Page 107 of Godless Saints

I didn’t waste a second. I scooped Moon up and carried him to the bedroom. He was still trembling against me, face buried deep in my neck.

I set him gently on the edge of the bed and grabbed clothes, one of my thick black sweaters, sweatpants, fresh boxers, socks. I dressed him carefully, almost reverently. Pulled the boxers up his shaking legs. Sweatpants next. The sweater over his head. Guided his arms through the sleeves.

Moon watched me the whole time, eyes glassy. When I finished, he spoke, voice hoarse and uncertain.

“You sure you should have told your brother?” He swallowed hard. “Isn’t this more dangerous now? The whole family knowing about… us?”

I knelt in front of him, hands resting on his thighs, thumbs stroking slow circles.

“Aye,” I said quietly. “It’s dangerous. But it’s the right kind of dangerous.”

I looked up at him, dead serious.

“Now we have the entire Ashbourne machine behind us. Nobody touches you again. Not at Evermourne. Not anywhere. The Carricks just declared war on the wrong fucking family.”

Moon stared at me for a long second, something raw and conflicted flickering across his face.

“You really think they’ll protect me?” he whispered. “A rival court heir who’s—”

I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his.

“They’ll protect you because you’re mine,” I said. “And in my world, that’s the only protection that matters.”

Moon leaned into me.

“You’re going to get us both killed,” he muttered against my skin.

“Probably,” I admitted, kissing the side of his head. “But not today.”

Lorcan stepped back inside a few minutes later, shaking rain from his shirt. His men were already loading the Carrick survivors into the SUVs outside.

“I’m heading out,” Lorcan said. “I’m leaving a few men on the property. Just in case.”

I nodded once. “Thanks, brother.” I handed him back his coat, and he took it and put it on.

Lorcan studied me for a long second, then clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard. “Watch your back, brother.” He stepped out into the rain. The sound of the SUVs eventually faded into the night.

Moon pulled my face toward him, fingers digging into my jaw. “Are you hurt?” His voice stayed controlled. The tremor in his grip still betrayed him. “Can I help you?”

I tugged my shirt off. The bruise across my ribs was already blooming dark. The graze on my arm burned like fire.

“I think I just need ice and a bandage for the graze.”

Moon stood up fast. “Where’s the first aid kit?” He disappeared into the bathroom.

“Behind the mirror,” I called after him.

He came back with the kit and pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

His fingers still shook as he opened the kit. I caught his wrist gently. Held it until the tremor eased. His eyes finally met mine.

“You’re shaking,” I said quietly.

He didn’t pull away.

***

Later the fire burned low. Front door hung crooked, but it closed. Moon sat between my legs on the floor, back against my chest, blanket wrapped around us while his tea cooled untouched between his palms.