“I don’t care about any of that right now.” It was sacrilege to say it, but to lie to his brother was worse.
A tiny smirk graced Danielo’s face. “Neither do we. We’re gonna guard your house, brother. At least until Devan wakes up.”
“What if he doesn’t wake up?”
Danielo snorted, the sound so normal in this strange new world that Zio almost laughed, and Danielo squeezed Zio’s shoulder tighter. “Hewillwake up, Z. So much life he’s given for others, how can he not?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Warm hands brushed Devan’s sensitive skin. Soft words he couldn’t decipher graced his shallow consciousness. Instinct told him Zio was close, but the lingering pain in his bones denied it. Being with Zio was nirvana—there was no pain, only bliss.
“Devan.”
No. The voice wasn’t right. It was familiar and almost comforting, but it wasn’t Zio.
A low chuckle came next, distant enough to ignore but irritating enough to drag him from the shadowed place he’d made home.
New hands touched him. Devan flinched, and the hands fell away.
“He’s awake.”
I’m not.
The warm hands returned with the hot breath against his cheek. “Devan?”
It was barely a whisper, but somehow louder than anything else. Devan took a breath. It rattled through his chest, and his muscles throbbed with new aches.No. Not even that magic voice is worth this—
“Devan, it’s Zio. Wake up... please?”
A lightning bolt of want and need flashed through Devan. His eyelids fluttered, and his body jerked as his every sense locked onto Zio. Brightness hurt his eyes, and his limbs protested at the slightest movement. Blackness threatened to pull him under, but he fought it, and for the first time in however long it had been, he won.
His eyes settled open. For a long, painful moment, he saw nothing then Zio’s face solidified, perfect and beautiful. Dark skin, full lips, and wide brown eyes, full of yearning and worry.
I don’t want him to worry.
Devan’s hands moved of their own accord to smooth the lines of concern from Zio’s face. The effect was instant. Zio smiled, and the sun came out. He leaned down, his lips so close Devan could’ve kissed him if his neck hadn’t been so stiff. “You’re awake.”
“Not on purpose.” Devan licked his dry lips. “How long was I asleep?”
“A week.”
“What?”
Zio’s expression clouded. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
“Anything, I guess. Though I reckon I should be grateful you seem to remember me.”
Devan swallowed thickly. “Of course I remember you. I feel you... here.” His hand landed on his chest with a dull thud.
Zio was briefly amused again, then he sighed and rubbed his face.
“You look tired,” Devan said.
Zio snorted. “I shouldn’t. I’ve spent a lot of the last week asleep too.”
“Why?”