My Lord's Judgment by Taylor Law Page A

headfirst. He kept waiting for a
cat to materialize out of thin air, and start making smart-ass
comments. He wouldn’t be surprised. Nothing could bring that
emotion out of him right now. Any emotion, really.
    He felt numb. Empty. His limbs were made of
lead and his head filled with cotton. He was in shock.
    Samael guided him around the car and into the
driver’s seat, before walking around and getting in himself. When
Bran just sat there staring off into space, Sam touched his arm and
started talking to him. Not that he heard any of it.
    Okay, the earthquake could stop anytime.
Really. “Brandon, look at me.” Oh, he was the one shaking, not
California. “Look at me!”
    He did as he was told, and saw concern and
fear in Sammy’s eyes, but he didn’t feel anything. His body
was no longer his own.
    “Can you drive? Hey, Bran? Can you drive the
car?”
    Bran stared at him moment longer before
nodding.
    “Okay. Drive us back to your apartment. If I
could do it I would, but…”
    Right. Sammy was an angel, and didn’t know
how to drive. Annnnnd his ex-boyfriend was a demon, his father was
coming for him, people with wings were following them…. ashes,
ashes. They all fall down. Wee!
    “Brandon?” Sam’s voice was soft and his touch
gentle on Bran’s face, petting him. “Let's get you home, okay? It’s
going to be alright. I have you.”
    Home. Drive home. He could do that. Yeah.
    He didn’t remember the drive at all. He
didn’t know which route he’d taken, if he’d stopped at all the
right places, followed the speed limit, or used his blinker. He
might as well have been drunk off his ass, because he was just not
there. It was like trying to remember a dream the next day, but
only getting fuzzy bits and pieces. Before he knew it, he was at
his front door trying to put the key in the lock, but the damn
thing kept jumping away from him every time he got close. Stupid
moving doorknob.
    Samael pried the keys from his fingers and
ushered him into the apartment, steering him by his elbow to the
bedroom. He was shaking again, so hard that his teeth rattled
together and he bit his tongue.
    Sam calmly started to undress him, peeling
away his clothing one article at a time. When he got to his shoes,
the man maneuvered him gently until he was sitting on the bed,
before kneeling down and taking them off. He was free balling, so
after his pants were removed, he was naked and cold. Very, very
cold.
    Samael laid him down on the bed and covered
him with the blanket up to his chin, before making short work of
his own clothing and climbing in bed beside him. He pulled Bran
almost on top of him, forcing his body into compliance. As Bran lay
there, with his head cradled on Sam’s chest, listening to his
breathing, his angel rubbed his back in slow, gentle circles,
murmuring, “I’ve got you,” and “it’s okay,” over and over in his
ear.
    He didn’t know how long they lay together
that way on the bed, but eventually he started coming back to
himself again. The sky had darkened and the room was bathed in
purple by the time Bran had stopped shivering. He realized at some
point that he had started to cry. Runaway tears were sliding down
his cheeks without his permission, bathing his face and forming a
puddle on the chest he was resting on - like a faucet that wouldn’t
stop dripping. He gathered his strength and pulled the blanked up
to wipe is face.
    He looked up at Samael, who was staring down
at him in concern. “Are you alright, my Little Raven?”
    Speaking was hard, but when he finally found
his words all he could get out was, “I…can’t…I can’t,” and it was
as if a damn crashed open. He started blubbering and gasping,
sobbing like never before. He didn’t know why he was crying, except
that he was so overwhelmed with everything, that his body didn’t
know how to contain it. It was being expelled in a storm of emotion
that he couldn’t control. It didn’t last long, and as he hiccupped
and sighed out