Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Forty-Four | Killian

With the group watching, Jasper paced back and forth in the living room. Killian sat on the couch, sandwiched between Darren and Aubrey. He kept his eyes on his partner like a hawk, not breaking any sort of contact as they trailed back and forth after Jasper. The rest of the group awkwardly avoided eye contact as well, looking anywhere but where Jasper was in front of them.

"So let me get this straight," Killian hated the morbid chuckle that rumbled through Jasper's chest. He'd never seen the other man remain so icily calm. It was unnerving. "You all tried to kill me, because you thought I might be bitten, on nothing but somebody else's word?" Those fierce, blue eyes raked over everybody. "After somebody falsely accuses me. Gave me no chance to defend myself, even after two other group members were missing." Jasper was holding up on hand, listing off all of thr group's wrongdoings on his fingers. "You give the hunters a very limited time to gather two people who might not even know anything, to prevent my execution. You then bring me outside to freeze to death before the bullet even hits me, now you expect to be your leader?"

A snarl wrinkled at Jasper's nose, glaring away from the lot of them. Killian took a sudden interest in the ground. Even if it wasn't his lover chiding him, Darren, Aubrey or Jackson in particular, he was still made to feel as if he were in trouble. This was one of the ways his father used to vent his frustration—pacing back and forth, listing off the reasons he was angry with Killian. The only difference was the tone of voice and the fact that Jasper wasn't drunk.

"Jasper," Killian mumbled quietly, "Can I go?"

The man's gaze snapped towards Killian immediately. They were sharp, freezing. With a hard lump in his throat, Killian held his own hand in an attempt for comfort. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, his stomach twisting. Jasper wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't yell at you. Don't be scared. But even as he kept repeating those thoughts to himself, Killian's heart was racing.

A delicate, calloused hand lifted his chin. Those blue irises had warmed up, melting their frosty glaze and giving Killian nothing short of relief. "Of course, love. I'll tell you what happens after this," A warm kiss pressed against Killian's forehead and he leaned into it, breathing in a shaky sigh. "Get some sleep. You've got to be tired."

Nodding, Killian stood up as swiftly as possible and hightailed it across the living room, taking the stairs two steps at a time as he reached the top floor. When he reached the top, his heartbeat began to even out. He dragged himself down the hallway and pushed open the door to his and Jasper's room, crossing the hardwood floor and flopping ungracefully onto their bed.

The night previous had almost been torture. Killian had grown so used to sleeping next to Jasper that getting any sleep without his lover beside him was nearly impossible. He'd only fallen asleep out of nothing but pure exhaustion. The fear out of what would happen the next day haunted his night terrors. The images of Jasper's pale corpse still flashed in his mind, over and over again, on repeat.

Retrieving Jasper's jacket from the other side of the bed, Killian hugged it against his chest and buried his face into the thick fabric. He was disappointed when he realized Jasper's natural scent had faded away from it. He needed to get the other man to wear it for a little while.

The metal dogtags around Killian's neck were scratchy against his sensitive skin, but he didn't care. Wrapping his hand around the tags almost protectively, he held them against his chest. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd been a second too late, or Darren hadn't bumped into Chris to miss the shot. A shudder ran down his spine. He suddenly longed to be close with Jasper, feel the other man's warm body against his own.

Jasper brought safety, he brought comfort. Those strong arms were the only arms that Killian would truly trust—perhaps ever. It was almost as if they were made for him. At night, Killian could curl up perfectly next to his partner, with his body just the right size enough to pull his hands up against his own chest and rest his head in the crook of Jasper's upper and lower arm. The young man craved the feel of Jasper's large hand running through his hair, the chiseled outline of his muscles, every caress and every kiss.