Renn’s lips quirked as he flashed a look, one part molten heat and the other pure seduction. Then the tease hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and swaggered in front of him, putting that perfect ass on display. A rumble caught in Leo’s throat as his need rose to a roar.
Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter Seven
After researching in a hotel room with Claude for half of the day, Renn had grown a hundred percent sure the guy didn’t like him. To be fair, he was easily unlikable, so he didn’t place much stock in the man’s attitude, but Otherworld be damned, he could do without the upper lip curl and occasional stare. It made him feel like he was back among his elitist family.
“Keep curling your lip and it’ll freeze that way,” Renn called, slamming the book he’d been paging through shut.
He picked up his phone and started scrolling through that instead, trying to ignore the dozens of text messages he’d received from the band. Each time he skimmed over them, his heart lurched. He was tempted—so tempted—to just call them up and explain everything.
However, he knew his bandmates too well. The second he answered those messages, they’d be relentless until he disclosed his location and gave answers as to why the fuck he ditched, like a monster.
“Are you even reading the books?” Claude asked, haughtiness in his tone.
“Are you asking if I’m illiterate, or lazy?” Renn retorted, sprawling out on the bed and knocking a couple of books over in the process. “Because the answer to both is: questionable.” The man could think he was an idiot as much as he liked. Renn had survived on people thinking he was too dumb to piece things together.
“I’m not seeing why you’re necessary for the next parts of the operation,” Claude responded, gliding his fingers through his styled hair. “We appreciated your help with the Ashewarrens, but you’re an unaligned drummer from a rock band. What can you do to help us infiltrate the Harrods’ manor?”
Well, that wasn’t subtle at all. If Renn had feelings, they might be hurt, but he’d long ago divorced himself of the notion. Either people got him, or they didn’t.
Renn’s grin widened. “I’m being kept around as your boss’s sexy distraction. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to help that man unwind before he launches himself into space.”
Claude blanched and looked away. Renn turned his attention to the books in front of him, but he watched Claude from his peripheral vision. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d earned all of that disgust because of who he was as a person, but whose attention he’d snared.
At least his afternoon had been well-spent. While Leo headed uptown to chat with some business associate and get more information on the Harrods, he’d been tasked with starting to collate the families who might’ve gone through the same thing as the Cantrells and the Ashewarrens.
Disappearances happened—the Otherworld was an unpredictable place, and the Courts didn’t give a damn enough to pursue most cases. However, he’d started looking into the noble families on the Seelie and Unseelie sides, and a disturbing pattern formed around his age range and younger. These members were marked off on the family trees with no date of death. He’d gathered a list so far, one he’d be showing to the boss man as soon as he got word the man had returned.
His phone buzzed, this time with a text from Kincaid. Right on time.
Kincaid: My room, now.
Oh, hell yes. He’d been waiting for this from the moment they exited the tea shop meeting that left him flayed. Any sort of distraction to keep those old scars from rising to life again.
Where the Ashewarrens gave a damn about their missing brother, the Cantrells had given Belle the invisibility treatment. He’d begged his mother and father to send out searches for her, yet they’d told him to forget about her and move forward.
Cold voices and even colder eyes.
Then he’d tried to get help from his cousins. Family was supposed to be there for one another. That’s when he got dubbed Conspiracy Kid.
After that, he’d ditched the family and hit the road. Renn had wandered until he ended up in a bar where Trev and Kieran were playing one night and after sharing a few drinks and laughs, he found himself grabbing a couple of stir sticks and pulling out an impromptu drumming audition against the bar counter.
“Sorry, Clauds,” Renn said, sliding off the bed. “I’ve been summoned by the boss to perform the one duty I’m good at. Good luck researching.” Claude didn’t look up from his book or bother responding, but Renn counted the tic on the man’s jaw as a win.
Renn’s insides thrummed with a need that had been growing throughout the day. Part of him wanted to race to the Harrod manor and pipe the bastards into a frenzy, skin his knuckles with a few punches, and headbutt any bastard who stared at him the wrong way. However, Kincaid’s whole careful, methodical schtick would put him a hell of a lot closer to finding Belle.
He closed the hotel door behind him and headed down the hall. The other solution to the nerves jolting him like a taser was a much more delicious escape. He’d been wanting to taste Kincaid ever since they got interrupted last night. Watching the way his firm hips looked in those slacks and the curve of his cock visible under enough scrutiny was all the foreplay Renn needed. He’d been raring to go from the moment he woke up with morning wood.
His length began to harden at the thought of wrapping his lips around Kincaid’s cock. This time, they wouldn’t be evacuated in the middle of trying to get busy. They already resided on the fringes of Boston, away from the King and his entourage.
He strode down the hallway toward Kincaid’s room. The maroon carpeting and cream wallpaper glowed under the intermittent amber lighting. The whole place was a lot fancier than he’d grown used to, since their scratch-and-dent RV saw a lot of use on the road and could barely fit all five of them.
Honestly though, he already missed the proximity.
Life in lofty hotel rooms like this felt distant and lonely in the way he’d grown up, nothing like the different path he’d carved out for himself.
The scent of cleaner and artificial lemon filtered through the corridor as he approached the room at the end where Kincaid resided. The room which he somehow shared with the man. Renn ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to think about the couple of times he’d woken up last night, pressed against Kincaid’s brick wall of a back, or with those strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. That sort of intimacy made sweat prick on his forehead.
Better to think about all the filthy things he wanted to do to him.
Renn hummed one of Discord’s Desire’s recent releases as he approached the door. He and Jett had been working on it nonstop while Kieran and Liz, and now Danica and Trevor, basked in new couple bliss. Whatever, gave him more time to work on their music. At least it had. Now, who knew if he’d ever see any of them again.
Renn swallowed back the bitter taste of regret. Focus on the present. Always, always, always.
He slid the key into the door, and the light blinked green. He swung the door open, and the scents of roasted meat wafted his way. A couple of take-out containers lay spread out on the desk against the opposite side of the room, the source of the scent.
Kincaid sat on the bed, his feet bare and his button-down shirt open, revealing a gorgeous expanse of toned muscle. His thick black hair was rumpled, and the arrogant curl of his lips enticing. Seeing the businessman in private mode like this caused his pulse to speed up.
Kincaid looked up, the warmth in his eyes enough to knock him over. Renn sucked in a deep breath.
“You summoned me, milord?” Renn said with an exaggerated bow and flourish.
Kincaid crooked his eyebrow. “Thought you might want a break from research-time with Claude. Unless you’d rather spend the night neck-deep in books?”
“Fuck no,” Renn said, kicking off his boots. They smacked against the wall as he strolled over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. “I’m far more interested in what’s waiting f
or me here.”
“Well, dinner, for starters,” Kincaid said. He pushed up and off the bed with a creak, his powerful body flexing with the motion.
Renn slipped further onto the bed, wanting to ditch his clothes and get down to business. His stomach rumbled in response to the bag of takeout Kincaid carried over though, and his mouth watered.
Steven’s Steak House was printed on the plastic bag, and Kincaid pulled out two foil containers, each with a sizeable filet mignon, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Nothing like the diner burgers and late-night dumplings he nabbed with the crew.
“I made the assumption you eat meat, but I can always order something else,” Kincaid said, settling onto the other side of the bed.
Renn’s grin widened. “I definitely eat meat.”
“Down, boy,” Kincaid murmured, even though his golden eyes danced in amusement. “Let’s start with some sustenance. Don’t need you fainting in the middle of things.”
Renn snorted, but he wasn’t about to argue. He hadn’t eaten anything at the tea house and didn’t bother stepping away from research to grab food once he started down the twisted path he uncovered. The hollow thump of his stomach roared to life at the delicious salty scents wafting up with the steam after he pried the clamshell top open.
Kincaid had the forethought to pick up actual utensils, and Renn dug into the steak first, slicing into the medium-rare beauty. Flavors exploded on his tongue at the first bite, the saltiness and the rich tang of the meat. So this was how the other side lived. Renn glanced up between bites as he devoured the food in front of him. Kincaid sliced his steak in neat, small quadrants, moving with a care and delicacy that didn’t surprise Renn in the slightest.
“What did you and Marisa figure out?” Renn asked, not bothering to chew with his mouth closed as he asked. Kincaid’s gaze fixed on him and he expected a lecture, but the man’s eyes softened. His heart pounded louder. “Any avenues to infiltrate the Harrod’s manor?”
“Marisa and I have been reaching out to all of our contacts and trying to find out when their next get together might be. If we can snag ourselves an invitation, then we have a free pass to be at the manor,” Kincaid said, stabbing an asparagus with his fork.
“How many connections would you have with an Unseelie family like that?” Renn asked, swallowing down the last of his steak. Time to attack the incidentals next.
“You know better than that. Your family is a prime example. Despite the rigid rules of engagement between the Seelie and Unseelie, there was plenty of fraternization and we planned for that. After all, we need to cover our bases for all situations.”
“Like you’re doing now with your molasses-pace revolution,” Renn responded. Kincaid’s eyes flashed in appreciation, and Renn hated the pride puffing his chest out at that acknowledgement from someone like Kincaid—talented, gorgeous, and far too intelligent. The man captured his fascination from the moment they’d met, and the more he got to know him, the more he grew to like the sexy bastard.
“Well, taking this next step with the Harrod family is going to launch my plan forward a couple of paces,” Kincaid murmured.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got this all mapped out in binders or something. Madcap Revolutionary Plans Volumes 1, 2, and 3.” Renn couldn’t help his grin, and a second later, a sharp bark of a laugh came from Kincaid. The rich, surprised sound sent a shiver down Renn’s spine. Not like he needed much to stoke the filthy fantasies rampaging through his mind.
He scarfed the rest of the mashed potatoes and the asparagus at a record speed. By now, a hunger burned deep inside him for something else. Kincaid chewed and swallowed another piece of steak, but his golden eyes hadn’t left Renn once. Most of the time, sex was a fumble in the dark, on the steps, against the wall backstage, a meld of heat, of pleasure, and of sweat. When he looked at Kincaid though, he felt seen in a way that stripped him down faster than getting tag-teamed by twins.
Renn stuffed his trash into the can and strode over to where Kincaid picked at his asparagus. He leaned down and wrapped his hands around the take-out container. “I’ve got this.”
“What’s saying I’m finished?” Kincaid asked, his tone amused.
“I am,” Renn growled. He almost flung the container onto the desk before he strode back to Kincaid and closed the space between them. He wrapped his hands around Kincaid’s neck and planted his lips onto the man’s. He tasted salty and rich like their meal, and his tongue was warm, his mouth wet and willing. Kincaid’s palms settled around Renn’s hips with the possessive grip that never failed to turn him on, his thumbs sinking into the divots of his hipbones.
All too fast, Kincaid seized control, his tongue driving into Renn’s mouth like he fucked it. Renn let out an enthusiastic moan, his erection springing to life. There was too much clothing between them, the thin fabric of his shirt gluing to his chest, his jeans growing too cumbersome. He needed bare skin, now.
But before that, he needed to complete what he’d planned on enjoying the other night.
Renn reached down to snap the button on Kincaid’s slacks, bringing the zipper down to follow. He reached in to glide his palm across the hard length waiting for him. The uncut erection had him salivating to sink to his knees and taste.
Kincaid placed his palm over Renn’s and pressed down, his own length throbbing in response. He remembered every second of how good Kincaid felt inside him, how sex with him had been one of the few times he’d finished fully satiated. For a satyr with an off-the-charts sex drive, that was rare.
Kincaid’s fingers wove through his hair, the tight grip sending a shudder of sensation through him. Kincaid shoved his slacks down those thick thighs, and Renn dropped to his knees. The musky scent surrounded him, all earth and rosewood, and he lost himself in it. After the hell on earth couple of days he’d gone through with more emotional minefields than he’d dealt with in a long time, he just wanted to sink into something he was good at and forget the rest.
Leo’s hard cock looked fucking delicious, and Renn leaned forward to lick the tip. His tongue caressed the silken length, and he was rewarded by Kincaid’s tightened grip on his hair. His knees dug into the carpet, and his cock stiffened, straining the seams of his jeans. He wrapped his lips around the thick erection and began sucking. He glided the tip of his tongue up and down as his head bobbed forward again and again.
Leo shifted his hips forward, shallow thrusts at first as he drove his cock into Renn’s mouth. Once Renn opened his jaw wider to take him deeper, Kincaid started to unwind, spinning out of control and indulging in the wildness Renn knew he was capable of. The sight of him looming above dosed Renn with desire, Kincaid’s jaw tight and his neck corded. Those gold eyes locked in on him with an unparalleled focus and intensity.
His cock throbbed, pressed against his thigh in the tight confines of his jean, but Renn couldn’t stop, not when he had Kincaid so close. The man set a faster pace, fucking his face the way Renn wanted him to. When Kincaid dominated him like this, thoughts vanished from his mind, and he lost himself in chasing pleasure. The light cast shadows on Leo’s sharp features, the aquiline nose and stubborn chin fitting the man’s personality perfectly. Kincaid’s breath hitched in his throat as he thrust forward again.
Renn swallowed his length down, the tip hitting the back of his throat. His knees burned from how hard they dug into the carpet, and Kincaid’s grip hadn’t faltered in his hair in this all-encompassing way that made him want to reach into his pants and stroke himself. Leo’s thighs tightened, and a second later, the salty liquid of his release flooded Renn’s throat. Bliss spread out on those features, his eyes closed and his lips parted. The look made Leo seem softer around the edges—never innocent, but gentler than the rough force he handled him with.
Renn swallowed the liquid down and then pulled back to wipe his arm over his mouth. Kincaid let go of his hair and skimmed his fingers through his own, his breaths coming out in shallow pants in the wake of his orgasm.
“Hope
you’re not spent for the evening,” Renn murmured, looking up at him. “Because there’s a whole lot more I want to do with you.” He skimmed a palm over his length which threatened to burst out of his jeans.
“Trust me, we’re just getting started,” Kincaid said, his gravel and whisky voice brushing over him. He reached down to offer him a hand. Renn slipped his through Leo’s, enjoying how the man tugged him up like it cost him nothing. Truth be told, he’d take any excuse to watch those muscles flex.
The hotel room door clicked, and they both froze.
A second later, the door slammed open with a bang.
In the doorway stood five familiar faces who looked pissed as hell.
“What the fuck are you doing in a hotel room?” Ky called, marching in before he bothered to survey the scene in front of him. Kincaid hiked up his pants by the time Ky’s gaze wandered their way. He glanced between the two of them back and forth, back and forth, like he surveyed a ping-pong match. “What’s going on here?” His eyebrows drew together.
Fucking hell. He just wanted Kincaid to fuck him into oblivion. The universe was determined to conspire against him. Renn sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the throb of his neglected erection.
“I can explain.”
Chapter Eight
Leo was beginning to believe he was cursed.
Either cursed, or he needed a room with a deadbolt.
And the members of Discord’s Desire tossed in a complication he hadn’t anticipated. Leo hated complications. Kieran stomped into the room, Trevor and Jett striding close behind. Their band manager, Liz, leaned against the doorframe, and Danica stood a pace or two behind with her arms crossed. When he met her gaze, the leannan sidhe offered a lifted eyebrow.
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