Every time I bottomed out, I felt the room get colder, a localized, predatory chill that bloomed near the head of the bed, sharp enough that I felt it on my bare skin like the touch of a blade. The darkness was paying attention now. It was watching the way I was taking him, the way I was reclaiming the space that used to belong to a ghost.
I didn't let the cold stop me. If anything, it made me harder, more determined to drive the shadows back with the sheer force of our bodies. I fucked him until he was nothing but a seriesof disjointed gasps and sharp, frantic movements, his hands clawing at my shoulders as he searched for an anchor. I could feel him nearing the edge, his ass clamping down on my cock with every thrust, the friction making me see stars. He was so fucking close, his whole body coiled like a spring, and I knew I was right there with him. I reached down, my thumb finding the tip of his cock and grinding against the slit as I delivered one final, devastating thrust.
He went rigid, his eyes rolling back in his head as a scream tore out of him. His ass constricted around me violently, milking me with a desperation that broke my last bit of control. I groaned, my voice a low, animal sound, as I exploded inside him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me lightheaded.
I collapsed against him, our skin slick with sweat and friction, the only sound in the room the frantic, jagged rhythm of our breathing. For a long minute, neither of us moved. We just stayed locked together, two broken things trying to fit their edges into each other.
My attention snagged on the cold spot again, the pressure of it growing slightly. It was a wonder that Oleander didn’t seem to notice or even be as affected. I rolled off him, the separation feeling like a physical tear, and I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, my head in my hands. The silence in the apartment had returned, but it was heavier now, more charged even.
Some part of me wanted to stay but I never did that. It’s a rule I made a long time ago to keep the world from getting its hooks too deep into me, but as I stood up and reached for my clothes, I felt a hesitation.
I walked to the bedroom door and stopped, wanting to say something but there was no way to explain what this town did to people like him. I looked back one last time, my gaze sweeping over the bed and the man who was already starting to disappear back into the fog of his own grief. Two thoughts hit mesimultaneously: that this man was dangerous and I’d be coming back anyway.
Deciding not to dwell on that, I made my way home, the fog outside a wall of wet grey, swallowing the streetlamps before they could even hit the pavement. I walked with my hands shoved deep into my pockets, the chill of the town seeping into my bones. Every footstep felt heavier than the last, dread spreading through my chest. I'd opened a door tonight, one I wasn't sure I could close again.
When I got back to my apartment, the air was warm and smelled like old wood and Julian's tea. The contrast made my head spin. I moved through the dark living room toward our bedroom, Julian already on our shared bed. He was propped against the headboard with a book open on his chest, the gold pendant he always wore catching the faint moonlight through the curtains.
He looked up when I came in, his eyes moving over me once, cataloguing everything about me, and the way I was standing in the doorway like I wasn't sure I was allowed back in my own bedroom.
“I was wondering where you were. The bartender said you called off for the night. Is there something wrong?”
Julian tilted his head slightly and then shook it. “No, I just wasn’t feeling it. My fingers have been a little stiff and the songs I usually play weren’t settling right.” He held up one of his hands, his elegant fingers curling a little before he straightened them again. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll play again.”
I nodded. The piano used to be the one thing that kept him level. Lately it seemed to be doing the opposite.
"Another one?" Julian asked, no accusation in his voice, changing the subject. We'd been here before. Our rules were simple: don't lie about it, don't bring it home, and don't make it matter more than us.
"Yeah," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. I should have left it there. Another warm body in a cold town, another night I didn't want to spend alone with the dark. That’s what I always told myself anyway.
Julian watched me, reading the silence between my words the way he read the space between notes. He closed his book and set it on the nightstand. "But?" he said.
"The shadows moved, Jules. While I was with him. The room got cold, like it does when the town was paying attention."
Julian was quiet for a long time before his hand found my knee, the anchor I always came back to. He'd been looking tired more and more lately, and I didn't want to hand him something else to carry. But we didn't keep secrets. Not the real ones.
"Who is he?" Julian asked.
"I don't know yet," I said. "His name is Oleander. He's in the Ashworth place."
Julian's fingers tightened on my knee. “Dominic’s place?”
I nodded. I never really knew the man. He kept to himself but we all knewofhim. Some part of me wanted to dig into Dominic’s connection to Oleander but that would have to wait.
"Get some sleep, Rowan," he said, tilting his head up slightly.
I leaned in and gave him the kiss he was silently asking for, lingering there to drink in the comfort he always provided. “There’s something about him,” I whispered as I shed my clothes for the second time that night.
I crawled into bed, pulling Julian down with me until he curled into my chest. “Something good or bad?”
"Both," I said. "I think he brought something with him. I'm not even sure he knows."
five
OLEANDER
I woke up alone in the wreckage of my sheets. The morning light in Hollow Vale didn't so much break through the windows as it seeped into the room, revealing the empty space beside me.
There was no note, no lingering warmth on the pillow beside me, nothing but the heavy, copper-and-salt scent of sex and the dull ache in my joints that reminded me I was still alive. I stayed perfectly still, because the moment I moved, the guilt would find me.
