by M. A. Grant
“Stay,” Atlas whispered against his hip, and abandoned the bed.
He obeyed, listening to Atlas unzip a bag, search for something, and apparently find it. The rustle of the foil wrapper seemed to echo through the room and Cristian bit his lower lip in a frantic effort to not say how badly he wanted this. Clothes rustled as they were removed, and when Atlas settled back on the bed, he was blissfully naked.
Cristian drank in the sight greedily. Atlas’s body was a wet dream, dressed in the attractive softness of a man who was fit, but not obsessed with chasing his youth. He didn’t bother to turn to hide his scars and scattered, dark hair covered his chest before leading down to his groin. Cristian’s mouth watered at the sight of his cock, cut and jutting up toward his stomach. He needed to feel its thickness pressing into him, claiming him, and whatever noise he made must have delivered that message because Atlas chuckled as he set aside the condom and lube.
“Soon,” he promised. “Need to take care of you first.”
He grasped Cristian’s inner thigh with one hand, rubbing his thumb along the tense muscle where leg joined hip, as he uncapped the lube with his other hand. He squeezed out lube onto his fingers before tossing the bottle aside and shuffling so he could lay down between Cristian’s legs.
Cristian twitched at the first cool brush of slick fingers over his rim, circling and teasing, but not pressing forward. He couldn’t focus on anything else, not Atlas’s rakish smile, not his body’s minute shivers, nothing, but the glide of callused fingertips massaging and coaxing the muscles to relax.
And then, Atlas’s hand left his hip, grasped the base of his cock, and his mouth closed around him. A wordless, muffled shout of surprise escaped when Atlas swirled his tongue around the crown. His body lit up and he shook under Atlas’s masterful attention. As he took Cristian deeper into his mouth, those clever fingers continued to work. With steady pressure, they breached him and Cristian flung an arm over his mouth to stifle his cry of Atlas’s name.
No words. He’d promised no words.
Under Atlas’s ministrations, it wasn’t difficult to forget them all. To let tongue and hand burn them from his mind, until the only thing he knew was Atlas, Atlas Atlas Atlas—
He keened when the man drew away, hating the chill against spit-slick skin and the untenable emptiness his body tried to adjust to. The lube bottle clicked open, and he lifted his head, watching Atlas run a slick fist over himself. He could watch him pleasuring himself for the rest of time and be content. Atlas opened the condom and rolled it on, eyes closing briefly from the action. He poured more lube into his palm and thrust again, coating himself liberally, before wiping his hand against his thigh and lifting Cristian’s legs so he could fit himself closer.
“Nod if you want this,” he told Cristian seriously.
Mouth dry, he nodded.
“If you want to stop—”
“I’ll tell you,” he interrupted, daring to break Atlas’s rule in his impatience. He knew what he wanted. He would have what he wanted.
His eagerness earned him a warm smile instead of an admonishment though, and Atlas reached down to guide himself in place, murmuring, “Going to take such good care of you.”
It had been so long since he’d had sex that Atlas’s steady push inside skittered through his nerves like fireworks. He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and moaned, overwhelmed and adoring the thickness stretching him to the edge of what he could take. Atlas didn’t stop, just continued his slow and methodical advance, until he was fully seated and Cristian wondered how he could possibly survive Atlas claiming his heart and body, taking everything he could offer and more.
“Fuck, Cristian,” Atlas ground out. “So good—”
He tried to lift his hips up, encouraging Atlas to start moving, but the man pulled his legs higher, folding him back on himself and taking away the leverage he needed. The first teasing roll of Atlas’s hips left him humming with pleasure. The second, deeper and stronger, made him whimper. Every breathy sound he gave, every time he met Atlas’s gaze and watched him in awe, gave Atlas the cues he must have needed. His movements grew more confident, his whispered praise more desperate, and by the time he started fucking Cristian in earnest, the battle was already lost.
Cristian surrendered. He floated in a haze, his body a vessel for Atlas’s pleasure. At some point, Atlas slowed and leaned down, brushing a kiss over Cristian’s sweaty brow, and he thought his heart would burst. His body tightened and Atlas groaned. The sound was raw and filthy, dragged from the depths of Atlas’s soul, and Cristian could feel him pulsing deep inside as his orgasm took him.
He reached down between them and clasped a hand around Cristian’s cock, stripping it with the same flick of the wrist that had driven him crazy back in the Scarsdale apartment.
“Now, Cristian,” Atlas murmured, shifting his hips just a little, enough for the stretch to overwhelm one last time, and Cristian grunted as he came. Hot stripes of come spattered over his stomach and chest, and he practically melted back down into the mattress when Atlas finally released him.
He cracked open his eyes in time to see Atlas lift his hand to lick away some drops of spend from his thumb. His lusty growl made Atlas laugh. He reached down to grip the condom as he pulled out, and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of Cristian’s knee as he helped him lower his legs back to the bed. “Going to grab a washcloth,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He could have driven back to Braşov to get the washcloth for all Cristian cared. His body hummed from the afterglow and the world was blissfully muted around him. Peace. This was peace.
The washcloth Atlas returned with was surprisingly soft and warm. He cleaned Cristian with an intensity of focus felt in every brush of the fabric over his skin, every fleeting skate of fingers touching him, checking him and grounding Atlas at the same time. At some point, Cristian dozed because when he came to, Atlas was curled around his back and they were tucked underneath the covers. Atlas had slung an arm over his waist, and Cristian hummed and pulled it tighter as he snuggled backward, ensuring there was no distance between them.
“Thank you,” Atlas whispered against the back of his shoulder.
“My pleasure,” he mumbled. “Anytime.”
The huff of laughter against his skin made him smile as sleep dragged him back under.
Chapter Ten
Cristian hadn’t slept so well in ages, nor felt such peace. His body ached with the soothing awareness of being well used, and he reveled in it as he slowly rose to consciousness. Groggily, he tried to place what noise had woken him. The room was still dark, with no lights on, but Atlas had already risen from his side of the bed and begun pulling on clothes.
Knocking. Someone was knocking on their door.
A quick check of their phone confirmed it was past sundown. He fumbled with the sheets.
Atlas padded back over to the bed and leaned down, brushing a tender kiss to Cristian’s brow. “Stay,” he murmured. “I’ve got this.”
“You don’t speak Romanian,” Cristian grumbled, trying again to rouse himself.
“It’ll be fine. Just eavesdrop and shout a reply if you need to,” Atlas said with no little amusement.
Cristian waited until he was out of sight near the door to bury his face in the pillow, uncomfortably aroused by Atlas’s sweetness and good humor. He listened as Atlas cracked the door. He opened it wider, which meant whoever was visiting wasn’t a threat.
“Don’t blame Teodora for letting me back,” a familiar voice said. “She only did because I told her you’d asked me to come over for an interview.”
Like that, his drowsiness vanished. He pulled himself up out of bed and grabbed for his pants. He should have gotten to the door first. He shouldn’t have let his guard down.
“Because you lied,” Atlas called her out.
“I figured you, of all people, wo
uldn’t hold it against me.”
He came around the corner prepared to leap between Atlas and Daria. His intervention wasn’t necessary. She stood outside their room. Her crossed arms managed to make her look petulant and nervous at the same time, and she glared when she spotted Cristian. The cut on her cheek was an angry red line, but was much better than it had been last night when it was dripping blood. Her bruises were an odd yellow under the lights of the hallway. Atlas, with his similar bruises, looked vaguely exasperated, but didn’t say anything about Cristian’s sudden and less than impressive appearance.
“How’d you find us?” Cristian asked her, not bothering with polite banalities.
“There’s only one bed-and-breakfast in town. It wasn’t that difficult,” she scoffed.
“I’m less concerned with how you found us and far more curious about why,” Atlas said, his tone deceptively light.
“I won’t discuss it out here,” she said.
“Come in then,” Atlas said, gesturing her inside.
His offer surprised her. Her arms started to drop before she caught herself. Like that, she tightened back in on herself, her arms clasping around her body. “No,” she declared. She tilted her chin defiantly at Cristian. “I will not be trapped in a room with that monster.”
Cristian rolled his eyes. Yes, the insult had hurt when Atlas threw it at him. Mostly because Cristian was already stupidly attracted to the man and the rejection of everything he was dashed the hopes he’d been harboring. When Daria threw it at him, it was a minor annoyance, and he dismissed it as such.
Atlas did not.
“His name is Cristian,” he said. “He is not a monster. He is my partner in this, and he is also your best hope of finding and destroying the strigoi. If you’re not comfortable working with us both, we can part ways, here and now.”
Daria blinked, as if she expected Atlas to let her in on the joke. When he didn’t and held firm, she blinked again and darted another glance to Cristian, who smiled at her and lounged against the wall just behind Atlas’s shoulder.
“You...you work with him?” she asked with barely concealed revulsion. She waved a hand at his neck. Cristian took pride in the way Atlas didn’t reach up to hide the scars exposed by his t-shirt collar. “After his kind marked you like that?”
“I do,” Atlas said. He didn’t give any further explanation. Either he didn’t trust her enough to provide context, or he’d been insulted into curtness. Cristian had been on the receiving end of both of those approaches before, and he didn’t pity Daria as she tried to comprehend the inscrutable man before her.
“But...why?” It was a plaintive question, so steeped in genuine confusion Cristian wanted to warn Atlas he wouldn’t be able to say anything to change her mind. He didn’t get a chance though.
Atlas’s lips curled up in a knowing smile. “For the same reason you’re standing out here now. Because last night when he dragged me out of there, he convinced you he might be fighting for the same cause you are.” Atlas’s shrug made the muscles of his back flex under the thin cotton of his shirt. “Am I wrong?”
Daria’s gaze slid slowly from Atlas over to Cristian. No one would accuse her of being happy to look at him. No one would think she held anything but contempt for him in her heart. Still, when she spoke, it was directed to him, not Atlas. “I hurt you.”
Cristian lifted up his injured wrist. “You did.”
“Are you going to retaliate for that?”
“I don’t believe I will,” Cristian said.
“Why should I believe you?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer. Atlas spoke for him, his voice steady and firm. “Because I believe him. He hasn’t broken a promise to me, and I don’t think he ever will, even if he should.”
She fidgeted for a moment before looking back to Cristian. Her voice was low and cautious as she reminded him, “You said you are going to stop them.”
“Yes,” Cristian agreed. “That’s my sole purpose in being here.”
Her hair fell forward, partially covering her face, as she tore her gaze away and glared at the ground. He and Atlas let her silent war play out. At last, she said, “I’ll come in.”
“How delightful,” Cristian deadpanned. “Welcome.” He turned to Atlas and brushed a hand along his shoulder. “I’m going to shower. Catch her up for me? And maybe make sure she isn’t hiding silver anywhere on her person?”
“I’ve got this,” Atlas promised him quietly. “It’ll be fine.”
Daria had no right to witness his worry, especially if it made her doubt Atlas. He retreated to the bathroom. The spray of the water filled his head like white noise. He chose not to concentrate on the murmur of their voices; Atlas would yell if he needed help, and Cristian needed to conserve his energy.
He kept his silver burn out of the water and finished showering quickly. After dressing, he ran his fingers through his damp hair, tousling it in a devil-may-care manner. A false front, to be sure, but one he still intended to make.
He emerged in a cloud of steam and found Atlas sitting on their sex-rumpled bed. Daria had taken a seat at the small table in the far corner of the room. Whatever Atlas told her had hit hard. Her bravado and fierceness were hollowed out, and a ghost of her former self stared back at Cristian as he took a seat beside Atlas.
“It seems,” she said carefully, “that we have a common enemy.”
Cristian didn’t dignify the obvious with a response. He gave her an arch look and waited.
Every word tore its way out painfully, but she continued, “Atlas pointed out how much he and I have in common. He said the strigoi now afflict your home in New York. He said your father and his sister are not safe.”
“Everything he’s told you is true,” Cristian said.
Her brow wrinkled. “He said you want to find their...nest? And the one who created them...”
“Their sire,” Cristian offered. “We intend to kill both. But that means we need to find where they’re hiding.”
“And you think it might be here.”
Cristian chuckled and switched into Romanian, needing to vent his frustration and sarcasm without getting a lecture from Atlas for it later. “How many man-eating bears do you think live in this area? It’s a great cover story, but bears tend not to rip apart the corpses, or ignore the easier free meals within the houses.”
“People will only believe what they perceive to be possible,” Daria argued back. “Blaming a bear for this is simpler than asking what else could be doing it.”
“Yes, scapegoats are far easier to hate,” Cristian agreed with a breezy grin. And, because he was an ass, he made sure to widen his smile enough to show his fangs.
Daria sucked in a breath. Atlas swore and elbowed his side. Hard.
“We are trying to win her trust,” he growled at Cristian, “not her fear.”
“She’ll be fine,” Cristian said, switching back to English. It wasn’t as fun to try to rile Daria up when Atlas knew he was slinging shit. Atlas knew his vocal intonations, the inflections he made when he was being particularly cruel, and he didn’t mind putting Cristian in his place if he overstepped.
Like now, as he leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees, and tried to win Daria back with an earnest, “There are very few ways this could go well, and hundreds more how it could go badly wrong. Cristian and I understand if you want nothing further to do with this. But if you don’t want to get involved, can you at least tell us how to get to Stefan’s home so we can gather information before anyone comes to do a formal investigation?”
“The police already drove up to examine the scene,” Daria said. “Their forensics team took away the body, but they were confident about his cause of death. No one else will be coming.”
Cristian glanced at Atlas. “Grigore hasn’t sent anyone yet.”
It was a risk to spea
k openly in front of Daria, but if they wanted to win her over, they needed to show they were trustworthy. Besides, Cristian thought pettily, I could always kill her later. Atlas shifted a little at his side, uncomfortable with Cristian’s decision, but unwilling to argue.
Instead, Atlas said, “The Council hasn’t either. Do you think they will if they hear about it? They’re only humans.”
Daria listened to them with the confusion of someone privy to a coded message. Her focus on the conversation had softened her open discomfort at being in the room with them. A small step forward.
“True.” Cristian made a face. “It depends on whether or not Mihai has the police on his payroll. Ignacio is known for his mastery of audits, so if there is any financial tie to the area, Seo-Yun will make her way here in short order.”
“We’ll need to act fast,” Atlas murmured. He lifted a hand toward Daria and asked her, “Will you show us to his house?”
“How will that help?” she asked. “We know what killed him.”
We. A simple word. A slip of the tongue perhaps, though it proved she had unconsciously lumped herself in with them. Now they were getting somewhere.
Cristian let his shoulders drop and tried to relax his face, giving up his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes in favor of a thoughtful expression. Such small changes could help him build on her shifting opinion of them.
“Any signs will help us narrow down potential nest sites,” Cristian explained, as if she were an equal in their planning. “We can eliminate certain options depending on how many strigoi were there. Where they came from. Where they disappeared to. It’s easy to hide in these forests. Limiting the areas we have to search could save us days.”
“And lives,” Atlas said quietly.