Chapter 7 · The Inquisitor Knocks

"Get your hands off me, you arrogant bastard!" Kael snarled, though his voice cracked.

Julian didn't flinch. Instead, he tightened his grip on Kael’s wrist, pulling him closer until their chests nearly touched. The heat radiating from Julian’s skin was abnormal—too hot, like a furnace fueled by something rotting. Kael could feel the frantic, erratic thrum of Julian’s heart through the thin fabric of their clothes. It wasn't just fear; it was a desperate, starving kind of panic.

"You’re not going anywhere," Julian whispered, his breath ghosting over Kael’s lips. "My father is in the hall. If he sees you shaking like a leaf, he won't just fire you. He’ll have you dissected to see why you’re so useless."

Kael tried to wrench his arm away, but Julian’s fingers dug into his skin, marking him. "Then let him. I'd rather be a specimen than your personal punching bag."

"Liar," Julian murmured. He leaned in, his nose brushing Kael’s. The smell of ozone and old bone clung to him. "You want to save your sister. You’ll do exactly what I say, or I’ll make sure the Church gets a tip about your little 'forbidden' practice."

Kael froze.