him every fifteen minutes while you two were, uh, out of it.” Sabin didn’t look any more comfortable with the idea of a ‘healing place’ than Chace was.
Chace took a sip of the coffee and grimaced at how strong it was. Apparently decaf didn’t exist in Italy. “Thanks,” he told Sabin. “Where’s Marcello?”
“Gone,” Calhoun said, but he didn’t explain.
Sabin wrapped his arms around himself.
Okay, obviously more had happened tonight than the strange healing dream he’d experienced but it could wait until after he checked on Trin.
He leaned over Trin to stroke the hair off his face, taking in the heavy whisker growth and—
“His eye!”
Calhoun was nodding, an emotion flickering in his expression. Awe? Couldn’t be, Chace thought.
“You reached him. Somehow you healed him. You’re as gifted as Trin.”
Gifted? Nah, unless it was with pen and paper. But though Trin looked exhausted, he wasn’t even bruised.
Tears stung Chace’s eyes. He closed them, sponging Trin, needing to be grounded in the contact of flesh against flesh. “Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered.
“Is that coffee for me?” Trin asked, sounding grumpy, the way he always did when he had to get out of his bedroll early in the morning when they went camping in the forest.
“Yeah, there’s coffee,” Chace said, sitting up to hand it to him. “Black as sin, the way you love it.”
Trin turned on his side to look at Chace. “You…all right?” Both eyes looked at him, the familiar shape, the steady grey, but something was different. Trin’s sadness had eased. Chace thought of the sparrow that had appeared in the healing place. Hope. Trin had let hope into his world.
“Yeah, sure, dandy.”
Trin’s lips quirked. “Uh huh.” He gulped his coffee, eyes slitted with pleasure. He wasn’t in pain anymore and he was obviously savouring the moment.
Chace reached out to touch Trin’s eyebrow and temple where the eye had been destroyed, all too willing to savour along with Trin. Whole again.
“Well, I gotta get going,” Sabin said. He looked deliberately into Chace’s eyes. “This time I’m letting you know.”
Trin snapped his head up in Sabin’s direction. “Christ, don’t go.”
Sabin frowned, looking a little freaked out by Trin’s intensity. “I have stuff.”
Chace took Trin’s arm, squeezing in warning. Trin panted, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he watched Sabin walk away.
“We’ll see him again.” Chace soothed Trin, cuddling. “He’s not lost anymore.”
“Sage isn’t lost,” Trin said. “He’s broken.”
Chapter Eleven
His son was broken. His beautiful, bright, curious, laughing son.
The only time Sage laughed now was with derision.
“I didn’t even like Sabin. He tried to steal my wallet,” Trin said. “I felt sorry for him because he’s abused, because he’s a whor—”
He cut off before he could finish the word. He couldn’t… Sage, his little boy.
He felt like a truck had hit him head on and now he was lying in the dirt, bleeding out. “How could I not know who Sabin was?”
“I didn’t recognise him at first either,” Chace said, not letting go of Trin for a second, his lean, strong arms holding tight, his scent all around Trin. His mate, his beautiful mate.
Chace was going to try to fix this too. Why wouldn’t he give up? He should have run when he’d seen the creature. Trin had been so sure Chace would run.
Instead he’d cared for Trin, healed him.
“He doesn’t know who I am. His memories… When I healed him back in our room, I felt a block. How could I touch him and not know he was mine?”
“He doesn’t look like a little boy anymore, and it doesn’t seem a given to me that just because he’s your son you’d somehow immediately know, years later,” Chace said. “But I guess my artistic muse caught a few similarities. The shape of his jaw, and he has your mouth.”
Trin covered his eyes.
“Trin, we’ve found him. We
Chace took a sip of the coffee and grimaced at how strong it was. Apparently decaf didn’t exist in Italy. “Thanks,” he told Sabin. “Where’s Marcello?”
“Gone,” Calhoun said, but he didn’t explain.
Sabin wrapped his arms around himself.
Okay, obviously more had happened tonight than the strange healing dream he’d experienced but it could wait until after he checked on Trin.
He leaned over Trin to stroke the hair off his face, taking in the heavy whisker growth and—
“His eye!”
Calhoun was nodding, an emotion flickering in his expression. Awe? Couldn’t be, Chace thought.
“You reached him. Somehow you healed him. You’re as gifted as Trin.”
Gifted? Nah, unless it was with pen and paper. But though Trin looked exhausted, he wasn’t even bruised.
Tears stung Chace’s eyes. He closed them, sponging Trin, needing to be grounded in the contact of flesh against flesh. “Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered.
“Is that coffee for me?” Trin asked, sounding grumpy, the way he always did when he had to get out of his bedroll early in the morning when they went camping in the forest.
“Yeah, there’s coffee,” Chace said, sitting up to hand it to him. “Black as sin, the way you love it.”
Trin turned on his side to look at Chace. “You…all right?” Both eyes looked at him, the familiar shape, the steady grey, but something was different. Trin’s sadness had eased. Chace thought of the sparrow that had appeared in the healing place. Hope. Trin had let hope into his world.
“Yeah, sure, dandy.”
Trin’s lips quirked. “Uh huh.” He gulped his coffee, eyes slitted with pleasure. He wasn’t in pain anymore and he was obviously savouring the moment.
Chace reached out to touch Trin’s eyebrow and temple where the eye had been destroyed, all too willing to savour along with Trin. Whole again.
“Well, I gotta get going,” Sabin said. He looked deliberately into Chace’s eyes. “This time I’m letting you know.”
Trin snapped his head up in Sabin’s direction. “Christ, don’t go.”
Sabin frowned, looking a little freaked out by Trin’s intensity. “I have stuff.”
Chace took Trin’s arm, squeezing in warning. Trin panted, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he watched Sabin walk away.
“We’ll see him again.” Chace soothed Trin, cuddling. “He’s not lost anymore.”
“Sage isn’t lost,” Trin said. “He’s broken.”
Chapter Eleven
His son was broken. His beautiful, bright, curious, laughing son.
The only time Sage laughed now was with derision.
“I didn’t even like Sabin. He tried to steal my wallet,” Trin said. “I felt sorry for him because he’s abused, because he’s a whor—”
He cut off before he could finish the word. He couldn’t… Sage, his little boy.
He felt like a truck had hit him head on and now he was lying in the dirt, bleeding out. “How could I not know who Sabin was?”
“I didn’t recognise him at first either,” Chace said, not letting go of Trin for a second, his lean, strong arms holding tight, his scent all around Trin. His mate, his beautiful mate.
Chace was going to try to fix this too. Why wouldn’t he give up? He should have run when he’d seen the creature. Trin had been so sure Chace would run.
Instead he’d cared for Trin, healed him.
“He doesn’t know who I am. His memories… When I healed him back in our room, I felt a block. How could I touch him and not know he was mine?”
“He doesn’t look like a little boy anymore, and it doesn’t seem a given to me that just because he’s your son you’d somehow immediately know, years later,” Chace said. “But I guess my artistic muse caught a few similarities. The shape of his jaw, and he has your mouth.”
Trin covered his eyes.
“Trin, we’ve found him. We
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