by T. M. Smith
It took Rian a minute to place the voice. “Alessandra?”
Her eyes darted over to him, the look of worry betraying the words she spoke and the tone of confidence she carried. Before she could respond, Cillian doubled over, hands on his knees as he laughed—long, loud, and menacing. “Really? This is what my brother sends after what is supposed to be the most important person in his life? A woman.” Cillian included visual air quotes when he said the word important, adding a definitive dash of venom to the word woman.
“Well, when you want the job done right,” Alessandra retorted, her grin almost as menacing as Cillian’s. Rian’s eyes darted from her to the doorway, back to her. Was Cillian right? Did they really send only one person? No, that couldn’t be right; there had to be more at play here. Perhaps she was meant to be a distraction? Chancing a cursory look at his captor, Rian saw he was now leaning against the beam, staring down at Rian with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
He winked, actually winked, at Rian and it made Rian’s stomach turn. “Well, it seems my brother doesn’t value his precious piece of ass as much as we thought. That’s okay though, lover. Maybe I’ll keep you around a little while longer, if you get my meaning.”
Rian blanched, curling in on himself as best as he could in his current position. Now Alessandra knew what Cillian had done to him, and Rian couldn’t bear the shame. Out of the corner of his eye, Rian thought he saw movement to their left. He searched the darkness for any clue there might be someone else there to save him. Eyes darting around, he saw nothing, no one, his mind obviously playing tricks on him. The room started to spin, or was that his head? Black spots littered his vision, growing larger until darkness overtook everything.
“Rian, you okay there? I need you to stay with me.” Alessandra called out to him, but he no longer had the minuscule amount of strength within him to so much as raise his head. He could hear a flurry of noise and movement, shouting and cursing, but his body was no longer under his control. Everything started to fade away, and oddly, Rian felt comfortable with the brief knowledge that he would never have to tell his husband what had happened. He’d never have to see the pain and anguish in the eyes of the man he’d loved since the day he’d realized what the word meant.
Chapter 21 | Retribution
“Theresa, get your arse up here, and lead the way,” Cirian barked.
“I beg your pardon.” She shoved past the group of men blocking her way.
“Sorry,” Cirian apologized. “You and Taryn were the ones poring over the damned infernal map, so I thought you’d know the way.”
She stopped and scrutinized him for a second. “You’re forgiven, just this once. Now, if we…” She stopped, head jerking to the right.
“Wha…” A simple snap of her fingers silenced Cirian.
“Do you hear that?” Indeed, there was a faint tapping sound.
August pushed his way through the mass of bodies until he was standing beside Cirian. “It’s the same sound we heard earlier—what did your husband call it?” He turned to look for Tanis.
“It’s Rian, hurry!” Cirian shouted before Tanis could answer, sprinting down the dark hallway.
Someone behind them whistled softly and they all stopped, turning. “Seriously? Do you want that monster to hear us coming?” Aiyan was the voice of reason. They continued on through the maze of hallways, much quieter until they heard faint voices.
“How many people are down here?” Hector asked.
“Wait,” Thyago moved to the front of the pack. “That’s San.”
“And who is San, exactly?” Cirian asked, obviously frustrated.
“Alessandra, what is she doing down here?” Thyago looked as confused as the rest of them.
Cirian inhaled a deep breath and raised his sword. “Well, I’ve had about enough; I’m going to get my husband.”
Nothing could have prepared Cirian for what he’d see when they found Cillian, Rian, and Alessandra. Cillian and Alessandra were spinning and zipping around each other, daggers clanking, and Cirian was quite impressed. The woman was holding her own—and then some. The room was small with nothing more than a table, a dozen or so empty cabinets with doors along one wall, a couple of floor-to-ceiling beams to balance the room, and…“Rian!” Cirian called out, alerting his brother to his presence.
The big man lowered his dagger, shoving the woman forcefully away, her body slamming into the table across the room. Thyago moved quickly, helping his wife get to her feet, all but dragging her out of the room as she cussed and wailed in Spanish. “Repugnante cerdo de un hombre!” Thyago couldn’t help but laugh. Cillian definitely was a disgusting pig of a man—his wife had nailed that one.
Cirian’s eyes darted from his brother to his husband, who lay prone on the ground, handcuffed to one of the beams. His heart sank. Rian didn’t seem to be breathing; he lay there, lifeless and…oh God, his face was an intricate pattern of cuts and bruises, red, puffy, and swollen. Something deep down inside Cirian took over, a deep-seated anger from a place he wasn’t familiar with.
When he spoke, his voice was calm, even, frightening. “What have you done, brother?”
Cillian cackled. “Oh, that’s rich. Brother, my ass.” And then he saw August. “Augie, my man, I knew you didn’t have it in you.”
August tried to move closer, but Hector’s firm grip on his arm held August in place beside him. One eyebrow cocked, he turned to look at Hector. His lover simply shook his head, holding on to his arm a bit tighter. Gorilla Man laughed again, and August wondered how it was he hadn’t ripped the fucker’s vocal cords out before today. “Oh, this is precious.…You and one of them?” Cillian baited him.
“Enough!” Cirian barked. “This is between me and my brother. No one else is to get involved, am I clear?” When there was no response, Cirian turned and glared at them—and was taken aback by the look of anger on his son’s face as it morphed into confusion and then fear.
“Kaden?” Aiyan’s bow dropped to the floor at his feet as he tried to move through the bodies blocking his path to his husband. Cirian spun around in time to see his son-in-law come up behind his brother.
“Kaden, no!” Aiyan shouted. Seeing his husband not only in the same room with Cillian but close enough for Cillian to touch him awoke feelings that threatened Aiyan’s sanity. He could tear the big man apart with his hands and subject him to tortures only serial killers of old dared use.
But it was too late, far too late. Before Aiyan could take more than three steps into the room, Kaden’s sword was buried into Cillian’s back. The big man fell to his knees, a look of disbelief marring his normally hateful features. Kaden leaned on the sword, driving it deep enough that he could hear bones breaking under the weight of the blade. His gaze lifted, seeking out Aiyan as he spoke softly and deliberately to the man that was the cause of countless nightmares over the past year. “I know I promised you that day by the well my husband would find you, that he would kill you. I must break that promise to you now, and for that, I am not even the least bit sorry.” Eyes still trained on his husband, Kaden stood and twisted the sword with a jerk.
Cillian’s mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out. His body convulsed when Kaden righted his sword then jerked it violently from his flesh, a stream of blood littering Kaden’s clothing and the floor. The big man who had caused nothing but pain to everyone Kaden held dear fell forward, his last breath leaving his body in a rush. Before Kaden could wipe the foul blood from his sword, Aiyan was on him. He jerked the sword from Kaden’s hands, tossing it aside and wrapping his arms around Kaden tight. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me, M’anam.” Leaning back and holding Kaden at arm’s length, Aiyan looked him over before he continued to rant. “Don’t ever do that again!”
Everyone in the small, dark room fell quiet as Cirian approached Rian. “My Love, please, stay with me,” he whispered, dropping to his knees beside his husband’s still body. Lifting a shaking hand, Cirian hesitated briefly before gently tou
ching Rian’s neck to feel for a pulse. “Oh, thank God.”
“San, check that pile of shit’s pockets for a key.” Thyago kicked said pile of shit once for good measure, his face curling in disgust when he got blood on his boot, which he wiped off on the sleeve of the dead man’s shirt.
Key in hand, she crawled over to Rian and hands shaking, stuck it into the small lock. The clicking noise when she turned the key sounded like a goddamn kettledrum in the insanely quiet room. Cirian whimpered, which shocked the shit out of everyone almost as much as the way he gently removed the handcuffs from Rian’s arms. He still hadn’t woken and his pulse was weak, but Rian was alive, and for that Cirian was grateful. He slid over behind Rian and pulled him into his lap, wiping a strand of blood-soaked hair off his forehead before leaning in to kiss him. No one knew what the hell to do as the most powerful man in the world sat and wept while he held his husband in his arms.
First Taryn, then Thyago offered to carry Rian for Cirian but he wouldn’t have it, waved them off and growled. “I can carry me own damn husband!”
Aiyan finally got his father to see reason. “Da, please, I know exactly what you are feeling right now. But you need to let us help you.”
It took a bit more cajoling, but eventually Cirian relented. The problem was, he wanted to carry Rian but he couldn’t even stand with Rian in his arms. Aiyan watched as his father’s need to be in control warred with the primal instinct to help his husband. Letting his own husband’s hand go, Aiyan knelt beside Cirian. “Please Da, let them help. I know it’s hard—you don’t want to let go, much less let him out of your sight. But everyone here is family or a friend; let them help, let them ease the burden.” It was something Aiyan knew all too well, something he wished he’d done when Kaden was hurt: allowed those close to them to help when needed. That being said, he also knew all too well how badly it tore him apart, what had happened to Kaden at the hands of his uncle and his inability to make it all right again.
Thyago didn’t give them time to change their mind. “San, will you help Cirian get to his feet?” It was more an order than a question. He knelt and hefted Rian up then led the way back through the bunker to the lower level of the palace. Once back inside the walls of the palace, Cirian led the way back to his and Rian’s room, asking Thyago to lay him on the bed. “Gently, gently, thank you Thyago. Now, if you’ll all leave us, please.” Cirian waved toward the door but his attention stayed focused on Rian.
“I’ll send Raven down straightaway,” Aiyan said as he closed the door.
The door to the library had barely swung open before people were coming at them from every direction.
Mateo sprayed the walls with a litany of Spanish, obviously pissed off. His anger quickly changed to concern when he saw the blood soaking his husband’s shirt and his wife’s hands. Maeve rushed Aiyan and Kaden, punching Kaden in the arm when Aiyan told her what he’d done. Raven was visibly relieved to see that Tanis, Theresa, and Taryn were okay. Then he saw Aiyan and Kaden’s blood-spattered clothing and blanched. “Are you two okay?”
Aiyan nodded. “Yeah, we’re good, but you should go check on Dad; he’s hurt bad, Raven.”
“Oh, my word! Okay then, let me tell Tanis, and I’ll head straight there.” Raven spoke to his husband for a few minutes and kissed Pol on the forehead before leaving the room in a rush.
Chapter 22 | Don’t Ever Forget
Sticky, stifling and dank was an apt description of the tension in the darkness of their bedroom as Aiyan and Kaden lay beside each other but worlds apart. Climbing out of bed, he tiptoed over to the window and shoved it open, sucking in a lungful of the crisp, clean night air. The chill hit his sweat-soaked skin, making him shiver, and he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to stay warm. He’d been able to mask his emotions with anger and frustration down in the bunker, hoping if Aiyan sensed him, he’d chalk it up to Kaden being upset over having to stay behind. Obviously, it worked. The connection they shared went both ways though, and Kaden had known the moment his husband had set eyes on him. He felt the immediate, intense rush of fear radiating off Aiyan in waves so thick, it was stifling.
The wooden boards that held their mattress creaked, alerting Kaden his husband was climbing out of bed. So when the sheet from their bed settled around his shoulders, he wasn’t surprised. Aiyan’s arms came around his middle and Kaden smiled in spite of himself. The two of them had never managed to stay angry with one another for very long. It was something Kaden hoped would stick until they were old and gray. “You really scared me earlier, Kaden. I’m sorry for yelling at you and disrespecting you in front of everyone, I just...” The words trailed off.
Kaden turned to face him, wrapping his arms and the sheet around Aiyan as he stepped closer. Even in the darkened room, the only light shining in from the moon, Kaden could see the tiny sliver of gold wrapped around the brown of his lover’s eyes. “No secrets, My Prince, not between us. Tell me,” he whispered.
Aiyan leaned closer and kissed him. It was soft, gentle, and innocent—the heat and passion their kisses generally expressed absent. It was perfect. Eyes closed, foreheads touching, Aiyan opened his heart. “Seeing you and that monster in the same room, you close enough he could have reached out and touched you, it enraged me. Everything hit me in a rush…you being taken, finding you chained in the well.”
When their eyes met again, Kaden was floored by the anguish he saw in the depths of Aiyan’s gaze. “For a split second, when I saw my father, I saw you, Kaden, and I can’t honestly tell you what I would have done if you hadn’t ended him. I was so afraid for you, for us. Then I was angry, at you for being there, at him for what he’d already done to us. I couldn’t define one emotion from the other long enough to hold on to it.”
Kaden kissed him again, intently. “It’s done, My Prince. He’s gone, and I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”
Aiyan smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I do love it when you call me your prince.”
Kaden laughed. “Well, you are. Mine and only mine and don’t you forget it,” he joked.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Aiyan kissed the tip of his nose. “I think you may need to take me back to bed and remind me though, so I don’t forget.”
Chapter 23 | Stay With Me
Hector stepped into the shower, ducking his head and letting the warmth of the water relax his aching muscles and wash away the stench that remained from his brief time down in the bunker. They’d found Rian, and though he hadn’t escaped unscathed, he was back with his family, and together they could start the process of healing. He worried what would happen now with August. Would his people allow him back into the fold? Or would he be shunned for turning on Cillian? Hector would happily take the red-haired seductive man that had captured his heart back to Greece with him.
“That’s it. I’ll take him home with me. I’ll be his family but…how to convince him?” Hector hummed to himself as he finished showering then brushed his teeth before heading back into the bedroom where August waited. Hector slowly approached the bed, taking in every square inch of the naked man lying in it. August was on his back, one arm above his head, the other by his side. The halo of red hair fanned over the pillow was a stark contrast against the white sheets and August’s pale, lily-white skin. Lying there silent and still, Hector thought August resembled a savage angel.
You’re perfect for me, August…beautiful but fierce and protective. I want you to be mine, but will you agree? Hector thought as he took full advantage of August’s stillness to admire the man’s exquisite features. His eyebrows, long eyelashes, and smattering of facial hair were the same vibrant red as his hair. It was what had drawn Hector to his presence the first night in the garden. His features, though slightly effeminate were strong and dominant, angular and chiseled.
Hector let his eyes travel down the expanse of August’s long, lean, muscular torso to the sheet that lay across one hip, dipping low enough that Hector could see the top
of the thatch of red hair that led to August’s impressive cock. Hector was insanely jealous of that thatch of hair. It got to spend every minute of every day guarding a very delicious dick. Just thinking about it caused Hector’s ass muscles to clench, remembering the way August felt inside him. His body had opened up to the stranger with ease as if made just for him. Hector’s cock began to thicken with the memory of August driving into him while he kissed him like their lives depended on it. So intense, passionate and electric, August could kiss like no other lover Hector had taken over the years. The man on display said something, but it was too faint for Hector to make out. He rolled to his side, taking the sheet with him.
Hector stifled a groan at the sight of August’s perfect plump round ass. God, but he wanted to bury his face in August’s ass almost as much as he wanted to bury his cock in it. He was so ready to learn what August tasted like, what made him whimper, moan, and beg. “You going to stand there and stare at my ass all night?”