Ashes of the Day (17 page)

As the threat implicit in Conrad’s words hit home, Damian stiffened. For a moment, the air between them seemed on the verge of igniting. Conrad stared into Damian’s eyes and saw all the fear he’d hoped to avoid reflected there. He saw anger as well, along with resentment and an unquenchable determination to have his own way. But layered beneath all of that, he saw something else; he saw love and concern and a desperate longing—but not for him. The knowledge that another had replaced him in Damian’s heart probably shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did, but things had been so good between them of late. He’d believed they stood a chance of someday reconciling, of finding their way back to one another. Had he merely been fooling himself?

Damian’s shoulders sagged. He broke off eye contact and looked away, but not before Conrad caught the sheen of tears as they filled his eyes. “Conrad, please.” The grief in Damian’s voice struck at Conrad’s heart like daggers, but it was the hopelessness in his tone that twisted the blades until even the beast felt the pain. “I beg of you, don’t do this to me. Not now. Oh, please not now! You can’t… Surely you can’t mean to keep me from him now? Not when now is all the time we have. You see that, don’t you? This is the last chance there will ever be for me to see him, to speak with him, to look into his eyes—just one more time. If you’ve ever cared for me at all, don’t take this from me.”

Conrad bowed his head. The beast itself seemed to whimper in defeat. Yes, he did know the pain of which Damian spoke—the pain of losing that which you held most dear. He knew it well. In fact, he was feeling it again right now. His world had once more lost its focus. There was nothing he could do other than to let Damian go. But even that seemed beyond him. He shook his head, growling in frustration at his own helplessness. His jaws seemed fused, his mouth unable to even form the words he needed to say.

“Conrad…”

“Go then!” The despair in Damian’s voice finally shook the words loose. Each one felt like a piece ripped out of Conrad’s soul. He threw up his hands and forced the rest out as well. “If he’s that important to you then go. Get out of here. Now.”

Damian stared at him, his eyes wide, his expression terrified. It was as if he were afraid to believe what he’d heard. Afraid to take Conrad at his word.

The doubt in his former lover’s gaze had Conrad scowling. He tried to stop it, but his efforts were useless. “Well? Was that not plain enough for you? Is that not what you wanted? What more are you waiting for?”

“N-nothing.” Damian grabbed his car keys from the table and headed from the room, his phone call apparently forgotten. Perhaps he was afraid to wait and risk Conrad’s changing his mind? Perhaps he was right to be afraid.

“Damian,” Conrad called after him.

Damian shuddered to a stop. He paused in the doorway, his expression guarded. “
¿Que?
”

“
Via con Dios, mi amor
.”

“
Gracias
.” The barest whisper of a smile curved Damian’s lips. “
Tu tambien
.”

And then he was gone. And Conrad was once again alone.

Chapter Eleven

Paul was asleep when Damian entered his hospital room. He crossed quietly to the bed then stood there for a moment, studying his friend while he slept. Paul had lost so much weight he appeared practically skeletal. Yet there was such a harsh, ethereal beauty to his face it all but stole Damian’s breath. Paul’s head had been shaved at some point recently. It was covered now with a downy layer of reddish-brown fuzz. It looked fragile and much too delicate, like an overripe peach. A single vein pulsed at Paul’s temple, beating out such a rough, erratic tempo that Damian could only stare at it in fascination as fear and a desperate sort of hunger warred within him.

How little effort it would take to tear that vein open; the merest brush of one fang would do it. As it was, he half-expected to see it punch right through the thin skin all on its own. Or perhaps the bleed would be subcutaneous, and Paul’s life would rush out in an unstoppable wave, blue blood spreading like a lake beneath the pale, translucent surface.

He couldn’t bear the thought, couldn’t stand to see Paul’s lifeblood wasted like that. The end was drawing near; Damian could sense it. Paul’s body was nearly worn out. Once the blood currently flowing in his veins was gone, there’d be no more to take its place.

It was all Damian could do to keep his fangs sheathed and not drain Paul dry, take his essence inside himself and preserve what he could of it. Perhaps that’s what he’d really come here for. Perhaps it was what Paul would have wanted him to do…

But no, he’d given up his right to claim anything more of Paul the night he let him go.

“Oh, Pablito.” It seemed ironic and unfair, counter to all the laws of nature that Paul, who was still so young, should look so old—especially when Damian considered his own appearance. But what about their situation had ever been fair? When had Fate, that cruel mistress in whom Paul had always put such child-like faith, ever not mocked them? For twenty years Fate had been leading them here—to this room, this moment, this final good-bye—along a road that they themselves had paved with foolish hopes and broken dreams.

Shaking a little with the effort to restrain himself, Damian bent and pressed a gentle kiss against that throbbing vein. Then he whispered in the young man’s ear, “I’m here,
chiquito
. Wake up.”

Paul stirred. His lips twitched slightly, but his eyes remained shut. Damian sighed. He straightened up and then stroked Paul’s head. His hand still remembered the familiar contours—oh, so well! It was the stubbled surface, however, that caused Damian’s heart to ache, reminding him of the night they’d met, of the way he’d run his finger along the young man’s jaw, feeling soft skin and a hint of whiskers.

“Paul?” he tried again. “Can you not hear me, Pablito? Will you not wake for me?”

Finally, Paul’s eyes fluttered open and focused, with difficulty, on Damian’s face. “Damian? Is it really you? I thought… Shit, I thought I was dreaming. It was such a nice dream though, I didn’t wanna wake from it.”

Damian glanced away, unable to meet the heartfelt welcome in Paul’s eyes. The love, the yearning, the hope, it was all too much to bear. Just a single glimpse of that pure blue gaze, the shade far too vivid in that pale, gaunt face, the expression far too innocent, and Damian was carried back in time. Twenty years dissolved in an instant. Ignoring the ache in his heart, he spread his arms wide and smiled. “I assure you,
niño
, this is no dream.” Paul struggled to sit up and Damian hurried forward to assist him. “Wait! Easy now,
chiquito
. Let me help you.”

Paul sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“
¡Qué vergüenza!
” Damian scolded softly. He helped Paul find a more comfortable position on the narrow mattress and then eased in to sit beside him. “What a thing to say. Of course I’m here. Did you really think I would stay away? You should have written me sooner!”

“I wanted to. You don’t know how many times I started that letter. But, in the end, I always chickened out and threw the paper away. I was too afraid.”

“You? Afraid?” Damian asked in surprise as he slid his arm around Paul’s shoulders. “Of what, pray tell?”

“I don’t know.” Paul sighed contentedly and nestled closer, until his head rested on Damian’s chest. “It seems silly now, but…mostly, I guess I was afraid of being disappointed. I couldn’t stand it if you stood me up. Also, I wasn’t sure if he would let you come and I sure didn’t want to see you getting into any more trouble there. Not on my account.” Paul glanced up at Damian curiously. “You
are
still with him, aren’t you?”

“With Conrad?” Damian nodded. “
Sí
. I’m still with him. But, as I’ve told you before, it’s not at all what you think.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve said that.”

“I said it because it’s true. And, besides, as you see, even he would not keep me from you.” It had been close though. A lot closer than Damian cared to admit. He’d been so angry when Conrad had threatened to interfere. He’d been frightened, desperate. And now, after everything he’d said to Conrad…

Damian could only pray that Conrad had been too distracted to remember all the insults Damian had thought to hurl at his head in an attempt to goad him in to changing his mind. His blood ran cold as he imagined what he might go home to, otherwise. Perhaps he would find he no longer had a home.

But now was not the time to worry about that. “He’s not as intractable as he likes to appear,” Damian said hopefully—reassuring himself as well as Paul. “He’s really quite reasonable when he wants to be. If things had been different, I think the two of you might have liked each other.”

Paul shook his head. “Not a chance, babe, although…” Again, he studied Damian, his eyes drinking in every detail. “Who knows? I suppose anything’s possible. I mean, you’re here, right? And…you look good. You do. You look…” He broke off to laugh faintly. “
Damn
, you look good. I guess he must be treating you all right after all. I’m glad, you know? Because I really thought…” Another weak laugh. “Ah, shit. You know what I thought about you and him. Not the first time I’ve been wrong where you’re concerned, is it?” He laughed again then started to cough, wheezing and gasping for air.

“Breathe, Paul,” Damian urged. He held Paul close and rubbed his back. “Deep breaths, nice and slow. Don’t try and talk.” When the coughing stopped, Damian reached for the cup of water on the bedside table and held the straw to his friend’s lips.

Paul took a sip, then pushed the cup away. “I’m okay. Really. It’s just…” A ragged smile twisted his lips. “Hell, baby, don’t you know I’m always short of breath when I’m around you? Been that way ever since the night we met. Man, you really did it to me that night. Jesus, you were hot back then. I couldn’t believe you picked me. Out of all the guys at that concert, any one of whom you could have had at a glance, you’d picked me to hit on. Me! I knew that was gonna be the night. You know? That whole day I just…I just knew that something good was gonna come my way. And then there you were and I thought, oh, fuck, did I just hit the jackpot or what? My first time and it’s gonna be with this brutally hot, fabulously sexy older guy. Someone with experience. Someone who knows what he’s doing, who’s been around a time or two and can show me everything I want to know. I nearly came on the spot—seriously—right there in my pants, just imagining it. I never told you that, did I?”

Once again he started to laugh and then to cough, almost choking on the words. “An older guy—that’s funny, right? ’Cause right now…right now you look so young, D. You do. And I guess you were right all along. ’Cause there’s no way I would have been as good for you as he was. Looking at you now, I can see that. You look… You look like a…like a kid almost…” Paul struggled to sit up higher, wheezing, gasping for breath a little more. His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at Damian, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. “Shit. Not even ‘almost’. What the fuck, man? What’s going on? That’s not right.”

Damian reached for Paul, hoping to soothe him. “Pablito. Calm yourself. Lie back down again now.”

Paul shook him off. “No, really.
Really
now. I wanna know. What the hell? You look…Christ, D, you look like you did ten years ago—twenty years ago. Now, how’s that possible?”

“Shhh. Don’t think about that right now. It’s nothing. You’re just imagining things.” Damian met Paul’s gaze and stared steadily into his eyes, lightly mesmerizing him. “Let it go, Paul. It’s not important. Let’s just…let’s just sit here quietly, all right? Just breathe for me.”

Paul’s lips thinned. Rebellion gleamed for a moment in his eyes. “Not. Imagining. Anything.” But gradually his breathing slowed and deepened. The wheezing stopped and he slumped against Damian’s chest. When he resumed speaking, his voice was quiet, relaxed, almost dreamy. “Hottest guy I’d ever seen in my life. No lie. And you still are. You always were. Always… Oh, Christ, Damian…” His voice trailed off. His eyes drifted shut. “So tired. But…no. Hell, no. I can’t sleep now. Don’t want to miss another minute with you. Not now. Shit…so little time.”

“I know,
carito
.” Tears stung Damian’s eyes as he pressed another kiss to Paul’s temple. “And I’m sorry, truly, but I can’t have you upsetting yourself like this. Not on my account.” More irony. It seemed Conrad had been right once again. He’d be so happy to know that, so unbearably pleased with himself—not that Damian had any intention of telling him. His ego was quite large enough already.

After a moment, Paul roused himself once more. He startled for an instant and tried to sit up again, clutching at Damian’s arm as if to assure himself that Damian was real, that he was still there.

“Shh,” Damian soothed, gently pulling Paul back against him. “It’s all right. Just calm down.”

Paul relaxed again. “It should have been you and me, you know,” he said sadly, sighing just a little. “We should have been together all along. That was the problem. That’s where we went wrong. We should’ve done it that very first night, you know what I mean? Before anyone else got in the way. Screw the age thing. It’s like you just said—it’s not important.”

“Please, Pablito,” Damian begged. “Let’s not do this again. What’s done is done. If we could both go back and change things…many things would be different. But we can’t go back. And, no matter how much you wanted it—how much we both wanted it—I could not have taken advantage of you like that. You have to know that’s true.”