Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.
Word Count: ~4,700
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The heat in the room kept rising while the pool came to a roiling boil. Lilah froze in her position, kneeling close to the rim. Her hands came up in front of her body, a motion borne solely out of the instinct to defend herself against attack. Pools of blood didn’t just boil all by themselves.
Suddenly, the blood lurched to one side. It rushed in the opposition direction from where Lilah was kneeling in one massive, rolling bulb of crimson. The liquid mass condensed near the stairs, overflowing the rim, before sloshing in back towards her. Not wanting to get covered in it, Lilah fell back onto her ass. She got her hands and feet beneath her and crab-walked as fast as she could until she hit the wall behind her. Even with the extra space, the blood caught up, spilling over her toes and the soles of her feet. It hurt. Because of the boiling. It was also really, really gross.
The word ‘ew’ left her mouth in one long, disgusted syllable. She shifted her balance left and right, flicking her feet to clean them. The skin was inflamed, but not blistered, as she thought they might be. Lilah stared at them, watching in real time as the swelling went down, returning her feet to their normal shape. The pain of the burn faded in tandem with the swelling.
“That is...weird,” she drawled with a frown.
The pool lurched again. Harder, this time. Lilah walked her hands up the wall and stood, but still ended up with blood up to her calves. She hissed with fresh pain that faded just as fast as it came. Her toes wiggled in the messy aftermath. She had just enough brain power that wasn’t being used to scream ‘run’ at her to be annoyed. This was her only set of clothes and now they were all sticky.
When Lilah was young, her father hit a dog while taking her to school one morning. She remembered hearing him curse for the very first time and how quickly he stopped the car so that he could get out to see what they hit. Even as a child, Lilah was not a very patient person. She waited all of a minute or two before unbuckling her seat belt and joining her father on the side of the road. He was crouched near the animal and she could hear it whimpering in pain. As she approached, her father held up his hand to stop her. He told her that an injured animal is a dangerous animal and that the dog might bite her, even if she was trying to help.
It would take a significant amount of force to move that amount of blood so violently. Lilah didn’t know what, exactly, he was doing under there, but she definitely knew the extent of his injuries and it looked like he was coming up swinging. She didn’t want to end out as collateral damage for an enraged preternatural being.
While Lilah cringed, the pool began to settle. The forward and back undulation softened to nothing but a slow ripple, then to the stillness that bad been there before. Lilah watched for further movement before daring to step closer. One sticky foot in front of the other, she neared the rim and called out, “Brasa?”
Lilah received no answer. She tried again and got more of the same. Lilah moved even closer and said his name a third time, raising her voice so that it echoed off the far wall. She got an answer this time. Large air bubbles rose to the surface, each one moving just a little bit closer than the last. It was Brasa, it had to be. Lila dropped to her knees and leaned forward onto her hands so that she could peer into the opaque depths. The bubbles stopped about an arm’s length from her. She focused on the spot, waiting for something—anything—to to happen.
The pool was still again for long enough that Lilah’s hope for Brasa to emerge began to dwindle. She let out the breath she’d been holding, disappointed and faintly demoralized. Her shoulders dropped and she passed a hand over her face, as if the motion could wipe away the stress and the worry.
“Get it together, Lilah.”
The temperature was still high. Stifling. Lilah could feel sweat pooling at the back of her neck and under her arms. The blood on her feet and calves was drying into a fine, flaky crust. She rubbed at her them, eyeing the shower across the room. The thought of cool water clearing away all the sweat and blood had Lilah moving to stand. Even if she didn’t have a change of clothes, Lilah could at least get clean. Clearly, Brasa wasn’t going anywhere. As she pushed her hands into the floor, another bubble burst to the surface. It was the largest bubble by far, sending ripples outwards in quick succession. She bit her lip, squinting while her heart kicked up in her chest.
Blood swirled around the space where the bubble floated up. It formed a small funnel the reached slowly downward to towards the bottom. After a moment, it dissipated with a wet, sucking sound. Blood splashed in a wide spray, peppering the surface with droplets. Lilah leaned away, despite the fact that she was already half covered. She kept looking, kept waiting. Hope burned in her chest. The feeling wasn’t soft or sweet. It wasn’t that kind of hope. Lilah’s hope was a sharp, jagged thing. An instrument meant to carve, as opposed to nurture.
Jagged hope in hand, Lilah grit her teeth and kept watching. It started as a shadow. A darkness that moved slowly to the rim. As it moved, it grew in size. Vague and amorphous, it rested just below the surface, teasing Lilah with the possibility that Brasa might be alive enough to come out of the pool. Injured and healing, but alive. Pissed the fuck off, but alive.
He broke the surface slowly. Head and shoulders obscured momentarily by the oozing flow of blood running off his body. Lilah recognized the sharp slant of his eyebrows and the way his chin lifted proudly. He was still wearing the clothes she found him in when he lay nearly dead on the altar. The bloodstained shirt was hanging open to reveal equally bloodstained the bandages Javier wrapped tightly around his torso. She couldn’t tell if the wound was still open, but he was upright and that was a step in the right direction.
Eyes closed, Brasa took an audible breath. She could hear a slight rattle in his lungs as he did. Had he inhaled some of the blood while he was healing? Did he actually need to breathe? She couldn’t remember ever hearing him say anything about it. Lilah shook her head and focused on him.His chest rose with the inhale. Lilah watched the movement closely, noting that it looked relatively normal. Then, he opened his eyes and there was nothing normal about them.
Lilah made a soft, surprised sound that she cut off by snapping her mouth shut. She held his stare while her muscles bunched in preparation to flee. Brasa’s eyes—eyes that she knew could oscillate between a warm brown and fierce, deep, dark black—were a bright, burning gold. She might even go so far as to describe them as molten. Those molten eyes were looking at her in confusion, as if he were looking at her for the first time.
Her lungs burned, forcing her to draw a quick, gasping breath. Brasa’s uncanny eyes caught on to it and his gaze narrowed a fraction. He walked forward, wading through the blood easily, until he stood directly in front of her. For once, Lilah had the advantage of height. She looked down at him, caught up in the swirling glint of his golden eyes. Even covered in gore, even with his strange golden eyes, he was still handsome. Lilah had to hip-check the urge to lean down and press her lips to his. An injured animal is a dangerous animal.
Brasa’s hand lifted and he started to reach for her cheek. His arm stalled in mid air, drops of dark red plopping loudly in the silence. For the first time, he broke eye contact with her to look at his own hand. The fingers curled in on themselves, squeezing more blood out of his palm. Brasa’s lip curled and he took a deliberate step back. Lilah watched him turn and walk across the pool to the stairs. He climbed them slowly, moving without his usual grace and efficiency. Then, he headed for the shower.
Lilah frowned at his back, feeling oddly rejected. His expression had been inscrutable and he certainly wasn’t explaining what he was thinking. Determined that she wouldn’t be brushed aside so easily, she stood and circled the pool while Brasa shrugged out of his shirt. The ruined material felt to the floor, forgotten, while he began to unwind the bandage around his chest. By the time Lilah got to the edge of the green tile, the long length of bloodstained gauze had joined his shirt and he was pushing the waist of his pants down over his legs.
She hesitated, eyes following him as he walked to the tap and spun the knob. Water burst from the shower head, catching on his skin and forming pink rivers that flowed in winding downward paths. With his back turned to her, Lilah couldn’t see the full extent of his injuries. She couldn’t see if there was still a hole in his chest. Couldn’t see if he still needed help. What she could see was the smooth, unblemished skin of his back. Lilah could see the hills and valleys of muscle that her hands had mapped over and over. She could see how his hips dipped in ever so slightly above the curve of his ass. She could see how his thighs flexed as he shifted his weight. She could see his arms lifting so that he could scrub the blood from his face and hair. All of this, Lilah could see. And, it made her want to touch. To press her palms to his shoulders, to turn him so that she could look into his weird new eyes and rejoice that he was alive.
Lilah must have made a sound. A sigh, or a groan, or an eager exhalation of breath. Brasa swiped a hand over his face and turned to look back at her with eyes so golden that they nearly glowed. Lilah almost couldn’t look at them. Her attention quickly shifted down to his chest. The hole where Amaru dug out his heart was closed, although there was a raised and ragged scar. Her relief was so intense that tears sprang to her eyes, falling over her cheeks unchecked. Lilah’s lips parted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words. She just kept standing there like an idiot, looking at him with her mouth hanging open.
For several impossibly long seconds, there was no sound except for the water hitting the floor and a low, gentle sizzle. Steam wafted gently through the shower area. It was unnaturally thick, blurring all the edges until the whole room felt soft and dreamlike. Lilah was so focused on Brasa’s face that it took her a little while to see how the water was no longer hitting his body. The sizzle she’d been hearing was the sound of droplets bursting into steam just short of Brasa’s skin.
She said his name. The sound of it was a question, but Lilah had no idea what she was asking him to tell her. Brasa blinked slowly and pivoted to face her directly. He walked over to Lilah, placing one foot deliberately in front of the other. She recognized that approach from their early days, knew that he was choosing to go slowly so he wouldn’t frighten her.
Was she frightened? Lilah took a quick scan of her body and discovered, to her chagrin, that she was frightened. All the fear about losing him to Amaru’s machinations, and then to the depths of the pool, had shifted around to a fear that he was changed in way that was deeper than the color of his eyes. Had he survived only to be so changed that they no longer recognized one another?
Brasa’s fingers brushed her cheek and Lilah hissed. His touch scalded her, as if every finger was red hot. She pulled back and cupped her cheek, blinking at him in confusion. Brasa’s hand stilled and she could see her confusion reflected back to her in the crease between his brows. Brasa frowned and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they were the same brown eyes Lilah knew so well.
“Lilah,” he murmured. “its okay. I’m okay.”
Blinking through the tears, Lilah inhaled a horribly loud, agonizing breath. Any control she had over her emotions and her body dissolved at the sound of his voice. She reached for him, stopping short when she remembered the searing heat. Brasa’s mouth tipped up in a small smile and he very, very slowly took her hand. He was warm, but didn’t burn this time—and that made her cry harder.
Hushing her softly, Brasa gathered Lilah in his arms and held her while she cried. She let out all the emotions, old and new, that had been building for months. What made it worse was her inability to say anything. Lilah couldn’t form the words to tell him how scared she had been, how it felt to see him torn open on the altar, or what it was like to sit in vigil by the pool with no guarantee that he would ever come back to the surface. The great exhalation of feeling left her sagging against Brasa’s chest. He rocked her gently, one hand rubbing up and down her back until she calmed.
“I’m here,” he assured her.
Even with Brasa real and solid in her arms, Lilah could hardly believe it. She tilted her chin up to look at him. Her eyes roved over his familiar features, memorizing what she already knew by heart. Brasa indulged her for a time, until she let out a long, exhausted breath. He smiled and Lilah couldn’t resist touching the dimples on either side with her thumbs. It was nothing to meet him halfway when he leaned down to kiss her. The shape of his mouth was the same, as was the warm greeting of his tongue. Once she started kissing him, Lilah couldn’t seem to stop because kissing him meant that everything was put to right again, that all the chaos was, for the moment, gone.
Brasa took her kisses and gave them back to her with a passion that was sweeter than anything she’d ever experienced. He held her close while he sidled back into the shower. His steps were slow. One at a time. Lilah went with him, uncaring that her clothes were soaked through. She wasn’t going to be wearing them much longer, anyways, not if she had anything to do with it. Lilah kept kissing him while water dripped from her shirt and jeans.
There was the squeak of a turning knob and the shower turned off. His arms pulled her closer, squeezing her tight to his naked body. Lilah sighed happily into his mouth and pushed into him so that they were pressed together from chest to knee. She felt more than heard his slight gasp and the way his back bowed to put space between them. With a mental curse, Lilah remembered that he had been mortally wounded not a few days before and that he might still be hurting. She cringed and tried to put more space between them, “Sorry, sorry.”
Brasa was already shaking his head, “No. I’m alright. Just...sore.”
He had to be a lot more than sore. He’d had a whole fucking organ removed. Sore probably didn’t even begin to cover it. Lilah felt a wave of guilt come over her, followed by faint embarrassment. He’d been awake for less than ten minutes and she’d thrown herself at him without thinking.
She assessed him anew, seeing for the first time how tired he looked. “You should,” Lilah cleared her throat, “maybe lay down for a bit.”
Brasa’s brow lifted with wry humor, “You think so?”
Warmth crept up her neck. Lilah resisted the urge to swat at him, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
He hummed, ignoring her. His fingers caught the hem of her shirt and pushed beneath it to splay over her belly. Lilah made a half-hearted sound of censure that Brasa also ignored while his other hand joined the first. He kneaded her skin with a clear, focused intent before he tugged her shirt up and over her head.
“Brasa,” she said breathlessly, “you are hurt.”
Again he ignored her. He brushed the backs of his fingers over the cup of her bra, following the line of the band to the back so that he could unfasten it. He threw her shirt and bra to the side and ducked down to lay his head in the curve of her shoulder. The unexpected move caught Lilah off guard so much that it took her a second or two to return the embrace. She hugged him tight, mindful of the scar she could feel against her chest. A single hard line scoring him in half.
Brasa held her like that as the room cooled. Then, he ran both hands down her sides to slip his fingers into the waist of her jeans. Lilah knew what he was doing and she couldn’t let him keep going. As much as she wanted to be closer to him, he had just woken up from near death and he needed rest. Her needs would have to wait until he was fully recovered.
“C’mon,” she ordered quietly.
He grumbled as she pulled away from him, but let her take his hand and lead him out of the shower area and around the side of the pool to the door. It was here that he stalled, tugging her to him a step or two so that her back molded to his chest. Brasa folded both arms around her and buried his face into her hair. Here, he took a long, deep breath. Then, she felt his mouth trace down her neck to her shoulder where he let his teeth rest against her skin. He didn’t bite down, but the threat of it sent a shiver all over.
Brasa’s hand skimmed over her belly and down to the button of her jeans. He flicked it open and pushed his fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear down, down, down, until he met the hot, wet, core of her. Lilah whimpered as he rubbed firmly in large circles. All the reasons why she shouldn’t let him keep touching her were suddenly very far away. If he felt well enough to initiate intimacy, then he couldn’t really feel that bad.
Lilah bit down on her better judgment and widened her stance to give him more room. He hummed happily, rewarding her with more focused circles over her clit. The surge of pleasure it sent through her body nearly buckled her knees. Brasa’s arms tightened, bringing her closer. The subtle shift in their bodies highlighted the irregular pattern of the scar, reminding Lilah once again that taking what he was offering her would be selfish.
“Wait,” she croaked. “Wait.”
Brasa’s fingers stopped and he arched his neck over her shoulder to get a look at her face, “What is it?”
Lilah turned to face him, “This is...really nice, but you need rest.”
He rolled his eyes, “I’m fine, really.”
“You died.” Her voice was an accusation. “That takes a lot out of you.”
“You’re forgetting what I am,” he replied. Slowly, as if talking to a child.
Irritated by the condescension, Lilah made herself take a moment to say, “I don’t care what you are. You died. That’s a lot for even a god. So, bed.”
Brasa rolled his eyes again, but followed her to the bedroom and let her guide him to sit on the mattress. The sun was up, filling the skylight with beams that angled towards the East. Lilah estimated that is was early afternoon. In an hour or so, the room would dim some and that might make it easier for him to sleep.
Instead of scooting back to get under the covers, he grasped her hips and pulled her to stand between his knees. Lilah’s hands went naturally to his shoulders. Again, she was struck by how real he was. She knew she was awake and she knew she wasn’t hallucinating. Brasa was actually sitting in front of her, looking at her as he always did—with eyes that told her everything he was feeling.
She pushed his damp hair back from his face. It was drying in curls that he would brush away in the morning. But, for now, she could wind them around her fingers all she wanted. He leaned forward and let his forehead rest against the valley between her breasts. Lilah cradled his head and ran her hand up and down his back. The motion was as soothing to her as it was for him.
Brasa’s head turned and he pressed his lips to the soft mound of her breast, His hands tightened very slightly on her waist, as if he expected her to pull away. She didn’t. Lilah stood where she was and let him place little kisses over and between her breasts, gasping quietly when his mouth closed over a nipple. She knew she should stop him. That she should order him into the bed to sleep and recover. And, she would. In a minute or two.
It wasn’t until he started pulling down her jeans and underwear that her conscience caught up with her. Lilah steeled her resolve and pushed his hands away, “Alright, alright. Its bed time for you.”
Brasa whined, “I’m not tired.”
“Don’t you lie to me just because you want to get laid.” Lilah tried to sound serious, but she was smiling the whole time. “Now, up.”
She was able to get him into the center of the bed and under the covers, but when she went to pull away, he caught her hand. Wide brown eyes looked up at her with such innocence that it stopped her from censuring him, “Lay with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
A slight tug on her hand, “Please?”
The single word was a question and it rang with uncertainty. Lilah felt all the steel inside her melt away. She put a knee on the mattress before realizing that her jeans were covered in blood that was drying for a second time. Not wanting to destroy the sheets and mattress, she shucked them and her underwear to the floor and crawled naked under the covers.
“We’re resting,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Resting.”
He nodded in a way that told her he was barely listening. She let him gather her up into his chest so that they lay on their sides facing one another. For a little while, there was nothing but soft touches and the gentle rhythm of their breathing. Lilah watched Brasa’s eyes grow more tired, more glassy as time went on. She would wait until he fell asleep, then go out and find her phone to tell Javier the good news.
“I dreamed of you,” Brasa murmured quietly.
Lilah made a sound a sound of question.
“I dreamed of you,” he repeated. “While I was under, I dreamed of you. The pain was...painful, but I could stand it when I dreamed of you.”
Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Lilah had hoped that he was unconscious throughout, that all he experienced was nothingness. To hear that he felt every bit of his body knitting back together made her both sad and angry. It made her want to walk into that cell Richie built and put a bullet in Amaru’s head—didn’t matter that it was also Kate’s head. Lilah wanted justice. She wanted vengeance. But, now wasn’t the time for either. Now, Lilah simply nodded and stroked a path down his side to where his skin met the blanket.
“I was afraid of what she would do to you—of what she had done to you. I remember when she was cutting me open that I hoped you ran away, that you would never find us.”
Lilah swallowed down her anger and replied, “I wouldn’t do that. I wasn’t going to leave you to be killed by her.”
He nodded, as if he expected her to say that all along, “I know. When I regained consciousness, I was afraid to reach for you. I was afraid that our bond wouldn’t be there anymore and that I would walk the world alone. That thought hurt more than having my chest ripped open. So, I lay there and let myself dream of you. I told myself it would just be for a little while, until I was ready…”
Lilah waited for him to continue. Brasa looked for half a second like he would, but the words didn’t come. He simply pulled her closer and kissed the crown of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. Lilah wanted to be strong for him, for them both. When she thought she could speak without crying, she said, “I’m here. You’re here. We’re here.”
Brasa’s reply was a soft, sleepy hum. Slowly, by degrees, his body relaxed into the mattress and his breaths became even. Lilah kept laying there for a while, listening to the thump-thump of his heart. It was strong and steady, keeping her love alive with every beat. Her gratitude to the fist sized clump of muscle would last forever.
When she was sure that Brasa wouldn’t wake, Lilah slipped from the bed and hustled to the living area where her cell phone was still charging. She quickly dialed Javier and, before he could finish saying ‘hello’, began giving him the rundown of everything that had happened.
“This is wonderful news,” he said. Lilah could hear movement on the other side of the line, “I’ll bring a cooler to you. He will be starved, I’m sure.”
He went on for a minute or two, verbally working through what needed to be done. Javier would bring them clothes and she would need an extra meal or two. If Brasa was up to it, Javier would take them back to the caves where he was still working to clean up Amaru’s mess. The shipments were on time, so he shouldn’t worry about feeding the culebras who were still loyal. All of this and more came rolling out of Javier’s mouth in a stream of consciousness that was, frankly, overwhelming. Lilah couldn’t have anticipated or coordinated half as much as he had in three times the amount of time. She was so, so grateful to him for picking up the pieces.
“Thank you, Javier.”
There must have been something in her tone that cued him to how close she was to having a breakdown because Javier paused, “Of course.”
A few minutes of logistics later, Lilah ended the phone call and padded back to the bedroom where Brasa was still sleeping. He’d rolled to his back with one arm over his head and the other stretched out beside him, as if he were reaching for her even in sleep. She put the phone under her pillow and crawled in next to him, barely resisting the urge to cuddle as close as possible. He needed sleep and she was afraid to wake him with any touching.
She watched him sleep in between short bouts of dozing, until the sun moved across the skylight and down towards the horizon. The room dropped into a hazy orange that deepened into purple, then darkness. Lilah kept watching Brasa until she couldn’t even see the proud slope of his profile in the dark. She drifted into a true sleep listening to the sound of his breaths.
