by Blake Ferre
Perrin’s heart singed with the parchment as the flames lapped at the one thing that might have saved his friends.
Fury burned inside Perrin as he shoved Chevalier, forcing him backward. He grasped the bastard’s collar and snarled. “What the hell have you done?”
“It’s for your own good. Possession of such documents is damning evidence against you. What did you think you were doing, carrying those? Where did you even find them?”
“You destroyed them!” Perrin pulled on Chevalier’s cloak, drawing him closer. “Tell me why I shouldn’t hate you?”
Chevalier’s mouth gaped open. “I don’t know! I’d rather I didn’t care. But for some reason, I find myself drawn to protect you.” He huffed a breath, casting loose strands of his dark tendrils over his brow. Perrin was nearly tempted to stroke them aside. “Believe me, I’m no more pleased about this than you. This imbecilic attraction is irksome at best.”
“You burned the documents that might have saved my friends over an imbecilic attraction?” Perrin grabbed Chevalier’s cravat, tugging him closer. Which was a mistake, because Chevalier slammed his lips against Perrin’s.
Furious with himself for enjoying it, Perrin bit at him, teeth colliding in a rough, brutal kiss. “Do you want a reward for your services? Is that it? Did you expect me to fall into your arms so I might expose myself to you while you draw every secret from me?” Perrin shouldn’t have said that, for it only made his own body smolder with need.
“You’d be behind bars this very moment if I hadn’t interfered.” Chevalier clamped his hands around Perrin’s shoulders and pushed him.
Perrin clung to his cravat, keeping him close. “Oh no you don’t.”
“I don’t care if you like me. And I don’t need your gratitude. But I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees.” Chevalier’s eyes blazed with a dark fury that both frightened and excited him. Bloody hell, Perrin had lost his senses.
The smug revolutionary arched a brow as if waiting for Perrin to follow orders, and damnation if the image didn’t cast a heated need through Perrin’s body.
Acting on an inane impulse, Perrin snuck his hand around the base of Chevalier’s neck. With a swift motion, he unfastened the cloak clasp. He delighted in Chevalier’s sharp gasp as the fabric struck the floor, bundled around his ankles. Perrin had him trapped. And he liked it.
Stretching his fingers above Chevalier’s head, he plucked the cocked hat from its place. Perrin played with the tricolored cockade nestled on the brim, shuddering as he grazed the folded document tucked beneath the frayed black ribbon. Proof of Chevalier’s citizenship. Brands of allegiance to the Committee Chevalier still actively served.
Disgust digging into his spirit, Perrin tossed the hat beside Chevalier’s cloak, though he should have thrown the items into the fire.
Chevalier kicked his boots free from the fabric’s grasp. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Perrin tapped his finger on his lips. Like a hungry vulture, he watched as Chevalier backed toward the draped bed. The revolutionary’s hands jittered as he adjusted his coat. Perrin crowded him until Chevalier’s bottom met the mattress. Oh, how he enjoyed making this man fidget. “I’m wondering why you’re really here, Chevalier.”
Chevalier’s cheeks flushed. “I…I…”
“At a loss for words, are you?” Perrin stepped closer to the bed, wedging himself between Chevalier’s thighs. Heat brewed within his body, a dangerous craving lapping at his thoughts. “You could have discarded those documents elsewhere or used them against me. Admit it, you came here for something else, didn’t you?”
“You! I came for you.” Chevalier snapped the words, his face glowing crimson. Anger and desire poured from his every ragged breath.
The confession struck Perrin with such a rush of need, he propelled himself over the insufferable sneak, who collapsed onto the bedding beneath him.
“Look at you, lying beneath me. Sprawled and desperate, hmm?” He had Chevalier right where he wanted him. But the missive from the Scarlet Crest’s leader, the one he was meant to leave for Chevalier, rested in Perrin’s pocket, poking at his thoughts. Chevalier was on the enemy’s side—a danger to Perrin and his friends.
Unspoken words crackled around them, the room unbearably warm. Perrin cursed their positions as their chests heaved in unison.
A low grumble rolled through Perrin’s throat. He didn’t know if it was out of frustration or something else. “That kiss still burns on my lips. But I fear you’ll lead me to the guillotine.”
Chevalier’s jaw dropped, but no words came out.
“Oh yes, you will.” Perrin stroked the strands of dark hair that had tempted him. The texture was silky, unlike Perrin’s tangled mane. The flame in Chevalier’s eyes was too strong a beacon. A siren he couldn’t resist. “I hate you for meddling. For standing in my way. Damnation. I shouldn’t want this.” Perrin let out a gravelly huff, lowering his mouth to Chevalier’s.
Harsh breaths teased between Perrin’s lips. The scent of salt and musk beckoned him further. A surprised grunt escaped Chevalier as he leaned up for more, following Perrin’s slight tug from the hand he slid beneath Chevalier’s neck. Those impossibly soft lips trailed over his. The joining of their mouths was a hungry caress, each motion an urgent plea.
“Please,” Chevalier groaned, a lovely sound. His body was limp in Perrin’s arms.
“Tell me to stop.” Though his better judgment warned against it, Perrin prayed Chevalier wanted this, too.
“Don’t.” Chevalier’s breaths were heavy, lifting his chest in frantic beats.
“Oh, my dear revolutionary, we’re doomed. We might as well enjoy it.”
“Please. Call me Henri. I want my name on your lips.”
“I want more than just your name on my lips, Henri.” Perrin stroked the length of Chevalier’s neck, pushing the cravat as low as it could go. He lapped at the sensitive skin along the base of his neck, drawing more delightful whimpers.
Chevalier moaned, triggering something in Perrin. A softening of the mortar that bonded the brick wall around his heart.
“It’s been so long since I’ve craved another man’s touch.” Perrin’s nostrils flared at his admission. “I hate that it’s your hands and those ridiculous lips that I need most.” But by God, the man felt good in his embrace.
Chevalier moaned. “I’ve been swept into a windstorm of acts I can’t control. My mind and body are at odds. Yet you’re the only thing that feels right in this moment. And though it makes little sense, I can’t stop myself from wanting you.”
Perrin bit Chevalier’s neck. The craving was unfathomable, like a wildfire breaking free in the middle of a hailstorm. He crushed Chevalier’s lips, plowing his tongue into the warmth of that savory mouth. Chevalier moaned again, a delicate rumble. A noise that triggered a surge of tingles within his every limb.
A wet slip of Chevalier’s tongue sent a jolt of desire through his body. He dug his fingers into Perrin’s hair, loosening the strands from the ribbon that held it captive. The man was ravenous.
“I’ve dreamed of doing this. Henri, the feel of you.” Perrin moaned between rolling kisses and warm, soft pecks across every exposed patch of Chevalier’s skin.
Perrin swiftly untied the knot of Chevalier’s cravat. In a wonderfully slow motion, he pulled the ridiculous length of fabric so that it rubbed the back of Chevalier’s neck like a never-ending caress. Chevalier’s eyelids fluttered.
Casting the useless decoration aside, Perrin’s body tremored, a shiver of anticipation rolling through him.
“Yes.” Chevalier spoke a single, garbled word. A plea Perrin understood all too well.
All the worries over Duclos and the chaos of the fragile city around him were swept away by a single kiss from the one officer Perrin could trust.
Oh no… There would be no tru
sting this man.
“Perhaps we’ve both already lost our heads.” Perrin crawled over Chevalier, lounging beside him on the plush bedding. He snugged a hand around Chevalier’s shoulder, encouraging the tempting scoundrel to face him. “But I need to feel you.”
Perrin feasted on Chevalier’s lips, pressing his aching shaft against the firm ridge of Chevalier’s arousal. Chevalier held still, pliant to Perrin’s guidance. How fascinating and wonderful to take charge over the officer who’d sought to hunt him.
“I don’t understand this,” Perrin groaned, sucking on Chevalier’s earlobe. “My body is begging me to take you right here, Henri. If I had my way, I’d turn you around, tear off those breeches, and grab that gorgeous bottom. I’d plow into you with thrusts so deep no other man could ever satisfy you.”
Chevalier’s breath caught. “Your words…so unexpected and…dirty.” A flush stained his neck, perhaps from arousal in addition to the marks left by Perrin’s teeth.
“Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this,” Perrin murmured between kisses.
“Want. Need.” Chevalier let out a pitiful moan as Perrin unfastened the irritating breeches that prevented him from admiring Chevalier’s delectable shaft. When he freed his prize, a pearly trail glistened down the tip of the crown, beckoning Perrin to spread the slick lubricant over the satiny flesh.
“You like my dirty words, hmm?” Perrin nibbled on Chevalier’s jaw. “I can sense how ready you are for me. I want to see the expression on your face when you shatter in my grasp.”
Chevalier thrust into Perrin’s fist. God, yes, the blasted officer needed this release. Chevalier was a work of art. Yet no artist could capture the ferocity of this raging, frantic beauty.
“S’il te plaît.” Chevalier whispered the wanton plea, but it didn’t escape Perrin’s notice. “Please.”
“Tell me you want this, because I find myself incapable of letting you go at the moment.”
“Please. Yes,” Chevalier whimpered with trembling lips.
The simple request was enough to purge all reason from Perrin’s mind. With eager fingers, Perrin stroked Chevalier’s hard member, delighting in the ragged groans and grunts. “You’re so perfectly slick and firm. I’m going to spend just from touching you.” Perrin suckled Chevalier’s neck, savoring the salty heat.
“Spectaculaire.”
To Perrin’s surprise and delight, Chevalier grazed his fingers over the growing wet spot that would undoubtedly ruin the expensive silk fabric of Perrin’s breeches.
A fiery glow lit within Chevalier’s amber eyes as his touch grew more certain. “I want you to spill in these ridiculous clothes. I want you to stain them with your pleasure.”
Perrin’s breath hitched. The man continued to amaze him, besting him at his own game. “You’re full of surprises, Chevalier.”
“You’ve no idea.” He bit his lower lip and grinned. “But I’ll have you call me Henri when you spend in them.”
“Then help me ruin these confounded breeches, Henri. I want to show you how much you torment me.” Dear God, Perrin was about to spend, and they’d only just begun.
Chevalier traced a finger along the fabric, from Perrin’s knee all the way up to the juncture of his thighs. “Spill in them. For me.”
God, it was wrong to soil such fine material. But pleasuring Chevalier far surpassed any concerns over the well-being of fabric. With past lovers, Perrin had always enjoyed being the one in control, but now he delighted in the thought of submitting to this man. He thrust the ridge of his covered member against Chevalier’s palm.
“J’ai besoin de toi.” Chevalier strained for air. “I need you.”
The velvety skin of his shaft stretched and moved with flexible ease from Perrin’s strokes. He traced the thick veins that jutted out, following them like a treasure map that guided him to the delicious center. Perrin craved that taste, wanted to drink every drop his lover offered.
He hastily cast aside the foolish notion that they might be lovers. But this blazing attraction demanded to be stoked. A glorious distraction from the bleak emptiness he suffered.
“I want you to cry out my name when you reach the peak of your pleasure. Can you do that?” Chevalier rumbled.
Perrin groaned, an unexpected shudder rolling down his limbs. “Henri,” Perrin cried out as his body tightened and tremored, and his warm release spilled against the fabric.
With a wicked grin, Chevalier trailed his fingers over the ruined fabric, the damp material filthy. “Mon Dieu, that was beautiful. You’re so desperate for me, de Vesey.”
“Call me Perrin.”
With a weak lift of his palm, he worked Chevalier’s dripping shaft, seeking to offer him release. Chevalier stifled a cry into a moan and jetted his spend almost instantly, coating Perrin’s fingers with slick warmth. “Perrin… Perrin.”
They lay together in silence, their unified breaths a steady beat in tune with Perrin’s pulse. But the blissful haze of their union was severed by a sharp reminder. Chevalier belonged to another world. He stood to ruin Perrin’s cause.
Perrin sat upright, inspecting the stain in the center of his breeches. A cool chill settled over his sweat-slickened skin. The momentary splendor dissipated. What had he done? The sealed note for Chevalier still lingered in Perrin’s coat pocket.
Duclos and Ashford deserved to be freed. It was what Julien would want. And the Scarlet Crest’s leader was quite possibly the only one who could help them.
“I’ll just be a moment.” Perrin slipped his coat off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His stomach sank when he strode out of the room to grab a basin of water. An emptiness cooled his insides, a reminder of how incredibly alone he was.
Basin in hand, Perrin hid behind the door, leaving it open just a crack. He held his breath as he watched Chevalier let out an exhale. Slowly, the officer pushed off the bed. Using the bedframe for support, he righted his breeches.
When Chevalier glanced at the coat, Perrin’s chest constricted. He oughtn’t have been surprised when Chevalier knelt before it and stroked the buttons, then the floral patterns. Down. Lower. Perrin prayed he’d ignore the missive. Which was absurd. He oughtn’t care whatever the Scarlet Crest intended to do with the officer.
Chevalier trailed a finger over the little parchment of paper in the pocket and froze. He looked over his shoulder, and, for a moment, Perrin thought he might not read it.
His heart strained when Chevalier pulled it out.
Pressing his lips together, Perrin waited until Chevalier had inspected it long enough before pushing the door open with a loud, warning creak. Chevalier hastily tucked it into the back of his breeches.
“I’d ask you to stay…” Perrin’s voice clearly startled Chevalier, his wide eyes filled with guilt.
Chevalier bit his lip. “Of course. I’ve work to tend to.” He staggered to the door and paused, his eyes set on Perrin’s. A sort of saddened acceptance lingered in his partial smile. “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed that very much. Thank you.” He nodded before slipping out of the room, leaving Perrin to his whirling thoughts.
Slouching against the bedpost, Perrin cradled the basin and tipped the crown of his head against the elaborately carved wood. He only wished he knew what was in that note. Whatever it contained, Perrin couldn’t shake the sensation that he’d betrayed his revolutionary.
Chapter Eleven
Dearest friend,
You seek the truth about our league? Place this note in a metal box engraved with double roses. You’ll find it hidden in the supply room of a butcher shop owned by Giraud.
The Scarlet Crest
Though the note was likely intended for de Vesey’s eyes, Henri couldn’t shake the sensation that the Scarlet Crest had somehow written it for him. A slither of fear wriggled down his spine. Investigating further meant he’d have to head to the one pl
ace aside from the guillotine’s scaffold that he couldn’t stomach: a butcher shop.
Only a few blocks separated him from Giraud’s. Henri had just enough time to inspect this supposed box before reporting in at the Committee offices. He only hoped he wasn’t too late. De Vesey likely knew he’d stolen the note by now. But the missive had been sealed, so he wouldn’t know where Henri was heading. Still, he might have warned the Scarlet Crest’s leader that the message had been compromised.
Memories of last night flashed through his mind. He’d spent most of his life confronting one disappointment after another. For a short moment, in de Vesey’s arms, he’d experienced what it was like to have someone care for him again. A companion’s touch to release him from the twisting path of hardships that had become his life. But just as Henri should have expected, de Vesey’s cold parting had been a reminder there’d be no further pleasure shared between them.
Telling himself it was for the best, Henri strode to his destination. Giraud’s butcher shop was crammed between two other storefronts not far from the Rue Saint-Honoré. Slipping in through the back entrance, Henri found a plump woman barking orders to a young man. The lad carved furiously at a slab of meat and was doing a wretched job of it. Henri’s insides turned sour, and the walls seemed to close in upon him. The foul stench assaulted his nose, making his stomach cramp. Curse it all. He couldn’t allow this shop to get the better of him. He needed to remain focused.
“Excuse me, citizen.” Henri cursed that his voice was weak and quiet in comparison to the woman’s booming admonishments. He’d never convince her he was supposed to be there if he didn’t act the part.
“What’s this?” She turned around with a quickened breath that was just as sharp as the knife in her grip. “Who are you and what are you doing in my shop?” She pointed a crimson-stained finger at him, and the world turned into spirals.