Helios lay sweaty in Dante's arms, who was no less sweaty himself.
Lazily and lost in thought, Helios traced small circles with his finger over the warm skin of Dante's chest, as if he wanted to lose himself in its steady rhythm. Who would have ever thought they'd be so incapable of keeping their hands off each other? They had done it so many times that his body was still caught in a blissful state of suspension.
He was somewhere between satisfaction and the desire for more—though he knew he was far too exhausted for more.
He felt good in Dante's presence, almost safe—a feeling he hadn't known in a long time. He would never have believed that he had missed sex, tenderness, and bodily warmth so much.
At first, he had felt quite guilty. The guilt toward Davis had threatened to crush him. The man he had loved—and would probably love for the rest of his existence. He had told himself it was wrong to go on, that every touch with Dante was a betrayal.
But Davis was not coming back. There was no way to bring him to life again—not after his body had long been given over to the earth and swallowed by it. He had to let go, hold onto him in memory so that the image of his face would never fade.
Yet who could have guessed that Dante would ever get this close to him?
When they first met, Helios hadn't cared about him. He was convinced he would watch this guardian die too. Dante had been irrelevant to him. No, in fact, he had looked forward to witnessing the moment Dante would die.
But against all expectations, he had become a friend, then an enemy, and then some kind of business partner. Yet "lover" was never a label Helios had associated with him.
And yet here he was—lying in the arms of his immortal lover.
He and Dante were alive, even though the people dearest to him were gone. Davis. Penelope. His mother. They were all dead. The only one who would never die was Dante. He would always return to him, no matter what happened.
At least Dante would stay by his side. He would not leave him alone.
Even if he were the reason for his death. After all, it had been Helios who was responsible for the deaths of his beloved and his best friend.
And now he, of all people, was supposed to live forever?
Helios felt his chest tighten painfully. A cold emptiness reached for him. Death was part of life—he had never intended to detach himself from it. Immortality was something that shouldn't exist, a perversion of the natural order. All he had ever wanted was to unlock the secret of the elixir. But to become immortal himself? No. Never.
Was he truly immortal now? What was he supposed to do? He had no grand plans to work toward. Nothing that would require so much time.
Yes, he had planned his revenge on Belladonna. He had imagined in detail what he would do to him once he finally had him in his grasp. He had budgeted the next two to five years to develop the serum for Dante. One dose would have meant Belladonna's death—and the end of his vengeance.
But Belladonna was dead, and every substance he had prepared was now running through his own system. He couldn't even say with certainty whether he really was immortal. Proof would only come the next time he died.
And his revenge? That he would never have.
He sighed softly and nestled against Dante's chest, inhaling his scent and trying to calm himself. The sex had distracted him, but once there was nothing left to distract him, the thoughts grew loud again.
Everything was so uncertain. He hated it when there was no clear direction. Ambrosia was history, and he didn't even have the formula to mix the serum again. There was no revenge left for him, and the open cases he had were running themselves.
And the antidote? He would never be able to develop it—
Not unless he uncovered Ambrosia's secret.
Dante would be immortal forever.
And maybe he would be too.
What would remain in a world that had no end?
At least they would spend eternity together. It was the only comforting thought Helios had. The situation was simply too overwhelming.
There was perhaps one more matter he truly ought to deal with—but was he ready for it?
No, not really.
After all, he had resisted it for so many years. Something he had been putting off for years, fighting it tooth and nail. He had taken on every other challenge—except this one. Because the very thought of it made him gag with rage and disgust.
"What are you thinking about?" Dante asked softly.
His thoughts were circling so chaotically that it was hard to name a single thing occupying his mind.
"Far too many things," he whispered.
Dante pulled him a little closer. "You'll get used to it. Immortality does have its advantages."
Helios closed his eyes and savored the warmth radiating from Dante.
"Weren't you more or less obsessed with becoming mortal again?"
"Yes." Dante's voice was a deep, tired rumble. "Because I was alone—and because the thought of being lonely forever tormented me." He kissed Helios gently on the forehead, running a soothing hand through his hair. "Now I'm not alone anymore."
"We don't know with absolute certainty that I'm really immortal," Helios reminded him, though he still shifted even closer to Dante—if that was even possible.
"Don't you feel different than before?"
"Should I?"
Dante ran his fingers absently through his hair, warm and heavy to the touch. "When I first woke again, it felt like my body was fighting against me. Days of exhaustion. Every step like moving through quicksand. My blood boiled as if I were in flames, and at the same time, I was always just one breath away from blacking out."
Helios opened his eyes slightly, letting his gaze wander over Dante's face—and wondered if all of that still lay ahead for him.
"That doesn't sound particularly pleasant."
"It was hell," Dante replied without hesitation. "I felt like I was burning in an endless fever. At times unbearably hot, at times freezing cold. My body trembled constantly, as if it wanted to tear itself apart."
"I'm tired," Helios said. "Sometimes I feel like my arms and legs don't really belong to me. But aside from that, I'm fine."
Dante leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against Helios'. "You feel warm."
Helios arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I wonder why that might be?" he asked with mock irony—and couldn't keep a faint smile from his lips. The past hours had felt too good to downplay.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," Dante said, a little sheepishly.
"Stop apologizing. It was exactly what I needed," Helios gently chided him. "Besides, I didn't exactly let you rest either."
"You really are insatiable," Dante smirked. Then his expression turned concerned. "Seriously, Helios. You should probably rest for a few days."
"If I am immortal, I'll recover quickly anyway," Helios said lightly, even though he truly did feel tired. "Besides, we need to get back as soon as possible. There'll only be trouble if I don't get home soon and take care of my work. Father's been unbearable ever since we leveled Soley to the ground."
"You're an adult, Helios. A few more days or less won't cause a catastrophe, will they?" Dante sounded concerned, almost urging. "I'm just worried about you."
"Dante, I'm not saying this because I'm eager to run myself into the ground." Helios lifted a hand and gently brushed his cheek. "You don't know my father. All these years, I've worked in the lab willingly, happily developing everything I've created so far. But even if I had refused… he would have found another way to force me, believe me."
"That doesn't exactly sound like the fatherly love he likes to put on display."
"Oh, he loves me. That's not an act."
Dante gave him a doubtful look, and Helios responded with a thin, tight-lipped smile.
"My success is tied to him. If something were to happen to me, he'd lose his status. That's exactly why we should return as soon as possible. I have no interest in being constantly watched—or having some other kind of leash put on me."
"He's been exploiting you since you were eight, hasn't he?" Dante's voice was little more than a whisper.
"Well, that's when it all started," Helios sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Dante. I love what I do. There's no work I'd rather be doing than creating and researching medicine."
His gaze shifted to his hands. He studied the smooth, healed ends of his missing fingers, his face twisting in pain.
"Unfortunately, I can't regrow body parts, and I have no idea how I'm going to hide this. Yesterday, all my fingers were still there. How the hell am I supposed to explain that they're gone—and the wounds are already healed?"
"You could wear gloves," Dante suggested. "At least for a while. I'll contact my acquaintance—he made prosthetics for my comrades. Well… for the ones who survived."
Helios exhaled in frustration. "Then I should probably stuff the gloves with carrots or something so no one notices the missing fingers."
Dante gave a faint smile. "You'll think of something. I don't know anyone as inventive as you."
"And how did you hide your wounds back then?"
"By injuring myself again before we met," Dante admitted dryly.
Helios grimaced. "Then I guess I should find out how fast my wounds heal now."
He closed his eyes. The exhaustion was overwhelming, heavy as lead in his limbs.
"Thomas will have questions. Nothing gets past the old man—he'll notice sooner than I'd like," he murmured. "Then he'll tell Father, and by that point I'm done for. Thomas is a genuinely nice guy, and I love his coffee more than anything. He's been looking after me ever since my mother died, but his loyalty lies first and foremost with my father."
"They won't find out," Dante said in a tone that was clearly meant to be reassuring.
"We still need a plan B."
"We'll think of something on the way back. You should get some sleep," Dante promised. "Helios?"
"Hm?"
"Why do you hate your father so much?"
Helios exhaled deeply. "There are many reasons."
"Will you tell me about them?"
He gave a small nod. "Yeah… but not now. I'm too tired." A yawn escaped him before he closed his eyes again.
"Whenever you're ready—I'll wait."
"Okay." His voice was barely more than a whisper. He just wanted to sink into sleep, feel the warmth of Dante's body, and shut out the rest of the world.
But one question still burned on his tongue. "Dante?"
"What is it?"
"What happened when you fought Belladonna?"
Dante hesitated briefly before answering. "He was too fast for me."
"At least he killed you pretty quickly," Helios observed dryly.
"Unfortunately, yes. The guy was so fast that sometimes I couldn't even register the movement of his blade—let alone the one he kept hidden."
Helios frowned. "That guy was completely insane. I'm surprised Spider's organization even kept someone like him."
"He must have had his uses."
"…Belladonna is really dead?"
Dante hesitated only for a moment. "I didn't check, but with the amount of blood he lost, I'd say it's very likely."
"So there's no chance I'll ever get my hands on him now." Helios' voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper before an angry curse slipped past his lips. "Shit."
A dull pang went through him as the reality finally settled in his mind. Would things have turned out differently if they had caught Belladonna by surprise as planned? Or had this ending been inevitable no matter what they did?
Either way, he needed confirmation from Spider.
"I had to kill him, Helios. He never would have let me save you. If he'd noticed me, you would have definitely died there."
"I know…" Helios' words were almost drowned out by the heavy thud of his own heartbeat. He rested his forehead against Dante's chest, feeling the steady pulse beneath his cheek. "But he deserved so much more. I had exact plans, Dante. I knew exactly what I wanted to do to him once I finally had him in my hands."
Dante gently lifted Helios' chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "He deserved everything you wanted to do to him. But I don't regret saving you instead."
The look Dante gave him was so full of warmth and affection that it nearly took Helios' breath away. For months, he had clung to his fantasy of revenge. He had wanted Belladonna to break—physically and mentally. He had wanted to draw out every last spark of fear from him until Helios was satisfied.
But in the end, the result was what mattered.
A dead Belladonna was still better than a living one—even if Helios had been denied the satisfaction.
"How did he die?" he asked at last.
"He choked on his own blood after I drove two knives into his neck," Dante said without blinking.
Helios closed his eyes briefly. No, no one could survive that. At least Belladonna had met an unpleasant, agonizing end.
He exhaled slowly. "You did what was right in that moment," he said quietly. "And I'm grateful you saved me. Truly."
"I just couldn't lose you there." Dante's voice almost broke as his hand caressed Helios' cheek with tenderness.
Helios took that hand, pressed it to his skin, holding it as if he could preserve the warmth inside it.
"You do realize I can't make you mortal again, don't you? It's all gone. I have no idea what was in Ambrosia or how it was made. There's no longer any way to heal you…"
"I don't care."
"Dante…"
"No, it's really okay. What matters far more to me is that you're alive," he said with a smile. "So you don't need to keep searching for an antidote."
"I'm sorry he got to me. I really would have liked to make your antidote," Helios said quietly.
And he meant it. That formula had challenged him more than anything else ever had. He hadn't just wanted to create the antidote for Dante, but also to prove to himself that he could create anything he set his mind to.
But if he truly had an eternity ahead of him now, he could create so much more—and he wouldn't even have to limit himself to chemistry. He could learn and discover endlessly… hell, as an immortal, no one could ever truly stop him. And if anyone was foolish enough to try, Dante would make sure they regretted it.
He could attempt experiments that had once been unthinkable. Develop new poisons and study their effects. Cure diseases long considered incurable. He would find new ways to heal illnesses. He could control both life and death—
"I'm just glad it worked." Dante's deep sigh cut abruptly through Helios' thoughts.
Before he could respond, Dante leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiled at him warmly, looking so endlessly content that Helios couldn't help but lose himself in that warmth.
Helios nestled back into the massive wall of muscle that was Dante and closed his eyes again. He truly couldn't stay awake any longer.
"So am I…" he murmured, barely audible, before sleep finally claimed him completely.
___
He had spent the entire drive trying to somehow fake his missing fingers inside the glove, but with only moderate success.
In the end, he had stuffed them with a small piece of fabric out of frustration. At least now the fingers only looked like they were paralyzed or something. It annoyed him. How was he supposed to hide this on a daily basis? He could at least be glad it wasn't his dominant hand that had been affected.
One small mistake, and he would give himself away.
One small mistake, and his father would find out he had the very self-healing abilities he had been searching for all these years.
A single test from his father would expose him, and he didn't even want to imagine what would happen then.
He had to keep control.
"Maybe I should have bandaged the hand after all," Helios muttered.
"You wanted to avoid unnecessary questions," Dante replied calmly.
Helios gave a quiet snort. "True."
Dante's gaze flicked briefly to the glove. "Do you think they'll notice?"
"They'd have to be completely blind not to," Helios said irritably, then sighed. "I think today's the first time I genuinely don't feel like going back home."
"We can disappear anytime," Dante said quietly.
Helios gave him an amused look. "Sounds like you want to run away."
Dante smiled at him. "Maybe," he said, before his expression hardened into a stony mask. "Or maybe my patience with your father has simply run out."
Helios glanced at Dante briefly before focusing back on the road ahead. "If you want revenge, then take it," he said flatly.
The avenue, lined with its neatly maintained trees, passed by as they drove toward the estate gate.
"What?" Dante asked, puzzled.
"I said: if you want revenge, take it. Just wait a little while—I need to finish a few things before you do."
Dante stayed silent. The gate opened as the gatekeeper recognized Helios.
"I never planned to kill your father," Dante said quietly.
But there was a trace of guilt in his voice, and Helios remembered all too well some of the looks Dante had given his father when he thought no one was watching.
"Even after what he's done to you? I don't care what happens to him, Dante. You don't have to hold back on my account. Though I'd prefer to keep working in peace without immediately having to take over the company."
Even though he would have to take it over eventually. After all, Aeternum Pharmaceuticals would ensure that he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of his long life. Even if he had absolutely no desire to rot away in an office dealing with tedious matters—
Like kissing up to sponsors.
Or securing contracts.
Or attending the endless evening galas that would inevitably come. The thought alone of having to smile at every idiot made him feel sick. He simply wasn't someone who looked forward to social events just to mingle.
Well, at least no one would be able to harm him or kill him anymore.
When Dante stopped the car, Helios placed his hand on his thigh—more unconsciously than with intent. Because standing in front of the house was none other than his father, alongside Thomas.
"I just wanted you to know," he said, then got out.
No sooner had his feet touched the ground than his father was already striding toward him, arms outstretched, pulling him into an embrace that must have looked warm to any onlooker.
"Helios! What happened? I was worried when I heard you hadn't come home! The message only reached me this afternoon!" His hands gripped Helios' shoulders, his gaze searching every flicker of expression on his face, as though trying to read the truth from it.
Helios shook him off. "It's fine. I had a house call early in the morning, and my patient lives a bit out of the way, so we stayed overnight in a hotel," he lied. At least, that was the story they had agreed on.
His father exhaled audibly, as though a weight had been lifted from him. "I'm glad nothing happened to you."
A cool, almost mocking smile ghosted over Helios' lips. "What could possibly happen to me? With all these capable guardians at my side?"
His father draped an arm around his shoulders—more possessive than affectionate—and led him inside the estate.
"Were you able to take care of everything?"
"I was," Helios replied curtly. "Anything new?"
"Nothing noteworthy. The evening gala is in two weeks, so we should start discussing who your companion will be."
"How about Dante? I'm sure he'd look great in an evening gown." Helios' tone dripped with sweet sarcasm.
"Nice try, Helios. But I've already narrowed it down. This time I'll let you choose."
Helios rolled his eyes. "Wow, how considerate," he said dryly. "And why exactly do I have to be there? I've got quite a lot of work piled up on my desk, as you well know."
"It's been a bit more than usual lately, sorry. I've already filtered out the uninteresting cases and only given you the more intriguing ones," his father said, almost apologetically. But Helios knew perfectly well that the cases he'd been given were also the highest-paying. "I'm afraid it will stay that way for a while."
"Is there a reason for that? It came on rather suddenly."
They entered his father's study. Helios rarely set foot in this room, yet it still looked exactly as it had in his childhood.
"There have been some rather unpleasant incidents," his father explained as he settled behind the massive desk. "Sit down, Helios."
Helios sat down wordlessly in front of the desk. More than anything, he just wanted to crawl back into bed. He didn't feel quite well and was a little feverish on top of it.
"Are you finally going to tell me what happened? My workload is already immense right now."
His father gave him a warm smile. "It's nothing you couldn't handle."
Helios snorted. "Of course not. I'm still interested in the reason."
His father's gaze turned appraising. "You've changed, Helios."
"Is that so surprising, after my best friends have died?" Helios' voice was sharp as a blade.
"You used to be different."
That's the definition of change, you damn small-minded fool.
"More obedient?" Helios' eyes narrowed. "Surprise: I'm an adult now. In case you missed that."
His father's right eye twitched—a clear sign that he was forcing himself to stay composed.
"I'm more than aware that you're an adult."
"Good." Helios' voice was smooth, almost bored. "Then we can get to the main point. I'm tired from all the traveling."
"One of our facilities was destroyed. An unfortunate accident. Many lives were lost."
Helios raised a brow. "How much money did you lose?"
"A substantial amount."
"Which facility are we talking about?"
"Not an entirely official one. Once I've handled the matter, I'd like you to continue the project from there."
Did he really have to drag every detail out of his father?
"What project?"
"A regenerative one. We were attempting to rewrite DNA so that the body's own cells could regenerate on their own."
Helios looked at his father without any sign of being impressed. He already knew it was about Soley and exactly which formula his father meant. Damn—if his father only knew there were two successful results from that project, he'd probably keel over on the spot.
"DNA? Really? And what exactly were you hoping to achieve with that?"
His father smiled his businesslike smile. "To make the world a better place, of course."
"Of course," Helios scoffed.
Sweat was forming on his forehead.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"Just a cold, nothing serious," Helios said, wiping the sweat away. "Why do you want to be able to alter DNA?"
His father leaned back, his watchful gaze never leaving Helios. "The idea came during the war. Our men were outnumbered, and the casualties were very high."
"So you wanted to rewrite soldiers so they couldn't die anymore?" Helios asked with interest. That would at least be the only plausible explanation for all this fuss.
"Sometimes I forget how intelligent you are," his father said approvingly. He made a sweeping gesture. "Just imagine having an army of indestructible soldiers. No one would ever dare attack us again. It's the Sentinel Project—and believe me when I say it's extremely profitable."
The Sentinel Project, huh… fitting name.
"Or for exactly that reason," Helios murmured.
In his veins, it burned like liquid fire. Every cell in his body felt charged, as if it were reshaping itself. Dante had described it exactly this way—the body in upheaval, on the brink of a new existence.
In theory, the idea wasn't entirely bad. Strengthening one's own side so much that no one would even consider attacking made sense. But he still couldn't agree with the methods behind the experiments.
"…lios?"
Helios looked up, startled. Damn, what had his father just said? He hadn't been listening—that wasn't good.
"Sorry, what did you say? My mind was elsewhere," he apologized.
"You look rather pale," his father observed.
Helios wiped the sweat from his face again. He really wasn't feeling well.
"Just a cold or something," he repeated.
"You'd better lie down and rest. I need you at full capacity. Shall I call the doctor?"
Of course he needed him at full capacity.
"No," Helios said with a shake of his head. "I can handle this without the help of some quack."
"Then please go and rest."
Helios rose, feeling a brief wave of dizziness before catching himself. His gaze hardened. "I don't want to be disturbed. And you'd better stay away in case I'm contagious. Dante is with me—he can take care of everything."
His father studied him, the expression in his eyes difficult to read. "Your trust in your guardians really does seem unshakable," he remarked. Something in his tone didn't sit right with Helios.
"They're replaceable. I'd rather have Dante than Thomas," he said coolly, giving his father an equally cold look. "Don't worry, I'll be back in the lab tomorrow. I can't have you losing even more money."
With that, Helios left the office, leaving his father behind.