With groans, grunts, and a fair amount of sweat spilling he finally managed to pull himself back up to stand. His whole body felt heavy like he'd gained two hundred pounds overnight. His arms hung at his side like boulders; each time he took a step, or tried to, it felt like he was dragging a planet behind him.

Bottles and cans slid across the floor as he shuffled by them. The room didn't just spin around it, it raced up and down, side to side, and freaking sideways. Squinting, he kept his eye on the bedroom door and made his way to it. By time he reached it, it felt like an hour later with the little baby steps he took and he’d managed to bump into every table and wall along the way.

The noise blaring from the TV, some obnoxious show he didn't even know he'd owned, helped him more than he could believe. The sounds seemed to keep him occupied, keep his mind from drifting where it wanted to go—even to his own detriment.

Pitch black surrounded him as he entered the bedroom. He'd turn on the light but right now the darkness felt welcoming. Like a cool hand on a feverish forehead. He made his way to the bathroom but must have been walking sideways because his shoulder slammed into the bedpost.

“Frika!” he cursed. His shoulder burned with the beginnings of a good bruise.

He stumbled into the bathroom and flicked on the light. With jerky movements he tore his shirt off, toed off his shoes, but lost his balance which sent him slamming face first into the ground. His cheek glanced off the hard tile and he felt the beginnings of another bruise start to form.

Fucking perfect.

Using his elbows and hands he crawled into the shower space and leaned against the wall. The frigid cold tiles sent a violent shiver over his heated body. He forced his eyes closed and made himself press all the way back until his entire body shivered like little electrical impulses shot through his body.

Swinging his arm up, he slammed his fist into the “on” button on the panel. Water poured down from a metal grate in the ceiling. The temperature was programmed in just how he liked it—a perfect lukewarm.

His eyes drifted shut and flashing images of his brother and mother projected behind his eyelids like scenes from an old movie reel.

Groaning, he shoved the heel of his hands into his eye sockets until pain flared and his eyeballs felt like they were going to explode.

As the water poured over him, matting his hair to his face, making his pants cling to his legs, he had a brief thought as to how ridiculous he looked. The laughter started and wouldn't stop. He slid down to the floor and felt the water beating over his face and neck. If he opened his mouth far enough he almost felt like he was drowning from the small downpour.

The images never went away. He saw his brother looking like he'd rolled around in coal dust, glaring at him with eyes so dark with hatred... Telal bit his lip until he felt blood.

He'd thought he could do this. Hell, he even thought it might be easy. How fucking wrong he was. With the water pouring over him, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

“Oh, no,” she said.

In a rush, she ran across the bathroom, sliding on her knees to his prone body. She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, saying his name, but his eyelids never even fluttered.

“Telal!”

Water poured over him from the shower head and she frantically pushed a metal button that shut it off. Her fingers pressed against his neck as her heart pounded. A solid bum bum bum beat against her fingertips.

Tears appeared in her eyes and she blinked them back. She let out an unsteady laugh as her heart slowly beat back at a normal rhythm.

“God you scared me.”

She called his name, getting louder each time but he didn't move. Was he in some kind of a coma or just that drunk? She hoped for the latter.

Gritting her teeth, she opened her palm and let it fly. The slap caught his cheek and jerked his head to the side. Finally his lips moved in a deep mumble she couldn't understand. So she slapped him again.

This time his eyes flew open but fluttered shut.

“Krinaru shetar'emu.”

“What the hell's that? Demonic?” Her palm stung with the force of the second hit and she sagged. She wanted to help him but with him like this there wasn't much she could do.

Footsteps sounded in the bedroom, then Kearnyn appeared at the door. “How's he doing?”

“Passed out stinking drunk, I think. He's alive though.”

Kearnyn nodded and lifted Telal bodily in his big arms. Lily whistled under her breath at his strength. It would have taken her an hour and a lot of struggling to drag Telal's big body into the other room, let alone actually lift him.

She followed Kearnyn into the bedroom and watched him put him on the bed. Spotting a small trash bin, she grabbed it and set it beside the bed. He'd probably need that.

“Good call,” Kearnyn said, grinning.

“Thanks.”

He headed towards the door and stopped. “You gonna stay and watch over him?”

Lily looked at Telal's sleeping form and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I will.” He looked handsome while he slept, his face and body relaxed in a way she rarely saw.

“All right, if you need anything there's a phone in the kitchen. Just press one and you'll get me. Let me know when he wakes up.”

She nodded absently and was already on her way to the other side of the bed. She crawled in it and sat next to him, just listening to the sound of his breathing. His wet hair was a mess so she pushed it off his face. His skin looked so beautiful in contrast to that unique hair. Golden and almost shimmery.

She took in his bare chest that was so strong and packed with muscles. Gently she touched one of the gold hoops in his nipples, tugging on the metal between her fingers. Why did he have these? She wondered. Was it just a demon thing or something kinky he preferred? She couldn't see him doing something like that just for kinky kicks, though she didn't know him well enough to be sure. God, she wanted to though.

Her father left her to him for a reason. He had to know why. Her father had to have a significant reason to leave her in his hands. They must be strong, trustworthy hands for her protective father to do such a thing. She'd taunted him with a letter before that he must know the reason why, but now uncertainty prevailed. It could just be out of all the people her father knew, mostly businessman supernatural or not, he, Tyrian, and Lyonis were the ones he trusted most of all. She'd have to ask him about that. A smile tugged at her lips. She could already sense it'd be a battle. The man never wanted to talk about anything.

Her eyes drifted down his strong torso to his side with the tattoo. Without a light on she couldn't make out what it was, so she gingerly reached to the nightstand by the bed and switched on the lamp. Dim orange light lit the room pushing back some of the shadows.

She blocked the light with her own body so she positioned herself on her stomach with her head cocked to face him. It looked like some kind of symbol. A vertical tattoo, it had a bulb like end at the top and bottom in dark, royal blue that reminded her of the tops of the Taj Mahal. It began under his arm pit and ran down to cover his hip bone.

She stopped her perusal to trail her fingers over his warm skin. She bit back a moan and snapped her fingers back. Touching him while he slept felt so...wrong.

Colored in navy blue and royal reds, the symbol had a black band in the center near his rib cage as if it held the whole symbol together and wispy edges swirled out from the main bulbs like petals to a flower. Each was colored equally in different shades of red. From the outside rim the shape was dark then inwards it faded lighter and lighter.

The beauty of the piece impressed her. The skill it had taken to draw something so large and bold had to mean something. She reached out one last time to trail a single fingertip over the design.