Lois turned to him. “Job well done, huh?”
Blake nodded. “I hope it’s that easy and painless for all of us, you know?”
“Yeah.” Lois stepped away. “See you on the other side.”
Then she was gone too, off to wherever she went before she was pulled back into the land of the living. Blake knew he had some time before he was yanked back. King would see to Sam’s immediate needs before he went around and removed swords.
He headed back to Lucille’s gravestone, sat before it, and traced her name with his fingers. He couldn’t feel the stone beneath them, but it didn’t matter. He could imagine it.
Would he ever find a man to share his life with the way Archie had Lucille? Someone to wait for him on the other side of the light, ready to welcome him? Or berate him, even. He wanted that.
He wanted it with Derek.
The thought came unbidden, and he knew it deep down. What they had between them could build into something epic—if he gave it a chance. Derek’s touches and looks hadn’t gone unnoticed in the past few weeks. All Blake had to do was say the word and Derek would be his. But he wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t like Archie, who could fall in love so hard and completely that even knowing he’d have decades without his beloved hadn’t stopped him from loving with his whole heart. The thought of burying Derek one day, of then having to be alone after knowing that kind of love, terrified him. He couldn’t do that to himself. It was better to hide behind the pseudo rule of pairs not entering into a romantic relationship than to risk his heart like that.
He just wasn’t that strong.
Thank God there wasn’t a chance he and Derek could form a bond.
“You certainly picked a good one, Lucille. Don’t give him too much hell when you see him. Okay?”
Blake grinned sadly, and his chest felt tight. He didn’t know how long he sat there waiting. But then he felt the tug, and he prepared himself for the truly unpleasant feeling of waking up again. Several moments of complete blackness and nothingness, and then the wrenching pain of breathing returned. He snapped his eyes open and focused on the face of the man he was coming to adore.
Derek’s smile was warm and gentle, his touch firm as he pressed on the wounds. His murmured words grounded Blake and made him feel safe and cared for.
Blake sucked in a huge breath and sobbed harder than he had in years.
Chapter Thirteen
BLAKE was not recovering like he should—not like he had been the past several weeks. After Derek got the bleeding stopped and Blake could move again, Derek helped him to the bed. But Blake couldn’t stop crying—huge body-shaking sobs, breath hitching, lungs wheezing with the effort to draw in air. His face was red and swollen, and tears still coursed down his cheeks. Derek’s usual methods of soothing hadn’t worked. The pain meds hadn’t worked. Blake just lay there and cried.
Derek tried massage, rubbing hard at the pressure points that should relax Blake. He tried stroking his hair, telling him that he was fine, he was safe, it was all okay. And still Blake cried, wouldn’t look at him, curled in on himself, and sobbed.
That wasn’t normal, and Derek didn’t know what to do.
He considered calling for help. King was trained for that sort of thing, and more than that, he was a Guardian. He would know what to do. But King was anchoring Sam, and Derek couldn’t justifiably pull King from Sam’s care. Not unless it continued for too long.
Blake’s vitals were wrong too. Though his temperature and oximeter readings were basically back to normal, his pulse and blood pressure were high. He needed to hydrate, but he couldn’t get himself under control enough to drink.
Derek set the water on the bedside table, slipped off his shoes, and crawled into the bed with Blake. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but he hadn’t had to go that far in weeks. Just touching Blake had previously been enough to soothe, to calm, to get him back to where he should be. But Blake curled away from him, hunched over his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow.
Something had happened when he was on the spirit plane. That much was obvious.
Derek wrapped Blake up anyway, and after a second’s struggle, Blake let himself be held. Taking it as a step in the right direction, Derek pulled Blake against him until they were as close as two people could be without actually being inside each other. He kissed the back of Blake’s neck, pushed his sweaty hair off the nape of Blake’s neck with his nose, and hummed against Blake’s skin.
“It’s okay, baby. I swear. Whatever happened, we’ll fix it.” Derek was making promises he might not be able to keep, since he didn’t know what actually happened, but he didn’t care. He would say anything, do anything, to get Blake to calm.
Blake shook his head, and pushed away forcefully. Derek’s panic increased a little, and he was ready to get up and call King. But before he could move, Blake turned over and threw himself into Derek’s arms, buried his nose against Derek’s collarbone, and clung for all he was worth.
That was a vast improvement, as far as Derek was concerned.
He hummed a lullaby his mother used to sing when he was small, turned onto his back so Blake was draped over him, and took all his weight. Still massaging, Derek stroked all the way from Blake’s head down to his ass and back up again.
His shirt was soaked with tears and snot by the time Blake drew a quiet hiccupping breath. Derek started to relax when the sobbing eased. Blake was shivering, though it wasn’t cold, and Derek thought it might be from an adrenaline crash. He held Blake tighter still and pulled Blake’s beloved comforter up over them.
“God, I’m sorry.” Blake’s voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
Derek kissed the side of his head, loving Blake’s scent even if he didn’t love the reason he was all sweaty and warm. “Nothing to apologize for, B. It was a hard one, wasn’t it?”
Blake nodded, but he didn’t elaborate. He blew out a breath, and Derek shivered as it gusted over his neck. He squeezed tighter and kissed Blake again. “Think you can drink some?” Derek asked in a low, cajoling voice.
Another nod. Derek grabbed the water bottle, handed it over, and wrapped his fingers around Blake’s when he trembled. Together they lifted the bottle to Blake’s lips.
“Slow and easy, now.”
Blake drank, taking tiny sips until the bottle was gone. Derek set it on the table. Then he cupped Blake’s chin in his hand and gently tilted his face up. Blake’s blue eyes were rimmed in red, swollen and puffy from crying. He looked like he’d been punched, but there was no bruising. Derek studied him, and Blake eventually lowered his gaze.
“I need to clean up.”
“Okay.” Derek eased Blake to the side and got out of bed to retrieve a cool, wet cloth. Blake lifted a shaking hand for it, but Derek ignored him and wiped his face clean himself. Blake closed his eyes.
“I messed up your shirt.”
Derek chuckled softly. “It’ll wash. Want to tell me what happened?”
Blake kept his eyes closed and swallowed hard. Derek rubbed his head in the way he knew Blake liked, and Blake relaxed a fraction more.
“It was just hard,” Blake murmured. “Archie was… he was one of us. And it was just hard.”
It was clear Blake wasn’t going to say any more, and Derek would get the details when Blake wrote his report. He moved his massages down to Blake’s shoulder, and when Blake didn’t resist, turned him onto his stomach so he could really work the tension out of his back.
“You found him then?” Derek asked. With so many ghostwalkers on the case, it could have been any one of them who found the spirit and helped him cross.
Blake turned his head to the side so he could speak without his face pressed into the pillow. “Me and Sam and Lois. We helped him.”
“You did good, baby,” Derek murmured. It was important for Blake to remember that no matter how hard the job was, what he did was a very good thing.
“Please don’t call me that.”
The word
s were barely a whisper and came as a surprise. But Derek heard the reluctance in them, so he didn’t comment. He filed it away to discuss later when Blake wasn’t so vulnerable and emotional.
“How’re you feeling now?”
Blake cracked an eye open but didn’t look at Derek.
“I’m okay.” Blake even sounded mostly sure. “I need to sleep for a bit.”
“More than a bit, I think. And eat when you wake.” Derek leaned closer so he could speak right into Blake’s ear. “Why don’t you come home with me? You can sleep all you want, and I’ll make you something good to wake up to. Real food.”
“No.” The denial was instant, if not forceful. “That’s okay. I’ll just—”
“Please,” Derek interrupted. “I don’t want you to be alone right now. And I can take better care of you at my place.”
Blake didn’t say anything, and some of the tension started to creep back into his shoulders. Derek felt it beneath his hands. He didn’t push, even though he wanted to. Instead he worked to massage out that tension before it had a chance to take hold. He waited for Blake to answer.
“Or we could go upstairs to one of the suites, if you’d rather,” Derek offered when the silence stretched on too long. That’s what the suites were for, and perhaps Blake would feel more comfortable on neutral ground.
The whisper came five minutes later, and it was so soft Derek would have missed it if he weren’t so close.
“Your house is okay.”
“Good.” Derek had to fight to keep the satisfaction from his tone.
Blake clumsily tried to push up. “I have to tell Sam. And we have to tell King we’re leaving. I need—”
“I’ll take care of it. You just rest there. Okay?”
When Blake nodded, Derek leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. He used his tablet to send messages to both Sam and King, knowing they’d get them eventually, and then began packing up their things. He knew what Blake carried back and forth with him, and once his messenger bag was packed, Derek set about collecting his own stuff. Then he brought Blake his shoes and shirt.
Blake sat up, and he looked a little better. Some of the color was back in his cheeks, but his hand still shook slightly when he reached for his shirt. Derek let him pull it on himself, but he knelt at Blake’s feet to put his boots on for him.
“I can do it.” The protest was weak, and Derek grinned up at him.
“Let me. It’s fine.”
Finally they were ready to leave. Derek helped Blake get his coat and hat on and draped a scarf around Blake’s neck without tucking it in. It was still freezing cold, but it wasn’t snowing, and they wouldn’t be outside long. He shouldered both bags and held out a hand.
He was a little surprised but very pleased when Blake took it.
They left the office and shuffled down the hall. Blake moved like a zombie, not completely aware of his surroundings, but Derek didn’t mind leading them. When they made it down the hall and into the reception area, Blake gave up all pretenses and leaned heavily against him. Julie sat up, wide-eyed and worried when she saw them, but Derek shook his head.
“We’re taking off, Julie. I’ve left a message for King.”
She nodded, and her gaze tracked them as they walked toward the elevators. “I’ll make sure he knows. Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
They made it to Derek’s car without further interruption, though Greg the security guard offered assistance, and Derek waved him away. Once Derek had Blake seated in the car, he jogged around to the driver’s side and slid in. His car started without a problem, despite the cold, and he sat for a moment, let it warm up, and put it in gear.
They didn’t speak for the entire fifteen-minute drive. There was a lot Derek wanted to say but he knew it wasn’t the time. Blake’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady, but Derek didn’t think he was actually asleep. His lids lifted the second Derek slowed and turned into his driveway.
Blake looked around, blinking, and gave a tiny smile. “Your house is cute.”
“Thanks.” It was a rental—a tiny one bedroom bungalow—but it suited Derek’s needs. Eventually he’d look at buying something a little bigger. “Stay there. I’ll help you out.”
By the time Derek made it around his car, Blake had popped open his door and had his feet outside, but he hadn’t stood up. Derek grabbed the bags from where he’d tucked them into the back seat and then helped Blake to stand.
“Come on.” Derek led him up the walk and onto the small front porch. Once he got the door open, he steered Blake inside, and Blake stood docilely while Derek divested them both of their outerwear. Then he took Blake’s hand and guided him down the short hall to his bedroom.
Blake sucked in a breath. “It looks like you in here. All the brown and cream and that big, big bed.” He took a tentative step forward. “Smells like you too.”
Derek grinned. He couldn’t help it. The room wasn’t much to speak of, just a couple of pieces of sturdy furniture and a brown-and-white quilt on the king-size bed. But Blake felt and smelled his presence there, and that made him feel good.
“Let’s get you into that big, big bed,” Derek teased. He helped Blake over to the side and then unlaced his boots and pulled them and his socks off his feet. Then he reached up and tugged off the long-sleeved T-shirt. “Jeans too?”
Blake stared at him, and Derek laughed and flicked open the button. “You’ll feel better if they’re off.”
Blake batted his hand away and scowled. Derek was glad for that much emotion from him. It meant Blake was getting back to himself.
“I’ll do it.”
Derek held his hands up in surrender, took a step back, and tried not to leer as Blake shimmied out of his jeans and they landed in a heap on the floor. Blake’s boxers clung to his thighs, and when he turned to crawl onto the mattress, showcased his ass. Derek didn’t moan, but it was a near thing.
Instead he pulled the top sheet and quilt over Blake, smoothed them down, and tucked him in. Blake let out a content sounding sigh, and his body relaxed.
Derek grinned, leaned forward, and kissed his cheek with a murmured, “Sleep well, B.”
Blake was out in seconds.
For a long moment, Derek just stared. How long had he been imagining Blake in his bed? Pretty much since that first day. Seeing him there eased something in his chest. A tension or an ache was just gone. He felt lighter than he had in days.
With that thought driving him, he headed for the kitchen. He needed to bake cookies and make something else that Blake would enjoy. Perhaps a soup? Blake had said he liked Derek’s soup. He knew he had the makings for beef with thick-cut vegetables and long-grain wild rice. That would do nicely.
With a hum Derek got to work.
FOUR hours later the soup and cookies were done and Blake was still sleeping. Derek hated to wake him, but Blake needed to eat, and he knew the worst of Blake’s queasiness would be gone by then. Derek had checked on him several times, and Blake had slept hard. It was exactly what he needed, but it was time he got some sustenance to help him as he healed, or he’d be a total wreck the next day.
Derek had put the soup in the slow cooker so it would be warm, and he checked to make sure it was still good. Then he plated a couple of the cookies, grabbed a glass of milk, and headed into the bedroom. Blake had turned over in his sleep, so he was sprawled out on his back, legs and arms everywhere, his lips open just a bit. His hair was sticking up, and he looked absolutely debauched.
Derek only wished he’d been the one to make Blake look that way.
He set the glass and plate on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the mattress. What he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss Blake awake. Instead he slid his fingers into Blake’s hair and rubbed, and Blake smiled in his sleep.
“Come on, B. Time to wake up.” Derek kept his voice low and coaxing, knowing Blake didn’t do well when he was startled awake. Blake stretched but didn’t open his ey
es. “Come on. Wake up so you can have cookies. And there’s soup for dinner.”
“Mmm.” Blake stretched again, and his eyes fluttered open. “Cookies?”
Derek grinned. “Sugar and fat and chocolate. All the good things a ghostwalker needs to recover.”
Blake managed a smile. “You take such good care of me.”
“Believe me when I say it’s my pleasure.” Derek’s words sounded husky, and in the dim light, he saw Blake’s eyes darken. His breathing picked up, and he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Derek.
The combination of Blake looking like that in Derek’s bed was just too much. Derek moaned in the back of his throat. He didn’t have the willpower to resist, and there was no way he could. He bent low, his gaze fixed on Blake’s, and Blake didn’t try to get away. But just before their lips touched, he paused.
“Kissing or no kissing?”
Blake shivered. Then he panted and reached up to hang on to Derek’s shoulders. “Kissing.”
It was all the permission Derek needed.
With a growl he closed the distance and slanted his mouth over Blake’s. Blake’s answering whimper, the way he parted his lips and invited Derek in, made Derek moan again. He tasted like sleep and desire, and the combination boiled in Derek’s blood. He cupped Blake’s face, angling him, and dove back in over and over with a clash of lips and tongue and teeth. The sensual, drugging kisses made Derek want more—wanting all of it.
Blake broke the kiss with a gasp and panted wetly against Derek’s mouth. He swallowed hard and then ran his hand up to cup the back of Derek’s head.
“Clothes or no clothes?” Blake murmured.
Derek’s grin was wicked. “Definitely no clothes. God, B.”
“Get your shirt off.” Blake tugged at the article of clothing as though it offended him, and Derek was quick to comply. When he stood to shuck his jeans, Blake whipped the covers off so the long line of his body was exposed. There was no mistaking the tent in his shorts. Derek left his own shorts in place for the moment, not wanting to push too fast.
Ghost of a Chance Page 10
