by Lynn Hagen
“But–but I don’t know anything about that stuff.”
Ian began to pant as Mason reached out and traced his finger along the collar on Ian’s neck, and then that same finger traced Ian’s profile. “I have every confidence you will learn what is needed in order to get the job done.”
Ian wasn’t so sure, but if Mason had a stern belief he could do it, then Ian would give it a try. It made him feel like he was contributing something to this group. He glanced around the room they were in, another safe house, another state, everything so unfamiliar to him.
But instead of feeling lost and alone, Ian glanced up at Mason and knew he would never be alone again. His mate had come back to him, whole, and pulling Ian into the tightest embrace he had ever been in.
“Who is going to show me?”
Mason’s grin widened. “Your father.”
Ian felt his knees begin to shake as his father appeared in the bedroom doorway. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t have a conversation with the man who meant so much to him. Ian looked up to his father, thought him the strongest man he knew.
“Hello, Ian.”
Ian’s eyes shot to Mason, pleading.
Mason cupped Ian’s face, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Just hear him out. You’ll be amazed at what he knows and how he feels.”
Ian wasn’t so sure about that. He had done some pretty terrible things in the past four years. How was he to stand in front of the man who had the potential to destroy him and look his father in his eyes?
Ian’s heart began to beat wildly when his father’s eyes raked over him, assessing, judging. “Nice outfit. Not as nice as the one your mother wears, but still high quality.”
Ian froze, his mind reaching, grasping at what the man was telling him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, nor did he want to.
She was his mother, after all.
That was just weird.
He watched his father’s every move, every emotion on his face as he closed the door. “I hear you are doing a lot better.”
Ian gave a jerky nod, still unable to talk. He couldn’t, not when his voice was frozen in his throat, forming a hard lump. Mason walked over to the chair by the window and took a seat, leaving him to face his father.
“Mason gave me permission to speak with you, but if it’s too much, I can go.” His father tucked his hands into his pants, giving Ian an easy, gentle smile. It was the same smile he had given Ian when he was a little boy whenever he had done something right, something good. Ian felt six years old all over again as he just stood there, his heart still beating wildly in his chest.
He finally shook his head and then looked up at the mighty man. “Tell me you love me,” he begged as his eyes burned with unshed tears. “Tell me you’re proud of me.”
His father closed the distance, pulling Ian into a tight hug. It was the same hug Ian had received so many years ago when he was hurt or scared. They were the same strong arms, giving him an anchor, helping him wade through a storm.
Ian began to cry. Loud, soul-wrenching sobs exploded from him as his father ran his hands over Ian’s head. “I’m very proud of you, son. You overcame monumental obstacles and came out alive. You survived, and a father couldn’t be prouder that you have the will to go on, to try and pull your life back together.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so damn sorry.”
His father tilted Ian’s head back, smiling at him. “For what, Ian? For making a mistake you learned from? That’s a part of life. What separates you from hopelessness is that you learned from your mistakes.” His father took a step back, holding Ian at arm’s length as he stared at his leather and chains. “It seems I need to go shopping. I’m way behind on the new shit that’s out.”
Ian heard a small chuckle coming from Mason. “I’ll let you know the store I shopped at.”
“Lillian would look great in this.”
Ian shuddered. “That’s my mom you’re talking about.”
His father and Mason gave each other a look and then started to laugh. Ian glanced between the two.
Mason nodded at him. “Your father is standing there looking at what another man has put on you, and you are getting grossed out about thoughts of your mom wearing that?”
Ian nodded.
They laughed again.
“When you are ready, come downstairs and I’ll show you the basics in our communication setup.” His father kissed the top of his head and left the room. Ian just stood there, stunned.
“Come here.”
Ian turned and walked over to Mason.
“Rest position.”
Ian knelt down, his knees falling onto a soft pillow. He placed his hands on his thighs, bowing his head.
“How do you feel, Ian?”
“Strange, Sir,” Ian admitted. “Very strange.”
“But are you okay with your father?”
Ian nodded. He was more than okay. The one man who could have made him feel like the scum of the earth had made Ian feel like he was worth more than richest man in the world. It was strange how his father’s approval had settled something broken inside of him, making it just a bit easier to breathe.
“I have something for you.” Mason stood, going to the bed and grabbing the bag he had set down. Ian wanted to look, but kept his head lowered. He wondered if it was more fetish wear or toys, but what Mason showed him almost made Ian cry all over again.
It was a large sketch pad, along with an assortment of drawing materials. He set them down next to Ian. “I want you to get back into drawing. A hobby would be good for you.” Mason tapped a finger under Ian’s chin, lifting his head. “I want you to heal, Ian. I want you to know that you are loved, and that you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Ian’s nodded, biting at his bottom lip as Mason’s eyes concentrated on him. “Go ahead and open it up. Take some time to be yourself and draw.”
Ian’s fingers smoothed over the pad and then he lifted it from the floor, hugging it close. He gave Mason a wobbly smile as he stood.
Yes, he had a long way to go, but he knew with Mason helping him, the journey to his healing would be more bearable. He leaned forward and gave his mate a kiss. “Thank you, Sir.”
Mason smiled.
“For everything.”
Rick pulled up in front of Brooke and Deluca’s house. Well, technically it was Brooke’s parents’. He glanced in the backseat to see Hunter and Samuel gazing at him.
“Are we here?” Hunter asked as he fidgeted in his car seat to look out the window.
“We’re here.” Rick climbed out of the truck as Brooke opened the front door. He stood on the porch, watching as Rick and Dorian pulled the two toddlers from the truck.
Rick had never been more glad in his life when he found his godsons not only alive, but looking healthy. He wasn’t sure if the boys had been experimented on, but he didn’t smell any chemicals inside of them as he did their mother.
Only time would tell.
He picked Hunter up as Dorian did the same with Samuel. They both walked up the stairs until they were standing there with Brooke.
“Thanks,” Rick said as he shifted Hunter around so he could shake the man’s hand. “Thanks for taking them until I can provide a stable home.”
Brooke clapped Rick on his back. “They’ll be safe here. Besides, Peanut is looking forward to having playmates. She says Kell gets boring sometimes.” Brooke gave a small chuckle as he led them inside.
Rick glanced around the area before stepping into his godsons’ new home, praying this war ended soon so he could raise the boys and finally have a life with his mate.
As they set the boys on their feet, Rick pulled Dorian close, as the two young changelings met Harmony and then smiled, running off with her to play.
He hated leaving them, but knew he had no choice. He had a war to win and a father to kill.
But he would be back for Hunter and Samuel.
They were his responsibility now, and Rick didn’t plan on l
eaving them behind.
End of Book 4: Rise to Submit
To be continued in
Book 5: Rise to Seduction
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.
You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.
For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com