Page 14 of Unholy

Malachi let out a helpless little laugh. “Would you believe I don’t know? I’ve never been particularly good at understanding humans. But something about you… I wasn’t kidding when I said you were mine. I think that’s why. I think something in me recognizes something in you.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, and Luke stubbornly tried to stamp it out. He didn’t care. Hedidn’t care.

When they stopped beside his guild-issued sedan, he reached for the door handle without saying anything, but Malachi’s hands appeared in his line of sight, guiding his head up to meet his eyes. Luke parted his lips to protest, but no sound came out as red eyes studied his expression carefully.

Malachi’s thumb—or at least he thought it was a thumb—was stroking one of the scarred slashes on his jaw, but… “I can’t feel that.”

Malachi blinked. “Can’t feel what?”

Luke swallowed hard, tapping Malachi’s stroking thumb. “Nerve damage. I can’t feel anything in that area. If one of them had been a quarter inch to the left, it would’ve severed an artery, and I’d have bled out in minutes.”

A low growl tumbled from Malachi’s chest. “Don’t say that.”

One corner of his mouth raised, but there was no real humor to it. “Just repeating what they told me when I woke up.”

Long fingers slid up, curling around the back of his head and reeling him in until their foreheads pressed together. “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” he admitted. This was far closer than he should allow the halfling to get, but for a moment, it felt too good to care.

Biting his lip like it was the hardest thing in the world, Malachi drew away from him. “Are you okay to drive? I hear humans are fragile while they’re processing trauma.”

Luke blinked in consternation. Where had he heard something like that? “I’ll be fine. I’ve had a lot of practice processing trauma.”

It was the wrong thing to say, but Luke still got a tiny thrill out of the way Malachi’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. It was nice, he could admit to himself andonlyhimself, to have someone feel that kind of emotion for him. Even if that someone was a demon.

He swooped into the driver’s seat, and when he looked out the window, Malachi was gone.

As promised,there was a diner not far from the cemetery. The mostly empty parking lot was brightly lit, reflecting in pools of black rainwater. Luke parked as close to the building as he could manage and darted through the pouring rain to the door, which jingled cheerfully as he opened it. The smell of fried food made his mouth water.

He’d changed into a spare shirt from his car, but his jeans were still grass-stained and streaked with dirt. The middle-aged waitress didn’t comment on his appearance, just told him to sit anywhere he liked. He’d covered the scratches on his legs with fresh gauze from his first-aid kit. With his torn jeans tucked into his boots, the gauze wasn’t visible.

His wet boots squeaked on the faded tile floor as he claimed a red booth by the window. He slid a laminated menu toward himself, propped his hand on his fist, and yawned. Outside the window to his left, the rain was falling hard, trickling down the glass in rivulets.

“Hey, sugar,” a familiar voice crooned, and a dark figure slid into the booth opposite him. “Come here often?”

He blinked over at Malachi. “Did you—why am I asking? Of course you followed me here.”

Malachi sniggered. “You catch on quick. I was feeling peckish. Thought I’d join you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Luke said, but it sounded halfhearted at best. He was in the middle of an adrenaline crash, and he was too tired to argue. Maybe the food would perk him back up.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before,” Malachi said dismissively, picking up a laminated menu. “What are you having?”

Luke cleared his throat. “I hear the cheeseburgers are good.”

Malachi grinned. He looked far too good to be sitting with the likes of Luke. With his sleeveless band T-shirt and glossy black hair, he looked like he belonged on a rock n’ roll stage rather than sitting across from a dirty man in a grungy diner. His red eyes were strikingly beautiful against his pale skin, and his teeth were straight and pearly white.

“Like what you see?” he asked, tilting his head as though inviting Luke’s gaze.

“More than I should,” Luke admitted, then flushed. He shouldn’t say things like that out loud. He shouldn’t eventhinkthings like that.

But it was too late. Malachi was fairly preening, suckinghis lower lip between his teeth in a way that did nothing to hide his smugness.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Luke said.

“Like what?” Malachi said, far too innocently.

“Like you’vewon.”

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