Dancing with Death

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Catherine Lievens

ISBN :978-1-4874-4379-5

Page :130

Word Count :39930

Publication Date :2025-12-26

Series : Not Quite Dead#4

Heat Level :

Available Formats :

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

BrandsExtasy Books
Product Code: 978-1-4874-4379-5

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When a necromancer’s powers spiral out of control, he must choose between trusting his boyfriend’s deadly past or losing him forever to the organization hunting them both.

Cyril thought he understood his necromancy—until his powers began changing in ways that terrify him. They feel stronger and almost out of control, and his beloved pet Oscar is growing more aggressive by the day. But that mystery takes a backseat when people from Vale’s past come with threats instead of questions.

Vale has spent close to ten years trying to forget the Organization and the blood on his hands from his time with them. He should have told Cyril about that part of his past, but how do you explain to the man you love that you had to obey orders you didn’t agree with? Now his former employers want him dead, and they’re willing to destroy anyone who gets in their way.

When Cyril starts experiencing nightmares of other people’s deaths, he’s forced to confront the horrifying possibility that the gentle, protective man he’s fallen for might have killed people he swore he’d never hurt. With his powers spiraling out of control and enemies closing in, Cyril has a choice to make.

And a boyfriend to save.

The contrast between talking to Vale about vacation and finding a bloody man on their doorstep was stark. It took Cyril a minute to digest it all, then he reached to open his door.

Vale caught his arm. “Wait.”

“John’s bleeding,” Cyril pointed out as if Vale couldn’t see that for himself.

“It could be a trap.”

That gave Cyril pause. Why would someone use John to set up a trap? If this was a trap, they weren’t here for Cyril. They were here for Vale. Cyril didn’t have the kind of enemies who would do something like that. “What do we do?” he asked because Vale was the expert.

“Stay here.”

Cyril wanted to argue, but he would be of no help in a fight. His only ability lay in his necromancy, and that wasn’t something he could use in this situation. That meant that he had to watch his boyfriend leave the car and move toward John, and he couldn’t do anything to help.

John didn’t look great. He was still holding his arm against his chest as if it was broken and wincing every time he moved. The blood on his face was scary. Had someone punched him? Did he have more wounds that Cyril couldn’t see? Cyril wanted to know what had happened, but at the same time, he didn’t. It was clear that whatever it was wasn’t good, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be involved.

Whether or not he wanted to be, he suspected he would be. John had come here for a reason. He probably wanted to talk to Vale, maybe ask him for help. That meant Vale would get involved, which in turn meant that Cyril would, too. He wasn’t letting his boyfriend deal with whatever this was on his own.

Vale disappeared from sight. Of course he didn’t go straight to John. If this was a trap, he wanted to poke around and find the people who’d set it. John really wasn’t in good shape, though, and Cyril hated having to wait and watch him suffer. He wanted to help.

Even though John had tried to kill his boyfriend.

Vale eventually reappeared between two parked cars and waved at Cyril to get out of the car. Cyril hurriedly did that, rushing toward John since Vale wasn’t. He was probably more focused on keeping the area safe for Cyril, but someone needed to help John. He was here because he needed them.

John was leaning against the wall by the door. He looked like he was having a hard time staying upright, and Cyril wondered if they should take him to the hospital. He already knew what John would say if he suggested it. He wouldn’t want to go because he’d have to explain what had happened, and it wasn’t something he could do. Considering his job and the kind of position he and Vale were in, it would be a better idea not to leave traces anywhere official, especially in a hospital.

“I’m not sure we can help him here,” Cyril murmured when Vale reached him.

“No hospitals,” Vale said in a terse voice.

“I know, but we might not have a choice.”

John shook his head. “I heard that, and I’m fine. I’m not here for help.”

Cyril paused and frowned. “What do you mean, you’re not here for help? You clearly need help.”

“I might, but it’s not why I’m here. I need to talk to Vale.”

“Whatever you have to say, it can wait. Let’s go inside. We’ll take care of you.”

“There’s no need for you to do that.”

“Do I look like I’m asking if you want to do it? If you don’t, I’ll just ask Vale to carry you.”

John turned to Vale. “Maybe I should say no just for that. I wouldn’t mind being carried by you.”

Vale flipped him off and moved to open the door. It was a sign of how much pain John was in that he didn’t continue teasing. He followed Vale inside, moving slowly and wincing every so often.

Whatever the reason he’d come here, he definitely needed medical help. Cyril wasn’t a nurse and was more used to dealing with dead people, but he could probably help at least a bit. He was sure they could call Artemis if they needed more.

He hoped they wouldn’t have to.

It took a bit of work, but they finally managed to get John inside and onto the couch. His body was stiff, and it was clear he was hiding more wounds under his jacket and clothes. Cyril wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he knew John wouldn’t accept any other help, so he’d have to improvise.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.

John grinned at him. “Not in front of your boyfriend, Cyril.”

Cyril rolled his eyes and stared at John until he sighed and his shoulders slumped. Satisfied that John would obey, Cyril rushed to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. By the time he was back, John’s jacket and t-shirt were gone, exposing his chest.

Just like Cyril had thought, there were more wounds he hadn’t been able to see before.

It was horrifying. John’s chest was turning black and blue, which meant that whatever had happened to him wasn’t as recent as Cyril had thought. Someone also seemed to have taken great pleasure in cutting up John’s chest and stomach. Cyril stopped counting the parallel wounds when he reached fifteen. Some of them were so deep that Cyril suspected they’d need stitches, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with that.

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Dancing with Death

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