The Archer

by Abigail Roux

  brain tried to force out.

  “Mi nombre. I want to hear you say it,” Thiago said as he pulled his fingers out and gripped Remy’s hips.

  Remy forced his eyes open and he looked down at Thiago. Before he could

  respond, Thiago pulled him down roughly and Remy actually cried out as pain and

  pleasure shot through his body.

  “Maudit, fils de putain!” Remy gasped as Thiago closed his eyes and fought back the urge to thrust up into him.

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  Remy gripped Thiago’s shoulders and leaned forward until he was eye to eye

  with the man. He grinned down at him and tightened every muscle in his body,

  causing Thiago to cry out and buck.

  “Please,” Thiago said as his hands dug into Remy’s hips hard enough to

  leave bruises, and Remy began to move slowly.

  “Why do you need it?” Remy whispered curiously into Thiago’s ear as he

  sped up his movements. He barely kept himself from crying out loud as he found the right angle, and his grip on Thiago tightened as the pleasure began to build in the pit of his stomach.

  “I need to be sure you know it’s me,” Thiago answered with difficulty as his

  hands moved upward to grip Remy’s waist. He rolled them in a flurry of movement,

  and Remy was left slightly stunned as Thiago settled in between his legs and began to thrust into him slowly. His eyes fluttered closed as the pleasure swept over him.

  “Open your eyes, Remy,” Thiago ordered, “Abre los ojos.”

  Remy writhed slowly and forced his eyes open

  “Mi nombre,” Thiago ordered gruffly.

  Remy groaned and closed his eyes again. “Thi,” he finally breathed as he let

  himself relax in the other man’s hands. He wrapped himself around Thiago and

  allowed both his body and his mind to gratefully sink into the pleasure of something that had no strings attached.

  Hours later, Remy was just barely awake when he heard a door slam down

  the hall and a shout echo throughout the flat. He and Thiago were both sitting up and on high alert within seconds.

  “It’s just Shawn bellowing,” Remy whispered after a few tense moments of

  sitting and listening.

  “What did he say?” Thiago asked groggily. “I didn’t catch it.”

  “Sounded like ‘fucking wankers.’ That’s his favorite one, anyway,” Remy

  answered wryly as he flopped onto his back.

  “You think they’re still fighting?” Thiago asked curiously as he snuggled

  back under the sheets.

  “What do you mean, still?” Remy asked.

  “Brandt was pissed at him for what he said to you,” Thiago told him through

  a yawn.

  “Good. I’m liking Brandt more and more.”

  Thiago laughed sleepily and rolled onto his side. To Remy’s surprise, the

  other man snuggled up to him and rested himself in the crook of Remy’s arm. Remy

  nuzzled his nose against Thiago’s hair and closed his eyes, trying to decide whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, he exhaled deeply and pressed his lips tightly

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  together. He trusted Thiago, but not enough to take the Argentinean into his

  confidence. Not yet, anyway.

  “The bottom’s not always in control, Remy,” Thiago murmured, sounding

  almost as if he was talking in his sleep. Remy waited for Thiago to go on, but the man was soon breathing evenly, and Remy decided Thiago was probably dreaming.

  A small crisis had been averted tonight, and Remy scolded himself for being

  careless. He had been extremely lucky. Thiago hadn’t seen Gray Kincaid on the

  balcony below them when he had stepped out to join Remy, and what Remy had said

  as a wary greeting to Gray had been taken as words of admonishment aimed at

  Thiago instead.

  What would Thiago do if he knew Remy had really turned?

  XXI.

  THIAGO groaned and rolled onto his side, expecting to meet a warm, hard body and

  pull it close. Instead, he encountered a cold, soft pillow that had been pushed against him as a consolation prize and he groaned again.

  He pulled the pillow to him and slung his leg over it, thinking that it was a

  damn poor substitute for Remy. They’d spent the night tangled together in each

  other’s arms and taking turns holding one another, and Thiago had thoroughly

  enjoyed the experience. He stayed in the warm spot of the bed his body had created for several more moments, thinking about the night before with a little grin on his face.

  Remy was something of an enigma to Thiago. He was so capable and yet

  so… innocent. Thiago felt the need to protect him half the time, and the other half he spent watching the younger man warily and waiting for him to draw his gun and start blasting everyone away. They had all been wary of Brandt at first because the big man was so obviously unstable, but in Thiago’s opinion, Remy was just as unstable, if not more so. He was a wild card, a loose cannon, and there really wasn’t ever any way to tell what Remy was thinking.

  Thiago had thought that after bedding the younger man he might somehow

  magically be able to understand him, but it didn’t seem to be working. The only thing he knew for sure was that Remy was upset. Unstable and upset and probably too

  emotionally involved with the whole mess to be of much use to the group at all.

  Thiago wondered just how volatile Remy was. And where he was.

  Some of the things Remy had said the night before began to drift back

  through Thiago’s mind, and he opened his eyes to stare at the wall as he remembered the look in Remy’s eyes.

  “I’m losing it… I’m a fuck up, Thi. I’m going to get one of us killed… there

  are only two things I can’t imagine not having in my life, Shawn, and if I lost both in one fell swoop I just don’t think I’d live through it.”

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  “Mierda,” Thiago hissed. He shot out of bed in a panic and looked around

  wildly for his jeans. “You little fuck. If you left us…,” he muttered in Spanish as he hopped around on one leg and pulled his jeans on. He grabbed his shirt and his

  shoulder holster and darted for the door, wondering how long Remy had been gone

  and whether he and Shawn would be able to track the younger man. Shawn knew

  Remy’s habits well, that might give them just enough of an advantage to find Remy before he did something stupid and probably self-destructive.

  Thiago threw open the door and tore down the hall, skidding to a halt in the

  kitchen and staring wild eyed at the four men who stood around conversing quietly and making breakfast. They all froze and stared back at him. It was all very domestic, except for the gun Shawn was cleaning and the several Ramboesque knives lying

  about.

  “Where’s Remy?” Thiago demanded apprehensively, already knowing what

  the answer would be.

  “Wasn’t he with you? Last night?” Carl asked as he turned the stove off and

  swatted Brandt’s hand away from the hot pan.

  “He’s not come out. We haven’t been up long, though, he may have slipped

  past,” Brandt said distractedly as he glared at Carl and reached for the pan once more.

  “Fuck!” Thiago ground out as he locked eyes with Shawn. The other man

  was staring at him blankly.

  “Twenty minutes, at most,” Carl offered as he smacked Brandt in the arm.

  “No fire!” he shouted.

  Brandt sulked at him, but then he seemed to sense Thiago’s distress and he

  turned his attention away from the st
ove to look at Thiago in growing concern.

  “He’s left?” Nikolaus asked in alarm.

  Thiago ran his fingers though his hair and made a helpless sound.

  Shawn lunged forward suddenly and gripped Thiago’s arm. “What did he

  say? What happened?” he demanded. He didn’t sound nearly concerned enough for

  Thiago’s taste.

  “We have to go after him. He’s going to do something stupid if we don’t find

  him. He’s going to hurt himself,” Thiago insisted as he shook himself free and turned to head for the door.

  “Why would he leave?” Nikolaus asked in agitation as they all gathered their

  various means of destruction and prepared to go with Thiago. “After all he went

  through to find us again, why would he just leave?”

  Thiago spared Shawn an accusing stare before he shrugged his shirt on and

  turned to the door. “You two, stay here with Niko,” he ordered as Carl and Brandt came up behind him.

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  “But–”

  “Stay here!” Thiago barked at Carl, who had been trying to object. Carl

  looked at him in a wounded manner, but nodded obediently. He placed a hand across Brandt’s chest to restrain him from following, and Thiago turned his glare on Shawn.

  “Where would he go first?”

  Shawn looked stricken. He appeared to be trying to come to terms with the

  fact that Remy would just up and leave, and while Thiago felt an inkling of pity for him, he didn’t have the time to dole out sympathy.

  “Shawn!” he yelled in frustration. “Where would he go?”

  “There’s no telling,” Shawn said in a hoarse voice. “If he’s… there’s just…

  no way to know with him. What did he say?”

  “He said he was slipping. That he was fucking up too much and that he was

  going to get one of us killed,” Thiago said as he checked his gun.

  Shawn looked at Thiago skeptically. “That doesn’t sound at all like Remy,”

  he said dubiously. “He doesn’t slip. And he doesn’t doubt himself.”

  “He didn’t, you mean,” Nikolaus mumbled as he glared at Shawn. “He

  gravitates toward food, Thi,” Nikolaus said in a businesslike manner as he tossed Thiago an extra sidearm and nodded at him.

  Thiago was too worried to even find the solemn advice as funny as it should

  have been, and he simply nodded in return and slipped the extra gun into the back of his jeans.

  “No,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “Remy wouldn’t just abandon us

  without so much as a–”

  “Fine. You wait here as well,” Thiago spat as he turned to the door and flung

  it open. The figure hovering outside the door startled him, and before he could stop himself, his gun was drawn and pointed at the surprised man on the other side of the threshold. Thiago was even more startled when he found himself staring at the

  business end of the other man’s weapon. The reaction had been almost as fast as

  Thiago’s, and he found himself slightly disturbed by the realization that Remy was probably faster than he was on the draw. Good Lord, that was a scary thought.

  “I’m gone for one whole hour and you’re ready to shoot me when I get

  back?” Remy asked in an amused voice as he uncocked the revolver and slid it easily back into the holster under his arm. Thiago didn’t see how Remy had drawn the

  weapon, seeing as he was balancing a cardboard tray full of breakfast pastries in one hand and had a nondescript little brown box cradled in the crook of his elbow.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Thiago demanded, not certain whether to

  be angry or relieved that the younger man had reappeared. Remy widened his eyes

  innocently and raised the tray slightly.

  “Breakfast,” he said cheerfully. “Can I come in or are you just gonna shoot

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  me and get it over with?” he asked after Thiago had gaped at him for several seconds.

  Thiago stepped aside without further comment and Remy smiled brilliantly at him.

  “Morning, mes amis. Where’s the fire?” Remy asked as he sidestepped around Thiago and took several steps into the room, taking in their various stages of agitation and fortification. He looked at Brandt askance and turned to Carl in alarm. “There’s not really a fire, is there?” he asked quickly.

  Carl smiled slightly and shook his head.

  “We thought you’d left,” Shawn told him in a low, even voice.

  Thiago tensed as he watched the younger man’s reaction to Shawn’s words.

  A flash of pain shot through his eyes before they blacked over once more. Thiago was starting to think of Remy as more of the gator than the Cajun lately. It was the eyes.

  They were lifeless and soulless. Eyes like that were capable of anything, and it scared Thiago witless to see them appear so easily. Just as quickly as the killer eyes had come, they were gone, and Remy seemed to go completely still. So still, in fact, that Thiago could have mistaken him for a photograph.

  “I’m sorry,” Remy offered evenly. “I should have thought to leave a note.”

  He turned on his heel to walk toward the kitchen without waiting for a response and he continued to talk as if they all weren’t standing there tense and armed to the teeth.

  “I was up for about an hour before I left. I got hungry. And bored. I didn’t want to wake anyone by cooking… trying to cook, anyway. So I finally went out to forage

  when no one else got up.”

  Thiago followed Remy’s voice into the kitchen, and he and Nikolaus stood

  there in the entryway as Remy laid the tray down and continued talking. His voice lowered to the point that it probably didn’t carry to the others. Thiago was pretty certain he wasn’t doing it on purpose, considering what he was saying wasn’t exactly sensitive material.

  “Hell, I can’t cook anyway,” he muttered as he turned around and leaned

  against the counter. He met Thiago’s eyes and smiled wanly. “I didn’t want to burn down Brandt’s flat trying,” he added wryly. He was smiling, but Thiago could see

  right through it. He was upset, and rightly so. Only it was Thiago with whom he

  should be upset. Not Shawn. Apparently Nikolaus could see through the smile as

  well, and he walked over to Remy and looked at him closely before turning his

  attention to the food.

  Thiago didn’t know what sort of connection the two younger men had, but

  there was obviously some sort of understanding there. Remy’s shoulders straightened slightly and the smile became slightly more genuine.

  “Carl was making eggs,” Nikolaus said absently as he picked up a scone and

  examined it briefly before biting into it.

  “Mmm,” Remy acknowledged as he looked at Thiago over Nikolaus’s

  shoulder. “You okay, podna? You look a little winded.”

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  “I thought you had left,” Thiago murmured as he took a step further into the

  kitchen. “It wasn’t Shawn. I thought….”

  Remy stared at him for several long seconds before he nodded slowly as if

  he understood and plucked the scone from Nikolaus’s hand.

  “Hey!”

  “Mine,” Remy growled as he moved to the refrigerator and began

  rummaging around inside it. “You can have anything but the scones.”

  Thiago felt a presence directly behind him, but he didn’t turn to see which

  one of his companions it was. His attention was fixed on Remy, waiting for the gator to resurface after his tentative admission.

  When Remy peered over the door of the refrigerator Thiago’s breath caught


  in his throat. Remy’s eyes were flashing dangerously. It wasn’t the gator, but it was dangerous all the same. A throat cleared at Thiago’s ear, and he assumed that Shawn was the man standing behind him. At least he hoped so. He didn’t want Remy looking at him like that.

  “Anyone else want juice?” Remy asked in a steely voice.

  “Remy,” Shawn said softly from just behind Thiago. “Sit down a minute.”

  “Go to hell, Shawn. I went to get our fucking breakfast,” Remy responded

  angrily as he slammed the door closed. Thiago heard the various glass bottles and containers clang around as the fridge rocked slightly. “I wasn’t aware that I had to report my movements to anyone!”

  “Remy,” Thiago said gently, trying to head off another brawl. “I was the one

  who thought you’d left. I woke up and you were gone and–”

  “And you’ve known me personally for a grand total of what, ten days?”

  Remy asked sarcastically. “He should have known better!” Remy yelled as he drew

  his gun and waved it in Shawn’s direction.

  Thiago threw his body back against Shawn, trying to get out of firing range.

  Remy turned smoothly to point the gun at Nikolaus and yelled, “Nikolaus! I

  swear to God, if you eat another one of those scones, I’ll kill you. And my aim is much better than Shawn’s,” he growled as Nikolaus dropped the little pastry and sat with a thump into the nearest chair, ostensibly to protect his ass from being shot.

  Thiago blinked a couple times when he realized that Shawn was holding him

  around the chest, using him as a shield, more or less.

  “What the hell, Shawn?” Thiago mumbled as he yanked away and turned

  around to smack the other man in the side of the head.

  “He had a gun!” Shawn grumbled defensively as he rubbed his head and

  glared at Thiago. Remy reholstered his weapon and grabbed the little carton of juice he had set down.

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  “He always has a gun! Stop pissing him off!” Thiago hissed as he glared at

  Shawn and smacked him again for good measure.

  “I swear, the next person that hits me– oomph!” Shawn growled as Remy