The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  The heated words trailed off, leaving only the sound of Greg’s noisy breathing as he struggled, it would appear, to rein in his anger while throwing a disdainful look around the empty room, bare walls, and rough wooden floor.

  “Are you quite finished now?” Aaden’s growl was met with a raised bright red eyebrow while small hands lowered to jiggling hips, just as Greg’s pointy chin jutted out at him. Aaden had the urge to grab that pointy chin and test out just how brave Greg really was. Instead, Aaden forced himself to take a step away from temptation, shoving his hands into his jeans.

  He hadn’t missed the underlying hurt Greg’s anger and frustration couldn’t hide.

  Taking a careful breath to gain control of his temper and keeping hold of his self-preservation, Aaden stood straighter. He towered over the smaller man, highlighting his need to be careful. His arms twitched with the need to gather Greg closer and soothe away the tension radiating from him. His internal groan did nothing to alleviate the worry he felt growing with the strength of his urges.

  I’m so fucked when even the tangoed look isn’t putting me off.

  Aaden let out a disgruntled sigh as he spoke. “Thank you for the offers of help. I will let Joe know when I’m ready for you to help, but as you can see, I’m not there yet.” His hand lifted, directing Greg to what he’d already sneered at. The voice in the back of his mind told him he may never be ready was steadfastly disregarded as he continued. “I am sorry you feel I’ve been... How did you put it? Treating you as if you have a contagious disease. I have a lot on my plate, and I’m sure Joe will affirm I don’t mix well with others.” Aaden’s placating tone and attempt at a smile seemed to fall miles short of the mark when Greg shot him a look of disbelief.

  Sighing, Aaden slammed his lips shut, crossed his arms over his muscled chest, and waited for Greg to respond.

  It wasn’t as if I’d asked him to come over, was it?

  Greg’s angry growl was hardly unexpected, but the lethal glint in his eyes caused a shiver to run straight to Aaden’s balls.

  “Well, that’s just dandy, man. Thank you for that heartfelt apology and the offer to let Joe know when you’re ready for my help. I’m sure I won’t hold my breath on that one.”

  He strained to hear the last part of Greg’s harsh whisper when he was already spinning on his heel, flouncing out of the room. Aaden found his gaze drawn to the bubble butt flexing in the tight confines of his navy skinny trousers.

  Didn’t the guy own a pair of trousers that weren’t glued to every part of his legs and arse?

  He snarled at the desire firing through him. His mind painted vivid pictures of those very lean, naked legs wrapped around his waist while he buried himself inside that amazing arse. Straining to only see the skin that looked like it had been washed in orange paint. He found himself moving into the front room after hearing his front door slam. His eyes glued to Greg’s rigid back as he strode the few yards back to Stuart’s.

  He recalled now how hard it had been not to chase after him, or how he’d had to forcibly make himself move away from the window. With each painful step, he told himself that it was for the best. Now his meddling friend seemed to think otherwise, and it would appear so did his own heart, if the way it was fluttering at thoughts of seeing Greg again was anything to go by.

  He gave a mournful sigh. The past two weeks he’d made sure not to get caught anywhere near Greg while he battled with his restraint.

  His brows dug together, and he disregarded the freezing December air brushing against his face. His thoughts darkened. The nightmares that plagued since his teens were now a nightly occurrence since Greg’s visit. Feeling fraught, he tried to separate the past from the present and decide whether his feelings for Greg were real. With Max stationed at the vet’s, he’d nothing to anchor him to the here and now or help sort through the shit in his head.

  He looked down at Max’s traipsing at his side.

  Aaden was pleased Princess had returned home safe. His hope Max would return to him faded quickly when he refused to leave Brad and Martin’s home. He only graced Aaden with his presence when Princess was pissed off enough to hide from him. That left him clutching at straws, trying to cope with a broken box inside his mind. He couldn’t close it for love nor money, which for him was about as useful as a wet paper bag on a windy day.

  Grimacing at his own cowardice, he forced his powerful shoulders back and his feet travel the few remaining yards to Joe’s home. The greyness of the day hardly registered when each step felt like he was heading to the gallows with the noose tightening around his neck. Aaden battled to take a few calming breaths when the urge to check his neck had his hands vibrate in distress.

  “Man up, Aaden. Greg is your soulmate, so get over your sorry arse and claim him. You have done nothing but go on about wanting to find your soulmate since you found out you had one. If I remember correctly, you told me you’d love him no matter what. Hello, do you remember? Because I sure as hell do.”

  There was a loud put-upon huff before Max continued to rant, which caused Aaden to roll his eyes.

  “And by the way, what’s with the wet paper bag on a windy day thing? You, my friend, have been spending way too much time with Joe and his random shit saying. It’s now floating around in your head. I’m having my own relationship problems right now, so stop whining about yours. At least Greg wants you.”

  Max’s final parting shot rumbled through his mind a millisecond before he felt the link snap in temper.

  Scowling down at Max, he rubbed the top of his head.

  “How the heck is that supposed to help me. Of course I want my soulmate. But did he have to be so… so orange? You of all people should know how much I’ve struggled over the last twenty years to accept myself. I’m also starting to get the feeling there is more to this than you’ve let on. I’m fed up of all this evasive shit, Max, so you better spill before you and I have a falling out.”

  Max’s bicoloured eyes glinted with regret, making Aaden’s neck hair lift alarmingly.

  “I need time with you, Max, to talk about this shit, but all you’re doing is mooning over Princess. Get your own shit together and come home before I do something we’ll both regret.”

  He left the threat hanging between them. Aaden wasn’t sure what could be worse than the confusion he was feeling.

  Aaden pushed his hair back over his shoulder when the wind swirled around him. Leaves drifted around his booted feet. Aaden checked his wrist for his leather band, remembering too late it was sitting on the floor next to his blow-up bed. Huffing, he stomped on the crackling, dead leaves and actively forced the sulky internal conversation to the back of his mind.

  He knocked on Joe’s door, wishing with everything in him that he could escape the coming torture. He should have known better. He’d been naive to accept the offer of Sunday lunch, but he’d been distracted decorating when Joe had asked.

  Kicking himself, Aaden groaned out another sigh at his misfortune. He glowered at the opening door, expecting to see Joe. He froze. Max pushed against his leg, encouraging him to move, but his eyes seemed glued to sky-blue deliciousness and the elphin face covered in gorgeous freckles.

  Aaden licked his dry lips as he took in Greg’s tight-fitting, dark grey wool jumper hugging his firm muscular chest and the black skinny trousers that showed just how long and firm Greg’s legs were. He finally noticed that the fake tan had been scrubbed off, leaving his skin looking soft and dewy fresh.

  No, I don’t care how lovely he looks. No, I don’t care in the slightest.

  His body betrayed him as it tightened painfully. His hands twitched to move and cover the evidence of his arousal. That’s right. You betray me too, you bastard.

  “Hello.”

  Greg’s timid voice only added to the rioting emotions coursing through him. Aaden fought the urge to shift himself into a more comfortable position. Greg’s lowered lids didn’t hide his perusal or the spark of lust that lit his deepening blue eyes as his ton
gue peeked out, slicking up his ripe lips.

  Aaden clung to the bottle of wine in his hand as if it was a life preserver and swallowed the urge to lick at those wet lips.

  Aaden nearly cursed when he stuttered. “Hi… err… are… you going… to let me in… or are we just going to stand here on the doorstep all day?” He broke eye contact first with Greg when he felt a telltale heat creep up his face.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Aaden mentally slapped his forehead at his adolescent behaviour. He cursed up a storm under his breath. He pushed past Greg, trying not to let his warm aroma infiltrate his senses.

  I’m going to bloody kill Joe for this with my bare hands. I’m going to choke the life right out of his meddling body.

  Aaden

  He stormed down the hall into the kitchen, summing up the situation. The romantic table setting, dimmed lighting, glowing candles, and the sparkling glassware, spoke of a romantic setup. The cosy kitchen sparkled under the dimmed lights as did the other three occupants who were offering warm, welcoming smiles.

  His shoulders relaxed a little seeing Brad and Martin sitting at the large oak table by the patio doors. He thanked the lord that at least there were other people there to make conversation with besides his tempting red-headed beauty.

  Remembering this was supposed to be a pleasant lunch with friends, he plastered a smile on his face, hoping against hope he could keep it there. He dumped the wine into Stuart’s outstretched hand. He received a somewhat bemused smile, realising too late he’d offered him a handshake. He waved him off because he was far too busy listening to the faltering footsteps behind him.

  He wondered where Joe was as movement outside caught his attention. “What is Joe doing outside? We are having real food, right? And not some vegetarian crap, are we?” Still watching Joe gather greenery from bushes, he missed the four sets of eyes giving him odd looks.

  “When did the army remove your sense of smell? We’re having lamb, and Joe’s just getting some fresh rosemary.” Stuart’s eyes sparked with humour, ribbing Aaden.

  Aaden kneaded at the discomfort in his neck, wishing the army had removed his sense of smell when he sat down at the solid oak table and Greg followed suit, sitting opposite him, titillating his nose.

  Avoiding looking across the table, he brought his gaze back to Stuart who pottered around the stove stirring pots, chipping into the conversation with the other men at the table.

  Aaden sat quietly observing Stuart intently.

  The cooker hood lights reflected warmth against his dirty blond hair, which was shorter than when he’d last seen him. It now showed off more of his face. The honey-coloured skin was no longer marred with extensive bruising or swelling. Aaden peered closer, and he was pleased when he struggled to see any evidence of bruising or damage to Stuart’s exposed bare arms in his tight-fitting burgundy T-shirt.

  Shifting, he settled back in the chair. The happiness he’d felt seconds ago dissipated when no matter how hard he tried to avoid looking at Greg, his eyes moved unchecked. They roamed back against his will to Greg’s sullen, pouty lips. Lips that all but called to Aaden, “kiss me.”

  Actively turning his whole body to face away from the table, he looked with avid interest at the hand-crafted kitchen hoping to get some ideas. Joe had said the previous owner, before Martin, had a joiner make the bespoke kitchen.

  He liked how Stuart’s colour choices of rich blues enhanced the handcrafted oak wood cabinets that gleamed like soft honey under the ceiling spotlights. The overall effect was a warm, inviting space, perfect for a cold, blustery day and a hearty Sunday roast.

  He recalled many family meals just like this, and his brother, Nick, floated into his subconscious. A grin spread across his face at how fortuitous Nick’s holiday plans were going to be. He’d not let on how bad the house was or its state of ill repair. He knew well enough if he said he needed Nick to help, he would avoid him like the plague. And as Nick’s planned visit wasn’t for another couple of weeks, Aaden hoped it would be enough time to look at kitchen designs and plan how to get Nick to do what he wanted. Nick’s joinery skills were unreal. There was nothing he couldn’t do with a piece of wood, and Aaden was convinced he could knock up a bespoke kitchen that could match Stuart’s.

  He just hoped the disconcerted feeling he had about being confined in the same place with Nick for more than a day or two, would subside.

  The angst that his bigger size had caused had him heaving an internal sigh. Nick took after their mother’s side of the family. He was blond, short, and slight, whereas he took after his father’s side, dark, tall, and built like a brick shit house.

  Nick’s continuous bitching about his small five-foot-four stature had created a bone of contention between them that Aaden wasn’t able to fix. When they had been growing up, Nick had idolised him, spending all his time trailing around after Aaden like a puppy dog. The four-year age gap hadn’t made a big difference to how they’d gotten on, but something had changed when Nick had turned eleven. A barrier had been erected he’d never gotten past. At fifteen, he could admit now, he hadn’t tried very hard with everything he was going through himself, but that didn’t stop him from having regrets or hoping that this time, maybe things would be different.

  A bubble of excitement rose at the possibilities of having quality time with his brother and having a kitchen at the end of it that a certain person, not ten yards away, could share. The thought bounced all over, and his excitement popped it like an excited puppy playing with a plastic ball.

  Aaden hunched into his dark woollen jumper, his brow screwing up tight when Greg looked his way.

  He latched onto the conversation flowing around him as if it was the last life jacket on a sinking ship when Martin mentioned his sister. Aaden interrupted the conversation. “So, Martin, how did it feel to be back in civilisation after being in the army for so long? I’m kinda looking at my different options right now, what with my decision to stay and finalising on Ms Stevens’s house. I’ve decided to hand in my discharge papers to the army.”

  Martin’s mouth opened and closed twice without saying anything. Aaden pushed on, ignoring the gaping mouths around the table when he noticed Martin wasn’t the only one stunned.

  “I was wondering if you could give me Sarah’s work contact details to see what’s available out there to meet my skill set. Not that I think there’ll be much, but you never know.” He hardly stopped his eyes from rolling when all that could be heard was the whispers of music floating out of the speaker system on the large oak dresser behind him.

  Aaden’s confusion grew when no one responded.

  “What?”

  Martin felt the awkwardness stretch, unsure himself how to respond to the bomb Aaden had dropped on them all. “Err, yeah no problem, man. I can do that. I had no idea you were planning on leaving the army. I thought you were a career soldier?” Martin’s azure-blue eyes gave him a questioning look while he spoke.

  Aaden shifted, the chair creaking loudly, breaking the silence when Martin shut up.

  He felt the lie burn on his tongue as well as his cheeks, praying that Martin would put it down to the heat in the kitchen. “I just decided after all the shit with Joe, that enough was enough.”

  He shrugged, breaking eye contact with Martin when he cast a raised eyebrow in Greg’s direction. He vigorously worked to keep his head from turning to look in Greg’s direction, and gauge his reaction. That first meeting with Greg had shifted and changed his life in ways he really did not want to contemplate when he could feel the curiosity of everyone in the room. And there was no way he was going to acknowledge that leaving the army had everything to do with his red-headed beauty. Nope, not going there.

  Aaden wanted to kiss Joe in gratitude when he breezed through the patio door, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. His rosy cheeks glowed with the cold, and his smile beamed down at Aaden.

  “Hey, man, glad you could make it. Dinner should be ready in about ten
minutes. Can I get you a beer, or do you want some of the white Orvertio I have chilling?”

  Aaden glanced to see what everyone else was drinking. “I’ll take a glass of the wine, please.”

  He listened with half an ear to Joe prattling on about anything and everything that sprang into his mind. The tension dissipated under his happy chatter. Aaden felt Joe’s happiness brighten the room almost as if the sun had entered while he served up the meal.

  Aaden blinked rapidly and swallowed the ball of emotion lodged at the back of his throat. He coughed into his hand, masking his reactions to Joe’s loving touches and smiles aimed at Stuart every time he passed with a tray or a dish.

  He was truly pleased to see they had moved on from Joe’s psycho ex. He knew Stuart still battled with some demons since the kidnapping. They’d talked, though not about what had happened to Joel on the mountain after they left. Stuart had eventually relaxed enough to discuss the worries he still held on to. Aaden had, for his part, allayed those fears where he could, and he’d been surprised to find a friendship developing between himself and Stuart.

  After their little interlude into a threesome, he’d worried Stuart might not feel too happy with him being friends with Joe, but it didn’t appear to be an issue. So, he left it well alone.

  Aaden ate in silence, doing what he did best, people watching. The love around the table all but had his senses swimming. He disregarded the loneliness niggling inside, making him crave more, more of everything.

  He sucked in a noisy breath, doing his best to pretend that the more of everything wasn’t sitting across the table from him, or that to an outsider it could look like he and Greg were already a couple.

  So not going there.

  “Oh yes, you bloody are.”

  The sneer inside his head had him glancing down at Max who was avariciously watching Princess perched on her velvet cushion with her eyes shut. Opening their link, he kept his face blank. “I don’t know what you’re sneering at? You’re in a much worse position. You told me you’ve bonded with Princess, and she doesn’t even know. All you’re getting is the cold shoulder, buddy, for your efforts. You’re telling me to man up. Why don’t you do the same?” Their silent conversation had him missing part of the conversation flowing around him, and he struggled to rejoin it. Aaden froze at Joe’s excited words.