Learning to Love [A Dragon's Growl 9] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

by Marcy Jacks

  “And you’ve felt me at my best,” Marxus said with a growl, canting his hips forward again.

  And it was good, so good. Zane opened his mouth and sighed with the pleasure, his dick throbbing and pointing up at him, demanding he shut up with the excuses and let Marxus do with him whatever the hell he wanted.

  It didn’t seem like such a bad thing in his current state.

  “Admit you love me.”

  Zane couldn’t do it. He shook his head. “I don’t.”

  Marxus stalled the motion of his hips. “I know a little about your family,” he said.

  “You don’t know shit about my family!” Zane snapped, though he reminded himself that Marxus had already admitted to knowing a little of how Josh and Zane had come to work for Varrick.

  “Your parents weren’t good to you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “So you wanted to protect your brother, and you both looked after each other.”

  Zane couldn’t take it. His hands started to tremble as he lost all thoughts of pleasure. “Stop.”

  “You both went to work for Varrick because the money was good. Was it your idea to work for him?”

  It was. That was the worst thing. Zane thought he’d found the mother lode. Josh liked to think he had some responsibility in it, but Zane had wanted to go so damned badly, and even when Josh’s eagerness gave way to concern, Zane still pushed them forward, still wanted to go.

  Working for a vampire who would pay them well so they could retire young. It was supposed to be the best kind of life.

  “Is that why you don’t want to be mated to me? Because you’re upset about the decisions you made? Or because you think we’d end up like your parents?”

  “Please stop.”

  Zane’s voice came out a little more fragile than he’d intended it to. He hated that. He hated sounding weak, and he hated that this man seemed to know all the right buttons to push on him.

  It was driving him crazy, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like that Marxus had been under his skin for days and that he was burrowing deeper there.

  He didn’t like that the man’s words were enough to give him a panic attack.

  “Zane? Are you okay?”

  No, he wasn’t. Zane pulled himself hard off of Marxus’s lap. He didn’t care about anything else. He just wanted to get out of there. He reached for his clothes, not looking back at the other man.

  Marxus got to his feet, his hands reaching out for Zane, touching his shoulders, but Zane pulled away each and every time.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Okay, I won’t,” Marxus said. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, stuffing his legs into his pants. God, he was so damned sweaty from what they’d been doing that it felt nearly impossible to get dressed. The struggle made the panic and rage he felt a thousand times worse.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need…I don’t know, to see someone? One of the omegas can see you.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “They’ve started training for things like this if you needed to talk.”

  Marxus reached his hand out again, trying to touch, and Zane slapped it away. “I said don’t touch me!”

  He glared at the man as hard as he could, wanting to hate him, but the only thing he had was anger. Lots of anger. That was different from hate. He couldn’t even get that part right.

  Marxus blinked at him, and something in his eyes changed, something that distanced himself from Zane.

  The weird thing was Zane didn’t really like that either. He kept contradicting himself, and he didn’t know why.

  “All right. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Zane’s heart pounded, the panic real, the need to flee, or to fight, alive and kicking inside him.

  If he didn’t flee, he was going to throw a punch, and somehow, he got the feeling that Marxus would let him do it. Marxus would let Zane hit him, even though he was taller, stronger, and faster.

  And that made Zane panic even more. His parents had hit each other. Zane didn’t hit people he cared about. He didn’t hit his lovers, and if any of them ever hit him, he sure as hell made sure they were sorry before throwing their asses out. He wasn’t going to let himself become that person. He wasn’t going to be the first to throw a blow, especially over words.

  He zipped up his fly, grabbed his belt, shirt, and shoes, and ran out of the bathroom as if he was on fire, as if Leatherface himself was right behind him with a chainsaw.

  He made it to his room, thank God. If anyone saw him, then he didn’t see them. He locked the door behind himself just in case Marxus tried to talk to him, tried anything.

  Only then could he breathe, but he couldn’t stop the shaking in his hands.

  He’d wanted to hit the man for wanting a relationship with him. That was fucked on so many levels.

  He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. He was better off alone if those were the sorts of urges he was fighting with.

  Zane closed his eyes, sinking down to the floor, back against the door to his room.

  He was not his parents. He wasn’t his father or his mother, but he had their blood, and apparently, he was as fucked up as they were.

  It didn’t matter if Marxus was stronger, didn’t matter if he could take it. Zane would chop off his hand before he ever hit someone he loved.

  The trembling in his bottom lip and chin shocked him. The burn in his eyes brought back that helpless feeling that made him want to curl into a ball and die of shame.

  Zane rubbed his hand over his forehead and across his hair, trying to keep himself together, but he couldn’t. He was alone, so he might as well let this all out while no one could see him.

  Marxus was right. Somewhere along the way, as they’d been living under the same roof and hanging out, the attraction and lust had become more than that.

  Zane was in love with the man, and if he was smart, he was never going to let Marxus know about it.

  * * * *

  Marxus wanted to chase after Zane. He didn’t.

  The panicked look in the man’s eyes was the sort that Marxus had honestly never before seen. Not unless he was about to seriously hurt someone or kill a vampire.

  It was a different kind of fear, however. One that almost implied Zane was worried he would be the one to do something regretful, not Marxus.

  Marxus sighed. He glanced around the bathroom, cleaned up a little to make sure no omega would walk in and see anything they wouldn’t want to see, dressed, and left.

  He was getting a little tired of being the one who had to clean up after his mate after they finished fucking, but he supposed there was nothing he could really do about that.

  He was about to head to the pool for a swim, something that would cool him off, but then he stopped.

  Wait, no. Why should he be the one to back off? Why did he have to walk away when there was very clearly something bothering his mate?

  They were mated, so Zane would have to share what he was having trouble with, whether he wanted to or not.

  Clenching his fists, Marxus marched toward the stairs. A couple of omegas quickly stepped out of his way when he walked down the hall, apparently worried by the look on his face.

  Not going to bother with them. He had only one goal in mind.

  Until he was grabbed from behind and slammed into a door.

  The door broke open, and Marxus was suddenly surrounded by three different men in black.

  All of whom stared down at him with masks hiding their faces. Hiding their flesh from the sunlight.

  Marxus groaned, rolling to his knees. “You fucks really could have picked a better time.”

  Someone kicked him hard in the head. He went back down.

  The pain against the side of his head was so great that a white light actually exploded in front of his eyes.

  Holy shit, they meant business. He should have known better than to just assume he could waltz his way
through this. He actually had to get his ass in gear if he had any hardcore plans on surviving.

  He got up, raised his hands, and managed to deflect the next kick that aimed squarely for his neck. He twisted the man’s ankle enough that it forced him to twist with it or else have his bones splinter and shatter.

  “Seth!” Marxus had to yell out for someone, anyone, even as he was punched in the back of the head, just barely ducking out of the way of the knife that came for his face. “Stefan!”

  There was no way these three guys were the only ones here. There had to be others. There were always others. And he needed to warn the rest of the house of what was going on.

  “Someone get the others! We’re under attack!”

  Another hard blow to his face and then to his gut as Marxus tried desperately to rise to his feet.

  He went down hard to his knees, clutching at his throat, desperate to breathe, to take in any air so he wouldn’t die, but his distraction allowed the man he’d already taken down to get back to his feet, and he was pissed.

  Marxus couldn’t deflect their blows anymore. He couldn’t hold them off, and he had no idea what to do anymore as he was forced down onto his chest, steel-toed boots gutting him hard in the ribs again and again until the lack of breath made him pass out.

  Chapter Eight

  Zane almost didn’t hear the shouting. He was so deep into his own misery, but it was Marxus’s voice that snapped him out of it. He raised his head, listening for that noise again, and it was definitely Marxus, calling out for help.

  Zane rushed to his feet. He yanked the door wide open and saw a few omegas running. Someone in black with a bloody knife…

  Zane couldn’t breathe. He knew what that uniform meant. He’d worn it a couple of times before, and the knife meant someone was either dead or dying.

  Not Marxus. Anyone but him.

  He reached for his hip, but fuck! He didn’t have his weapons on him, and the man in black very clearly spotted him.

  The soldier—vampire, alpha, or human, Zane had no clue, and that was part of the point with these things—rushed him.

  Zane did the only thing he could think to do in that moment. He ran right back at the man.

  Just as his attacker swung out his knife, Zane ducked, pushing all of his bodyweight hard against the man’s feet, tripping him up.

  Not an alpha then. Zane could tell with the way he went down. An alpha would have been more agile than that.

  If it was a vampire or a human, and it could only be either of those two things, then Zane was in luck. He had training, as well, and he also had the man down on the floor.

  Zane spun around, jumping on the man and grabbing his wrist. He forced the man’s hand closed around the knife as he turned it around and pointed it down at his neck.

  The guy was quick. He brought his other wrist up, blocking the attack before Zane could cut his throat open.

  But Zane knew what to do here, and he got a feeling the man he was about to kill knew it, too.

  Heart pounding, Zane slammed his hand down onto their joined hands, the force of the blow something the man in black couldn’t hold back.

  The knife jerked forward just enough that the tip sliced through the neck guard and into the skin.

  Zane knew he had a vampire when the blood bubbled and smoked.

  The man coughed, rolled.

  Zane let him. He took the knife for himself, figuring he was going to need it, and he allowed that inner dead part of himself to come forward, the part of himself he called forward whenever he had a messy job to do.

  He needed that side of himself as he stripped a dying man, choking on his own blood and clutching at his throat, of all of his weapons.

  Or at least most of them. Zane couldn’t really tell, and there was no time to do a proper search.

  He pulled the knife holsters around his shoulders, clicking everything in place, especially pleased with the handgun.

  Seth hadn’t wanted Josh or Zane to have weapons, considering their former professions, but now the alpha had no choice, and Zane was going to go fight.

  First he had to find Marxus.

  * * * *

  Marxus felt the pain, the sting. It was dull, but still something his brain zoned in on. He couldn’t entirely sink into unconsciousness so long as he felt that.

  Around his shoulders and back.

  What the hell?

  He opened his eyes, realized how wet he was and warm, with his own blood.

  He came immediately awake when he realized his hands were behind his back, and there were three of his bloody onyx scales in front of him.

  The stinging he felt on his back became apparent.

  Oh shit.

  He rolled, struggling some more against the people who’d subdued him and were clearly trying to leave a message behind for Seth with those ripped-out scales. How in the fuck did they manage to get his scales to come out when he’d been unconscious in the first place?

  “Hold him! Hold him down!”

  More hands came over him, grabbing at him, stopping him from moving, from getting away.

  Shit! Shit! No fucking way could he let himself be taken! He wasn’t going to let himself be used as bait for Seth like that!

  Except he didn’t appear to have much of a choice, as he was severely outnumbered here and the men on top of him were doing an excellent job of holding him down.

  He let his wings out, hard and fast. They burst from his shoulder blades, managing to knock the men off of him.

  They yelled with shock, but then more stinging pain struck him as his wings were swiftly sliced at.

  Retaliation? Or maybe they were just trying to cut the wings clean off? He didn’t care because it fucking hurt, and he had to quickly fold his wings down over his arms before this got way too out of control.

  The knife still came, stabbing ferociously at his wings, and it hurt, so fucking much. Marxus screamed through the gag, but he couldn’t get away, and he couldn’t stop this from happening.

  “Fucking slice them off!”

  The other two men that Marxus had knocked off himself rushed forward, as though to help hold him down. They grabbed his wings before he could pull them back into his body, and he realized right then and there the mistake that he’d made.

  Holy shit. He was well and truly fucked now. He shouldn’t have let them out!

  “Hold him!”

  A bang. A loud one. The man who had been slicing Marxus dropped his knife. It landed blade down inches from Marxus’s nose, the pointed end stabbing into the carpet and standing. Then the man who had been slicing him to begin with dropped heavy to the floor.

  Marxus was confused at first, but then he saw the smoking hole through the black mask, and he got a feeling that if he could see the man’s eyes, they would be wide open and staring blankly back at him.

  “Hey!”

  Two more gunshots. Marxus flinched, but he had to look up. He had to see what was happening.

  When he did, he was shocked to see Zane standing in the doorway, an actual gun in his hand, the end smoking with a fresh shot.

  And the other two men in the room weren’t attacking. Marxus knew it was because Zane’s shots had been right on target, and they were dead.

  Zane didn’t immediately drop his weapon or holster it. He took one look at Marxus and then quickly checked around the other side of the door, making sure there was no one there before shutting it and locking it behind him.

  “Is there anyone else?”

  Marxus shook his head. In pain, and weirdly turned on by what he’d just seen.

  “Okay, Jesus, you’re bloody. Fucking assholes. I’ll untie you. Can you put your wings away?”

  Zane pulled out a knife, probably to cut his bonds, but even the sight of that knife was enough to make Marxus cringe. He gladly put his wings away. Shit, it might take a while before they properly healed after that.

  And Marxus still couldn’t take his eyes off his mate as the man cut the plastic tie
s around his wrists.

  Marxus was supposed to be the run rushing to the rescue here, but if it had to be switched around, he wouldn’t mind it if Zane continued to do it with those weapons strapped to his body.

  He was so fucking gorgeous, so dangerous looking, when he had throwing knives and guns holstered to what had to be every inch of his chest and waist.

  “Your scales,” Zane said sorrowfully, getting the gag next as Marxus pushed himself to his knees. Marxus allowed his mate to help him get free. And then he grabbed the man and brought their mouths together for a heated kiss.

  A kiss that Zane returned with just as much force and vigor as what Marxus was giving to him, and thank fuck for that.

  Zane held him tightly, his hands moving, and he only pulled back sharply when Marxus hissed.

  “Sorry! Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Zane looked at his bloody fingers, his eyes widening, and he began to tremble. “Oh fuck.”

  He’d touched one of the spots where Marxus’s scales had been torn out. He looked down at the three scales that had created a bloody mess on the carpet, and Marxus could tell Zane was about to have a panic attack. He was getting that same need to bolt that had taken him over when they’d fucked downstairs.

  “It was an accident. Look at me.” Marxus put his hand behind Zane’s head, needing to have the man’s attention right now. “It was an accident, and I’m fine now thanks to you. All right?” Marxus couldn’t help but smile. “You saved me.”

  Zane blinked at that, as if he honestly hadn’t been expecting Marxus to give him that kind of credit.

  “You’re safe,” he said, as though he was still suffering the worst shock of his life.

  Marxus nodded. “I’m safe.” He kissed the man again, but only because, despite the situation outside this room and what he knew had to be happening, he couldn’t not kiss his mate.

  Marxus needed their mouths connected. He needed to touch Zane everywhere on his body. As much as possible, in as many places as possible.

  God, he couldn’t believe Zane had come for him. And he’d come packing.

  “I can’t believe you came for me.”