Pitr curled his fingers around Liam’s shoulder, digging in, sending a thrill down Liam’s spine he both hated and loved. If he could see this through with Pitr—if he could keep from losing him—then someday, he could have what he deserved.

“You won’t lose me,” Pitr murmured. He turned Liam to face him, tightened fingers in Liam’s hair. His kiss was metallic. Salty, like an oath sealed in blood. Liam felt something inside him shatter, but he didn’t dare examine it. He wanted, too much, to believe.

Liam slipped from sleep and memory into darkness, a cold alkaline scent thick in his nostrils. He tried to reach out with his right hand for the glass of water he kept on the nightstand in his rented room. But this wasn’t Princeton, and his right arm refused to obey. Pain spiraled out of his shoulder to remind him of everything that had happened yesterday, and Princeton felt further away than ever.

He did a little mental math. He’d had to sell his ma’s golden medallion of Saint Patrick to afford airline tickets, but he’d been able to leave the home nurse with more than enough funds to last three months. Class would have been in session for two weeks now; they’d surely noticed he was missing, but his graduate advisor was probably too swamped to worry about him just yet. Still, this was taking far longer than he’d planned. And now the book had been moved to Wewelsburg—

Footsteps weighed on the stairs outside the projection loft. Liam wrestled himself into a seated position, propping up against a rough stone wall. There were no windows in here, but he felt well rested enough. It had to be midmorning at least. They hadn’t kicked him out just yet.

The door opened, and Daniel turned on the lights. He carried a mug that smelled of weak coffee and a buttered pumpernickel roll. Liam’s stomach growled as Daniel crouched down, and pink brushed over Daniel’s cheeks. Almost a smile. Liam relaxed at that.

“You’re looking better,” Daniel said, offering him the plate and mug. His eyes were brighter today, but stormy as ever. He smelled wonderful—warm and damp, freshly soaped. Liam felt embarrassed by his sweaty state.

Liam took a long swallow of coffee, not caring that it was weak. “This helps. Thanks.”

Daniel’s gaze roved over him, taking him in. Immediately Liam had a flash of memory—something he might have babbled in the throes of pain—and it was his turn to blush.

“Listen . . .” Liam bit his lower lip as he fished around for the right words. “If I, uh—if I said anything that, that—embarrassed you, or—”

“You didn’t. Embarrass me, I mean.” Daniel’s throat bobbed. “You did say a lot of things. Most of them unrepeatable.”