Page 20 of Map of Pain
Hours passed unnoticed as Luka maintained his vigil. His focus narrowed to Nick’s breathing and the peaceful sleepthatfinally claimed him. His beast, usually restless and hungry by now, remained content with their protective role. No predatory urges surfaced, only the desire to shelter and heal.
He belongs with us,it murmured, and Luka found himself unable to argue against the emotional attachment growing within him.
Eventually, subtle changes in Nick’s breathing signaled he was drifting toward natural wakefulness. Luka extracted himself from their position and retreated to a respectful distance, settling against the bathroom wall where Nick could see him upon waking without feeling crowded.
He would pretend he knew nothing about the bathroom episode. Nick’s dignity had been stripped enough without adding the knowledgethatLuka held him through nightmares like a child.
Some comforts were best given silently, with no acknowledgment required.
Chapter nine
Survive first, identity crisis later...
Nick
Nick floated up through layers of consciousness, each one lighter than the last. No startling jolt, no surge of adrenaline—just a gradual ascent from the deepest sleep he experienced in years. His mind registered this unusual awakening with distant surprise, waiting for the familiar panic to set in.
It didn’t come.
His muscles remained loose, unclenched for the first time since... he couldn’t remember when. His breathing continued in deep,evenpatterns without conscious effort. His remaining hand lay open beside him, fingers relaxed rather than curled into a protective fist.
Warmth surrounded him—not the burning heat of fever but something gentle and encompassing. The hospital blankets felt different somehow, their weight a comfort rather than a restraint. The pain in his armreceded to a distant whisper,noticeable beneath the profound sensation of restthatfilled his body.
Nick’s mind cataloged his surroundings without urgency. He wasn’t in the box under Gianmarco’s bed. Not the hard metal of the truck bed. Not a Society safe house cot with its military corners and scratchy wool. Hospital room. But it felt... safe. The word formed in his mind without permission, foreign yet undeniable.
Something else lingered at the edges of his awareness—the ghost of music. A haunting melodythatfollowed him through the night, weaving through his dreams. He couldn’t quite grasp it now, but the emotional resonance remained—melancholy yet strangely comforting, like hope discovered in darkness.
The sensation of being held surfaced next—not trapped or restrained, but protected. The memory feltjustbeyond reach, more impression than detail. Someone had watched over him, kept him safe while he was vulnerable. The idea felt so foreign he almost pushed it away.
Nick’s eyes finally opened, taking in the bathroom ceiling. Bathroom? His brow furrowed as confusion set in. Last he remembered, he was in the hospital bed with Luka’s hand on his forehead, pain disappearing as sleep claimed him.
How had he ended up here?
Embarrassment heated his cheeks as he pushed himself to sitting position. Had he sleepwalked? Crawled here seeking smaller spaces? What had Luka seen?
Nick assessed his physical state with growing surprise. No dizziness accompanied the movement. His arm supported his weight without trembling. The burning infectionsubsided to a manageable ache. For the first time in weeks, he felt genuinely rested.
His gaze found Luka sitting across from him on the bathroom floor, wedged between the sink and wall. The vampire lookedcomfortable despite the cramped position, a paperback book open in his hands. He glanced up, eyes reflecting concern rather than judgment.
“How did I get in here?”Nick asked, voice clearer than it had been in days.
Luka set his book aside and shrugged.
Nick studied the vampire’s face for signs of deception but found none. No smug satisfaction, no pity, no disgust—justpatient presence. The hunter voice in his headseemedquieter, its urgent warnings reduced to background murmurs. The broken part of him remained, but didn’t scream for submission. Something else emerged in their place—a cautious curiosity, a tentative gratitude.
Maybe... maybe I can trust this.Justa little.
His attention caught on a large bag beside Luka. It bulged with supplies—bottles of water, packaged snacks, what looked like folded clothing.
Luka gestured to the items then back to Nick.
Nick stared at the bag, something catching in his throat. When was the last time someone bought him things? Not as payment or bribery, but simply because he needed them? The Society provided equipment, not comfort. Gianmarco only gave gifts as control mechanisms. This was... different.
He wanted to say thank you, but the words stuck behind his teeth. Gratitude created debt. Debt created vulnerability. Vulnerability meant pain. The logical progression had been beaten into him too thoroughly to ignore.
Yet the warmth in his chest felt real. Honest. The desire to acknowledge Luka’s kindness fought against years of conditioning.
Nick carefully pushed himself to his feet, testing his balance. His body responded with surprising strength, movements more coordinated than they’d been in days. Luka watched withouthovering, ready to help if asked but not assuming Nick needed assistance.
