Page 57 of Adam, Mine

Elias’s eyes trailed down his body to his arms, hands, gloved and coated with blood.

Then he looked back up into Alain’s dead eyes. Eyes like Victor’s.

“Il y a un garçon qui va venir à votre porte—” he started, but Alain interrupted him. In German.

“He has been here already.”

Without any warning at all, Alain swiftly grabbed the side of Elias’s head. He turned his face, scrutinizing the cuts closely. His breath smelled like violets beyond the reek of iron, and Elias closed his eyes.

Alain tilted Elias’s jaw up roughly, and Elias bent to his will like a willow. Allowing the thick fingers to wedge themselves between his throat and shirt collar to check the scars running beneath.

“It has been twenty days. They heal fast,” Elias murmured.

Alain let out a shaky sigh. He put both hands to Elias’s cheeks and pushed their foreheads together, smearing Elias’s face in stranger’s blood.

“This should never have happened to you,” Alain whispered.

And oh, Elias had not been touched with intention in so very long that he let him.

Gift

Alain closed the door behind them and removed his gloves. He left Elias standing at the front of his house among girlish finery. He opened the door to a room that made Elias’s hair stand on end and tossed the gloves carelessly inside.

“Will you permit me to see you? Entirely?” he said, rubbing his palms together to brush off the talc the gloves had left behind.

Elias’s heart was pounding so loud he was sure Alain could hear it. But the French alchemist just looked serious, waiting for Elias to comply.

Elias removed his jacket, folded it, and placed it gently on the wicker chair. Alain’s eyes took in his harness of daggers hungrily and shined brighter, but he said nothing.

Elias shed his leather and began unbuttoning his shirt. This was just like any other doctor’s appointment, he decided. He had been to many. Spent over a week lying naked in De Lacey’s house. He could do this.

Elias stood bare, silk carpet beneath his feet, and waited for Alain to do something.

After a moment of silence, the alchemist walked in a wide circle around him. Not touching or saying anything, just staring curiously.

He paused when he got to Elias’s back, then muttered something incredulous in French, spit on the floor in obvious disgust. Elias felt a wave of shame and curled his arms around himself.

Alain’s hand landed on the back of Elias’s neck, warm and solid, and he hushed gently, “Not you. Never that reaction for you.”

But Elias curled smaller, held himself tighter, closed his eyes. He felt a brush of hair at the top of his spine, Alain bowing to press his forehead there in supplication.

“Our bodies are just the place where our minds live,” he said.

Elias’s skin felt hungry and he wanted to tear it off. The smell of flowers on this man cut the reek of blood, and he wished he could roll around in it. So long he had not been touched with intention.

But Alain pulled back and sat down, crossing his legs.

“So. Do you have questions for me?”

Elias took a deep breath and willed his heart to calm. He reached for his clothes and began to dress himself.

“Do you know where Victor is going?” he asked.

Alain shrugged. “If you found me, you must know already. He did not specify order, though I’m sure some routes are easier than others.”

Elias snorted. “Victor is intelligent, not wise. I would not find shock at him choosing an inconvenient route.”

Elias swung his harness back over his shoulders but left his jacket lying where he’d tossed it and kept his feet bare.