I croak. “Fine. You have friends. Jesus, just give me back the painkiller.”

A second later, I’m blessedly free of pain once more.

“Don’t test me, puny human,” he says silkily. “Also, press the morphine button. If the pain was that bad, you would have done so already. No need to make the staff suspicious.”

Sighing, I fumble for the little cylinder and push the button. It makes no difference, since Marc’s a better pain blocker than any drug—and considering what a headache he is, that’s not something I ever thought I’d say—but a moment later, he nods.

“I still want to know how he knows,” Dylan insists. “I mean, it’s fine—we need to talk about that—buthow?”

“You reek of each other,” Marc says simply.

Dyl blinks at him, offended. “I beg your pardon?”

“We’ve never met in person before, so I didn’t realize, but your scent is embedded deeply into Matt’s skin. That usually only happens when people spend a great deal of time together, or immediately after sex. Long-term lovers are easy to identify.” He flicks something only he can see off his sleeve. “I knew that first night.”

My mouth goes dry. “Did you tell Ian? You can’t. Dylan needs us to keep this quiet—” I break off when I remember what he said a minute ago, about it being fine that Marc knows. What?

“Ian doesn’t know?” Marc asks, and normally I’d enjoy the note of surprise, but I’m only half listening. My attention is fixed on Dylan, who’s smiling apologetically at me.

“It’s time to tell them,” he says. “I’m sorry I made you wait this long. I…” He looks away and swallows. “If this ever happens again, I don’t want to find out by accident. I want to be the first person anyone thinks to call.” He links his fingers loosely with mine. “Everyone needs to know you’re mine, Matty.”

Hope bursts inside me.

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