Breaking Protocol

Chapter 9: Breaking Protocol

The penthouse sat in shadow, lit only by the grid of Los Angeles spread out through the windows. Almost 2 AM. Neither of them was going to sleep.

The air still felt heavy from the closet. Every time Kael walked past, Julian remembered the weight of him against the metal panels — the heat of his chest, the shake in his arms, the almost of that unfinished kiss. Every time they looked at each other, the silence stretched a beat too long, full of everything they hadn’t said.

Julian paced. He’d showered and changed into a black silk shirt and gray sweatpants. He crossed to the wet bar, poured two glasses of whiskey, and carried them over to where Kael stood by the windows.

Kael hadn’t moved much — hands clasped behind his back, clean black t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, the city lights catching the hard line of his jaw. He looked as unreadable as ever. But Julian knew better now. He knew what his breathing sounded like when it wasn’t steady. He knew the sound of his voice when it dropped low and rough.

Julian held out one of the glasses.

Kael looked at it, then at him. “I’m on duty. My contract says—”

“The door’s steel with a biometric lock. The elevators are down. There are three armed guys in the lobby.” Julian’s voice came out softer than usual, no bite in it. “We’re in a fortress, Kael. For five minutes, stop being my bodyguard.”

Kael looked at him for a long moment. Something flickered behind his eyes. Then he took the glass.

Their fingers brushed. The contact sent a warm current straight up Julian’s arm. He took a sip, and the whiskey burned a slow line down his throat.

They stood side by side, looking out at the city. The quiet between them felt charged, fragile.

“I hate this,” Julian said quietly.

“The lockdown?”

“Everything.” He leaned his shoulder against the glass. “The running. The hiding. Someone out there wants to hurt me and I don’t even know why. But mostly—” He looked down at his feet. “Mostly I hate that I’m scared.”

Kael turned to look at him. The weight of that gaze made Julian’s pulse skip. “Fear keeps you alive. It’s not weakness.”

“It is in my world.” Julian looked up, and for once nothing was hidden in his face. “I spent four years building this act. Julian Vance doesn’t get scared. Doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Untouchable. I made myself a nightmare so nobody would get close enough to see there’s nothing underneath.”

He took a shaky breath, the whiskey loosening something in his chest. “I push people away before they figure out I’m not worth staying for. I did it to my family. My friends. I tried to do it to you.”

Kael’s grip on his glass tightened. He stepped closer, closer than he usually let himself get. The heat of him filled the space between them.

“You failed.”

Julian’s breath caught. “What?”

“You failed.” Kael set his glass down on the side table with a sharp click and turned to face him fully. “Every tantrum, every insult, every impossible demand — you threw all of it at me trying to make me hate you. It didn’t work.”

“Kael...”

“I’ve spent seven years running on discipline. I don’t get distracted. I don’t cross lines.” Kael stepped forward again, until Julian’s shoulders hit the window glass behind him. The cool glass pressed against his back while Kael’s heat pressed from the front. “Since the day I walked into that dressing room, I haven’t been able to think straight. You’re arrogant, you’re impossible, and I can’t get you out of my head.”

He planted a hand on the glass on either side of Julian’s head, the same way he had in the closet. The movement boxed him in completely.

“You said you’re terrified.” His voice dropped, close to Julian’s ear now. Warm breath brushed his skin. “Want to know what terrifies me?”

“What?” Julian’s glass slipped from his fingers and hit the carpet. He didn’t care.

“That I don’t give a damn about my contract anymore.” Kael’s breath was warm against his neck. “That I’d tear this whole city apart before I let anyone touch you.”

Julian didn’t wait. He grabbed fistfuls of Kael’s shirt and pulled him down.

Their mouths met hard, no hesitation in it — days of tension breaking all at once. Kael made a low, rough sound against his lips and wrapped both arms around him, lifting him slightly off the floor. The solid strength of him pressed Julian fully against the glass.

Julian gasped into the kiss. He tasted whiskey and mint. He grabbed a fistful of Kael’s hair and held on while the room seemed to tilt around him. Kael kissed like a man who’d been holding back for far too long — deep, hungry, claiming every breath.

Kael’s hands moved over him — up the silk of his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric, then down to grip the small of his back and pull him closer. He kissed like he’d been waiting a long time to stop holding back, backing Julian harder against the glass, catching every soft sound he made.

Julian’s knees went weak. He wrapped his arms around Kael’s neck and held on, lost in the solid heat of him, the pressure of those hands, the way Kael’s mouth moved against his like he never intended to stop.

When they finally broke apart, they didn’t go far. Kael rested his forehead against Julian’s, both of them breathing hard. His eyes were dark, no trace of the bodyguard’s usual calm left in them. His thumb brushed slowly over Julian’s bottom lip, lingering.

“Protocol’s officially broken.”

Julian laughed, breathless, his hand flat against Kael’s chest where his heart was still racing under his palm. The solid thud of it matched his own.

“Then I guess,” he said, smiling, “you’ll have to come up with a new set of rules.”