Brush with Death

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Catherine Lievens

ISBN :978-1-4874-4348-1

Page :131

Word Count :40000

Publication Date :2025-07-24

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats :

Category : Erotic Romance , LGBTQIA+ Romance , LGBTQIA+ , What's New

BrandsExtasy Books
Product Code: 978-1-4874-4348-1

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Cyril’s brush with death is closer than it’s ever been.

Cyril has been a necromancer all his life. He doesn’t know who he is without his ability, so when he hits his head and he’s unable to reanimate people, he panics. What’s he supposed to do if he can’t be a necromancer? How is he supposed to help people?

Then a friend of his dies.

Vale doesn’t know how to help Cyril. He’s not surprised when Cyril agrees to help find out what happened to his friend, even though he can’t use his ability as a necromancer to do so. It makes things more complicated, but it doesn’t mean they can’t investigate—and investigate they do, because Cyril would do anything for his friends.

Will Cyril get his ability back? Vale doesn’t know, but either way, he’s not going anywhere, no matter how much trouble Cyril manages to get himself into.

Vale was getting used to waking up with a skull on his chest. He didn’t even open his eyes to look anymore. He reached down and stroked the top of Oscar’s body—or was it his head—and smiled when he felt Oscar’s tentacles moving with excitement. Just a few months ago, this situation would’ve freaked him out. It still did a little if he thought too hard about the fact that there was a being made of reanimated bones sleeping on his chest. He tried not to think too hard about that, but sometimes, it was impossible not to.

Vale did live with a necromancer, after all.

He turned sideways and smiled at the sight of Cyril sleeping next to him. Oscar skittered off the bed after falling to the mattress, making an irritated sound because Vale had dislodged him. Vale ignored him. He had better things to do, like staring at his boyfriend.

That was something else Vale wouldn’t have believed a few months ago. He had a boyfriend. He’d retired and was putting down roots, something he couldn’t have imagined himself doing. Meeting Cyril had changed his life so completely that sometimes, he could hardly remember what he’d done before him.

“I hate when you do that,” Cyril grumbled.

“When I do what?”

Cyril blinked his eyes open. He smiled, reminding Vale just how completely in love he was with him. “Watching me sleep. It’s creepy.”

“What’s creepy is your pet.”

“Let it go, Vale. Oscar was here before you, and he’ll still be here after you and I die.”

Vale grimaced. He was tempted to ask what would happen when Cyril passed away since it was his gift that had reanimated Oscar, but he didn’t really care. He didn’t want to have to think about Cyril not being here anymore. “Can we not talk about either of us dying?”

Cyril snuggled close. “Whatever you want.”

This was what made life worth living. Before Cyril, Vale only had work. It had been easier and safer, but he’d been lonely, even with his friends. He’d never be lonely again.

It had been easy to get used to having Cyril in his life because Cyril was a delight. It had been less easy to get used to Cyril’s job and Oscar, but Vale would never regret any of it. He was happy for what felt like the first time in his life. He didn’t want that to change, and he’d fight to ensure that it didn’t.

Their morning was soft and lazy. After cuddling in bed for a while and listening to Oscar’s tentacles skittering on the wooden floor, they got up, and Vale cooked Cyril breakfast. It was disgustingly domestic, and Vale loved it. Gone were the days of following people in dark alleys and killing them—not that Vale had ever killed anyone in a dark alley. He’d planned his hits better than that. But he was done with that part of his life, and he was happy about that, even though it left him at a loss.

It also left him available to protect Cyril and spend time with him, which was good. The problem was that they couldn’t be attached at the hip, even though Vale didn’t like the thought of Cyril not being in his sight.

“When’s Russell getting here?” Cyril asked as he sipped his coffee and played with one of Oscar’s tentacles. The bony pet was in his lap, and his tentacles inched toward Cyril’s plate every so often.

The damn thing didn’t even have a stomach, for fuck’s sake.