Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 14

Balendin - Now

I lurch forward, throwing my entire body towards Peter. The moment I do, I realize my mistake. My balance is thrown off and I tumble off the high shelf, which causes the entire structure to wobble.

I throw out both of my hands for anything. My right hand slams against the top of the bookshelf, holding my body firmly in the air as my fingers dig into the wood. My left is clasped tightly around Peter's. At the pressure, he winces. I glance down and see my fingers digging into his burns.

Curse the Night.

But it's not just that. My skin is touching his, and I make no effort to hide the coldness of my touch.

"Hold on," I tell him through gritted teeth.

I may not have my powers, but I am still a Guard. I still have an undeniable force inside of me.

With a grunt, I lift—more throw—Peter over the top of the bookshelf. My hand falls away and snaps against the wood to keep me in place. With a short grunt, Peter manages to lift himself the rest of the way.

I hang by both of my hands, my feet resting on nothing but air. Biting back a curse, I place my feet on one of the shelves and attempt to hoist myself up .

"Vincent," Peter blurts out from above me.

When I look up at him, I realize he's offering his hand.

I don't need you, I nearly spit. But when I see the desperate look in his eyes, I can't deny him. This time I hide away the sensation of my dark form and reach my hand up towards him. He clasps it with such force I'm worried he's trying to break the bones I don't have. With his help, I drag myself up onto the top of the bookshelf.

For a moment, we're frozen in place. Our chests move up and down rapidly with every heavy breath. I look down. Our hands are still intertwined. I feel the softness of his skin only tainted by the calluses on his palms.

I can't remember the last time a human touched me like this when I wasn't trying to take their soul.

Peter is the one to pull away.

"Are you all right?" he says, his eyes searching mine.

I manage to meet his gaze. "Are you?"

"I asked you first."

I'm not the human here. "I'm fine."

"Me too."

Then there's nothing but our breaths filling the air. I can only imagine how fast Peter's heart is beating, and what it must feel like. Having something so alive and fluttering inside your chest.

I push away the thought.

"When you grabbed my hand..." Peter starts, then drifts off.

My face falls.

"My apologies," I tell him. "My hands are often cold."

"Not cold," he says, shaking his head.

"Then... what?"

He looks at me as if I'm a puzzle he wants to put together. "I'm not sure." He looks down, flexing and relaxing his hands. "Maybe I imagined it."

It is an indescribable feeling, I'm sure. Guards and humans were never built to interact. Guards are made for the dark depths of the Underworld where the only thing we have to deal with is souls. We do not know the difference between warmth and cold. When I stand beneath the blazing sun, I feel no different than if I were walking through a rainstorm.

I have heard rumors that Nightwatchers experience the Overworld in a different light. They feel every sensation humans do—even pain—and they, too, live eternally.

Peter lets out a short sigh, distracting me. He meets my eyes and the warmness of his enchants me. "Why did we just do that?"

For a moment, I can't even remember. Then I look up at the broken ceiling and it all comes rushing back to me.

"Trust me on one last thing?" I ask, a smile toying at my lips.

Peter looks at me, his brow raised. "Yes?" It's more a question than an answer, but I take it nonetheless.

When I go to climb through the missing portion of the ceiling, I make sure Peter is close behind. Once I'm outside and safely positioned on the cracking roof, I reach out a hand to help Peter out next to me. My hand lingers on his back while I make sure he's not going to fall.

"Thanks," he says.

I don't respond and slowly move further away.

"I knew you liked books," I say eventually. "And the view is just an added bonus."

He smiles, and his eyes light up in a way that makes the darkness inside me flicker.

"Hm," he mutters, then his gaze lowers to me. "Thank you. For this."

"For the view? Or for saving your life twice now?"

"Does it count as a save if you're the one who put me in danger in the first place?"

I open my mouth to counter, then close it. "Fine. You can have that one."

Our conversation ends, and the comforting silence wraps around us.

From here, we can look out over the entire city. We see light pouring out from inside houses or glowing on the streets. We spot people quickly making their way home after a long day of work. But my gaze always remains towards the sky and at the pinpricks of light coming out from their hiding.

When my gaze lowers to Peter, I realize he can't take his eyes away either.

There are memories playing behind Peter's eyes, I can tell. The way he's here, but only in body and not in mind.

I turn my attention away from him and look back up at the stars. But my curiosity stays and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking about.