Chapter 51: Holding Hands

Chapter 51: Chapter 51: Holding Hands

Sebastian’s breathing stuttered when the warmth of Nero’s hand bled into his.

The reaction annoyed him almost as much as the immediate relief.

Heat moved through his palm and wrist before spreading higher, not the oppressive force of Nero’s ambient pheromones but something quieter and considerably more efficient. The ache beneath Sebastian’s sternum loosened by degrees, followed by the burning pressure buried around his glands.

Apparently the physician had been right.

Sebastian hated that almost as much as Nero was going to enjoy it.

He looked across the narrow space between the bed and Nero’s chair, already prepared to tell him not to look smug.

His mind had other intentions.

The observation suite disappeared.

There was no red ocean this time. No blood beneath him, no colorless sky, no distant sound of liquid striking an endless surface.

Sebastian was simply somewhere else.

Sunlight stretched across polished pale stone beneath his shoes, warm and golden where it entered through windows twice the height of a normal room. Dark purple curtains framed them in heavy folds, silver embroidery catching along their edges whenever the fabric shifted beneath the ventilation.

Beyond the glass lay formal gardens arranged around long reflecting pools and white flowering trees.

Sebastian knew this place.

Or some part of him did.

The room was too decadent to belong anywhere except the main palace of Altera or Nero’s own residence, though it lacked the oppressive ceremonial perfection of spaces built entirely for public display.

Someone actually lived here.

A jacket had been thrown across the back of a cream sofa.

Two glasses sat beside an open tablet on the low table.

A pair of Nero’s shoes had been abandoned near an armchair with absolutely no regard for the servants who would eventually have to retrieve them.

Sebastian looked down.

He was already dressed for something formal.

His charcoal coat fit close through the waist and shoulders, with deep green worked into the cuffs and collar in a pattern subtle enough to remain elegant rather than ceremonial. A silver chain crossed beneath one lapel.

And on his left hand—

A ring.

White gold, imposing in design except for the narrow line of dark violet set through its center.

Sebastian’s chest tightened.

Not a wedding band.

An engagement ring.

"Are you there?"

He looked up.

Nero stood several steps away.

For one second, Sebastian could only stare.

His hair was shorter.

Still white-blond, still ridiculously thick, but cut to barely brush his shoulders, much closer to the length Dax wore rather than the long fall Nero had maintained for years.

He looked older than eighteen and younger than the Nero standing beside Sebastian’s hospital bed.

There was no desperation hidden beneath his amusement, no constant watchfulness whenever Sebastian breathed differently, no hunger sharpened by years of being denied something he had decided belonged to him.

This Nero simply looked happy.

He wore black beneath a fitted formal coat of dark purple, silver embroidery running along the high collar and down the front in clean geometric lines. The heavy purple mantle over one shoulder and the familiar purple soles of his shoes flashed when he turned.

Familiar?

Sebastian heard himself answer before he chose to speak.

"Yes, sorry. I got caught in thought for a second."

He took a step forward and walked directly into Nero’s chest with a soft thump.

Sebastian blinked.

"Hey."

Nero grinned.

A real grin, wide enough to soften his entire face.

"What?" Nero asked, sliding an arm around Sebastian’s waist as though there had never been a world in which he would hesitate. "My moon is distracted when all I want is your attention."

Sebastian stared up at him.

His body did not stiffen or try to retreat but leaned in the warmth of the man in front of him.

That frightened him more than the room.

"You have had my attention since breakfast."

"Intermittently."

"You followed me through breakfast."

"You read messages through half of it."

"I was working."

"You are always working."

"So are you."

"That is completely different."

Sebastian heard himself laugh.

The sound was quiet and familiar, as though Nero had pulled it from him often enough that neither of them considered it remarkable.

Sebastian did.

He could not remember ever laughing like that around Nero.

He stayed tucked against Nero’s chest while Nero’s fingers settled comfortably at the small of his back.

There was no argument waiting beneath the moment.

No negotiation. No threat. No resentment.

"People are waiting for us," Sebastian said.

"They can wait longer."

"Nero."

"My father once delayed an entire diplomatic reception because Christopher changed his collar."

"That does not make it acceptable."

"It makes it royal precedent."

"It makes your family impossible."

"You agreed to join it."

Sebastian looked down at the ring.

Nero followed his gaze.

Something in his expression changed, the teasing easing into a warmth Sebastian could barely look at.

His own hand rose before he understood what he was doing.

He straightened the edge of Nero’s mantle where it had twisted near his shoulder.

The movement was practiced.

Intimate in the most ordinary way possible.

Nero watched him with obvious satisfaction.

"You like me."

Sebastian’s fingers paused against the dark fabric.

"I agreed to marry you."

"That is not the same thing."

"No?"

"No." Nero leaned closer. "You could be marrying me for my money."

Sebastian stared at him.

"I am the heir to Fitzgeralt."

"My beauty, then."

"That seems even less likely."

Nero laughed, low and pleased.

Sebastian felt the sound through his palm where it still rested against Nero’s chest.

Then Nero lowered his head until their foreheads touched.

"My moon."

The words were soft and full of only affection.

Sebastian stopped breathing.

Something inside him knew this moment.

His hand slid down from Nero’s chest.

Nero caught it naturally, threading their fingers together without looking.

The engagement ring pressed lightly against Nero’s knuckle.

Outside the room, distant footsteps crossed the corridor, followed by the muffled movement of security personnel preparing for whatever event waited beyond those doors.

Neither of them moved toward it.

For several seconds, they simply stood there holding hands.

Nero finally glanced toward the entrance.

"Ready?"

Sebastian should have said yes.

Instead, the version of him inside this memory looked at Nero with an ease the present Sebastian could not understand.

"With you?"

Nero’s violet eyes returned to him.

Sebastian tightened his fingers around his.

"Always."

The palace vanished.

Sebastian sucked in a breath.

Rain struck the narrow observation-room windows.

The pulse sensor clipped to his finger had begun chirping rapidly, and the monitor beyond the glass displayed a sudden spike in heart rate.

Nero was leaning toward him.

His expression had changed completely.

"Sebastian?"

Sebastian stared.

Nero’s hair was long again.

The formal purple coat was gone, replaced by the dark shirt he had been wearing when he offered his hand.

Their fingers were still intertwined.

Sebastian looked down at them.

No ring.

His hand was bare.

"Sebastian."

Nero’s thumb moved once against his skin.

"What happened?"

Claude had already stepped away from the adjoining station, but Sebastian barely registered him.

The memory could not have lasted long.

One second, perhaps two.

The rain had hardly shifted across the glass.

Nero’s position was almost exactly the same, yet Sebastian could still feel sunlight on his face. Could remember the weight of the engagement ring. Could see Nero smiling at him without fear or desperation anywhere in his expression.

Worse, he remembered himself being relaxed, affectionate, and happy.

Sebastian slowly lifted his gaze.

Nero had begun to look genuinely worried.

"You spaced out," Nero said. "For a second."

Sebastian’s throat tightened.

A second.

Three years of visions had taught him what to expect from whatever broken corner of his mind kept producing them.

Blood. Death. Nero tearing his own heart from his chest and placing it into Sebastian’s hands.

He had learned to fear every glimpse of that impossible life because every one of them ended in horror.

This one had not.

There had been no blood at all.

Only sunlight.

And it frightened him more than any gore memory until now.