by Jourdan Lane
Nothing would ever – could ever – be the same between me and Jack. As much as I hated to admit it, there was too much of a gap in status. I was master, he was servant. That was the hard, cold truth of it. I loved Lucien, loved the people in my life now, but it didn't stop me from missing what I had before.
Before, I might have considered pushing the whole master crap away to just be his friend, but after the debacle with Caleb? I'd seen what the consequences of that were. But now, standing here in front of him? All I wanted to do was hug him.
So I did. I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight. He hesitated, then hugged me in return.
"How are you, Jack?"
"Good," he answered quietly. "Enjoying my time off."
I laughed. "Club reopens tomorrow night. I think your time off is over for a while."
"Um." He pulled away, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. "Well, that's what we're here for."
"What do you mean?"
"Mike's going to be gone for a while. I'd like to go with him."
"I see."
Jack just nodded, glancing at Lucien and Mike as they continued their conversation. He finally looked at me, meeting my eyes. "Forgive me, Peter. But I have to get away for a while. I need to… To move on."
"Jack, I'm sorry."
"No, no, no," he said quickly. "Don't be. I've got things I need to work out and it'd just be easier to do somewhere else. And I miss Mike when he's gone."
"Yeah, I know that feeling well."
Lucien wrapped his arm around me and looked to Jack. "You sure you want to go?"
Jack nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm sure."
Mike took Jack's hand and looked at me. "It's not forever. Just a few months or so."
Jack nodded in agreement.
I grabbed Jack up in a tight hug again. "Want you to be happy, Jack. I really do."
"Thank you." His breath hitched. "'S what I want for you, too. I'll be back."
"You'd better be." I let Jack go and hugged Mike, whispering in his ear. "Take care of him, okay?"
"Always."
Silver called Lucien's name from a few yards away. I looked up to see him waving a cell phone in the air. "It's important! Peter, for you, too."
"Guess that's our cue," Lucien said. "Jack, Mike? Be careful in your journey."
"And maybe let us know how things are going every now and then," I added.
"We will," Mike said. "Thank you."
Lucien pulled me along with him, but before we made it too far, Silver was jogging up to meet us halfway. "What is it, Silver?"
"Fire," he said. "Peter? I'm afraid the news isn't good."
"Just tell me!"
"There was a fire at your grandparent's place. There were no survivors."
"What? What happened?" My chest felt tight. "When?"
"Early in the evening. Reid caught it on the late newscast, recognized the name, and called me. From what the reporter said, it looks like it was caused by a gas leak."
"Two fires in as many days? I cannot consider this an accident or a coincidence."
I wasn't sure what I was supposed to feel. My last visit to my grandparents’ place had been shortly after my mother's funeral. It hadn't gone over well and I was pretty much told that I wasn't welcome. Resentment toward them had long since turned to indifference.
Was I sad that something had happened to them? Of course. Just as I would be for anyone that I knew that had passed on. However, I wasn't drowning in despair. I hardly knew my grandparents and their last words to me had been filled with nothing but hatred and judgment.
The common denominator in both fires was pretty clear, though I couldn't figure out why anyone would bother setting fire to either place. Anyone that knew me also knew that I had no real connection there. Was it to get my attention? And if so… Why?
"Can we go there?" I looked to Lucien. "It's not that far. We can get there and back in plenty of time before dawn. Just take a look around?"
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Peter."
"Actually," Silver began. "It might be. This is the second fire, if we look at them as being connected. We need to find out if Peter's got some enemy from the past trying to cause trouble. A pissed-off ex, maybe?"
"No." I shook my head, thinking. "Only guy I ever really dated was killed in a car accident over ten years ago. Someone from my stint at Rave, maybe?"
"That does have possibilities," Silver said.
"Is there anyone you ever had problems with specifically, lover? Anyone who sticks out in your mind as unstable?"
"Half the clientele," I said with a sigh. "There was one guy we had to keep throwing out. Name was Carl. He was a touch on the scary side, but I never painted him for a firebug."
Silver's expression brightened a little at the prospect of a lead. "Got a last name?"
"No, but Darren would know. There was an incident where the guy punched one of the bouncers, broke his nose. Darren kept a copy of the police report."
"I'll get Reid on that. He should be able to get it directly from the police computer's records." Silver tucked his phone into his vest and scratched his head. "I'm going to send out the team, keeping them divided so they can cover more ground."
"Send one of the teams to the house. I don't want to be surprised when Peter and I get there. If they get there before we do, make sure they know not to touch anything."
"You need anything else, just call." Silver inclined his head and turned away.
As he walked off, he began shouting orders. I watched as the team members – even Gage – jumped to action, their respect for Silver clear. The team had never, ever, jumped like that for Caleb—even on his best days.
Lucien laced his fingers through mine. "I'm sorry for your loss, Peter."
"It's an old loss," I said. "I just hope it comes down to being an accident—and that they didn't die because some bastard out there is jonesing for a little revenge."
* * *
"Careful, Peter." Lucien caught me as I took a step and the ground gave way.
"Hang onto me until we get over there." I gestured to what was supposed to be the front of the property. "I'd hoped maybe I could find something here in this mess, but…"
"It's mostly ash and pieces of concrete."
"When Silver said fire, I just jumped to the conclusion that there'd still be some structure here. Never once did I put fire and gas leak together in my head to realize what the results would be."
"I expected damage, but this? This was one hell of an explosion."
That was an understatement of epic proportions. We were in a crater where the house once stood. The parts and pieces of house and belongings that hadn't been blown over a block away were beneath our feet. Remnants of household fixtures like bathtubs and toilets were upturned and broken into pieces.
Charred, splintered wood poked up this way and that, strips of clothing, pieces of insulation, broken dishes… it all formed a complicated maze from one side of the crater to the other. I took a step and glass cracked beneath my foot. I absently glanced down, and when I did, finally recognized something familiar.
A picture frame. One that I had made my sophomore year in high school. I'd decided on a whim to take shop, and when everyone else was doing structural welding, I was making a picture frame. My instructor and the rest of the class had given me hell over it, but I'd been proud of it at the time.
It was probably the only time in my life I'd managed anything even remotely artistic. I'd given it to my grandmother as a Christmas present with a picture of me and my mother inside it. I wiped some of the grimy, wet soot off the cracked glass, but the frame was empty. I turned it over. The cardboard backing was wet, but otherwise intact.
"A frame, but no picture."
I shrugged. "I'm sure she got rid of it long before now."
Lucien took the frame from me and inspected it closely. "There is residue on the cardboard where something was stuck to it. Look here. It's been torn away."
I looked up a
t Lucien, shaking my head as I took back the frame. "Why would anyone take something like this? It was a picture of me and my mother from years and years ago."
"I do not know, lover, but I have every intention of finding out."
I nodded. "Let's go home."
Lucien wrapped his arms around me and levitated us out of the wreckage of the house. I stumbled when he let me go and had to hold onto him to keep from sinking to the ground.
"You okay, Peter?"
"Just tired all of a sudden."
"Stay here. I'll go get the truck."
Before I could answer that I'd be okay to walk, Lucien was gone. I had this overwhelming urge to just lie down on the ground, but settled for dropping to my knees instead. I had a moment of panic, thinking this was a precursor to another episode. When nothing happened, I sat back and waited for Lucien.
I could hear a few of the team members talking and murmuring, watching over me as I waited. I'd largely ignored them the entire time we'd been here and I'd been grateful that they'd left Lucien and me alone. I told myself they weren't here to help—they were here to safeguard.
After a while, a warm, familiar hand squeezed my shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, Peter."
Instead of going into a long diatribe about how it wasn't really a new loss for me, I just accepted his condolences. "Thanks."
"Is there anything I can do?"
Tears burned my eyes, but I forced them back. The only thing I wanted from him…was to have our relationship back the way it was only a few days ago. What I wanted and needed, was irrelevant.
"No, Xander, there isn't."
Xander knelt beside me, his chest touching my shoulder. The heat radiated off him and I had to force myself not to lean back against him. I curled my shoulders a little, eliminating the contact. His hand rested on my back and he leaned in, chin touching my shoulder.
"Look, Peter… I'm—"
"Don't. Please, Xander. Just…go."
Lucien pulled up in the truck and Xander's radio squawked almost simultaneously. I got to my feet and walked away, going right into Lucien's arms. He brought me to the passenger side of the truck and helped me inside. I sat back, running my fingers over the picture frame.
I heard Xander calling Lucien's name and Lucien and I both looked up. Xander jogged up and came to an abrupt stop, expression grim. "You two need to get home—now!"
"What is the problem, Xander?"
"There are two large groups of hunters out tonight. One of the teams has already been in contact and eliminated a few of them, but there are many."
"I guess this explains a few things." Lucien growled. "I want a team guarding the house twenty-four hours a day until every single one of those bastards is dead. Tell Silver I will call him once I get Peter home."
"Can I—?"
"No, Xander. You may not."
Lucien slammed the door and walked around to his side. Xander's hand touched the window and I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. They were full of tears and confusion and before I had to bother looking away, Lucien backed up.
"What did he want, Lucien?"
"The very thing he's already chosen not to have—you." Lucien sighed and shook his head. "I can well see that he's confused about what he wants and needs and even that he's said or done some things he didn't mean out of some emotional…whatever."
"But?"
"But he's trying to drag you into whatever this is so that he can lean on you one minute and shit on you the next. He wants it all, Peter. At some point, one has to realize that some things are just not meant for us to have."
"What does that say about me, then?"
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because you are in a position to have it all."
"What good is having it all when you have to force those you love to pretend to love you in return." I laughed, but not out of amusement. "Sometimes having it all just isn't worth the heartache."
Lucien reached over and took my hand, squeezing tight. "Those are the words of a cynic."
"Or the words of a man who's too tired to care anymore."
The ride home was quiet and I lay down in the seat to rest my head on Lucien's thigh. His touch soothed as his fingers toyed with my hair. I was just about asleep when the truck came to a stop.
"We're home, baby."
"Carry me inside?"
"If you like."
"Kidding." I smiled and sat up. "Even though it is tempting."
Lucien got out and came around to my side of the truck to open my door. He waited for me to get out and wrapped an arm around my waist. We walked into the house, down the hall, and to the bedroom. Lucien took the frame from me, set it on the desk, and led me to the bathroom.
I sat on the edge of the tub and fumbled with my boot laces as Lucien started the shower. A minute or two later, he knelt in front of me, taking over. I watched him as he unlaced my boots, my heart speeding up just at the sight of him. No matter the things I lost—Lucien was all I needed.
His long, dark hair spilled forward to frame his face and I had a moment's insight into what he might have looked like as a knight. Valiant and strong and so damned beautiful. I reached forward and twirled my fingers in his hair. I'd liked it short, but this long length just seemed to fit.
"Have I told you how much I love your hair like this?"
"I believe you might have." He removed one boot and started on the other. "Does that mean you don't want me to cut it?"
"If you want to cut it, I won't stop you."
"I haven't had it long in nearly seventeen years."
"So you cut it when you came here?"
"Sort of. I cut it after the trouble with the serum. Just couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror as I was."
"How do you feel when you see yourself now?"
"Like a man who has been put back together again."
"What I said in the truck." I caressed his brow and down the side of his face with the tips of my fingers. "You do know that you are all I need, don't you? That everything – everyone else – is just decoration?"
"Are you saying that I am your cake?"
I grinned. "The cake, the rich cream filling, the icing…"
"Hmm." He drew me in for a kiss. "Then come here and taste me, lover."
I pulled back, bottom lip caught between my teeth, and shook my head. "Clothes first."
"Clothes can be replaced."
"Yeah, yeah." I pushed him back. "Strip for me."
There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood. "What would you like me to take off first?"
Oh. This was an interesting turn of events.
"Your shirt."
He slowly pulled his shirt up and off. His nipple rings gleamed in the soft light of the bathroom, both nipples drawn up tight and hard. My eyes traveled down his chest, taking in every cut curve of muscle. I wanted to pull him to me and let my tongue work my way down his torso.
"Unlace your pants. Slowly. Front, right side, then the left. But don't push them down."
"As you wish."
I watched him as he worked, the way his fingers so gracefully tended to the laces. I loved his fingers, his strong, masculine hands. The way the veins rose and traveled up his forearms, the tendons and muscles that flexed and jumped with each of his movements.
Soon, he stood right in front of me…waiting.
I grabbed hold of his pants and pulled them down, licking randomly at bits of flesh as they were revealed. I rubbed my palm against the crotch of his pants, enjoying the fact that this was turning him on. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, a moan escaping his lips.
I pushed his pants to his knees, and smiled at the way his hard cock stood tall and proud. I licked at his slit, savoring the salty-sweet taste of him, the way he felt against my tongue. His breath caught and he froze. I took in his full length, and just held him in my mouth, loving the way I could feel every beat of his heart.
After a few moments, I pulled off him and fl
icked my tongue against his balls, teasing.
"Turn around."
He turned without a word and I had to force myself not to touch him. The view from behind was as inspiring as the view from the front. Broad shoulders, muscular back, curved just so because of the way he stood. I grabbed his hips and made him stand straight.