by Kim Dare
He dropped his hand back to his side. “Liam?”
Finally, the boy looked toward him. Pushing his hands into the pockets of the jeans Jenson had procured for him, Liam tilted his head back and smiled up at Marcus. The smile didn’t appear to trouble the half-healed split lip. It didn’t reach his eyes, either.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, with just as little sincerity.
Marcus merely nodded as if he believed every word and stepped back to let the other man precede him from the room. Now wasn’t the time to confront him. The only thing Marcus had room for in his head was the necessity of getting them both out of the hospital and on their way to his house. Once that was accomplished, he’d deal with everything else, not before.
The elevator gave Marcus a brief respite from the uncomfortable openness of the hospital corridors, but their ride in it was both short lived and completed in stony silence. Liam was apparently fascinated by the way the numbers above the sliding doors lit up in descending order, Marcus could barely hold back the desire to reach out and press the emergency button and bring them to halt, just so he could remain in the comfortably enclosed space for a little while longer.
It was only the realization that he needed to be strong for Liam that convinced Marcus to step out of the elevator when it reached the ground floor of the hospital and to keep moving forward as they made their way into the main lobby of the building.
The air in the high, light space was so crammed full of scents and sounds there didn’t seemed to be any room left for oxygen. Images bombarded them from all sides. Marcus tensed; a weight suddenly seemed to be pressing down on his chest, threatening to squeeze what little breath he could find out of his lungs.
A baby cried somewhere. Marcus looked around the waiting room, but saw no screaming child. For all he knew, the baby could have been halfway across the hospital. He no longer had any way of controlling his heightened awareness of his surroundings. Barely used to a few hours mild stimulus a day, his vampire’s senses suddenly picked up everything. His head spun as his brain tried to process it all at once and quickly overloaded.
Coins rattled in a vending machine. An ambulance’s siren wailed. Pens scratched against admissions forms. Computer keys rattled behind the receptionist’s station. Patients chatted. Magazine pages were turned. And Marcus had no way of knowing which sounds were important, which tiny details he should concentrate his senses on, which implied a threat, which might be made by another vampire.
“Are you okay?”
The question was jumbled in with all the other sounds, but something about it tugged at Marcus’ consciousness. There was something important about that particular type of sound. Marcus’ gaze traveled quickly around the room, trying to home in on where the question came from. Finally, his gaze came to rest on a worried pair of big, brown eyes.
Liam. Yes, the question was asked in Liam’s voice—that was what made it important. Marcus frowned as he concentrated on pushing all the other sounds away so he’d be able to make sense of his prey’s words.
“Yes,” he finally managed to say. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Had he made a fool of himself? Marcus looked down. Nothing seemed to be out of place. He was standing quite calmly in the lobby. He wasn’t grabbing his head and curling into a tiny little ball in the middle of a crowd of horrified onlookers. Everything was fine.
“You stopped.”
Marcus blinked down at Liam. The boy’s hands were still in his pockets. They remained there as Liam shuffled his trainer clad feet.
“Stopped?” Marcus asked.
Liam swallowed. As Marcus focused in upon the boy, he could even hear that tiny little noise, see the way the other man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Stopped. What had he stopped doing? Marcus scrabbled for an answer while somehow managing to maintain a calm expression. What had he been doing?
Walking. Damn! Marcus stared down at his feet as if he had never seen them before. Brightly polished leather stared back at him. His feet weren’t moving. A moment passed. Finally, Marcus managed to kick his limbs into action. He strode forward; acutely aware of Liam casting worried glances up at him as the boy silently fell into step beside him.
Marcus kept going, one step at a time, until the wide automatic doors leading to the outside world slid open. He forced himself to step out into the open air. A light, fresh breeze caressed his skin, almost taking his breath away. Inhaling deeply, Marcus tried to savor his first breath of true freedom in three years, but it was impossible to like anything about being out in the open.
His attention went straight to the sleek black limo on the other side of the road. As he watched, Jenson exited the front driver’s side door, and opened the back door in anticipation of their arrival. There was a familiarity to the car that called to Marcus. His feet didn’t need to be cajoled into stepping forward then, any more than he’d have needed to be coaxed into swimming toward a life raft.
Marcus soon stood next to the car, eager to slide inside and cocoon himself away from the overpowering sense of space and light. Liam followed along behind him obediently enough. But he stopped short when Marcus remembered to politely step back to let his prey get in first.
Liam stared down at his own shoes for a long time.
Marcus followed his gaze, but failed to see anything unusual about the trainers Jenson had brought to the hospital to replace the blood stained ones Liam had been wearing when he arrived.
“Thanks for the clothes and everything,” Liam suddenly said.
“It’s nothing,” Marcus replied, only just convincing himself not to ask why the hell they couldn’t exchange these niceties inside the damn car.
The breeze blew against his neck. It almost felt like it might take his skin off.
Liam nibbled at his bottom lip. “I…” He closed his eyes again. “Will I see you again? I mean…” He looked past Marcus, to the trees that edged the car park.
Marcus never took his eyes off the boy’s face. “Liam?”
“Yeah, of course, you’re right.” Liam swallowed. “I guess we move in really different circles, right?” He tried to chuckle and failed miserably.
“What are you talking about?” Marcus asked, as patiently as he could.
“I’m really screwing up this goodbye, aren’t I?”
The boy wasn’t a quitter; that was for certain. He tried to laugh yet again. He was no more successful this time than he had been the last.
“Goodbye?” Marcus echoed, blankly.
Liam looked up the road leading away from the hospital and dug his hands even deeper into his pockets. “I should get going.”
“You’re coming with me,” Marcus corrected, a frown appearing on his forehead.
Liam glanced briefly at him before turning his attention back to the road. “I don’t really need a lift. It’s not far. I can walk it.”
“Where?”
Liam blinked at him. “Pardon?”
“Where do you intend to go?” Marcus asked, as calmly as he could while anger flooded through his veins. “We spoke about this. You can’t go back to him, again.”
Liam dropped his gaze for a moment. “I get that. I’ll just…um, stay with friends for a few days or something—”
“You’ll stay with me.” Marcus didn’t make it a question. There was no doubt in his mind about what was going to happen next.
Liam glanced up at him, before quickly shaking his head. “I…”
Marcus reached out and carefully placed his palm on the other man’s cheek, stilling the gesture. “You’ll come home with me, to my house.”
Liam tried to shake his head again, his eyes fixed firmly on his shoes once more.
Panic spiked inside Marcus. He scrambled for something, anything he could say that might change the boy’s mind. “You’ll be given your own room. No one will expect anything of you in return for putting a roof over your head. Not even your blood.” Marcus’ stomach turned over at the idea of it being denied to him, but he knew if it
came down to it, he’d deal with the refusal.
The boy’s cheek pressed against Marcus’ hand as he tried to shake his head once more.
“You need more time to heal, somewhere comfortable to rest,” Marcus reminded him.
“You don’t have to do that,” Liam began.
“You didn’t have to visit me, to sit next to the bedside of a man who couldn’t even talk back, but you did.”
A touch of warmth blossomed under Marcus’ palm.
“I can—” Liam cleared his throat as the blush spread across his cheeks. “I can be useful, help out and stuff. Maybe I could pay for my keep that way?”
“I don’t doubt it,” Marcus said. Whatever it took to get Liam to come home with him was fine with him.
Liam looked from him to the car and back again. “Maybe just for a day or two,” he whispered. “If you really don’t mind.”
Marcus smiled and nodded toward the car door Jenson still held open for them. It was only then that Liam seemed to remember the butler was there. He dropped his gaze as he scrambled into the car, even more color rushing to his cheeks.
* * * *
All of Liam’s intentions regarding sofa surfing for a few days died a very quick death the moment Marcus’ limo turned into the huge drive leading up to his house. It obviously wasn’t the kind of place where guests stayed on the sofa in a sleeping bag. But, even then, Liam hadn’t realized just how bloody huge the place would be inside.
“My bedroom is here,” Marcus said, pointing to one of several, heavy, oak doors that lined an upstairs hallway.
Liam glanced at it, but said nothing as he trailed along behind the other man. He should probably have guessed how rich Marcus was the moment he set eyes on the butler. He mentally cursed himself for being such an idiot. If Liam had needed any further proof that a man like Marcus couldn’t have any use for a guy like him, he had it now.
“This will be your room.” Marcus pushed opened the door leading into the room right next to his own bedroom. It swung back to reveal a space that was easily bigger than the flat Liam had lived in before he met Ralph. Rich tapestry curtains hung at the windows. A huge mahogany bed dominated the room, but Liam wasn’t in any condition to take in any further details—not while Marcus stood next to him.
Reaching just inside the door, the other man unhooked something from the wall. Turning back to Liam, he held out a key.
Liam just stared at it as if he’d never seen a bit of metal shaped like that in his life.
“This is the only copy. No one will enter your room without your express permission.” Marcus proffered the key toward him again.
Liam glanced up at Marcus as he carefully took it from him. His fingers curled so tightly around it, the edges of the key bit into his palm. “Thank you.”
“There are clothes in the wardrobe—you should find that they all fit. The door on the left leads through to an en-suite. If there’s anything else you want, just mention it to Jenson, and he’ll see to it. I’ve yet to come up with any task he’s incapable of fulfilling.”
“You didn’t have to do all this,” Liam blurted out, tilting his head back to look up at the taller man once more. “I mean…” He cleared his throat. “Thank you. I won’t get in your way, I’ll just…”
Marcus turned away, obviously not the least bit interested in listening to him babble now he was freed from his coma and had a chance to escape. Liam dropped his gaze to the richly patterned hall carpet wondering how many times Marcus had longed to be able to leap out of his hospital bed and run away from his stupid ramblings.
“Do you feel up to a brief tour, or would you prefer to rest a while first?” Marcus asked.
Liam lifted his gaze. Marcus only stood a yard or two down the hall from him. He hadn’t run away after all. His desperation to remain close to Marcus for as long as it was permitted saved him from standing there like an idiot while waiting for his brain to kick into action.
“I’m fine.” The bite from that morning still made his injuries irrelevant. “If you don’t mind, a tour would be great.” Liam stepped forward, more than ready to follow wherever the other man led.
The house was big and old. Marcus spoke about the history of it very casually as they walked through the huge rooms. Priest holes. Round heads. Shell shocked soldiers. It seemed like the whole world had passed through there at one time or another.
Liam had no doubt that when he finally laid his head down on one of the huge feather pillows that decorated his bed that night, his dreams would be full of adventure and intrigue. It would certainly make a pleasant change from the dreams he’d had in Ralph’s house. That building had been new. There had been no history to take his mind off present pain.
Several hours later, after he'd switched off the elaborate brass light by the side of his bed, Liam closed his eyes. The house was very quiet compared to Ralph’s house in a busy suburb. There were no close neighbors here. He wouldn’t have to worry that the people next door might hear his lover’s temper flare and anger him further by summoning the police to their house.
Liam shook his head as he turned over and tried to nudge his pillow into a more comfortable shape. Adventure and intrigue, that was what he wanted to dream about. Not Ralph, and not Marcus either.
He was not going to fall for the vampire. And he wasn’t going to think about what might have happened between them if Marcus had decided that his guest wasn’t going to be allowed to have a bed all to himself.
Liam closed his eyes a little tighter and pulled the blankets more firmly around his shoulders. No, it was best all around that Marcus had nothing more than a temporary interest in his blood, and no interest at all in any other part of his body.
* * * *
Hands wrapped around Liam’s wrists, pinning them painfully down on either side of his head. The world closed in around him, crushing him, suffocating him. A loud cracking sound filled the air as his ribs gave way beneath the onslaught.
Pain swarmed through him, like a million fire ants racing through a newly formed colony. Liam scrabbled with the faceless form above him, trying desperately to get free. His feet kicked out, only to find themselves tightly bound by something he couldn’t see, couldn’t escape.
Liam had to get free. He had to. He had to…to get to the hospital. Yes. He’d be safe there. Even through the pain and the fear, part of him knew that just as surely as it knew Ralph really was going to kill him this time.
Pain flared through Liam’s cheek. Hands closed around his throat. He tried to scream, but no words emerged. He didn’t even have enough breath to beg for mercy. Tossing his head back, Liam summoned every ounce of energy at his disposal and screamed.
The sound had barely faded from the air, when it was drowned out by the splintering of wood from the other side of Ralph’s living room.
* * * *
Liam jerked into a sitting position, arms flailing as he was thrown unceremoniously from his dream and came crashing back down into the here and now. For several long seconds, he had no clear memory of what particular reality he was living through.
The room was dark. It only took him a second to realize that he was far away from any room in Ralph’s home; knowledge of where he actually was came far more slowly. The only thing Liam could make out in his unfamiliar surroundings was a faint outline of light where a door used to be.
He wasn’t in Ralph’s house, but that didn’t mean Ralph couldn’t be there. Ralph knew about Marcus. Ralph knew Marcus was awake. It didn’t take too great a panic-fueled, mental jump to realize that meant Ralph could have found out where Marcus lived.
Scrabbling for the bedside table, desperately trying to find a lamp he only vaguely remembered the location of, Liam finally managed to press the switch on the side of it with trembling fingers. Warm, yellow light spread through the room, mellowed by an old fashioned fringed lampshade.
A shadow in the middle of the room moved and grew, gradually forming the figure of a man.
Unable to breat
he, Liam couldn’t even convince his heart to take another beat. Pressing himself back against the headboard, he tried to work out how small his chances of making it to the door were. The figure was between him and the splintered remains of the only entrance and exit. The fact the key still rested on his bedside table was no help to Liam.
The figure moved again. Ralph completely failed to look up at Liam. Instead, Marcus pushed long black strands of his hair back from his face as he lifted his head. Crouched in the center of the room, he looked all the way around the space, even ducking his head down to peer beneath the bed.
Suddenly, Liam’s heart and lungs were racing away at full pelt, but he still couldn’t control any muscles that required his conscious input. He simply sat and stared at Marcus as if he were a ghost rather than a vampire.
“Are you okay?”
Very slowly, Liam managed to nod, one jerky little motion, before he fell still again.
Marcus glared around the room once more. Liam half expected him to check for bogymen in the wardrobes, too. As the vampire faced the doorway, Liam’s attention turned toward the splinters of wood where the door should have been.
“You screamed.”
Liam’s gaze snapped back to Marcus’.
He’d screamed and Marcus had… what had he done exactly? Come to rescue him?
Sudden footsteps on the stairs sent tension flooding back into Liam’s body. For once, he found himself stupidly reassured by the fact he didn’t have a viable way to escape from the room. Marcus was positioned firmly between him and the door. Anyone who was stupid enough to launch themselves through that doorway now would have to go through Marcus before they could reach Liam. From the look that filled Marcus’ eyes, that would be no easy task.
It was almost impossible to imagine the vampire lying peacefully in a hospital bed now. He was all bunched muscles and tightened nerves. Marcus turned toward the door, shifting his feet into a position that indicated he was ready to fight.