Page 120 of The Mourning Throne
He leaned back against the headrest, eyes fixed on the glowing hotel entrance, the way the light from the lobby bled out into the dark.
This was a mistake.
Morgan should’ve gone with him. Should’ve forced Lex into the elevator, walked him to the room, peeled the bloody pants off with steady hands and told him none of this mattered. That nothing could touch them, not here. Not anywhere. Not while they were together.
But he stayed in the car.
Maybe because he needed to believe Lex could come back to him on his own.
Because what if this was the moment Lex didn’t return? What if, for once,Morganneeded—and Lex didn’t come running?
He checked the clock.
Two minutes.
Five.
Seven.
By the time ten rolled around, Morgan’s stomach was twisted tight again, his mouth dry, heart tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against his ribs.
And then—
There he was.
Lex stepped out of the automatic doors, slower now, but upright. Changed. The gray tweed pants were wrinkled, and he still hadn’t wiped the tear tracks from his face. But the blood was gone.
More importantly, there was a little more light in his eyes.
Not much. The smallest flicker.
But enough.
The rooftop bar was mostly empty. Quiet, the way Morgan preferred things when he wasn’t hunting—dim lighting cast long shadows against dark wood paneling, soft white bulbs dangling overhead. The four guests and two servers blended into background noise, forgettable and faint.
Lex hadn’t let go of his hand since they left the car—white-knuckled grip, fingers trembling slightly, like he expected Morgan to vanish.
Morgan led them to a corner table, worn seats with a view of the skyline. It wasn’t perfect, but it was private.
He waited until they were settled, until Lex had folded in close beside him.
“What do you need, Lex?” Morgan asked.
Lex pulled their joined hands into his lap, pressing them close, tucked against the inside of his thighs. He ran his tongue over his teeth, eyes fixed on nothing.
“I want to forget,” he said finally. “Like before.”
Morgan tilted his head, studying him. “Before..?”
Lex nodded, cheeks burning bright with color now—embarrassment layered over something else.
“You mean the bath tub?”
Another nod.
At least he was talking. At least he was asking for help.
That mattered more than anything.
