Page 18 of The Deer and the Dragon
I looked up into Caliban’s face—the face of my guardian angel. I’d nearly forgotten how perfect he was; from the cut of his jaw to the sensuous curve of his mouth, he’d always looked like the prince from a fairy story. For years, I’d convinced myself that’s all he was—a fairy tale.
I grit my teeth through the throbbing pain that still coursed through my hand as my blood gushed freely. I would need stitches, and I’d need them soon if I wanted to remain conscious. Still, I couldn’t think of my cuts over my more pressing question. I let my eyes do the pleading as I spoke through sandpaper, saying, “But you… He…”
“Shh” came his gentle reply.
He scooped me up from where I rested on the floor and carried me to the island at the center of my kitchen. First, his fingertips pressed into my throat. A minty, soothing balm rushed through my raw passages before the throbbing ceased.He kissed my sliced, bleeding palm, leaving a smear of blood across his lips before meeting my eyes once more. I looked from the crimson stain on his mouth to my hand only to see that the gash was gone. The world fell to staticky noise. I heard the sink running and idly felt the tug of a rag on skin as he cleaned the blood off me, but I was quite certain I’d died.
There was no other explanation.
My eyes drifted from Caliban’s quiet attention and fixed on Richard’s purple corpse. After several minutes, I had the sensation of floating and rested my head against Caliban’s chest. If I’d died and gone to heaven, then I might as well enjoy it. Strong arms carried me from the kitchen to the bedroom. He lifted my bloodied shirt off over my head, and I raised my arms to let him. He tugged on my pants, waiting for me to lift my hips off the bed as he helped me out of the ruby-red remnants of the nightmare.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said quietly.
“Don’t leave,” I begged.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
My eyes remained screwed, unblinking, on the open doorway as I struggled to discern where fact ended and fiction began. A hard, black pulse, like obsidian twinkling in an unheard shock wave, throbbed from the room beyond. The entire apartment moved against the shudder, iridescent stars gleaming against dark smoke as its tendrils drifted down the hall and into my room. After several moments, Caliban returned to my room. I realized I hadn’t fully breathed until he entered. A headache took its cue upon my exhale.
I wanted to speak but had nothing to say.
“It will be like it never happened,” he said. “He’s gone.”
I looked up at him, cursing myself for the helpless, kicked-puppy need that overtook me as I asked, “Where have you been?”
“You almost died,” he said, voice pained.
I’d been attacked. I’d barely escaped death. A stranger had murdered my assailant and disappeared into thin air. A bombmade of dark, glistening shadow had erupted in my living room. But the only thing I wanted to know was why Caliban had left.
My head spun through glass and adrenaline and golden glitter as I sputtered, “What happened? Who was that man…Silas…?”
“Not who. What.”
My expression rearranged to tell him I understood nothing.
“I’ve marked all those who’ve wronged you,” he said. “Consider me protective. I can’t control who answers the marks.”
I stared into his star-bright face, begging this to be real. He was even more beautiful than I remembered him. From his strong chest to his gentle smile, he looked like he’d been chipped from the moon itself. I struggled to puzzle together the night’s pieces. “Why did he come—Silas?”
Caliban looked away, lips in a tight line. “I did what I had to,” he said.
“Couldn’t you have helped me?” I wasn’t sure why I asked, except that I’d missed him. Every night I’d come home and hoped he’d be there. Every night I…
“No” came his soft reply. “By the gods I wish I could have. I would have done so much more than make that slug suffocate on his tongue. I would have needed him to suffer, to beg your forgiveness before I gave him the execution he deserved. But you and I made a binding deal that I’m forced to honor until your last breath, Love. I can’t do anything in your home without your consent.”
My mind whirred. “But I…”
His fingers continued to move against me, calming me, grounding me. “You wouldn’t have been able to ask me to kill him. Not when you couldn’t speak. And even if you could have, you wouldn’t have called on something you refuse to believe exists.”
My shoulders rolled forward. I collapsed like a dying star as I shrank away from his statement. “But clearly I…”
“Clearly nothing. There are no technicalities with contracts like this.” My hair was already behind my ears, but he tucked it again, an unconscious gesture in soothing, perhaps as much for him as it was for me. “Though I do wish it hadn’t been Silas,” he added with what might have been quiet regret.
I could have fought. I could have argued. But all I wanted was to touch him. I reached for him, asking, “Will you stay with me tonight?”
He continued the tender motion of brushing hair away from my face. “Of course I will. And in the morning, you can forget any of this ever happened.”
How could I forget? There was a corpse in my living room. I’d spend the day in a police station. I’d have to call lawyers. Oh god, I’d have to call EG and explain that the projects were on hold. I’d need to tell my friends. “But Richard—”
