Wake of the Dead | One

Chapter twenty-five

Killian shuddered as the sun began to rise above the horizon, light pouring through the windows of the motel room. He was backed up into a corner, exhaustion weighing down on him as if he'd been running for hours. His chest felt tight, his hand even tighter around the knife he'd been holding onto all night.

Swallowing hard, Killian could feel a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. The moment he'd been able to get away from whoever attacked him, Killian had barricaded himself into the motel room. Furniture was stacked up on the inside of the door, the curtains closed over the windows. He knew he hadn't trusted anybody since he got there. Now, somebody was trying to kill him.

Paranoia left heavy, dark circles beneath his eyes. A rain storm in the middle of the night hadn't helped with his lack of sleep either. There was no way in hell Killian was going to try and sleep after somebody almost strangled him to death. How did he know they just wouldn't break into his room when he was sleeping and finish the job?

At least he still had Jasper's jacket, which he wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Much as he hated to admit it, Killian was beginning to realize that he'd grown used to the other man's scent; a mix of pine with an underlying, masculine musk. It a safe scent, comforting. Pulling Jasper's jacket even tighter around him, Killian swallowed back his growing resentment towards the rest of the group.

Killian had decided hours before; he would not longer hunt for them, would no longer struggle to prove anything. Without Jasper, he would have left long ago. He could still leave, after waiting for Jasper to come back and saying goodbye to him. The sudden thought of leaving Jasper behind made his throat tighten, making it hard to breathe. His heart ached, and Killian realized then just how much he cared for the other man.

Perhaps they hadn't known each other for too long, but from the moment Killian had met Jasper up until then, it had felt like he'd known the other man for months. They'd been through thick and thin with one another, no matter how much Killian tried to push him away. Now, the guilt of trying to get rid of Jasper and shove his affections as far away as possible was gut wrenching; especially the possibility that Jasper might never come back.

Hot tears welled up behind Killian's eyes and he closed them tight, clenching his jaw so a sob wouldn't escape his lips. No matter how strong he tried to be, he was nothing when he was alone. Jasper had given Killian something that kept him going, and without that it felt as if nothing mattered anymore. Killian could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. The walls began to close in, his body shaking, laying his warm cheek against the floor in an attempt to cool down.

With his vision growing dark at the edges, Killian felt the urge to run. To run and never turn back, escape this god-forsaken world that was his new reality. He never deserved this, he never deserved anything that had ever happened to him. Maybe he was difficult to get along with. Maybe he was rude and angry, but he didn't deserve this. Nobody did.

It felt like an eternity when the panic that consumed him began to slowly fade away, leaving a hollow and heavy feeling in his chest. It felt like somebody was squeezing the air out of his lungs again, only this time it was constant. He gasped softly, closing his eyes and waiting for it to go away. Eventually it did, slowly. He could barely stop it from coming back.

Feelings like that had happened before. Killian wasn't sure what they were, but they happened when he was anxious and stressed. As his mind cleared, he dropped the knife that was grasped firmly in his hand. Forcing himself to his feet, Killian snuggled farther into Jasper's coat. He let the familiar scent fill his nose and mouth, almost tasting it. Collecting his nerves, he hiked his crossbow over his shoulder. Taking his knives, he set them in their place at his belt, and then began to push away the barricades that covered the motel door.