by Jan Irving
Thinking of the gorgeous doctor made him eager to enter his shop, and so he nearly stepped on the latest offering.
A black rose, wrapped in cellophane.
Breath hitching, he looked up and down the street, deserted at this hour. He forced himself to pick it up. The creepy gifts had stopped coming a few weeks back. Up until the incident with sending his mother flowers at the hospital and offering to pay for her care, hed been sure Kain had been responsible.
And now after storming Kains house, here was another one. It couldnt be a coincidence.
IN THE long black car sent to return them back to Kains house, Finn reached out and squeezed Nicks hand.
Hoarsely, Nick whispered, “Do you really think Kain…?” Finn chewed his lip. “I think maybe you should consider moving out, kitten.”
Unshed tears brimmed in Nicks eyes. “Oh, my God! It wasnt a coincidence, like Manners said. Somehow its my fault!”
“No, Nicky, no, no.” Finn rubbed his back. “Its not anyone’s fault, not even… not even his.” “ How can you say that?” Nick was so knotted up and confused he was afraid hed have to ask the driver to stop so he could get out and walk around. Just breathe….
“ Its not his fault because of what he is,” Finn said, very simply, sending a chill down Nicks spine. Hed wondered… sensed something. What was the truth about Kain?
Nick wilted against Finn, one white hand clenched in his coat. “What is Kain?”
“Whatever did that to Mark, it was a monster,” Finn said, not answering Nicks question. Or possibly he was.
IN THE foyer, Nick stared up the long curved stairs that led to Kains wing.
“You need to stay away from him,” Finn scolded again, taking off his coat and then the one hed lent Nick, since Nick couldnt find his. Nick stood wooden, wanting to shut Finn out. Just… think for a moment.
Finn repeated, “You need to leave this house.” Nick s gut and throat ached. Yet underneath that, making him feel guilty, was a familiar prickle of excitement because he was close to Kain.
He put a hand on the banister, looking up at the shadowed hallway. “Nick, listen to me!” Finn urged. “He doesnt know what he wants from you. But I do, and its not… not a safe thing. You cant stay here! Hes trying so hard but—”
Nicks jaw tightened. He glared at Finn. “What happened to my jacket?”
Finn answered, “Mark took it.”
“How do you know that? Manners told me he was found wearing it but you werent in the room when she did.”
“It was only logical. Most of his possessions were in storage.” Finn frowned, elfin features sharpening under Nicks steady gaze. “ Ummm.” Nick stared at Finn, mulling. “About my moving out to get away from Kain. Come take a look at something with me,” he directed, heading for his studio.
FINN stared at the slashes of primal color on canvas. The clenched white hand. The blood on sensual, cruel lips.
“Oh my,” he said, hand on his throat. “How is it you see him?” “ My muse,” Nick said. “Kain and I connect. Its as if I was waiting for him. As if I was always meant to be touched, burnt, by his need.” He shrugged. “So Im not sure leaving him would change anything between us.”
Finn grimaced and then nodded to another panel, buried behind the shadowed portrait of Kain. “ No.” Nick shook his head.“I dont want to share that one.” Finn studied him, much as he had Nicks painting.
“It was a dream I had,” Nick breathed.
A little at a time, Finn pulled away cloth, unveiling the unfinished triptych.
Nick flushed, still finding it hard to accept what his painting had exposed. Kneeling at a leather-clad Kain ’s feet, kissing the hand that held a cane. On a nearby spanking horse, another young man was tied, his body marked by Kain, and now Nick wanted… asked….
“Im sorry,” Finn whispered. “I shouldnt have—some stuff is meant to be private.” “ I cant believe Id have such dreams,” Nick admitted painfully. “Its like I dont know myself. But this is how I see him, us, at some future time.”
Finn shook his head, looking at Nick almost wistfully. “How you feel about him is all here, as if youd painted your body with the shades of your desire.”
Nick rubbed his eyebrow tiredly, going to the window and the dawning light, leaning against it and seeing the barren October wild garden, tall grass laced with frost. “If he hurt Mark,” he whispered. “Why cant I hate him?”
Finn went to Nick, put an arm around him. “You ache to have him inside you. I understand, little one. It was the same for me once, with—” But Finn closed his mouth.
Nick s eyes widened. “When you said you understood him…?” “I… knew someone like him once. I belonged to him.”
“Belonged?” Nick stared into Finns eyes, looking for answers to the mystery that had caught him, that was cutting into him.
“Yes,” Finn admitted hoarsely. “Nick, he doesnt know what hes asking of you, only that he needs you.”
AS BEFORE, the door into Kains rooms was unlocked. Nick took a deep breath, hesitating at the threshold. Grief wanted to spill for Mark yet, strangely, he felt like he could only find surcease with Kain. Kain, who he didnt know, wasnt sure could be trusted.
His mysterious employer was lying on his bed, an open book beside him. He looked up when Nick entered the room, an uncertain expression in his shadowed green eyes.
Finally, he held out his hand.
Nick didnt fight fresh tears now. Not now he felt hed come home to some place where he could relax, truly be himself.
He was alone with Kain, open, vulnerable, and it was right he feel this way. Burn me.
But if Kain had hurt Mark…?
Kains hand dropped.
Nick crossed the room, crossing more than just the physical space between them. He went to Kain, knelt by the bed. He took the scarred hand, pressed his lips against ruined, melted flesh.
NICK reached out, as tentatively as if he were about to pet a black jaguar through the bars of a cage. Green eyes burned his, holding him in place.
Kain jerked away from Nicks fingers. “ I cant—!” Kain pulled his knees up, his clenched hands gleaming taut white in the candlelight. Turning his back partially to Nick, as if needing to shut him out. Still Nick could barely make out his features in the semi-darkness, which he knew must be a deliberate choice on Kains part. “I always think I can, but when youre here its so much more.” Softer, he asked, “Do you feel that?”
Nick nodded, licking his lips. “This thing between us… growing stronger. Kain, it hurts. I cant sleep. If I didnt have my canvas to project these feelings on….” Nick scrubbed his hair, restless.
“I know.”
Nick ached to ask him what was going on. He could feel the other mans pain radiating like a red hot wound.
Let me help you, let me touch you. Kain, you’re only alone if you want to be.
“Im afraid for you, afraid of what you make me feel,” Kain whispered. Nick tried to keep it light, teasing. “I thought you were in control.” Kain gave a weak laugh in response but Nick clearly heard the desperation, the hint of almost tears threaded through it like dark strands. “Not when it comes to you. I was numb.” He looked at Nick, sharp green eyes almost accusing. “You woke me up too.”
“ Hey, youre the great manipulator who brought me here, remember?” Kain so unsure of himself ripped into Nick. He didnt like it. He wanted to right the balance between them, and that meant somehow helping Kain find his equilibrium. But he had no idea how to do that.
Kain would only let him so close.
Finally, Nick leaned his head against Kains back.
Kain allowed it, although Nick could feel him trembling. He allowed Nick to play with his fingers, trace the scars on one hand until it was as if he could take no more, and he got up silently and went to the window, staring at the trees made ratty by the cold fall winds.
“IM SORRY about Mark,” Kain said, ages later, as Nick watched him, a
pencil moving over a pad he d
found by Kains phone, sketching Kains back, trying to capture the occasional flash of his eyes. He was hungry for any glimpse.
“ Did you hurt him?” Nick asked quietly.
Kains body tensed and Nick hated that he needed to ask.
“ I cant believe you did,” he added.“Maybe its because I dont want to, but when I think of how afraid you are to get closer and hurt me…. But even with all those things you like to do in clubs, the caning and watching and maybe participating in those staged gang bangs, the young men you hire always agree, dont they?”
“ Yes, of course they do, even if I pay,” Kain said. His head fell forward. Weary, he continued, “I dont know about the rest. Finn says I go out sometimes at night. Hes even found me places and driven me home. But I dont remember.”
“Finns a very handy man,” Nick said lightly.
Kain looked over his shoulder at Nick, as if alerted by his tone. “I thought you liked him?”
“Very much.” Nick sighed, reluctant to say more. “And I….” He swallowed. “I have feelings for you. You know it.”
Kain gave a curt nod. “You wouldnt paint me if you didnt. You wouldnt come to my room.” “ But I dont know if Im ready for the world I paint,” Nick admitted, feeling raw when he remembered the triptych Finn had glimpsed. “For the things I want you to do to me.”
“COCOA?” Kain offered later.
“ Is it drugged?” Outrage was threaded through Nicks question. He wasnt going to put up with this much control on Kains part, not anymore.
Kain sighed. “I know it seems extreme but I really only do it for your safety. Finn thought—” He closed his mouth. “ Finn? So the drugged cocoa was his idea? Interesting. But I dont understand you, why youre so afraid you feel you have to resort to this. It always seems as if when I get closer, you find some way to shove me away.”
“ I know you dont understand. How could you?”
“Kain, dont do it again.”
“Nick, its not you I dont trust.”
Nick could see how tired his maybe lover was. See it in the slumped long lines of his body, even though Kain was careful, as always, to keep his face in shadow.
Still hiding.
“Then trust me! If you need a time out, just let me know and Ill give you space.”
There was a long pause as Kain considered. Nick felt suspense that seemed far out of scale with the simple request, but instinctively he knew this was a building block, an agreement for a relationship.
Equal partners.
Would Kain agree, offer Nick that respect, or was this another wrong turn that Nick would have to put behind him? “ Let me help you protect me, if you are so sure I need protection,” Nick said, finally unable to wait on Kains response. He knew he was pushing again, but even their temperaments were different; Kain, crafty and a planner, a watcher, spinning a web in silence while Nick exploded like a firecracker if he didnt get the touch, the reassurance, the grounding he needed.
“I wont do it again,” Kain finally agreed, green eyes burning a promise from the shadows. IT WAS entirely natural later, even though they still shared the same room filled with pendulous jasmine and ivy swaying in the invisible chill breeze of Telemachus House, that Kain went to his armchair and after paging through a book listlessly, reached for his laptop.
As if it were the signal he was waiting for, Nick returned briefly to his own room and retrieved his, but brought it back to Kains room because he wanted both kinds of intimacy: physical and the familiar cyberspace confessional he shared with Kain, and only Kain.
For Nick, the best of both worlds, until they were closer, until they mated. FINN stood in the entranceway of Telemachus House, staring at the coats hanging in the massive old-fashioned wardrobe. His fingers reached out and traced the carved black walnut.
As he did, he heard the floorboards creak above as Nick left Kain s rooms and then returned moments later. No matter how he tried to caution Nick, it seemed he was determined to believe the best of his employer.
Finn knew he hadnt been the last one to see Mark alive. He hadnt seen him here, borrowing Nicks coat for an ill-advised walk alone. Had he?
Moonbeam: Why do you always pull away?
Obsidian: I can’t be around you for very long without wanting to—
Moonbeam: What? Obsidian: Hurt you. Possess you in pain and in ecstasy. Both are ways you would surrender to me completely, ways I could move you.
Moonbeam: Okay. :deep breath: We are going to talk. We need to talk. This thing, it feels like a bonfire we’ve started on a beach. One gust of wind and it could burn out of control.
Obsidian: Nothing will change just because we talk! This is primal, predator and prey. You know I see you that way. It excites me.
Moonbeam: Calm down. And…it excites me too. Obsidian: :grits teeth: You should be afraid. Why aren’t you ever afraid? Moonbeam: You want me close to you, otherwise why do you leave your door unlocked? You know I’ll come here, that I can’t help but come here.
Obsidian: Maybe. Moonbeam: You tease me sexually, making me want you inside me. It’s like you are luring me closer, readying me for your hand.
Obsidian: ...
Moonbeam: You are a very frustrating beast sometimes. Obsidian: :ironic: I suppose you see yourself as Beauty.
Moonbeam: Why, yes, thank you. And you make me feel the role, make me live it. Obsidian: Brat.
Moonbeam: I bet I made you smile.
Obsidian: Maybe. You also make me want to spank you and not entirely for pleasure.
Moonbeam: :Radiant: Thank you. :wistful: Will you ever do that to me? Your palm on my bare ass… Obsidian: I didn’t say it was a good thing, the way you make me feel. If I thought I could control myself I would spank you, warm your ass under my palm, control you. I’d love to have you walk in my bedroom one night and on my orders, push your jeans down before you spread yourself over my lap. You’d take your spanking like a man and then beg me to let you come.
Moonbeam: Okay, enough with the sexy or I won’t be able to talk to you! I need to understand some things. Clear answers, please.
Obsidian: Yes, sir, Mr. Anders!
Moonbeam: :serenely rises above sarcasm: Tell me what happened to your hand, your face? Obsidian: A fire.
Moonbeam: The fire at your penthouse apartment? Obsidian: Yes.
Moonbeam: How did the fire start?
Obsidian: I was told that I set it. Are you sure you want to enter this castle? There are thorns, hungry thorns to make you bleed.
Moonbeam: Funny you say that; when I painted you, I painted blood on your lips.
Obsidian: You see me. Moonbeam: That was my subconscious, but I need to understand in the daylight world. I don’t always understand the fragments. Disturbing…
Obsidian: This is hopeless! I brought you here because I thought you’d be under my thumb, my total control. Handcuffed when I needed to spend myself on you. Blindfolded. My perfect slave. But you push for more. You demand to see me.
Moonbeam: Why is that wrong? I believe you are not a bad person. It’s why I am not truly afraid of you, even though this house…the things Finn implies sometimes… And what happened to Mark—I know something dark is going on.
Obsidian: ...
Moonbeam: Okay, let’s start with the fire since I think it’s key. Why would you set it?
Obsidian: Because...because he was dead. I thought I tried to help him. Keep them off him, but—
Moonbeam: You mean Aaron, Ross’s boyfriend? Obsidian: Yes. I was…jealous of him. Not because I ever wanted Ross, but Ross was close to me, the only person close to me, and then he left me for Aaron because Aaron demanded it, saw me as a threat. He couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t reach out and try to take Ross from him.
Moonbeam: So did you have a part in hurting Aaron? You mentioned “the others”. Obsidian: I don’t know! I don’t remember what happened. It would have been fine, just me who made the mistake of taking them home, challenging them, knowing that even though they thought they�
�d have me, I’d somehow turn it around— I brought a threesome home from Manticore. They said they’d heard of me, craved me, Kain. Back then I loved to take the strongest men home and break them to my touch.
It started in my office at Manticore; I’d had a lot to drink that night. I demanded proof they could pleasure me, so one of them got down on his knees, so perfect. Devouring me, my cock, rolling my balls under talented, eager hands so I imagined pounding into him while the others watched, waited their turn.
Until I met you, that night was the best sex I’d ever had.
Moonbeam: :hushed: Shit! I’ve led a very sheltered life. Obsidian: But I like you that way. I like your innocence, even as I want to tarnish it, pull you down in the mud and fallen leaves, invade you, have you, only me.
Moonbeam: Don’t try to distract me. You know how easy I am. What went wrong that night? Tell me, Kain. Confide in me here.
Obsidian: It didn’t feel wrong. It felt so good when one of them bit my neck. Christ, the rush, nailing some tight ass while he sucked on me.
“LOUP GAROU?” Nick blinked. He was mixing paint the color of dyes
someone might use on Easter eggs, not sure why those colors today except… he was happy after the night hed spent with Kain, and those were happy colors, as light as soap bubbles, which is how Nick felt—or would feel if he hadnt suddenly needed to distract himself with something productive, aware that Detective Lisa Manners was here, even now questioning his would-be lover upstairs.
As if echoing the morning crushing the joy from their night, he suddenly focused on the runny crimson pigment and water and salt staining his hand and thought of Mark, of the sketches his friend had made, and swallowed thickly, living guilt. How could he feel this way, feel any happiness after Marks gruesome death?