Vlad should have probably felt relieved to be let off the hook so easily. Instead, he felt annoyed. How could he be worse than that pathetic, petty asshole?
“I’m the worst mistake?” he said before he could stop himself. Sure, he and Sebastian had had their share of differences, but at least he hadn’t emailed the picture of Sebastian giving someone head to everyone in school, hadn’t driven Sebastian’s boyfriend to commit suicide, and didn’t trash-talk Sebastian to total strangers.
Sebastian’s mouth fell open. He blinked. “Are you actually offended?”
Vlad’s lips thinned into a line.
A slow grin spread across Sebastian’s face. “Aw, you’re offended. Cute.” He patted Vlad on the cheek.
Vlad wanted to turn his head and bite his fingers.
Fuck.
What the hell?
Oblivious to his freak out, Sebastian stopped smiling, his expression becoming serious. “Don’t take it personally. Mike is a bigger asshole than you, but I was young and stupid. I don’t have that excuse anymore and should have known better.”
“Love, you can go ahead and change into the outfit I chose for you,” the stylist called out before Vlad could say anything. “It’s in the gym’s changing room. We’ll catch up to you after I convince this dumbass that we need—”
“Don’t teach me how to do my job,” Matt bit off, glaring at her. “I’m right, dammit!”
Their argument resumed.
Rolling his eyes, Sebastian headed off, presumably toward the gym. Vlad followed.
Since it was Sunday, the school was completely empty, their footsteps echoing in the long corridor. Vlad bored his eyes into Sebastian’s nape, still annoyed as fuck. His gaze dropped to Sebastian’s plump ass hugged by a pair of worn jeans. In broad daylight, it seemed surreal that he had been inside that ass just last night.
Faggot, a derisive voice said in his head, and Vlad tore his gaze away as if burned.
Fucking hell, what was wrong with him? What was he doing, ogling a man’s ass? Last night’s insanity was more than enough. He wasn’t a goddamn faggot like Sebastian. Although…Vlad had to admit it took some serious balls to dress stereotypically flamboyant after being outed to everyone in your school and after your partner had been bullied into committing suicide. That took a lot of courage and Vlad respected courage, even if Sebastian’s courage was stupidly idealistic.
“You know that guy is jealous of you, right?” Vlad said, breaking the charged silence. He could see Sebastian’s shoulders tense up, his steps faltering a little.
“Jealous of me?” Sebastian said in a strained voice.
Thinking of the ugliness in Fletcher’s voice, Vlad shrugged. “It eats at him that the gay loser that he considered far beneath him could have become famous, beautiful, and rich, while he’s stuck in this town, with no prospects, a wife he doesn’t want, and a brood of kids he has to provide for.”
Sebastian stopped and turned around slowly, an incredulous expression on his face. “Did you just call me beautiful?”
Vlad felt heat travel to his face. “No,” he bit out. “But Fletcher thinks you are.”
Sebastian cocked his head with a tiny smirk. “Did he tell you that?”
“No,” Vlad said, wishing he’d never brought it up. “I have two eyes and a functional brain. He was all but drooling looking at you. It was fucking disgusting.”
Sebastian stepped closer, eyeing him curiously. “People look at me all the time, Vlad. I’ve been told I’m pretty pleasant to look at. That’s my job. Why did it bother you? I thought you two would get along smashingly.”
“Why would we?” Vlad bristled. “Do I look like that petty, childish jackass clinging to his glory days in secondary school?”
Sebastian grinned. “You are really offended. You’re actually offended to be compared to him. Oh my God, this is adorable!” He lifted a hand and patted Vlad on the cheek again, amusement all over his face. “Don’t worry, your dick is bigger—”
Vlad grabbed Sebastian’s wrist.
They both went still at the contact, Vlad’s fingers gripping Sebastian’s wrist in a way that was reminiscent of what had happened last night. An image of himself grabbing Sebastian’s wrists and shoving him against the restroom door flashed through Vlad’s mind. He licked his dry lips.
Sebastian swallowed and whispered, “Let go.”
Vlad didn’t.
“Let go,” Sebastian said again, something like desperation crossing his face.
He should. He fucking should.
Vlad looked down at Sebastian’s parted lips. The stylist had put something on them and they looked even redder than usual, a stark contrast to Sebastian’s pale skin.
Sebastian moistened them with the tip of his tongue. “Let go,” he said again, his bottom lip trembling.
Vlad had to taste it. He needed to. The force of that need was beyond anything he’d ever felt—he was fucking shaking with it—and he was helpless to stop himself as he surged forward to suck on that luscious lip.
“You’re so beautiful,” he heard himself mutter, kissing those lips again and again. He sounded drunk. He felt drunk.
Sebastian let out a small whine before freezing and shoving him away.
They stared at each other, both out of breath and flushed.
“What the hell are you playing at?” Sebastian all but hissed, looking beyond furious. “What happened to ‘I’m not a faggot’?” He shook his head. “You know what? Don’t answer that—it doesn’t matter, I don’t care. I’m not dealing with that bullshit again. I’m done being fucked over by ‘straight’ assholes who can’t keep their cocks out of my mouth. Go find some poor woman to fuck and be miserable with—and keep your bloody hands off me.” Huffing, Sebastian strode away, quickly disappearing around the corner.
Vlad exhaled through his teeth, turned, and punched the wall. It failed to make him feel better—or less confused.
He stood there for a while, trying to get a grip on his body and make sense of what the hell he was doing.
A muffled scream broke the air and made his blood freeze.
And then he was running.
Chapter 13
They attacked him the moment Sebastian entered the changing room. A blow to his temple made him stumble and fall, his vision swimming and his eyes moistening from the blinding pain.
“What a pansy,” said a man above him before kicking him hard in the stomach. Sebastian curled into a fetal position, trying to protect his head as kicks rained down on him from all directions. There were three of them, he realized distantly through the fog of pain. One of them shoved a rag inside Sebastian’s mouth, making him gag.
Do something, he told his stupid body, but it was paralyzed with shock and an onslaught of memories, as though he was sixteen once again and it was Mike and his friends “teaching the faggot a lesson” while everyone just watched. No one had helped him then and no one would help him now.
“Enough,” one of them said. “Knock him out. We need to get him out of here.”
That finally broke whatever spell he had been under. No, he wasn’t going down without a fight, dammit. Sebastian rolled onto his back and kicked one of them in the crotch, hard. The man howled before his buddy growled at him to shut up and delivered another punch to Sebastian’s head that almost made him black out. They grabbed him and hauled him toward the open window.
Sebastian wasn’t sure what happened next. His ears were still ringing from the punch, his head was pounding, his whole body was aching as hell, so he didn’t register immediately when the hands on him disappeared. There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, accompanied by grunts and sounds of pain.
When the nausea and pain subsided and Sebastian was finally able to focus his gaze on what was happening, he saw Vlad’s massive fist deliver a blow to the man’s head, knocking him out. The other two were already on the floor.
Sebastian blinked dazedly, watching Vlad strip the men’s belts off them, swiftly tie them up, and
gag them with their own shirts.
Finally, Vlad turned and looked at him, studying him from head to toe. Annoyingly, he looked fucking impeccable in his black suit and didn’t even seem out of breath. It shouldn’t have been hot.
Sebastian pulled the gag out of his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling inadequate and embarrassed for the bruises he probably sported. It was so dumb. He had no reason to be embarrassed. He didn’t bodyguard people for a living, and he couldn’t be expected to protect himself against three men even if he hadn’t been opposed to violence on principle.
“You’re late,” Sebastian said.
“Is that your gratitude?” Vlad grunted, his Russian accent heavier than usual.
Sebastian arched a brow and barely suppressed a grimace when he felt a dull pain. “For what? Doing your job?” He knew he should probably thank Vlad, but after the bullshit Vlad had pulled in the corridor he wasn’t feeling particularly genial toward him. Because there had been a part of him that had been terribly, awfully tempted to forget his promise to himself and take whatever crumbs Vlad threw at him. And he despised himself for that. How could he be tempted? Hadn’t he learned anything with Mike?
“If it weren’t for me, you would’ve come here with that useless bodyguard.” Vlad walked over, lifted Sebastian’s shirt and started feeling up his ribs. “Wanna take bets on your odds of being just a little less pretty in that case?”
A little less pretty?
“At least he would have been professional,” Sebastian retorted, squirming away from Vlad’s touch. “Stop touching me. I’m fine. I’ve had it worse.”
Vlad lifted his blue eyes from Sebastian’s ribs.
Sebastian met his gaze steadily, although he was painfully aware that Vlad’s hands were still on his skin, which felt annoyingly oversensitive all of a sudden, breaking into goosebumps under Vlad’s hands.
“You’re trembling,” Vlad said.
Sebastian tried to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s shock and adrenaline. I’ve been attacked twice within a few days. I think I’m entitled to feel a little traumatized.” True enough, but that wasn’t why he was quivering.
Vlad didn’t argue. His hand moved down, pressing against his stomach. “Does it hurt here?”
Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek. “A little.” He wished it hurt more so the pain distracted him from how good the touch felt. His belly had always been a bit of an erogenous zone and having Vlad’s hands there was driving him mad, his stomach quivering and heat rushing to his groin. He wanted to yank Vlad to him, crush their bodies together, feel Vlad’s thick cock drag all over his belly, before nudging between his legs—
“Love, are you rea—What the hell?”
His neck hot, Sebastian stepped away from Vlad and forced a smile when he saw Matt’s flabbergasted face. He could only imagine what the scene looked like from the photographer’s perspective: three gagged, tied-up men on the floor, and Sebastian who probably looked like he’d been hit by a truck. “Looks like you won’t be getting those shots in the gym, Matt,” Sebastian said, hating how breathless his voice sounded.
“Oh my God,” Matt said, a horrified expression appearing on his face. “Love, are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Sebastian lied. He felt anything but all right.
Four hours later, after Sebastian had given his account of the incident to the police, seen a doctor and had been declared healthy enough to go home, Sebastian felt absolutely beat. He had no energy to drive back to London, so he decided to stay at his childhood home. It was more convenient. Besides, he missed his parents and his sister. It’d been a while since he’d visited them. Not to mention that staying at his parents’ meant that he could have some respite from Vlad.
Except apparently Vlad had other ideas.
“Seriously, go back to London,” he told Vlad as they walked toward his parents’ house. “You’re not my bodyguard. You’re Luke’s.”
“I am your bodyguard until we return to London,” Vlad said, his face unreadable. “I spoke to Luke on the phone. He told me to stay with you. He’ll stay with the Hardaways until our return.”
“My parents’ house is very small,” Sebastian argued. “There will be no room for you.” It was true. His parents had refused when he had offered to buy them a bigger house; they loved their quaint little house too much to move elsewhere.
“I’ll live,” Vlad said with a shrug. “I don’t need much.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. He was giving Vlad a perfect excuse to leave and put some distance between them. Why wasn’t Vlad taking it? Why hadn’t Vlad been making any sense all day long?
He shot Vlad an irritated look, but Vlad was looking straight ahead. Sebastian stared at his hard profile before tearing his gaze away and quickening his stride.
The sight of his childhood home made him relax a little.
Sebastian’s mother was the one to open the door. She gasped when she saw his face.
Sebastian smiled quickly. “I’m fine, Mum, really.”
Half an hour later, after everyone had finally calmed down, his mother insisted that they all have tea first before going to bed. As far as Melinda Sumner was concerned, tea fixed everything.
“I don’t understand how anyone can be so cruel,” his mother said, still looking upset. “I can understand if some people believe that we should love only the opposite gender—which is still wrong, but people can believe whatever they want to believe—but actually hurting innocent people because of who they love? Why would they do that? Why would they form some sort of cult just to hurt people who are different?”
His sister caught Sebastian’s eye, and he dropped his gaze, looking down into his cup. Their mother was still oblivious to the time Mike and his buddies had beaten him up.
“People hate what they don’t understand,” his dad said.
“Or maybe they’re just crazy jerks,” Julia said. “There doesn’t have to be a reason. Some people are just vile.”
“Maybe they just never knew any better,” Vlad said quietly.
Tensing, Sebastian shot Vlad a look over the rim of his cup. He had been basically ignoring his bodyguard since their arrival, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. Having Vlad in his childhood home felt strange on so many levels. He’d never imagined Vlad having an actual conversation with his family.
“What do you mean, dear?” his mother said.
Vlad shrugged slightly, his expression closed off. “Some people grow up knowing nothing but hate toward...anything different. They don’t know how messed up some of their beliefs are. They simply don’t know any better. They don’t question what they’ve been told by adults.”
Sebastian stared at him.
His father was the one to ask a question that was undoubtedly on everyone’s minds. “Are you speaking from personal experience, son?”
Vlad’s face was positively stony. He gave a clipped nod, his blue eyes fixed on his tea. “My uncle used to tell me and my brothers that gay people were like rabid dogs that ought to be shot. He was the only male authority figure we had, and we had no reason not to trust his words.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
“That’s...awful,” Sebastian’s mother said, her dark eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth. “He couldn’t have been a good parental figure.”
“What a psycho,” Julia muttered.
Their mother shot her a reproachful look. “The important thing is that now you know better,” she said, turning to Vlad with a soft smile.
When Vlad said nothing, her smile slipped off.
A hysterical laugh bubbled in Sebastian’s throat. God, the whole thing was almost hilarious.
“He hates me, Mum,” Sebastian said with a snort.
“Don’t be silly, Sebastian,” Melinda said. “How can anyone hate you?”
“He does,” Sebastian said.
Melinda was frowning deeply, looking from Sebastian to Vlad. “Surely my son is mistaken? You can’t possibly hate him.”<
br />
Vlad shrugged. “I don’t want him dead.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Julia said, not without sarcasm.
Vlad was frowning. “I don’t ‘hate’ him. Hate is the wrong word. But he’s a pretentious little shit, too idealistic for his own good.”
Melinda opened and closed her mouth.
Julia started snickering. “I like you,” she told Vlad.
Sebastian kicked her under the table and looked at Vlad exasperatedly. “You could’ve refrained from insulting me at least while you’re in my mother’s house.” But he was a little bewildered. Vlad didn’t hate him? The day was getting stranger and stranger.
“Don’t see any point in lying,” Vlad said, his eyes fixing on Sebastian with an intensity that was a little unnerving. “If you weren’t against violence, you could have learned to protect himself. You’re not a wimp.”
“Well,” his mother said, looking uncomfortable. Sebastian felt so sorry for her. She was clearly very torn. Melinda Sumner prided herself on being a gracious, warm hostess, but she was also fiercely protective of her children.
Melinda took a sip from her tea. “At least tell me you know that your uncle was wrong.”
“Of course I do,” Vlad said. “But if I hadn’t moved to Moscow when I was thirteen, I would’ve likely kept believing everything he told us.”
“And might have been one of those fanatics now,” Julia murmured.
“Doubt it,” Vlad said. “Killing someone for religious, ideological reasons is beyond stupid. They don’t even gain anything from it.”
Sebastian’s mother, father, and sister all stared at Vlad unblinkingly, shock plain on their faces.
Sebastian couldn’t hold it back anymore: he threw his head back and started laughing. He’d grown so used to Vlad that he’d become desensitized to such remarks from him.
“It’s not funny, Sebastian,” his mother said, looking flustered and frustrated.
Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys Book 7) Page 9