Nox shuddered under the heat and energy burning its way out of his body, threading over Luca, sinking into his skin. His flesh stitched and the ichor trickled away. The euphoria of power faded, and Reese’s ragged breaths filled the silence. Wind howled from the hallway. Damaged fluorescents flickered on and off.
“It…I….” Reese frowned and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Because whatever he’d thought would happen obviously hadn’t.
The moment of hope Nox had withered, and he crushed Luca against his chest, burying his face in Luca’s neck.
Memories bubbled to the surface coaxed by Luca’s scent, and Nox didn’t fight them. So many, so quick, a tsunami of thoughts collected from the past week.
Luca had thanked Nox for what he’d given him. The slice of life he’d never been able to experience.
But Nox wasn’t the one who deserved thanks.
Koda might have brought Nox back from the dead, but it was Luca who’d given him back his soul.
Every moment he touched Luca.
Every kiss they exchanged.
Every look.
Every breath.
A second heartbeat joined Nox’s. An exhale ghosted his ear. A caress threaded through his hair.
Nox froze.
“Nox.”
His name warmed his temple. Soft lips followed.
“Look at me.”
If he did the dream, the hallucination, whatever it was would end.
“Nox, look at me.”
But it seemed even Luca’s ghost could control him. Nox obeyed, raising his chin just enough for Luca to rest his forehead against Nox’s. Blood caked the side of Luca’s head where the exit wound had been. Light filled his eyes where there’d been emptiness.
He smiled, and Nox shattered, going blind with tears and deaf with sobs. Every muscle in his body seized with more force than the Anubis had ever had. All the while, Luca held him, shushed him and told him he loved him.
*****
A collage of voices intersected between electronic beeps, footsteps, doors closing, metal clanking. Antiseptic mix with cleaner and together, they waged war on gaudy perfumes and cheap colognes. Fabric scratched and prickled. Every crease an imperfection of discomfort.
But Dr. Reese Dante was too tired to care.
Thirst sandpapered the back of his throat. He licked his lips only to have his tongue adhere to the cracked skin. The cool scent of water pulled Reese’s attention to the pitcher on the table near his shoulder. He reached for it, but the IV line stuck in his hand snagged.
“Easy there, Dr. Dante.”
Reese knew the man with white hair and sculpted mustache. Last time Reese saw him, he’d worn fatigues. Now he dressed in a nice shirt and dark jeans.
“Did they fire you?” Reese’s broken whisper grated the air even to his ears.
Harrington laughed. “The Army doesn’t fire you.” He put a hand on Reese’s shoulder. “You had us worried for a while.”
Why? Reese had only been lost in the—