Liam's sigh gouged the air. He stared at the door to the apartment hard, shifted in his seat a little, and picked up his phone. It hadn't buzzed—still. He checked it again anyway and set it down to glare at the screen as it went dark. The delivery he'd ordered sat in the middle of the small dining table, still in the bag. Probably cold. He gave it a hard glare, too. For just, for being there. For filling the air with the overpowering scent of cumin and coriander. For reminding him of absence.
He'd gotten a text from Theo a few days ago, a string of numbers that decrypted into a date and location. One of the safe houses Peter kept rented and stocked around Los Angeles—places Theo could come in from the cold, extra soundproofed for sensitive ears. They didn't use the word "operative," but it was apt. Flexible morality and immunity to mountain ash. Peter couldn't have found anyone more fit to purpose.
Theo got a stipend.
Peter got a body count.
And Liam got . . . texts.
He puffed out a breath like a snorting dragon and reached for the bag, then stopped himself. The whole point was them doing it together. He could've eaten alone at home. The paper bag crinkled sharply in the silent room as Liam crunched it closed in a fist and pushed it back.
He checked his phone again and couldn't stop one knee from bouncing. Time rolled onward. And his gut wound tighter.
The door suddenly opened a crack, and then . . .
"Liam . . ." Barely audible.
Theo collapsed across the threshold, his weight flinging the door wide.
Liam's heart leapt to his throat as his limbs carried him across the studio. For a crystalline moment, time stopped. Adrenaline rocketed. Liam saw blood. Smelled blood. Horror cracked the back of his skull, and then he was in motion. He hooked Theo under the arms and dragged him inside, leaving a trail. Kicked the door shut and crashed to his knees at Theo's side.
Blood everywhere. Bullet holes. Theo coughed, a thick sound, and licked red from his lips.
Panic raced down Liam's spine. Cold daggers. Spinning. He slapped his pockets for his phone.
"S-sorry I'm late," Theo managed, broken, trembling words.
"Shut up," Liam said, quick, terrified. He leapt up and lunged for his phone on the table, hit a video call to Derek, and landed back at Theo's side. A blur of motion.
Ring. Ring. Fuck! Ring.
His hands shook holding the phone. Theo gasped for air, rolling his head.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Liam tapped his cheek. "Theo!"
"Hey, Liam." Derek's voice.
He cut a look at the phone. "Theo's been shot. Like a lot. Like a lot! What do I do, what do I do?"
Derek's manner changed. He straightened, frowned. "All right. Put the phone down where you can hear me. First thing, you need to make sure all the bullets are out. An exit wound for every entry wound, all right?"
"Exit and entry, exit and entry," Liam muttered and scanned Theo's body up and down. He couldn't see. Couldn't see for the clothes.
Theo's breathing got shallower still.
Liam flicked out claws and sliced Theo's shirt off down the middle. He cut the pants at the sides. Left him the briefs. The rag of the ruined shirt made a good swab, and Liam cleared off as much blood as he could. Shoulder wound, chest wound, three to the gut, one in a thigh, one in a calf. He dropped the shirt. Touched Theo's face.
"I have to roll you. It's gonna hurt," he said.
Theo blinked slowly, groggily, and his mouth moved with no sound.
Liam swallowed. Kept going. He rolled Theo up onto one side, counted quick, and set him back down in a pool of blood. The leg checks were easy. Liam wiped his hands on the shirt, shaking.
"Through and through! All of them!"
"Let me see the wounds," Derek said.
Liam picked up his phone and scanned it over the bullet holes, then hunched and stared at Derek's face.
"You see the black in his skin?" Derek asked calmly.
Liam nodded, swallowed, kept glancing at Theo's face.
"That means they're wolfsbane bullets. You need to stop the poison. There's a medical kit under the sink."
"Under the sink . . ."
Liam turned and scrambled for the cabinet, clutching the phone. He found a large metal box in olive drab. Dragged it out and opened it on the floor.
"Got it?"
"Got it." Please, please.
Theo's heartbeat was slowing. Liam turned to look at him, and a sharp spike of panic and unwitting keening hit him.
"Liam, focus!"
He whipped his gaze back.
"There's a bottle of powdered wolfsbane." Derek's voice was so steady. Grounding. "Pour out a handful. Burn it. And put some in each wound."
Liam nodded at him. "Pour out a handful . . ."
He set the phone on the floor and snatched a clearly labeled bottle from the box.
"There's a lighter in the medical kit!" Derek's voice called.
Liam stood and moved to the counter, which looked like it was made of stone. He poured a handful, dumped it on the counter, and tried twice to get a flame from the lighter before it caught. It turned to ash almost instantly, and he swept that into his palm.
Heart pounding, he dropped to Theo's side again.
"Theo?"
No response. Heartbeat. He passed out.
"Liam!" Derek again, from the phone across the room. "It's gonna hurt! A lot!"
He nodded jerkily, though no one could see him, and scooted down toward Theo's legs. He couldn't breathe. Oh God, don't die. Then let a trickle of ash into each wound. As he moved to start on the others, Theo jerked. His eyes flashed open and yellow, and he kicked in weak, wild terror.
Liam held him down with his free hand and grimaced as he administered the rest. Belly, belly, belly, chest, shoulder. The last of the ash went in and Theo—
Theo screamed.
He arched like he would break. Screamed until his air was gone and then convulsed with the need to do it more. Liam scurried to kneel at his head, touch his face. Aftershocks of pain rent him hard, and tears streamed down his face. When Theo found air, he exhaled a wail. And then a whimper.
Liam shushed him with gentle fingers and ignored the sympathetic burn in his own face and throat. Theo went mostly still, shuddering but quiet while Liam stroked his cheek.
"Liam?" Derek.
"Y—" He had to clear his throat. "Yeah?"
"How does it look? Still black?"
He peered down at the shoulder wound, seeping blood and fluid.
"N-no. No black," he called in the phone's direction.
"All right." Derek's voice sounded so small. "The poison's gone. His healing should take over now. I'm gonna hang up, okay?"
Liam sniffed and swallowed, the panic spiraling downward.
Derek continued. "If anything happens, call me back. Okay?"
"Okay." He raised his voice a little so it would carry. It sounded like a sob to his own ears.
The phone chimed when the app disconnected. Liam looked down at Theo's face cradled between his knees. He'd let his beard grow out some. Enough to look older.
"Theo?" Liam nudged him.
For a brief moment, Theo's eyes opened and then rolled shut again. Liam concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat, then glanced at the wounds. He had to do something about those. He scooped up his phone and set the medical kit on the counter while he collected gauze and medical tape. He grabbed a towel from the shower.
It was easy enough to clean and dress the entry wounds.
Somewhat less easy to transfer him out of the gore to the towel, balance him on his side, and dress the exit wounds as well. Liam swiped the sweat off his brow, then gathered Theo's heavy form close and picked him up. Theo's light breaths washed against his neck as he carried him to the bed and set him down.
Theo's eyes opened as his weight settled, and he flexed one hand, but slipped under again as Liam pulled the blankets up over him. Liam frowned watching him. He looked pale. The sick tightness in Liam's stomach throbbed, and he grabbed his chair from the little dining table so he wouldn't have to sit on the other side of the room. Guilt crept around his heart that he'd ever been angry. Even if Theo didn't know, Liam had harbored it, and the urge for penance kindled in his chest.
He frowned slowly, listening to Theo's breath rattle in his chest. It sounded wet and thick. Worse than before. Liam tensed when Theo jerked with a cough. He leapt from the chair when it turned to hacking, and Theo roused to consciousness to vomit black ooze.
"Shit." Liam grabbed for paper towels as Theo dropped back to the pillows, blackened lips parted and gasping. Liam wiped them clean and pulled his phone from his pocket. Derek's face appeared on the first ring. "Derek," Liam said, voice sharp. "He coughed up this black gunk. Is that normal? That's not normal."
Derek frowned at him. "Check if his wounds are healing."
Liam set the phone on the bed and met Theo's eyes as he touched him carefully. Theo blinked back, conscious enough to track Liam's hands as he peeled back one of the bandages for a look.
"It doesn't look like it's bleeding," Liam said, and he pressed the tape back into place.
Theo shivered and audibly suppressed another cough. "Why's it so cold?" he whispered, weary.
Liam snatched up the phone, and Derek read the worried expression off his face. He looked somewhere off camera. "Peter!"
A sigh. And then Peter Hale's voice sounding only slightly further away than Derek. "Could be something more than aconite poisoning. What I don't know."
Derek frowned, looked like he was going to say something, then frowned again. He met Liam's eyes in the camera. "Look. Just try to keep him comfortable. We'll get back to you, okay?"
Liam nodded, and the sick feeling in his stomach grew hot. He set his phone close to Theo's side and dragged a light touch over the thin bones on the back of his hand.
"What's the last time you ate?" Liam asked.
Theo took a too-short breath, staring at him. "Sorry I missed our date," he said slowly, croaking out the words.
"You said that already." Liam frowned. "When did you eat?"
Theo's chest rattled, and he eventually managed to shake his head and shrug.
Liam nodded once, quick and sharp, and turned toward the little table. He busied himself with taking the containers out and sorting them. Getting a plate and tearing some naan into small pieces.
"What're we"—a labored breath—"having?" Theo asked quietly. He coughed again and settled with a groan.
Liam cast him a worried look. "I got you lamb bhuna. You can't smell it?"
"It's . . ." Theo's head sagged, but he roused himself. "Sorry."
There wasn't much on the little plate. Just some pieces of bread, sauce, and a few bites of meat. Liam kept his senses tuned to vital signs as he sat, scanning Theo up and down. Theo made to reach for the plate, but his arm barely lifted before he scowled with the effort, and Liam pushed his arm back down.
"I got it," Liam said, and swirled a bit of bread in the sauce.
Theo blinked slowly at him and smirked.
"Shut up."
Liam leaned in and held the morsel out. Theo tipped his mouth open, just grazing Liam's fingertips as he received. It wasn't overtly anything, and yet Liam's pulse jumped at the contact. He hadn't touched Theo's lips in weeks, and his body suddenly ached for it.
"Seriously?" Theo whispered, rough, and Liam felt himself blush. Sure, that scent he could pick out. "All these sexy bullet holes."
Liam snorted and avoided his gaze. "Yeah, that's totally it." He swirled more bread into the sauce and added a bite of meat.
This time, Theo purposefully closed his lips around Liam's fingers and sucked the sauce off. Purposefully looked him in the eye as he did so.
Heat rushed to Liam's core, and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at Theo's smug smile. "That's not fair."
The smile faded into something pained, and Theo shivered again. "God, it's so cold." He was barely audible.
Growing unease skittered up Liam's spine. Keep him comfortable, they said. We'll call back, they said. He stared, heart pounding, then got up and started stripping as he rounded the bed. Theo watched him with hooded, glazed eyes.
". . . was kidding about the bullet holes," Theo croaked.
"Shut up," Liam whispered, harsh.
He got in bed and moved closer carefully, avoiding the bandages.
"Could lie here pretty well for you though." Theo's voice was a ghost.
"That's not funny. Skin contact promotes healing." He hoped. Normally he would wind them together in a playful knot of limbs. Now he calculated where the most contact could be made and put his head on Theo's good shoulder and placed an arm and a leg where they wouldn't hurt. He didn't squeeze.
Theo took short, short puffs of breath.
"You're kinda clammy and gross," Liam told him after a minute or two.
Theo's lips twitched. "Great."
"You're gonna be okay."
A sharp note of fear entered Theo's scent and Liam glanced up at him.
"Liam . . ." He said, barely moving his lips. His heart started to race, and Liam sat up a little with fresh worry. Gaspgaspgasp. "Li—"
Nothing.
ThaThump. ThaThumpThaThumpThaThump.
"Theo . . ." Liam shook him. "Theo!"
He wasn't breathing.
The scent of fear hit like a punch, and an avalanche of panic hurtled Liam into motion. He grabbed the phone still lying by Theo's far hand and tossed the covers off both of them.
Derek answered immediately.
"He's not breathing!" Liam shouted at him.
Peter slid into view next to his nephew. "What else can you tell us?"
What else, what else, he's dying! He had to focus.
"Uh, uh, his eyes are open. Pupils are wide."
"Blinking?" Derek.
"No."
"What about his heart?" Peter.
"Fast. Like, really fast." Like his own fast.
"Could be—" Peter was looking at Derek.
"What do I do!" Liam roared at the both of them and shook the phone.
Peter turned to him. "Breathe for him."
"What?"
"Like, CPR. Only his heart is beating. So you have to breathe for him, or he's going to suffocate."
Liam turned, kneeling on the bed, and the phone slipped from his hands. God, oh God. The world spun. Theo's fear stung his nose.
Derek's voice broke through the sound of blood rushing through his ears. "Pinch his nose. Breathe out. Let go. Count to five." A pause. "Liam!"
"Got it!" He didn't have it. But they were simple directions.
He pinched Theo's nose closed. Fit their mouths together, and exhaled. Came up, counted, and tried it again. He couldn't tell if it was working. Was it working?
Third time he realized that Theo's eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, and he closed them before moving on.
Oh, God. Don't die, don't die, don't die.
Liam started to shake. He couldn't help it. Breaths and waiting and heartbeats. And what if he fucked it up? What if it wasn't right? The waiting was the worst. Helpless seconds where he did nothing but watch.
Exhale. Don't die.
Count. Don't die.
Once the tears started, they fell freely. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not while Theo's heart was still beating. He was alive if it was beating.
Liam snuffled and his body ached.
Please.
It all dissolved to that. Pleasepleaseplease.
"It's not working!" he sobbed at the phone, but kept going anyway.
"If he's alive, it's working," Peter said.
"How long!"
"Did he say anything?"
. . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5
"No? He was weak and then cold and not breathing well and then he stopped!" He rattled it all out, trying not to break rhythm.
"If I had to guess," Peter said. "It's probably curare. It paralyzes the body and the lungs but not the heart."
"Victims suffocate," Derek added. Was this supposed to help? "His healing should nullify it pretty quickly."
Quickly . . .
Liam breathed into him again, feeling tears slip down to the seam of their mouths, and when he came up, Theo was staring at him. He'd closed Theo's eyes, he was sure of it. So— So—
"Theo?"
He counted, dying inside at the waiting, and just before his fingers closed on Theo's nose, he heard him rasp in the smallest of breaths. Not enough to live on, but—
"Liam, what's happening?" Derek again.
He ignored them and went through another set, the elation of hope bursting from his sternum. He paused after the breath, hovering, staring.
Theo blinked, and he took a breath on his own.
Liam was fireworks and stardust and weightlessness. He folded on top of Theo, sobbing, laughing. He couldn't make out what that strange sound was until he calmed down just enough to recognize Derek. He picked up the phone unsteadily, blinking at it, red-faced.
Derek made an expression he couldn't read. "He's breathing again?"
"Yeah," Liam said. He slumped down on the bed, plastered to Theo's side. "Is that it?" His voice shook. "Is it over?" He took breaths in gasps.
Peter leaned into view again. "Yeah, should be over. The curare paralyzing his system would also be why he wasn't healing like he should. That black goo. It's worked its way out now. So . . . he should be all right."
Derek glanced at Peter. "Wolfsbane and curare?"
Peter shook his head. "Fucking hunters." His mouth twisted sourly. "We're gonna need one of those bullets. Whatever it is, we need antidotes in all the safe houses. This is not a good development." Then to Liam, "Let me see him."
Liam turned to find Theo watching him with wide, glassy eyes, shuddering in careful breaths. He held up the phone.
"Theo!" Peter crooned.
Theo's eyebrows lifted at his tone.
"Good job not dying."
Theo smiled weakly at him.
"Liam." Liam turned the phone back at the sound of his name. "Call us if anything changes."
"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, absolutely."
They hung up. And Liam dropped the phone and collapsed. Adrenaline had carved a canyon in its wake, and he felt emptied. Useless. After a moment he crawled up Theo's body, straddling him to take most of the weight, and wrapped around him.
Eventually, Theo's breaths resolved into, "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you." And he was able to move his hands enough to find Liam's legs and hold him.
They both shook. Liam snuffled and buried his face in Theo's neck, too small a container for too much emotion. He stayed there until he felt strong enough to sit up, swiping at his face. Theo still trembled, and he blinked tears from his eyes silently. His fingers flexed to prove that he was here, that he was paying attention.
Liam shoved at Theo's good shoulder. Don't do that! This is the worst date ever."
A smile spread on Theo's beautiful, stupid face. "Sorry."
Liam sniffed and got up, too raw. He picked up his clothes and got dressed again, moving slowly. As he pulled on his shirt, he saw Theo lift unsteady hands and press the heels to his eyes. He breathed deep draughts that quavered. Fear and stress still hung cloying in the air.
He'd almost died.
No . . .
Hunters had almost killed him.
Liam sat on the edge of the bed, watching, and anger curled through him like campfire smoke, the emissary of stoked rage.
"I wish you wouldn't go out there on your own," he said, muted.
Theo sniffed and dropped his hands, focused bloodshot eyes. "We've talked about this."
Liam clenched his jaw. Then, "Well, I'm talking about it again. You almost died just now!"
Theo looked away and something stirred in his features. Something he put effort into tamping down. "I know." The words were delicately said, and then he met Liam's gaze again. "But I can't do this if you're out there."
Liam's anger flared, and he scowled. "You keep saying that! But I know how to fight. We're a good team. You know that!"
"It's not about you fighting!"
They had trodden this ground before too, and Liam felt an ache starting in his jaw as he glared. "You don't have to protect me."
Theo stared at him and swallowed hard. "I'm not."
"Well, it feels like you are." The words came out clipped and hot with irritation.
Theo's eyes fell shut, and he dropped his head back into the pillows with a sigh. "It's . . ." He looked pained. "Selfish."
"You don't get to be selfish."
"Christ, Liam." Theo struggled to lift up onto his elbows, exasperated. "I kill people. Do you get that?"
Liam stared at him, the red glow of rage flaring. "It's war."
"Yeah," Theo breathed. "And I do ugly things. Things like I used to do . . . before. Awful, bloody, terrible things. Things you hated me for!" He sagged, closing his eyes. "I don't think I could do them if you were watching," he admitted in a small voice.
Understanding swept through like cool water, and Liam didn't want to shout anymore. "You think I'd judge you," he said.
Theo's head ticked in a negative. "I think I'd judge myself. I . . . like who you see." His upper body shook from the effort of holding himself up.
Liam edged closer on the bed and cupped his palm to Theo's cheek. It earned a relieved exhale. "Lie down," he told him, and Theo slumped into the pillows. "Look at me." He did that, too, and Liam leaned in close. "You're not gonna change."
A doubtful frown drew those perfect brows together. "I did once. And it's . . . dark, what I do." Theo hesitated and gazed into him with eyes like storm clouds. "How could I not?" He shrugged ever so slightly.
"By not doing it alone."
Theo sighed and closed his eyes. He spoke at a whisper. "I don't wanna fight." And it sounded so tired.
Guilt dripped down Liam's throat at having pushed him, and he sat back.
"Are you healing?" he asked.
Theo kept his eyes shut. "I think so. Feels like it." His voice pulled with exhaustion.
Liam sat watching him, every breath warming his blood with a deep, abiding anger cured in the fire of his rage. Anger was the weather; rage was a climate—the kind that incubated storms. They had come so close to losing today. The war. The war . . . It crystallized for him then as he imagined it having happened, having gone differently. Losing Theo would be losing the war. At least for him. But everyone tried so hard to keep him out of it. Spotless. A paragon of their collective virtues.
He killed Scott, once. For love. Everyone forgets that.
Theo radiated stress. His breathing clipped. Liam's anger ebbed, but the rage pulsed in his core. He gave Theo a long, aching look, then climbed onto the bed and stretched out at his side. Eased his fingers into thick tawny hair, and Theo pressed into the touch with a lazy stretch and a light smile. He shifted wordlessly closer, resting his head on Liam's chest, while Liam rubbed at his scalp with slow, widening circles. You could put Theo in a trance this way. He'd look like he was asleep—smooth features, resting pulse, slightly parted lips. But awake and alert all the same. Liam kept his senses tuned for the signs and circled to the sensitive spots. The crown of the head. The ridge just behind the ear. Theo made a light sound, and Liam could smell the cascade of endorphins.
"Hey," he said gently.
"Hey . . ." Pleasure-soft.
Liam let the pressure ebb and flow, medium to light, threading through strands.
"What were you doing?" he asked, rounding the sounds. It could help sometimes: talking after an op went south.
"Hmm?"
"Tonight . . . that went wrong. What were you doing?" Guilt twisted in his gut a little that he hadn't been there.
Theo frowned slowly, but his voice remained pillowed. "Why?"
"Because . . ." Liam traced along his temple. "You almost died for it."
Time stretched while he waited for a reply, and the guilt hit harder when he glanced down and caught the glisten of silent tears. Theo wasn't trying to hide them, he just wasn't trying to fight them either. So they slipped out, raw and honest.
"I didn't know it was a trap," he said, measured, slightly drunken. "A family went missing. Peter heard from Deaton, heard from a local brujo."
"Werewolves?" Liam asked him. Round . . . and round . . .
"Nahual." Theo sniffed. "They were bait. For me. Monroe knew someone was crossing her mountain ash."
Liam hummed and went quiet for a little while, letting Theo settle, giving him time to drift with the massaging sensation.
"Then what happened?" he whispered, eventually. His fingers caressed the base of Theo's skull and caused a shiver.
"They left a trail." Theo sighed. "I was stupid. Guards took long breaks. Made it look easy." His face twisted slowly, looking pained, and his voice came out thick. "They tortured them so I could hear it. I didn't know s'posed to hear it."
Liam shushed him and drew light lines down his cheek. "Then what?"
"Broke in." Theo shrugged weakly. "They were ready. The family . . ." That pained look again. "The family . . ."
His chest ached. "What about the family?"
More tears slipped from closed eyes. "They howled. Thought they were saved. But I couldn't. I couldn't."
Tears edged Liam's eyes too, and he kissed Theo's forehead. "It's okay."
"I . . . ran. I got shot and I ran. And she screamed. And he screamed. And then no one."
"Theo . . ." Liam rocked him gently, circles and circles.
"They were everywhere . . ." Theo squeezed his eyes shut harder. "They died 'cause of me."
"No . . . hey, no . . . no. It's not your fault." He whispered against Theo's skin and kissed at him lightly and unhurried until he relaxed again. Monroe would have killed the family on sight if she hadn't wanted them for bait. Liam considered the wisdom of saying it but held his tongue. The anger gathered again. For those dead people. For Theo bearing the guilt, always bearing the guilt. Someone—someone had to pay.
Eventually, Theo arched into Liam's hand and groaned sleepily and resettled.
Liam peered at him, throat tight. "Where did it happen?"
"Warehouse . . ."
"Warehouse where?"
"San Pedro and 4th."
San Pedro and 4th. Scene of the crime. Of murders unavenged. The thought wouldn't let him go. Liam kept drawing lazy circles, kneading and touching until they'd both been silent for a long time. When he stopped, Theo didn't stir, and that was the surest sign of sleep. Liam shifted out from under him a little at a time and slid from the bed as quiet as he could. He tied on his shoes, checked for his phone, and crept out the door, wincing at the sound of it clicking shut. They had a private entrance to a second story, and now a wooden staircase stained dark with blood.
San Pedro and 4th. Liam grimaced and pulled out his phone.
"Liam," Peter answered on the second ring. "Problems?"
He lowered his head, glaring out into the darkness. Problems? Plenty. "You said there's a cure for curare?"
Peter sounded speculative. "I did. Of course, that only matters if it actually was curare, which we don't know."
Liam's jaw tightened. "Do you know where I can get the cure in LA?"
"Why?"
"Because they almost killed him tonight!" Liam spat the words in a flash of anger.
"And . . . you would like to be prepared for a future encounter," Peter replied, the epitome of calm.
"Yeah."
"Liam . . ." Chiding. "You think I can't hear a revenge plot a thousand miles away?"
He snorted out an angry breath. "Is this where you tell me it isn't worth it?"
Peter laughed. "Have you met me? No, rip their eyes out through their assholes for all I care. Just get me one of those bullets and don't get caught. However ruthless you think you have to be, double it. Understand? They don't have families, they have weaknesses."
Liam grimaced, but his blood rushed, and his eyes flashed. "I was hoping to make this quick."
Peter huffed. "Aren't we always?"
"So can you get me the cure or not?"
A long sigh came over the phone. "Something's better than nothing, I guess. Give me an hour, I'll get you a chemist. And Liam?"
"Yeah?"
"I deny everything."
The door opened.
Theo awoke in the dark, not conscious of why, and his animal instincts screamed blood. Then, Liam, because they knew that scent too. In the span of a heartbeat, he was across the tiny apartment, lunging for the shadowed shape at the door. Panicked pulse raced. Liam caught him by the arms, absorbing his motion, and holding him at bay.
It was him. It was. And he smelled like blood.
"Liam?"
No answer. He just stood stock still, gripping Theo's forearms tight. Theo frowned, his breath coming short, and he flashed his eyes because he needed to see. Liam's face resolved into something mottled like camouflage, but that was all. He was looking back, tracking the glow, his heart rate lifting.
Theo let go with one hand and reached for the light switch just over Liam's shoulder. He winced as the room flooded into view, and then the bottom went out of his stomach, replaced with a canyon of ice. He stared, open-mouthed and barely breathing, and assessed for immediate action. Liam's shirt, blue (once). A tear across the middle. Brown smears everywhere. Blue jeans darkened, crossed with splatters, streaks, handprints, soaked through patches at the knees.
Theo adjusted his grasp on Liam's arm, very gently turning his wrist palm up and growing colder at the sight of Liam's skin coated in the rust-red craculature of dried blood. Horror squeezed the breath out of him.
"What did you do?" he whispered, not even really asking, just too stunned to say anything else. He took a step back, a small bulwark against the stench, against the only conclusion anyone could draw. And his eyes drifted upward to Liam's face, smeared with blood where'd he'd rubbed a hand and painted a trail back through his hair.
Liam's eyes flicked down for a second, and he set his mouth before he lifted his chin. "You're worth something, too," he said.
A frown clouded Theo's face as he tried to fill in the words Liam didn't use. You're worth something, too . . . I'm not the only one. Theo's heart stumbled, and his eyes went again to the bloodied clothes, hands, face. He looked like a massacre. Panic spun its way up Theo's spine.
"What did you do?" he asked again, holding Liam's gaze and daring him, daring him to lie.
Unflinching. "I got angry."
Theo released his grip and stepped back on unsteady legs, devastation brittling his bones. He dug his fingers into his hair, pulling at his scalp.
"I'm not sorry," Liam said, advancing a step to close the gap. His gaze was so blue, so clear.
Theo's skin hurt. "You didn't have to do this." He dropped his hands and shook his head, feeling the fissure inside widen. I didn't want you to have to do this.
The muscle in Liam's jaw flexed. "I wanted to. And I'd do it again."
Christ. "Liam . . ." It came out sounding disappointed, bereft.
Minutely, Liam nodded to himself and squared his shoulders, and Theo stared at him not knowing what to say. He'd fucked up. Revealed too much in a moment of weakness.
"Do you love me less?" Liam asked him. So calm.
They were words in the order of a sentence, sounds that didn't make sense. "What?" He could only frown.
"That's what you thought, right?" Liam moved into Theo's space with predatory grace. "If I knew what you really did, I wouldn't love you anymore?"
It hit like a punch. Worse than a punch, as shame rushed to Theo's face. He hadn't felt his nakedness until just then and had to look away, blood pounding in his ears. The pressure of Liam's gaze tore at him.
"It sounds stupid when you say it like that," he admitted in a small voice.
"It is stupid!" Liam shoved him in the chest hard enough to make him stagger.
Theo held his hands up in surrender, and the hard lines on Liam's face softened. The menace clouding the air dissipated while they gazed at one another, and Theo edged closer, close enough to put a hand on Liam's shoulder, close enough to slide it to the nape of his neck and draw them together, foreheads touching.
"Those bullets . . ." he said quietly into the close space, holding memories at bay for the magnitude of the present. "You could have died."
Liam's mouth quirked a little. "I got the antidote."
With a frown, Theo pulled back enough to examine Liam's face. He looked guileless, for all the gore. Was not the type to wrangle that sort of deal in that kind of time. The glacial fissure in Theo's gut thundered with a crack. He swallowed.
"Peter."
Liam nodded and moved to put his bloody hand on Theo's bare arm but paused before making contact and curled his fingers away. "I didn't need it," he added, his focus sliding to one side.
Theo ducked into his line of sight, searching until their eyes locked. "You went to Peter, and you didn't tell me . . . You know this was stupid, right?"
Liam lifted one shoulder. "No more stupid than when you do it."
He had no answer to that. A piece inside broke and fell and drifted on dark blue seas. Theo let go and stepped backward until the bed bumped into the backs of his legs. He sank, all his strength gone, drained. He'd failed somehow. This wasn't the plan, had never been the plan.
Liam moved closer, but he didn't sit.
"You didn't answer my question," he said, to Theo's bowed head.
Theo looked up at him slowly, this, this aftermath of vengeance. This fierce, determined wolf. With eyes to get lost in. Lips that tasted like spring dawning. It made his soul sing, strain for a chorus on a moonless night. For the simple comfort of belonging. For me, he thought. That was the message. The point. The gift.
He'd always struggled with being worthy of them.
Killing for someone was a lot to be worthy for.
He blinked, slowly, chest filling with the ringing glow of that song. He parted his lips to give an answer, and Liam tensed.
"More, maybe," Theo said softly, surprised to learn that was possible.
Liam sagged in relief, and his voice went gentle. "Then don't try to hide it from me."
"I'm not. I don't. I have to do this. And I just— I need something that isn't— Where I can just—" He fumbled for the right words, and Liam sat down next to him, a grin touching his lips.
"I'm not normal," Liam said to him. "I'm a werewolf."
"Who's going to college."
Liam sighed and shook his head. "How am I supposed to study when everyone else is out fighting a war!"
Theo eyed him and then tipped to the side, bumping into him with his shoulder. "You promised your dad."
Liam's expression turned sour.
"And Scott."
Even less impressed with that.
Theo kissed Liam's shoulder on a clean spot, earning a sidelong glance. "And me." Almost a whisper.
Liam's gaze dropped to the floor. "It feels like a waste of time."
"It's what everyone's fighting for, in the end." Theo shook his head, eyes skimming over the pockmarks of gauze taped to his skin. "Grim survival isn't enough. We've gotta believe—" He stopped himself and amended gently. "I've gotta believe there's something on the other side."
Liam met his eyes with a steady, serious look. "It's not fair to make me your symbol. All of you. It's not. I want things. For me."
Something sweet and pained twisted in Theo's chest, and he rested his chin on Liam's shoulder, looking at him with a gentling expression of sorrow and fondness. Liam inclined his head, just a little, reacting to the closeness.
"Could we try," Theo said at his warmest, most placating, "not making murder one of those things?" The muscle in Liam's jaw flexed. "Most people aim for a nice car. Decent apartment. Six-figure job."
"Love," Liam offered.
Theo's heart thumped hard. "Yeah . . ."
Liam looked down at his caked hands, turning them over. "We're probably gonna fight about this again," he said.
Theo stayed where he was for the span of a breath and then sat up. "Probably," he agreed. "Now can you please take a shower? You smell like blood."
He got up as he spoke, pulling Liam to his feet by the elbow. Liam came willingly, would have followed if Theo had let go, but he didn't want to let him go. The light in the bathroom blazed painfully white. One of Theo's feet touched cool tile, then the other plush rug. He turned, and under the new, cold lighting, Liam's eyes looked a little hollow. The blood extra dark. Theo reached for the hem of Liam's shirt.
"You don't—"
He didn't. That was the point. He pulled Liam's shirt up and off him anyway and tossed it in the garbage can. Liam gave it a long look.
"I don't have a spare," he said.
Theo lifted an eyebrow at him. "Guess you should've thought of that."
A small smile touched Liam's mouth as he reached for one of the bandages taped to Theo's chest. He picked at the tape and then pulled it off at just the right speed to sting. Theo's skin jumped, and he twisted his lips, but he didn't stop him. Liam removed all the front bandages, including thigh and calf, revealing healed skin, and then stood and motioned for Theo to turn around.
He complied and bowed his head as the tape slurped off with licks of pins. Liam put a hand to the back of his thigh to steady him, a warning before a bit of pain to a sensitive spot that he then rubbed out with long strokes. The bandage on the calf muscle went quick, but Liam stayed kneeling, and Theo turned to look at him. He didn't always thrill to the touch like he used to. It had to be intentioned, wanting.
Liam brushed fingertips up Theo's legs and hooked them over the waistband of his boxer-briefs. He pulled them down slow, because he liked the slow reveal. Theo smiled at him, breathing going shallow as anticipation coiled in his belly. The fabric hit his feet, and Liam surged at him, wrapping his arms around Theo's thighs, leaving smudges of flakes, and hugging him close, one might say, cheek to cheek.
Theo laughed a little, startled. "What are you doing?" And touched Liam's hair in a place not stiff with blood. The embrace tightened, and Theo stilled his fingers, considering. This, the pressure said. This is what I'm doing. Holding. Theo studied the top of his head. Cherishing.
His heart squeezed.
"Hey," he said. "Now I have to shower, too."
Liam's frame jostled with amusement, and he got up, grinning as Theo shook his head. Theo stepped from his clothes and shucked the shower door aside to get the water going, giving Liam a chance to strip. He had slept off most of the terror from the day, but the dried sweat and now dried blood he could do without. The water quickly heated to steaming, and he stepped in under the spray, turning his face to it and then moving in a slow, lazy circle. He concentrated on the feel of it, caressing over shoulders and back, free-falling off curves of muscle.
After a good turn, he adjusted the heat down to something Liam wouldn't find scalding and stood under it, eyes closed, relaxing into the feel, enveloped by the sound.
His mind wandered.
He could recall with perfect clarity the moment when his lungs stopped working.
The thrust of panic when he realized what was happening, what was going to happen. The sick terror of wanting to scream and not being capable.
He felt the water rushing down his face and neck and tried to let it carry those memories away. He was here. He was now.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't blink.
And because Liam was precious and thoughtful and worked well under pressure, he noticed Theo not blinking and closed his eyelids for him. That was better than feeling his eyes as they dried, in a way. In a way worse, because it closed him into darkness again. Utterly helpless and completely aware, shrieking at the inside of his skull. Knowing what his Hell would be when he returned.
Theo shivered despite the warmth of the water.
Liam had breathed for him. Theo doubted he was really aware of what that meant, how much that meant. He could feel everything while it happened: Liam's mouth on his, the fingers pinching his nose shut, the way his own chest rose. The taste of tears seeping into his mouth as Liam struggled through panic and terror but didn't stop.
Gratitude was a paltry word for the things that pulsed in Theo's blood.
Liam tapped lightly on the glass door, and Theo startled, glancing at his obscured form.
He stepped back out of the spray, senses bright with awareness. "All yours," he said, gesturing.
Liam climbed in, giving him a small smile, and turned into the water just as he had. Trickles of red became rivers running down Liam's spine. And Theo swore he could feel the heat of him, the change that his closeness brought to the air. He'd planned to let him get clean first. But how inconsequential a thing was blood?
Theo moved forward in the small space and fit himself to Liam's frame, one arm sliding across shoulder, then chest. The other around side and belly. He pressed his face to Liam's neck, unable to find a scent for the water, and pulled him tight. Tighter.
He'd said thank you, but thank you could never cover his debt. He'd been given life twice, and you can't double infinite gratitude.
Liam made a soft, pleased sound at the contact and hung a hand off the arm barred across his chest. He gripped the fingers curling around his side.
"I thought I was supposed to get clean," he said, sounding like a smile.
Theo hugged him tighter, maneuvering under the water so it sluiced just so, leaving him space to hide his face against Liam's neck. His pulse slowed, and he closed his eyes, breathing into the present. The sound of the water in the pipes, the warm motion of it over bare skin, the drops hitting the tiles and gurgling down the drain. Liam's breathing. Liam's heart.
"Are you okay?" Liam whispered at the long silence.
Theo angled his head enough to move his lips off Liam's skin. So much struck him all at once. He tried to condense a constellation of feelings into words. To let the water rust away his armor a second at a time until it left him exposed.
"This is home for me," he said eventually.
Liam's chest jumped with a huff. "This shabby apartment?"
The quip stung, like an arrow shot true, and Theo's recoil manifested as a loosening of his hold, his eyes popping open as he lifted his head to stare at the shape of Liam's hair slicked behind the ear. Theo's throat went dry instantly.
"I'm trying to tell you something," he said, hoarse and delicately frowning.
Liam leaned back against him and pulled the hand at his waist around tight again. By the shape of his cheek, Theo could tell Liam's smile sobered.
"I know," he said softly, and reached a hand back to Theo's cheek, pressing him close, to the pulse point he always sought on instinct. The little fears vanished under Liam's palm. "I know. I love you, too."