“Did you sleep at all last night, baby?”
“Mmm. No. Not after I left your place.”
“Then sleep. I’ll hold you. And when you wake up, we’ll spend the day together. I’ll make brunch.”
“Pancakes or waffles?”
Derek chuckled, and Blake joined in. “We’ve done that question.”
“Heh. I know. I meant, what’s for brunch?”
“Whatever you want. You can decide when you wake up.”
“Take such good care of me.” Blake’s voice drifted off, and a moment later, he was sound asleep.
Derek breathed out a sigh. He’d known Blake was skittish, but he never expected him to literally run away. Thank God he let Derek in and they resolved it quickly. He’d have to tread carefully. But at least he knew that Blake would talk to him, even if he had to push just a little.
It would take time, but he could show Blake that they could make it. Blake already knew Derek wasn’t going to leave. He’d proven that time and again over the past weeks. He just had to show Blake he was in it for the long haul. Eventually Blake would stop worrying. He’d trust in their relationship and what they built.
And until then Derek didn’t have a problem proving it to him.
Chapter Sixteen
DEREK was sort of surprised at how much their relationship didn’t change. No, that wasn’t right. They spent more time together outside of work than they had in the past five weeks, and they slept together a couple of times a week, usually at Derek’s house because Blake adored the tiny space.
“I like being here. It’s like I’m surrounded by you,” Blake admitted one night as he perched on a stool at Derek’s kitchen island while Derek made meatloaf and roasted potatoes for dinner. The self-conscious way he said it and the shy smile, accompanied by a sly look from underneath his lashes, prompted Derek to kiss him until they were both breathless. He had Blake pressed up against the counter, his hands roving Blake’s taut body, and only the incessant beep of the timer pulled them apart. Derek would have ignored even that, but it would mean burning Blake’s dinner, and that was something Derek wouldn’t allow. Blake didn’t eat enough as it was because he spent most afternoons sleeping or queasy from having gone on a ghostwalk, and Derek was determined his nighttime meals would be the most nutritious he could make them.
So their nights and weekends were different, and Derek was happier than he imagined he would be when he finally found the person he was going to love forever. There was no doubt in Derek’s mind that Blake was it.
He was easier in his skin when they were together. He knew Blake felt it too, though Derek hadn’t quite figured out a way to bring it up. They were together most of the time, but that didn’t stop Blake’s skittish tendencies. He cast furtive glances around when Derek touched him in public, even if it was something as simple as a touch on the arm. And Derek did his best not to push, though it wasn’t easy.
But while they were at work, picking cases and talking them over, it was the same as always. Blake was happy and eager to discuss things with him, and Derek was just as eager to give his opinion. Blake’s success rate had always been high, but he hadn’t failed to help a single spirit cross in all the time they’d been together. His recovery time was even better than before. He came to life within minutes of the sword being removed. And though the sleepiness and queasiness persisted, he was healing faster and crying less.
Both Blake and Derek were pleased by those developments.
Blake was also becoming bolder in his choice of jobs. Previously he’d passed over the harder cases and let another ghostwalker take them. He kept his focus on the sort of spirits he could relate to, if only because he was certain he could help them find peace.
“What about this one?” Blake leaned into Derek’s space and showed him a case file on his tablet. Derek grinned and pulled Blake into his embrace. He liked that Blake fit well in his arms. With his chin on Blake’s shoulder, he read the screen.
“He’s, uh, been lingering for a while, huh?”
Blake nodded and gave a happy little hum as he rested more firmly against Derek’s chest. Derek was happy to take his weight. “He’s not a danger or anything, but he passed on about six months ago. He periodically pops up on Mary’s radar, and she pings the report every time he does.” Blake scrolled down to the bottom and showed Derek the list of notes. “Oh, look. Shona’s here too. And someone I don’t know.”
He tapped the note and a profile opened. It showed a weathered but smiling face.
“Says this medium, Tom, is based out of Atlanta,” Derek announced unnecessarily.
“Time this spirit gets his rest, don’t you think?”
Derek wanted to say no, if only because Blake’s last four cases had taken more than six hours. Time moved differently in the spirit plane, so Blake hadn’t felt its passage as much as Derek did, but the amount of time worried Derek. There was only so long a body could stay dead before it began to decay. Requiem had strict procedures in place to prevent that, but still. It was a worry.
“You don’t think I should?” Blake asked softly.
“I didn’t say that.”
Blake shot him a knowing look. “But you were thinking it.”
“I just….” Derek blew out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his closely shorn hair. “You’ve done a bunch of tougher cases lately. Maybe do something easier today?” Derek glanced down at the screen. “We can tackle Jeremy tomorrow, if you want. Take a simpler case today so you’re stronger tomorrow.”
Blake scrunched up his brow as though he were considering it. “It’s not that you don’t think I can’t handle it, right?”
“Absolutely not.” Derek was very firm. He took Blake’s chin and turned his head so he could look right into Blake’s eyes. “There’s no doubt you can handle this just fine. But Jeremy isn’t in any danger and doesn’t present a danger. He’s not going to go dark. And I worry about the length of time you’ve been dead lately. I’d really like to see you take it easy today.”
Blake’s expression softened, and he gave a small laugh as his body relaxed against Derek’s. “You worry too much.”
Derek grinned and kissed Blake’s temple. “I do. But that’s how I’m made. Especially where you’re concerned.”
“Yeah, okay.” And though Blake sounded reluctant, Derek could hear the pleased tone underneath his words. He swiped through several files and held up the tablet. “Vera, the Alzheimer’s patient?”
Derek looked that one over, and it only took him moments to agree. Vera had been months short of her one hundredth birthday, though by all accounts, she hadn’t been able to remember anyone or anything for the past decade except her grandchildren. While Alzheimer’s patients were often as confused in death as they were in life, Blake had a knack for getting them to cross over. And after everything they suffered through, Derek believed that they especially deserved peace.
“Yes. Let’s help Vera today.”
Agreed, they called for King and got ready while they waited for him to arrive. Blake took off his shoes and shirt, and Derek pulled his chair close to Blake’s and leaned in to kiss him slowly and sweetly. When Derek pulled back, Blake was panting. He smiled softly.
“For luck.”
Blake’s eyes went dark. “Don’t need it with you right here.”
Derek’s stomach tightened, and his heart squeezed. He grinned, took Blake’s hand in his, and wrapped their fingers together so Blake could feel it. Derek drew in a deep breath, released it slowly, and leaned into Blake’s space so he could rest his forehead against Blake’s temple. Blake closed his eyes, and his whole body relaxed.
“I’m right here,” Derek murmured. “I got you. You’re doing the hard stuff. You know where you’re going?”
“Yes,” Blake whispered. “The granddaughter’s house. Vera liked it there.”
“Good choice.” Derek kept his voice low. He reveled in the ritual that helped get Blake into the right headspace. Derek believed that was another re
ason Blake found ghostwalking so easy these days. They connected on a deep level, and together they were the best team in the Duncan Moor division—perhaps in the whole tristate area.
King entered a minute later and studied them silently for a long moment. Blake’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see the assessing look their boss gave them. But Derek fought not to tense under his stare. He didn’t want to transmit his feelings to Blake when Blake was so calm and focused.
“Ready?” King murmured, but Derek was sure it was for form. It was clear Blake was ready, but Derek liked that King asked anyway.
“Yes.” Blake’s lips curved up into a small smile.
The sword went in, smooth as ever, and as soon as Blake was gone, Derek got to work. King left the moment it was clear that Blake was dead. He didn’t spare a glance for Derek. He didn’t need to. Derek was so in tune with his ghostwalker that he didn’t even need to think about his actions. He cleaned Blake of blood and then began his report. He kept his eye on Blake and waited for the moment King would return to remove the sword.
Derek didn’t have to wait long.
He was sitting at Blake’s side, holding his cold, limp hand in his own, when a soft knock announced King’s entrance. Derek jumped up, got the thick, absorbent pads ready, and then, with a nod at King, waited for the big man to pull the sword free of Blake’s chest.
He’d just begun to tug the sword free when Blake’s eyes snapped open. Both King and Derek froze. Blake’s mouth opened, and a cough spattered blood over the side of Derek’s face as Blake tried to breathe. Fear etched his features, his mouth worked, and his eyes rolled.
“Get it out,” Derek shouted, but King was already pulling the sword free.
Adrenaline poured through his veins, and Derek moved quickly. His heart was pounding and he could taste fear on his tongue. He got the pads into place and pressed as hard as he could as blood poured from the wounds and soaked them through.
This shouldn’t be happening. Blake shouldn’t come back to life for at least several minutes after the sword was removed. Panic soured Derek’s stomach as he held on to him. Blake drew a wet-sounding breath and began to gag, and Derek realized he was choking on his own blood. He turned Blake onto his side and threw a gaze at King.
“Do something!”
But once again King was already acting. Though his face was impassive, he moved with lightning speed to the small red button next to the door frame. He pounded it down with more force than necessary, and a shrill alarm sounded. Two medics pushed into the room not two minutes later.
It was the longest two minutes of Derek’s life as Blake lay bleeding in his arms.
They took over, and he stared helplessly as the medics lifted Blake from the chair and placed him on the floor. A tube was inserted down Blake’s throat, followed immediately by a skinnier one. The short, stocky male medic pressed a button on the machine, and blood immediately started to suction out of Blake’s lungs. The female medic worked on Blake’s chest. She pulled the wound together with butterfly bandages and then turned to her bag and came back with a syringe, which she plunged into Blake’s upper arm.
They worked for long moments as Derek stood helplessly and fear and panic clawed at his gut. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to push the medics aside and hold Blake in his arms.
“He’ll be fine,” King murmured, his deep voice right in Derek’s ear. “They just need to get it under control until his body can do its thing.”
Derek nodded numbly and prayed he was right. Intellectually he knew it had to be. Ghostwalkers could heal just about anything, given the right care. And the medics were trained to deal with exactly that kind of thing. They were there in case something went wrong on a ghostwalk.
But logic had little place when your lover was bleeding out on the floor.
The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. Gone was the urgency, replaced by calm. The male medic removed the suction tube and the intubation. They gently turned Blake onto his side and examined his wounds. For a moment or two, they poked and prodded, but then the woman nodded, and the man smiled.
King let go of the iron grip he had on Derek’s shoulder. “Does he need to go to the infirmary?”
The man shook his head. “He’s fine now. Just regular recuperative care. Any idea what happened? We’ve never had an issue with Jones before.” He gave a half smirk. “Either of them.”
King shook his head, but he didn’t smile back. “I have a theory. If he’s all right, let’s get him to the bed. Derek can take over from here.”
“I’ll do it.” Derek hustled forward and gingerly stepped around the discarded bloody gauze and gloves. It was a struggle to lift Blake right off the floor, but he was determined. Blake managed to weakly lift a hand and touch Derek’s shoulder as Derek hefted his weight into his arms and breathed a sigh of relief.
Without a care as to who was still in the room, Derek placed Blake gently on the bed and climbed right in with him. No way was he going to stand on propriety or professionalism. He needed to have Blake in his arms as much, if not more, than Blake needed the comfort.
Blake offered him a small tremulous smile. “Hey,” he managed, his voice hoarse, probably from the tube. “I’m not crying.”
Derek sputtered out a laugh at the pride in that weak voice and wrapped Blake tightly in his arms. His heart rate was slowly returning to normal, now that he knew Blake was okay. They’d figure out what in the hell had happened and keep it from happening again, but not right that second. Blake was falling asleep.
He heard footsteps approaching, and the woman said softly, “His vitals may take longer than usual to return to normal. But within a few hours—four at the most—he should be back to normal. Let us know if he isn’t.”
Derek nodded quickly. “Thank you.”
She gave a soft smile and then turned away. Derek blew out a breath that ruffled Blake’s hair and squeezed him just a little bit tighter, careful to keep his hands away from his recent wounds. He was distantly aware of noises as the door closed with a soft snick. Derek breathed out a breath, relieved to finally be alone.
“Derek.” King’s voice was quiet, barely audible, but Derek immediately looked over his shoulder. King stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, a stern expression on his face. “When Blake has recovered, the both of you better be in my office. Is that clear?”
Derek wanted to take Blake home and care for him throughout the night, but King’s voice allowed for no disagreement. He nodded because he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t like it. Hopefully the meeting would be quick and Derek could get Blake home where he belonged.
King’s dark gaze bored into Derek’s, and Derek didn’t even try to shield his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure he could do such a thing with a telepath of King’s caliber. But it didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything in his head that he didn’t want King to know.
Finally King turned and walked out, his long stride eating up the floor, and within seconds he was gone.
It took Derek a few more minutes, but eventually he was able to relax. He kissed the back of Blake’s head and rejoiced in the warm, breathing man in his arms. For the moment, it was all he could focus on.
Chapter Seventeen
THE queasiness in Blake’s stomach was intensified by about a thousand because of nerves. He didn’t remember much about coming back to life this time, which was different than anything he’d experienced before—only vague impressions of it being wrong, flashes of King’s surprised face, and Derek’s worried shouts. He’d tried to open his mouth to let Derek know he was okay, but all he felt was the sensation of drowning—in his own blood.
Once he woke and Derek checked him over to make sure his vitals were back within normal range, he’d snuggled up against Derek’s broad chest and sipped his water while Derek recounted the tale. Blake felt the fear and worry clawing at his gut as Derek spoke, almost as though he were experiencing Derek’s emotions. But that wasn’t possible. Blake wasn’t a telepath
like King, but Derek telegraphed his emotions so well that Blake couldn’t help but feel them too.
He was nervous as hell to head down to King’s office.
Derek wasn’t in any rush, and neither was Blake. Blake was still anxious, and Derek was more concerned about making sure Blake was okay. It was sweet, really, and Blake knew their burgeoning relationship made it all the more intense for Derek.
“Derek, come here,” Blake instructed softly. Instantly Derek was at his side, hovering, worry etched on his features.
“What do you need, baby?”
That endearment sounded so good coming from Derek’s lips, even though it was heavily laced with worry. He held out a hand, and Derek took it at once.
“I need you to sit down. The pacing and hovering is getting on my nerves.” He softened his words with a gentle smile. “I’m fine. All healed. I promise.”
“You’re sure?”
Blake chuckled. “Yes. I’m sure. Now please, sit down. We gotta figure out what we’re going to do when we go down to King’s office in a minute.”
“It doesn’t have to be that fast. We can take our time and—”
“He’ll come looking before too much longer.” Blake shook his head and blew out a breath, enjoying the feeling as his lungs expanded easily. Drowning was not his favorite thing. “What do you think he wants?”
Derek sat next to him on the bed and pulled Blake into his embrace. Blake went willingly, loving the strength and the warmth. He sighed out happily when Derek pressed his lips to the top of Blake’s head.
“I’m sure he wants to figure out why it happened and how to never let it happen again.” Derek shivered, but didn’t go any further. Blake ran his thumb along the inside of Derek’s wrist, soothing him as best he could.
Blake had to assume Derek was right. It wasn’t unheard of for a ghostwalker to have problems coming back to life. It’s why Requiem had medics on staff. But Blake had never had a problem, and even more worrisome was the fact that he had fifteen years’ experience. He should be past any sort of issues, as well practiced as he was.
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