Page 74 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

A few minutes…an hour, he didn’t know, before he yanked his phone out of his pocket with shaking fingers and stabbed at the contact.

Ro picked up on the first ring.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

The sound of his voice, gentle and braced for bad news, broke the last thin thread Furi had been hanging from.

He tried to answer but a harsh, tortured breath pushed through first.

“Furi, talk to me,” Ro said.

Furi hunched forward, one hand gripping the phone, the other pressed to his mouth as a sob tore through him.

“He left,” Furi choked, before the dam finally collapsed.

Xander Vale

By noon, Xander was getting dressed for the first time in days without wondering who would be waiting for him when he walked out of the door.

What he should’ve been thinking about was the stranger who’d been inside his house the night before and gotten close enough to make him believe he was about to die. Why his security had vanished.

Those thoughts were still there, but they weren’t the first ones that rose in him when he opened his eyes.

Cassidy was.

Cassidy’s big arm had been locked around his waist. His chest warm against his back.

Cassidy’s breathing was slow and deep behind him, steady enough that Xander had fallen into the rhythm of it instead of into the panic that’d been yanking him out of sleep for days.

For a few quiet seconds, he’d only felt the weight of a strong man holding him, and something inside him had loosened with a relief so pure it almost hurt.

He hadn’t woken once. He’d slept because his mind believed Cassidy when he said he was safe.

He smiled…actually smiled.

And Cassidy hadn’t slipped out of bed the moment the sun rose. Instead, he’d waited until Xander was fully awake, then drew him closer.

“Keep resting,” Cassidy had whispered near his ear, voice still rough from sleep, low, warm and gravel-deep. His soft beard brushing along the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go to my room to handle some things.”

That voice should’ve been illegal before coffee.

He’d mumbled a breathy, half moan, “Okay,” and Cassidy went still behind him.

Xander felt the subtle tightening of that powerful body. The faint, barely restrained groan that left Cassidy’s throat before he caught it. And God help him, Xander’d felt something else too.

Morning arousal, thick and unmistakable against his hip, separated only by a thin layer of linen and the discipline of a man trying hard to be a gentleman.

Xander’s face went hot as he finished buttoning his jeans.

Apparently, his body had decided fear, trauma, sleep deprivation, and lust could all live in the same crowded gut.

He threaded his belt, buckled it, then pulled on a crisp white Polo button-up. It was casual but polished. He slid on a pair of white Nike tennis shoes, then went into the bathroom to groom himself, taking more time to tame his hair than usual.

He ran product through the deep waves, working the longer blond strands away from his face while leaving enough volume at the top to keep it from looking too intentional. The sides were swept back, and he slid a narrow black elastic band across the crown to tame the fly-aways.

Lastly, he reached for the small square bottle tucked in his toiletry case.

His fragrance. Bespoke.