Page 15 of The Light Within

He’d known everything about her. Or so he’d thought.

This cosmic shift in the understanding of their shared universe was one he couldn’t begin to fathom, let alone put into words.

And now, her final damning act—she’d returned as a shadow cat that refused to come anywhere near him.

Without conscious thought, he unclasped the locket. The silver chain spooled into the palm of his hand. He closed his fist over it, then slipped it into his pocket.

“Okay…” Cinn began, his voice trailing off as he watched the locket disappear. “Well. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

The sincere statement, so heartfelt and genuine, caused a healthy jolt of guilt to shoot through Julien.

“Thank you,” Julien whispered, ghosting his lips over his cheekbone before kissing the soft lips already slightly parted for him. “I appreciate that.”You help me so much just by being here, right now, like this.

Julien would happily spend the rest of the day like this, entwined around Cinn’s warm body, but alas, life had other plans. “I need to drive back to mine and see if they’ll let me at least access my flat. Get clothes and such.”Enough belongings to stay forever.“And the paperwork I need for work.” And the equipment that would come in handy for his midnight rendezvous. Though Cinn didn’t need to know that part.

“That’s fine. I’m planning to send some Christmas cards back to England anyway. Darcy mentioned that the post office on the outskirts of town is still open, unlike the one in the town centre, which is just a pile of rubble.”

Julien made a retching sound. “Stop saying the C word. You’re doing it just to annoy me.”

“Once you try my secret-recipe roast potatoes, you’ll come around. You’ll see.”

“Only you would have a secret recipe for a fucking potato.”

four

Julien

Julien didn’t bother to arrive at the meeting spot until fifteen minutes past midnight. It was a good thing too—it was pushing half past when Elliot rocked up on his Yamaha, the rumbling engine cutting through the peace of the night’s still air. He hopped off, his usually spotless navy-blue gendarmerie uniform covered in ashy grey. At least he hadn’t changed out of it—they may well need its authority.

Waiting outside, leaning on Maz, Julien said, “What time do you call this?”

“I call it ‘the time I should be sleeping rather than risking my career on some sort of crackpot plan my best friend has cooked up.’ Sound familiar?”

“I think I’ve heard of it once or twice before.”

Julien flashed Elliot a grin. Elliot would wait a moment, then flash one back, because Elliot loved these sorts of escapades too, even if he’d never admit it.

“Did Cinn not want to come?” Elliot asked, for the sole purpose of being an ass, because of course he knew Cinn had no idea Julien was here.

For a moment, it had been touch and go as to whether Cinn would fall asleep in time for Julien to sneak out. He’d cooked them dinner, wittering on about all the new equipment he’d bought and the rare spices he’d found at the market, while Julien pretended to listen rather than admire how cute he looked in the apron he wore. Trying not to daydream about taking it off him.

Then Cinn had gone and rendered him speechless by showing him his small stockpile of ‘French wine’ he’d gathered. Julien didn’t have the heart to tell him most of it wasn’t French, and would be considered battery acid by his father’s standards.

They’d cuddled together on the sofa again, and then, only one glass of red later—with Cinn pretending to enjoy it, and Julien relentlessly teasing him—the toll of the past couple of days caught up with him, and the arm that was holding Julien had gone limp, his breaths heavy.

Surviving an earthquake will do that to you.

With all the motetech Julien had installed in her, Maz could almost drive herself at this point, but he needed a clear head for the task ahead, regardless.

“He was too tired.”

Elliot snorted. “What if he wakes up and finds you gone?”

Unlikely. Cinn had appeared dead to the world even after Julien transferred him to his bed. He was a remarkably heavy sleeper—Julien’s previous attempts to gently rouse him with a suggestive stroking of limbs had sadly failed.

“In that unlikely event, you rang Cinn’s phone after your shift, begging me for a lift as your bike broke down.”

It was okay. He’d make all this up to Cinn in the morning. He could think of at least five ways to do so, none of which required Cinn to even leave his bed.

---