Chapter 18

Who was awake. Sitting up. Bathed in a stripe of moonbeam, because they hadn’t quite closed the curtains. Looking at a hand, turning it over; studying fingers and motion as if memorizing the structure, the bones, the veins.

“…Justin?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m up now.” He sat up; the blankets puddled at their waists. They’d slept clothed because Justin had been chilly; Kris’s body missed being naked with his husband, but could be happy just having Justin secure beside him. “You all right, love?’

“I think…yes. I don’t know. Something feels…different.”

Alarm bells skittered. Moonlight rang with concern. Kris lifted his other hand, ready over a demon-mark. “Want me to call your aunts?”

“No. I feel…it’s like…it’s itchy.” Justin rubbed a wrist. “Prickly. Like…a cut that’s mostly closed over. But, like…inside.”

“Is that…good?”

“I don’t know!”

“You still look like, um, like you…like you now, I mean.”