Page 55 of Unholy

Talon tilted his head curiously. “You don’t know?”

“Knowwhat?” The longer this conversation went on, the faster Luke faded. They didn’t havetimefor this.

Talon rolled his eyes. “Little bird, cut his wrist open with your ring so his human doesn’t bleed out. We can explain the details after he’s healed.”

Alex grabbed Malachi’s hand and positioned his wrist above Luke’s head. Luke’s eyelids were heavy, his gaze unfocused. His face was paler than Malachi had ever seen it, and he doubted he was actually registering anything that was happening around him. He wouldn’t last much longer.

With a twitch of his fingers, a small blade extended from Alex’s ring. Before Malachi had even gotten a good look at it, it sliced into his wrist. The pain was an afterthought as his black blood pooled and dripped into Luke’s parted lips.

“Drink, Luke. It’ll help,” Alex said.

Luke’s throat worked, and Alex pressed Malachi’s wrist to his mouth. After a moment, his lips pursed around the wound, and he sucked. While Malachi coaxed Luke to stay awake and drink, Alex peeled his sticky shirt up to look at the wound. The more of Malachi’s black blood he drank, the smaller the wound got.

“It’s healing,” Malachi said dumbly.

“Yes, that’s why I told you to give it to him,” Talon said dismissively. He was holding his phone to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” Alex asked.

“Wolf and—Storm, hey, it’s Talon. We’ve got a situationat Malachi’s. Send some cleaners out here ASAP for some bodies. I’ll keep an eye on the alley until they get here and make sure we aren’t stumbled upon. Thanks.”

When the wound was sealed, Alex gestured for Malachi to move his wrist away. Luke’s eyes fluttered closed, his mouth streaked with black. Malachi thumbed it away, fighting back tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but he’d do a lot worse if Luke left him alone.

“In my experience, it heals outward, so if it looks good on the outside, that means it’s already healed internally,” Alex said. “Morgan?”

No response. Malachi leaned over him, gently cradling his face. “Luke? Baby, can you hear me?”

He was breathing, and his pulse was steady.

“He lost a lot of blood,” Alex explained calmly. “That can make us weak, make us pass out. But your blood worked. The wound is healed, so he might just need some time to recover from the blood loss. You should take him upstairs. Talon and I will make sure the bodies are taken care of.”

“We’ll keep the swords,” Talon said, hovering in the doorway to keep an eye on both them and the alley. “And do… something with the rings.”

“Cut the rings off with the fingers,” Malachi said darkly. “I want to return them to the guild.”

He would never forget the image of Luke lying on the concrete, covered in his own blood, and he swore the guild would rue this day. One day he would look Sloan in the eye, remind him of the moment he gave the order for his people to hurt Luke, and then he would take his revenge.

“I’ll take him upstairs,” he said. He was lucky to be a demon, otherwise Luke might’ve been heavy. Before he left,he turned to address Talon with Luke cradled in the safety of his arms. “I mean it. I want the rings.”

“Talon’ll get them,” Alex promised.

“I’ll what?” Talon asked.

Alex gave him a nudge, and Talon sighed.

“I’ll make sure you get them,” Talon agreed, regarding him coolly. “I’d deliver their heads, personally.”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things,” Alex remarked dryly. “Wait, who were they?” He clambered up and passed Talon to go out into the alley. “Shit, I’d heard this guy was a really tough fighter. And this one cut me off in the cafeteria line once.”

“So good riddance then?” Talon asked lightly.

“I don’t know that that’s a death penalty offense by itself,” Alex said, “but hedidgo on to try and kill Morgan—so yeah.”

Malachi left them to their chatting. Talon’s loyal halflings would take care of the bodies and the blood while Malachi tended to Luke. His stomach twisted with fear at the thought of him not waking up, but Alex didn’t seem worried. The wound had healed, after all.

Inside his apartment, he kicked the door shut and carried Luke over to the sofa, laying him down gently. He was completely heedless of the blood soaked into both their clothes. He’d throw out the sofa. Burn it. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Luke.

“Luke, baby, I’m here. You’re safe. Please wake up.” He combed his fingers through Luke’s hair, his other thumb pressing against the pulse point on Luke’s wrist to reassure himself of his steadily beating heart.

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