by J P Sayle
Manny rubbed his chin, considering the merits of Brody’s plan to make Christina not only work off her debt in Martin’s firm but also to befriend the person or persons who’d intentionally sabotaged Greg’s work to get him fired. The plan was logical, in as much as she was the perfect candidate to put in as a spy.
Manny, however, spotted one major flaw in their plan. How on earth could they mask her complete ineptness at office work? With no magic, Christina would have to rely on herself. And as far as he knew, she’d never worked in the modern world. In fact, he knew her preference was to avoid working at any cost. Hadn’t he spent hundreds of years watching her, just as he was doing now?
Watching and longing for more. A little voice whispered.
He pushed the thought and the ache it caused in his chest to the back of his mind, where he kept it hidden from the light of day. And wasn’t that the problem? It no longer wanted to stay hidden in the dark. It wanted out, explored and nurtured.
Making sure his gaze didn’t linger longer than it should on Christina’s chest or her slim legs the modern clothing seemed to enhance. He wondered what she smelt like, and if Christina, like most modern women, masked her earthy scent with the perfumes that seemed popular with humans.
He shook his head at his own meandering thoughts and how hard it was to stop when he was inexplicably drawn to Christina. It would seem that at inopportune moments she would cloud his mind. Even yesterday, when he’d met with his guard to deal with the daily matters of court, he’d found himself daydreaming about what Christina’s skin would feel like naked against his.
He gave an internal groan, forcing himself to tuck his thoughts away. He didn’t need Morgana suspecting anything was amiss, or she’d nag.
He shifted uncomfortably, startling Morgana when his loose-fitting trousers, lost the roominess they’d had when he’d dressed. He rubbed at her bristling fur in apology, hoping she didn’t feel his growing erection.
He was sure she caught his thoughts when her brow crinkled. He felt her presence as she infiltrated his mind, searching for answers. He slammed the shutters down on his mind, blocking her out.
“No, Morgana.” He couldn’t help the harsh shout as sadness engulfed him when she teleported out of his throne room without saying anything.
“Odin’s raven. Why do cats have to be such sensitive creatures?”
Max’s voice invaded his mind. “You tell me!”
Manny chuckled. His own problems were forgotten for a moment as he pondered if Princess would ever fully forgive Max for the debacle of Christina wanting Princess’s soul, or that he’d inadvertently connected them eternally when he’d chosen to heal her.
Manny sighed at the troublesome cat. He had a feeling Princess was never going to let Max off the hook. What was it they say about a woman scorned?
“Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.” His words rang out in the quiet room, sending a shiver up his spine with a sense of foreboding.
He chewed his lip as his gaze narrowed on the dancing flames. The question he tried to avoid at all costs bounced around his head, not letting him escape it.
What would Christina do if she found out what I have done to her?
Nick
Nick bustled around the backyard, not feeling the bite of the chilly air through his heavy woollen jumper. His mind was distracted as he figured out where to set up his workbench.
He went back up the couple of patio steps, dragging the last of the pieces of wood out through the double door and laying them on the weathered grass. He desperately needed a space to work without worrying about the mess he was creating.
Sucking his lip between his teeth, Nick sent thanks to Greg for pushing Aaden to tackle the overgrown mess that pretended to be a garden. Though in the beginning, the constant string of curse words hammering at the windows of the house was enough to have his ears bleeding and give him a constant headache. In the end, he couldn’t take it any longer. After having done a search on the Internet, he’d hired the specialist equipment required to tackle the job because Aaden was too tight-fisted to pay for the hire. He’d forked out his own cash, just to get some peace. And oh boy, it had been worth every penny when Aaden finally shut up cursing and moaning and tamed the wilderness that was his garden.
It was bordered by large cedar trees that initially resembled a jungle. Over time, the thick, twisted branches merged and formed an impenetrable canopy over the garden. He was still surprised when he looked at the sky, thinking about how much the overgrowth had blocked the daylight.
He shuddered, thinking it probably suited the previous owner.
Evil, conniving bitch that she was. Not that I’m biased in any way.
Nick shook his head, not happy to think about the previous owner, Miss Stevens. Though somehow he knew that’s exactly where his thoughts were going.
Miss Stevens. Even her name made his lip curl in disgust. The malicious cow, unbeknownst to anyone, spent years spying on his new best friend, Brad. She’d watched him for his bastard father, a father who’d used Brad for years as a whipping post when he realised Brad was gay.
Nick shivered at the memory of seeing the scars covering Brad’s body for the first time. A sight he was never likely to forget. But the one good thing that came from it was his unshakeable trust in Brad. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he could talk to him about anything and he wouldn’t judge him.
Then why haven’t you?
Nick disregarded the nagging voice, preferring to think about how happy he was that both Brad’s father and Miss Stevens were thwarted by Martin and Princess, Brad’s gorgeous tiny Manx cat.
Princess may be little, but there is nothing small about her attitude.
He giggled.
Over the last couple of months living with Aaden, he’d come to love Princess’s feisty nature. His giggles increased when he recalled her mischievous side and the story Brad had told him about a little waxing incident and Princess’s reaction. The more he thought about it, the harder he laughed. Deep-belly hilarity rumbled free, and tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched at his sides. He was unable to stop the peeling gales of laughter of images of Brad storming around with strips attached to the base of his cock while carrying Princess to the spare room. This was only after she’d screeched and caused him to slip and land on his arse. The pictures his thoughts conjured were too much for Nick; he bent over, his chest heaving with uncontrollable mirth.
“You having fun out here all by yourself, Squirt?”
He whirled around at Brody’s deep voice. Nick sucked in a breath, only for another fit of giggles to erupt at the bewilderment in Brody’s grey-green eyes when he looked around at the empty garden.
Nick choked back a sigh, swiped at his wet eyes and chilly cheeks, and offered a silly grin. “I was… thinking about… Princess and a story… Brad told me about a certain… waxing incident.” Nick hiccupped.
He felt a blush heat his icy face when Brody’s eyes darkened and his brow lifted in question. Brody was already aware of his preference for keeping everything smooth. So Nick struggled to figure out why he was suddenly blushing like a school kid on a first date.
His humour died when what happened the previous night sprung to mind or more to the point what hadn’t materialised. Nick scowled in disgust. It certainly hadn’t included Brody finding out exactly how smooth he was, that was for sure.
No, there’d been no naked, hot, or sweaty time.
He grumbled before he could stop himself. He kept his lashes lowered, not meeting the glimmer of interest in Brody’s eyes.
He was still miffed Brody hadn’t made good on his promises of more yesterday. And okay, it wasn’t all Brody’s fault. Christina and the shitshow she always seemed to bring with her were partly to blame. And he supposed there were the hours they’d spent going over and over the plan with Martin and Stuart, with Greg chipping in. It all culminated in ensuring the universe worked steadfastly against giving him what he wanted, not when the afternoon disapp
eared.
And before he knew it, it was late evening and everyone wanted feeding. He’d been secretly gutted when everyone chose to stay, even Christina, to eat Chinese takeout. And as much as he wanted to shove everyone out the door, his manners got the better of him, just.
After they’d all left with plans for Christina to turn up at Martin’s office on Monday, Brody no longer seemed inclined to do more than offer a sweet kiss before heading to his bedroom.
Nick wanted to kick himself for his indecision at the time because it gave Greg ample opportunity to collar him, removing any chance of following Brody to bed. He’d been resigned and let Greg talk for hours about his worries about who hated him enough to sabotage his work. The genuine hurt his friend felt kept him quiet about the cock-blocking he was causing.
Nick heaved a sigh. He’d been too knackered to do more than drag his backside upstairs, brush his teeth, strip, and fall into bed. He reminisced about his plans of worshiping Brody’s body from head to toe and how they’d gone to waste.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I won’t be held responsible if your brother comes out here and is traumatised by seeing you stripped bare and bent over that workbench while I fuck you deep and hard.” The dirty comment in Brody’s sexy voice was enough to wake Nick from his daydream.
His eyes snapped to Brody’s hungry stare. Am I projecting my thoughts? Oh shit!
Nick felt his whole body respond. Flames licked over his skin, igniting small fires everywhere. He gulped, lowering his hand to adjust the now rigid length attempting to poke through his ripped tracky pants. He desperately tried to ignore how his erection thrummed and pulsed at the slight touch. His cock seemed fully on board with Brody’s dirty suggestion.
His hand wavered over his crotch. The want gathered, pushing at him for more than his fingers. He felt a wave of dizziness roll over him. Feeling unsteady, Nick closed his eyes, willing the tidal wave of need to stop battering at his defences. His hand spontaneously clutched his cock tighter. The silky material of his underwear slid sensuously against his hard length.
No, no, noooo. Come on, behave yourself.
Nick inhaled shakily.
He willed his body to take a chill pill and calm the fuck down. He muttered under his breath and pulled his hand away when the throbbing increased tenfold.
Snorting laughter came from the open patio door, and the colour drained from his cheeks. He slowly blinked open his eyes and looked into the amused eyes of his brother.
Fuckity fuck.
He was never going to live this down.
He huffed out a curse at the glint of devilment his brother didn’t try to hide. That very same look that in the past had got him into all sorts of trouble and thankfully was enough to help deflate his arousal faster than a pin in a balloon.
Trust Aaden to be the bucket of water I needed to cool down.
He lowered his eyes, hiding his mortification at being caught. He sidestepped Brody.
He walked to the workbench, pretending nonchalance he really wasn’t feeling, and spoke without looking at either man. “Come on, you big lugs, stop standing around and help me move this bench.” His voice sounded a little breathier than he wanted, but at least he’d been able to form a sentence. Which, he was positive, he would’ve failed at when Brody had been talking dirty.
He gave a silent curse when his body responded to the solid, warm frame invading his space from behind. The urge to melt back against Brody’s big body had him stiffen.
No, no, no, stop it.
Even with his mind screaming Brody’s spicy scent weakened him when it carried on the soft breeze, filling his senses.
Nick thrust his jaw forward, praying he’d keep hold of his willpower while taking shallow breaths. The last thing he needed was more of Brody’s rich scent clouding his judgement.
He silently cursed himself and the weakness he felt. And no matter how hard he tried, it broke through his defences, conquering his willpower.
He whirled around, mindlessly grabbing the collar of Brody’s jumper. He yanked his head closer. Then Nick pushed up onto his tiptoes, taking a second to revel in the dark arousal in Brody’s now dark grey eyes. Brody’s expression encouraged him to take what he wanted. He pressed a quick deep kiss to Brody’s mouth and pushed his tongue in for a taste. He skipped back a moment later when he felt Brody deepen the kiss further.
Conscious his brother was standing staring at them both, Nick didn’t given himself the chance to think about how he’d never been one for open displays of affection, or that with Brody he didn’t seem to care who saw them. No, he so wasn’t thinking about that now.
He offered a cheeky wink to Aaden before turning away and towards the workbench, explaining where he wanted it placed. He let out the breath he’d been holding when they got to work and neither man challenged what had just happened. Though he hadn’t missed the dark and threatening look of retribution Brody sent him first.
He offered both men a toothy grin of thanks for helping. Then he selected the piece of wood he’d picked out earlier to work on first.
Nick was distracted when Aaden asked if the table was in the correct spot, giving an absent nod. He gave the bench his full attention, chewing his fingernail. He hoped it would be far enough away from the patio doors to stop sawdust from getting inside the house.
This morning Greg had threatened with castration if he created any more mess. Nick glanced down at his joggers. No, he wouldn’t put it past his friend to carry out his threat, not after Greg had spent several hours yesterday cleaning.
Nick huffed, knowing he was every bit as anal about keeping things clean, but when you worked with wood, mess was unavoidable. He lifted the large slab of wood. His muscles bunched under the strain as he manoeuvred it into place. A fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead by the time he was happy the wood was in the right position to clamp it to the bench.
Nick swiped at his brow and pushed his hair from his face. He looked at his right wrist for the elastic band he kept there. He dragged it off, clasping the silky strands of his pale blond hair in both hands. He twisted it into a knot at the base of his neck, tying the elastic around it to hold it in a makeshift bun.
His eyes lingered on the wood, letting the possibilities hum through him. He stroked the rough surface, letting the texture and shape to talk to him. He recalled Brian saying that when he was younger, how some pieces of wood spoke to him. Nick hadn’t initially understood, but now he got it. His affinity towards wood was the one thing from his childhood he’d never questioned. His goal to become a carpenter was something that never wavered.
He’d worked diligently over the early years towards owning his own business. It had taken three gruelling years, cultivating a solid rep for being creative and offering bespoke work. But it had been worth the sacrifices he’d made. Now, rather than doing mundane stuff to pay the bills, he could take on any jobs that appealed. His growing rep and eye for detail allowed him to charge higher fees. People were more than willing to pay for the right piece of furniture or fitted kitchen.
Brody hadn’t been wrong when he’d advised Gemma’s arse of a partner that they were lucky he was even considering doing their kitchen. He had a waiting list for bespoke pieces as long as his arm and then some. That work would keep him busy for years.
He’d tried to rationalise the offer to Gemma as something he’d do because of his friendship with Greg, but he knew it was because he wanted more time with Brody. Not that Brody was forthcoming with how long he planned on staying this time. He’d heard Aaden muttering in the kitchen earlier with Brody about contracts and new business opportunities. But when he’d walked through the door, they’d shut up and started talking about something else.
Initially, he had been intrigued by the secrecy until he recalled how in the past they’d always done this to him, shutting him out, keeping him in the dark to their plans.
Nick had attempted to brush off the hurt at being excluded yet again.
H
e forced his mind back to the problem. Brody mentioned last night it could take weeks for Christina to gain enough trust from the others in the office. And then work on finding out who was the culprit.
So where does that leave us? Is Brody staying for the long haul or planning on heading home in a week or two?
He’d been itching to ask last night but had struggled to find the right moment. Okay, he admitted he was too chickenshit, frightened of Brody’s answer.
What if Brody only plans to stay a few weeks and I commit to staying longer?
Worrying his lip, he looked under his lashes at Aaden and Brody when loud grunts caught his attention. He released his puffy lip, and his eyes widened. A smile spread across his face at the unexpected show. He admired Brody’s bulging and flexing biceps as they hefted the large chunks of raw wood into the shed at the bottom of the garden.
He sighed in pleasure at the play of rippling back muscles when Brody lifted a particularly large piece of wood onto his shoulder. The sheer masculine strength displayed dried Nick’s mouth.
He swallowed when Brody disappeared from sight. Nick looked about for his cool box he’d brought out. Desperate for something, anything, other than letting himself use Brody’s sweat to quench his thirst. He stomped to the steps, dismissing his train of thought, retrieving a drink instead.
He took a deep slug from the cold can, letting his eyes drift to the sky. Understanding as to why the guys were moving the wood dawned. The weather forecast for today was supposed to be dry and cold. However, the overcast, ominously heavy sky did not look at all promising.
He blew his fringe out of his eyes and moaned, “Bloody liars.”
Nick looked anywhere but at Brody when he came to join him, asking, “Who’s a bloody liar?”
He answered but still avoided staring at Brody’s sweaty, flushed face and heaving chest. “The weatherman, that’s who. How am I supposed to work outside on this table when it’s likely to start pissing down any second? Do you know how hard it is to get a piece of solid oak in this size? Or how much it bloody cost me?” Nick didn’t wait for an answer, barrelling on, pointing at the sky. “Well, I’ll tell you: hard, and a lot.”