Page 19 of Mystique of the Fallen
“We were helping with advice,” Cassius muttered. “But Chand is the one who gets the hug.”
With a chuckle, Roman tugged Cassius close the second Chander stepped away. “If anyone ever figures out how much sentinels want hugs, criminals are going to start using them to manipulate you.”
“As if any sentinel could be manipulated,” Alaric stated arrogantly as he pushed Cassius out of the way to hug Roman. “Come to the condo tomorrow and eat with us. You need your family.”
Roman smiled as gratitude swelled in his heart. Things were tough right now with his mate, but his relationship hadn’t even started. He’d need patience, understanding, and the solid support of the people he loved to build the kind of matebond he wanted.
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
∞∞∞
A few days had passed since Grant had drunkenly called Roman. As inebriated as he’d been that night, it surprised Grant that he had full recall of every word they’d spoken. In fact, as his life was spiraling further out of control, Grant had dedicated far too many hours to thinking about the fallen knight.
Although Grant’s lie about being ill had held Reginald off for a couple of days, he’d started calling again, demanding to know if he was better. He didn’t ask about symptoms or encourage him to take care of himself. The lone thing Reginald was preoccupied with was how quickly he could come over to have sex.
If the blinders hadn’t been lifted before Grant faked sickness, he would’ve figured out by now how much Reginald was using him. Grant sank into the sofa cushions as he wondered if Reginald had ever cared for him. At thirteen, Grant hadn’t been worldly, nor had he known he was gay. Reginald had told him he was, and Grant hadn’t been able to deny he was attracted to the seventeen-year-old.
Had Reginald felt anything beyond horniness when they were teenagers? For Grant, it’d be far easier to handle if Reginald had loved him and those feelings had slipped away than to believe he’d been nothing more than a gullible conquest. Was Reginald’s obsession with him so strong because Grant had so easily accommodated his every request for years?
Grant wanted none of that to matter, but he needed someone to have genuinely loved him—every aspect of him and his personality—instead of cherry-picking what they’d ignore, as Aunt Florrie did. Shaking his head, Grant forced himself to focus on reality. It was tempting to sit around and examine his relationship for the millionth time, but he had far bigger problems than a damaged, aching heart.
How was he going to face Reginald again? According to the information Roman had given him, the affliction of vomiting if he was touched in any intimate way wouldn’t fade. Reginald would lose his shit if Grant puked on him again.
Closing his eyes and hugging himself as a wave of fear washed over him, Grant realized he had no choice. He had to expedite his plans to disappear. He’d have far fewer resources, but he wasn’t afraid to fight for a fresh start.
But what if the information Roman had provided was wrong? Grant wondered if it was foolish to trust a stranger. The book asserted that fallen knights were incorruptible, but what did that mean? Where was the line drawn? Grant had been a cop and had sworn to serve and protect. In the end, he’d done what was best for himself, and that was pleasing Reginald.
If Roman was set on this matebond business, perhaps he’d crafted the books and pamphlets to convince Grant of the truth he wanted him to believe. Grant fished his phone out of his sweatpants and barely noted it was three in the morning as he tapped the screen. Without the fear of Reginald showing up at any moment, Grant had taken to carrying around both his normal phone and the one whose number Roman had. He refused to think about why that was important.
“Hello?”
Grant slunk off to the kitchen to grab another beer. “Hey.”
“Do you ever sleep?”
“Sure. I’m like your vampire friends, I guess. I like to stay up all night and hide from the sun during the day.”
“Grant, most vampires keep the same day hours I do. While they are sensitive to the sun, they can drink more blood to recover from exposure.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you were reading the stuff I left for you. There was no mention of vampires avoiding the sunlight.”
Grant pulled a can from his fridge, which he pocketed, then yanked out a second one. Once he was loaded up on beverages, Grant lumbered to the couch and dropped onto it. “I like to imagine them switching to bats and sleeping in coffins.”
“And I’m just some brain-eating zombie, right?”
Uncomfortable with the ire in Roman’s voice, Grant gulped half his beer as color rose to his cheeks.
“I didn’t think you ate brains,” Grant mumbled.
“I don’t lump every human into the asshole category, although I haven’t had many positive encounters with them.”
“You don’t like humans?” Grant asked, surprised. He didn’t know what it said about him that it’d never occurred to him that Roman might be uncomfortable with his race too.
“How much about fallen knights have you learned?”
“I skimmed or skipped the historical stuff, but I learned you’re incorruptible. My focus was more on the mates thing because I didn’t really know shit about it. The vomiting isn’t going away, is it?”
