The Dead Don't Lie

by Anne Russo

  “Don’t try that shit again!” He stomped out of the room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass in his wake.

  Chapter 9

  Ian considered taking off, putting much needed distance between Adam and himself. Instead, he stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him. The tension burned through his skin, scorching everything in its wake. In the past, he’d have gotten drunk at a random bar, fucking the first attractive guy who crossed his path. But now the desire wasn’t there. Instead, Ian tore off his sweaty clothes, tossing them to the floor before he stomped to the bathroom. Frustrated, he searched the medicine cabinet for something to take the edge off.

  Ian made sure to avoid his reflection, swiping a few leftover sleeping tablets. He chased them back with a handful of water before turning the shower temperature up as hot as he could stand. Eager for a distraction, Ian stood under the scalding spray until it cooled, and the pills took effect. He dried off, then staggered off to bed without bothering to dress. He threw himself on top of the comforter face first. Free falling into an instant, dreamless sleep as soon as his head hit the mattress.

  * * * *

  After his mother died, life changed forever for Ian. They left him alone in the mansion with a series of transient figures for companionship—one governess after the other. A band of roving guards he’d badger into playing ball with him, tutors who came and left with scant regularity.

  As for his father, Liam stayed a shadowy figure who came and went with no warning. A man who carried with him an aura of such intense grief, Ian found being around him frightening. The only person he looked forward to seeing was Rhys. Rhys visited every few weeks, Ian greeting him at the door.

  “How’s life, buddy?” Rhys asked.

  Ian clung to his legs, so delighted to see him, he could burst. Rhys listened as Ian took him through every mundane event since he’d seen him last. Ian remembered one sunny afternoon, Rhys arriving to discover him more animated than usual. A flurry of chaotic excitement as Ian told him of the salamander he’d found and named Bug. Rhys took this flood of gleeful information in stride. First, he kneeled to inspect Ian’s pet, which he’d secured in a glass jar with holes punched into the lid for air.

  Gently, he offered his opinion. “You know, maybe Bug might be happier living outside.”

  “But I want to keep him,” Ian protested. “He’s mine.”

  Rhys grinned. “Course you do, but you want him to be happy, right? And you can visit him in the garden. I’m sure the rest of his salamander family misses him very much.”

  Ian had been heartbroken, reluctant to part with his new friend. Still, he’d agreed, only because it was what Rhys wanted. And if Rhys wanted it, there was no further point left to argue. What Rhys said went, no questions asked. Ian’s devotion was a singular stance he’d never wavered on in the intervening years since. Even now, as an adult, under every undertaking, lay the innate desire for his approval. What would Rhys want him to do? And would it finally be enough for Rhys to love him back?

  * * * *

  Hours passed. When Ian awoke, he got dressed and made his way out into the communal area. The apartment was far too quiet when he entered. Kalifa and Hector were in the living room, lying on opposite ends of the sofa, their feet tangled together as they read from their respective books.

  “Where the hell is everyone?”

  They both took their time in acknowledging him, which further irritated him.

  “Out,” Hector answered, flipping to the next page.

  “Out where?” Ian demanded, blood boiling.

  “A club,” Kalifa supplied as she lowered her book to her chest to meet Ian’s hostile glare.

  “Everyone?”

  “Mei’s exact words were, and I quote, ‘We’re going out to get stupid drunk, and we’re taking the kid with us.’”

  “And you both assumed I’d be okay with that?”

  They didn’t so much as bat an eye at the outburst. Hector shrugged as Kalifa turned back to her book. “It’s not our place,” she explained.

  Ian rolled his eyes in response and stomped off toward the elevators.

  * * * *

  Ian moved through the crowd of sticky, writhing bodies. Blue and red strobe lights swirled around him in time with the pulsating dance music. Ian scanned the venue for any trace of Adam. He searched the surrounding faces until he spotted them minus one.

  He stalked over to their table, cluttered with many empty beer bottles and shot glasses. As he approached, three sets of red, drunken eyes peered up at him, looking far too pleased with themselves for his liking.

  “Fuck me! Dad’s here,” Vince announced, snorting with laughter. His spasm of giggles leading to a choking fit as he coughed into his arm, red faced. Regan rubbed his back, snickering.

  “Looking for someone?” Mei asked, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

  “Where is he?” Ian demanded, in no mood for games.

  “Around?”

  “What?” Ian shouted over the ridiculous volume of noise.

  “He’s around,” Mei answered, shrugging. “Sit down. Relax. Have a drink.”

  “Around where?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, turn around, man,” Vince muttered and dropped his head onto the table.

  Ian whirled around and found Adam on the opposite side of the dance floor in a random stranger’s arms. Ian’s eyes narrowed as this nobody made Adam’s entire face light up. The stranger nuzzled Adam’s neck. A simple gesture, but it sparked a near riot inside Ian as his vision tunneled until its focus zeroed in on Adam’s face. Rage settled over his entire body—an itchy red haze.

  He tore his gaze away from Adam’s face to take in the possessive curl of the other man’s hand on his waist. For that alone, Ian wanted to rip his head clean off his shoulders, a desire further crystallized when Adam leaned in and kissed him.

  Ian’s fury exploded. He pushed through dancers, shoving people out of his way. A few drunk revelers protested over the treatment but clammed up when he shot each of them a deadly look. Once in the back, Ian lost sight of the couple. His frantic gaze searched the couples along the walls. Couples pressed together in various stages of intimacy, but none of them were Adam. Ian stormed past, heading for the fire door at the end of the hallway. He shoved it open, stumbling out into the frigid night air in pursuit.

  * * * *

  Adam was drunk, and for the first time in a while for a reason other than to drink away his misery. It hadn’t been his intention. He kicked off his evening, ready to drown his sorrows, alone, but Mei and Regan had other ideas. Joined by Vince, the four of them downed several shots and ordered a round of beers. The place packed with people, the music a pulsating vibration coursing over Adam’s body like a steady, rising wave. Somewhere between his third drink and Regan dragging him onto the dance floor, he forgot why he had been so resistant in the first place.

  Later, Adam stepped out of the men’s room, having lost sight of the group, searching for the trio in a sea of faces. A search interrupted by the sensation of someone’s deliberate stare honing in on him. In the shadows, there stood a terrific looking guy with lovely eyes and even more attractive muscles. Adam smiled, shy and unsure but curious. Muscles returned his smile, taking the invitation to wander over to chat. He bought Adam a few drinks before leading him out onto the dance floor.

  They danced without space between them. Only skin, and sweat, and welcomed hands all over, kissing him senseless before they even exchanged first names. Adam went with it, two songs in and he’d have said yes to anything this guy suggested. They danced for a few more songs before downing more shots. Overcome with laughter, head fuzzy from liquor, and kisses, they slipped away to be alone. Jim or Jimmy, Adam wasn’t sure which, breathing filthy promises as he nibbled on his ear. Jimmy all but begging for him to follow him outside. Adam answered with another passionate kiss before taking his hand and letting him lead the way.

  The fresh air hit like a punch but was a welcome r
elief from the crowd’s oppressive intensity and noise. It sobered him up, but not enough for him to reconsider. He was well aware he’d have hell to pay for this brief excursion. But he needed release, somewhere, anywhere, with anyone.

  “Over here.” Jimmy led him away from the light.

  Adam followed him into the darkened shadows, rewarded for his obedience by a hard, ravenous kiss. His brain was whirling from liquor and attention, wanting so much.

  “I want to go down on you,” Jimmy moaned into his ear when they broke apart. “I’ve been dying all night.”

  Who was Adam to argue? He twisted handfuls of Jimmy’s shirt and captured his mouth in another searing kiss. “So do it,” Adam challenged as he caught Jimmy’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.

  Jimmy gave him a dirty grin before sliding to his knees, right there in this filthy, trash strewn alley. He tore off Adam’s belt, reaching with grasping, eager hands. Adam threw his head back against the brick wall behind him. The anticipation alone was unbearable as he waited for welcome and much wanted heat. Yet before even the mere ghost of breath where Adam wanted it most, Jimmy cried out in surprise.

  Adam’s eyes snapped open to discover Ian standing before him. His eyes locked on his own rigid and focused, burning through him in the meager light. Jimmy sprawled out on the hard, unforgiving ground, protesting. Ian tore his focus from Adam’s wide eyed stare to direct his attention to the man at his feet.

  “Go,” he growled. “Now.”

  Those two words had the desired effect. Jimmy hurried to stand and took off running, nearly tripping over himself as Adam struggled to zip up his pants. His hands shook as the pieces came together as fast as his drunken mind allowed him. Little by little, the fog lifted, leaving him furious. “You asshole! What are you, my goddamn keeper?”

  * * * *

  Ian bristled, jaw clenched, fists curled. Far past words, far past arguing. He wasn’t sure if Adam even had his faculties enough to piece together what had happened. In one moment of weakness, he’d shown his entire hand. Ian tried to tear his gaze away from Adam’s face. Distracted by the red flush of arousal, coloring his ears, his throat. Mesmerized as the amber in his eyes caught the light from a nearby streetlight. The way they flashed golden with indignation. It hit, sharp as any stab, the thought that someone else had done this, laid claim to him. Left him debauched and irresistible, and God, it shouldn’t have hurt this much. Unleashed now was both fury and desire so hot it seared Ian from the inside out. Impulse and pure need won over and flipped the world upside down.

  Ian took one purposeful stride, two, and seized Adam’s flushed face between his palms. He pressed tight, savoring for one sweet, too soon second the surprise colored on Adam’s face. The deepening furrow between his brow, the question.

  Ian answered it by kissing him hard with a force that drove them both back against the wall behind them. They hit with a startled grunt, Ian’s hands buried deep in Adam’s hair, cradling his head. In contrast, kissing with desperate urgency, an urgency that surprised them both.

  Adam made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a whimper and a moan. It was the sweetest sound Ian had ever heard. And now, he wanted nothing more but to spend the rest of his life listening to it. No one, anywhere, had ever made him this hard, this goddamn hot in the space of seconds.

  They fought each other now for breath, for air, clinging to and clawing one another. They couldn’t kiss hard enough, long enough, deep enough. Still, it wasn’t near enough. Ian needed him closer.

  Frustrated, he lifted Adam by his thighs. Healing ribs and throbbing wounds made him groan in protest. Still, he refused to let it deter him as he slammed forward again, harder.

  Adam went with him, wrapping his legs around Ian’s waist, dragging him in by the back of the neck. Ian refused to give them each an inch of distance as he rutted, desperate for friction. Aching to touch his bare skin, to tear right through it, but there were too many layers. The intensity, the overload of sensation made Ian’s head spin.

  “Ian, wait.” Adam’s voice broke through the fog. “Wait, stop—”

  Ian bit back a moan, tearing his mouth away from Adam’s throat, using every ounce of his willpower to pull back. With bitter reluctance, he lowered Adam back to the ground. Ian kept his head bowed, their foreheads pressed together hard enough to hurt. They were both shaking beneath each other’s hands. Ian closed his eyes as Adam’s shuddered breaths ghosted over his eyelids, lips.

  If I look at him, he’ll see, he’ll see…

  The terrified child inside of Ian flashed a warning.

  So Ian kept his eyes shut against everything just beyond his reach. God, he could still taste Adam on his tongue, and the realization made his entire body hum with nerves and want. Ian leaned forward without his comprehension, curving into Adam’s warmth, seeking it as if wanting to devour him whole.

  He let out a shaky frustrated groan and pulled away, holding Adam back by the shoulders. Ian dug his fingers in and relished the wince of pain Adam uttered before he shoved Adam aside. He retreated to the opposite wall and dropped his head against the bricks. His palms flat, chest heaving, willing back the breath he’d lost. As if he’d been running miles instead of kissing someone for a minute, maybe two? He choked/laughed at his wretchedness.

  “Ian?” Adam sounding hesitant as he took a few cautious steps away from the wall toward him.

  Ian could hear the fear and uncertainty thrumming under the surface of Adam’s skin. It only made him want him more. His every emotion overwhelmed Ian, how raw he was, so vivid and real, alive. Alive in ways that he had never been, and he hated himself. He hated Adam, too, for making him want something other than the icy numbness he preferred, especially when it ached like this like nothing had since Rhys had left him. Ian whirled on him, catching Adam off guard and forcing him to step back.

  “Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

  “Make a big deal?” Adam’s eyes were wide, mouth open in near comical confusion. “What the hell was that?”

  Ian tried to rein back his temper, hands squeezed into tight fists, his knuckles aching. He unclenched them, forcing his arms to his side, straightened, hoping he sounded calm.

  “A mistake. I shouldn’t have, and you shouldn’t have let me either.”

  This explanation didn’t appease Adam one bit. He exploded in a rage, getting in Ian’s face. “Let you? I was trying to fuck someone else, you fucker!”

  “Yeah, in a goddamn alley.”

  Adam’s eyebrow shot up, incredulous. “Right. You’ve got a sudden aversion to strangers in alleys. That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “Not another word,” Ian threatened. “I’m serious. Not one more word.” Ian wasn’t the least bit surprised when Adam ignored him and unleashed another blistering tirade.

  “Don’t you tell me to shut up, Ian! What is wrong with you?”

  Ian reached for him, to pull him back or away, his fist entangled around the collar of Adam’s shirt. Adam’s eyes wide with surprise before flashing wild. Then he was smashing his fists against Ian’s hold, struggling to break free. As much as Ian wanted Adam to stop, he wanted this more, his temper, his passion.

  “Stop! Stop fighting me.” He shook Adam, loosening his grip but not letting go.

  Adam stopped attacking, quick to discover that his efforts weren’t getting him anywhere.

  “I promise you. This won’t happen again.” Ian struggled to get the words out. He was lying, and they both knew it. “It can’t,” he added.

  “You’re damn right this won’t happen again,” Adam spat, near murderous with rage and shaking with frustration. “I’m done playing these sick games with you!”

  “That’s your problem right there,” Ian threw back, shoving him away. “You think this is a game, one with rules you can break anytime you want. Well, trust me, there are consequences for your actions.”

  “That’s hilarious coming from you,” Adam retorted with a bitter laugh. “You’re
not only a consequence, you idiot—you’re the bane of my entire fucking existence.”

  The expression on his face stunned Ian, how much it reminded him of Rhys. The rest, though, every bit Katherine. That delicate bone structure, those haunting eyes. That aura that drew him into his orbit with no real resistance. Every bit as helpless as his father, Rhys. Anyone caught too close to a dying sun right before the explosion. Both enthralled by its magnificence and its devastation. Ian spun, storming away, but Adam was hot on his heels.

  “So you have nothing to say? What the hell is wrong with you?” Adam reached to pull Ian back toward him, a move that infuriated Ian.

  He whirled, snatching his arm away, eyes black with rage. “Back off!”

  Adam didn’t have time to retaliate. They both rounded as the emergency door opened; music and laughter filtered outside before slamming shut with a terrific bang, thrown off guard as Mei strode into view.

  “Found you,” Mei exclaimed, smirk sliding away once she spied their miserable expressions.

  “Stay out of it,” Ian fumed, flinging his irritation in her direction.

  Mei frowned. “I’m sorry? What am I staying out of?”

  “Not that exciting, trust me,” Adam added.

  “Shut up!” Ian hissed in his direction before whirling on Mei. “You and your brilliant ideas. Who told you this was okay?”

  “I did. Since when do I need to check with you before having a good time?”

  “Since you brought along his hostage,” Adam clarified. “Right, Ian? You own me so you get to decide who I can and can’t fuck.”

  “Christ,” Mei responded as Ian glared, refusing to engage either of them. Mei turned to Adam. “Do me a favor? Get the others. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

  Adam resisted.

  “Go on, I want to talk to Ian alone for a minute.”

  Adam glanced between them before heading for the door, flinging worried glances as he passed.

  Once gone, Ian leaped to his defense, but Mei stopped him. “You can’t have it both ways. You know that, right?”