by H. M. Wolfe
“It’s not about the guard himself but about the man he works for, one of the cruelest, craziest bastards who ever walked on the face of the earth. He’s the supreme leader of that goddamn human trafficking ring and that monstrosity of a lab is also the fruit of his twisted, fucked-up mind.”
“The one behind Conroy Winters, Isaac Williamson and the senator,” Alasdair said, wide-eyed. “My own goddamn uncle!”
“Don’t do that to yourself, Spitfire.” Ardan touched the redhead’s beautiful face with the tips of his fingers. “You are not to blame for it. No one from your family is.”
“I know, but still...” the teenager left the sentence unfinished as a thought crossed his mind, making him gasp. “Do you think there’s a possibility that this guard has quit his job? That he no longer works for the bastard?” Alasdair asked, his eyes sparking with renewed hope.
“Most unlikely, but if that’s the case, he would ask me to back him up, and I’ll have to decline, even if it made me look like a coward. I don’t intend to risk the boys’ lives for another one’s benefit. I didn’t get them out of there to end up like that. I, on the other hand, will pay my dues, trying to stay alive so I can get back to you.”
With those words, Ardan took the redhead in his arms, smiling at him. The man was determined to make the most of the short days, or even hours, he had until the moment when his fate would be decided. Pushing the thought into the furthest corner of this mind, he got lost in the moment, savoring the delicious treat that was Alasdair’s body.
The kisses he planted on the redhead’s chest and neck, the sucking and light nibbling on the nipples did things to both men’s bodies. They were getting ready for a heated second round when an object got their attention because it hadn’t been there earlier when they had been lying lost into one another’s embrace.
Getting off the bed, Ardan went to the small object and picked it up, closely examining it.
“Fuck,” the man muttered when he realized what the little thing was.
CHAPTER 16
“What is that?” Alasdair asked from under the covers, sitting so he could have a better look at whatever his lover was holding.
“It’s the signal I’ve been waiting for and that I’m afraid of.” Ardan’s answer came in his usual, calm voice. “The morning before we escaped, the guard showed me two valuable Roman coins, the only ones of that kind in the whole world. He gave me one, to have something to start building on, and kept the other.”
“And that other is...” Alasdair left the sentence unfinished, staring at the little circular object.
“Exactly.” Ardan nodded, a hard to decipher expression on his face. “It’s time to go and meet my fate,” he said in the same emotionless voice.
“Wait a minute, don’t you have a meeting place, an address, anything? How do you know where the two of you will meet? I have a bad feeling about this,” Alasdair frowned, “so I’m going with you.”
“I know where the meeting point is, and yes, you will come with me, so you better hurry up and get dressed.” Ardan hugged the boy, planting a kiss on his cheek. “However,” he grabbed the redhead by the hand, stopping him in his tracks, “if things get out of control, I want you to leave and call for help. Promise me that you’ll do that.”
“I give you my word,” Alasdair spoke solemnly, then stepped into the bathroom, leaving his boyfriend alone with his thoughts.
After a quick shower, he went back into the room in all his naked glory, drying his hair with a plushy towel. Involuntarily, Ardan eyed the redhead, taking in every line of his body, tracing its contour with hungry, affectionate and awe-filled eyes.
While he’d been under the shower, Ardan had mentally slapped himself for spending so much time repressing his desires and depriving Alasdair of the love he so deserved. If he was going to walk away unscathed, the man promised himself to never deny his partner anything, dedicating the rest of his earthly existence to the redhead’s well-being and happiness.
Half an hour later, the two of them were on their way to the location where Ardan was going to meet the one who helped him escape that horrible place. The man was driving carefully, focused on the road, without saying a word, hands clenched on the steering wheel.
From time to time, Ardan saw the redhead sitting seemingly relaxed in the passenger’s seat, and a small smile graced his otherwise stern features. Seeing his lover like that was an enormous relief for the man, who felt somewhat more confident in his chances. Alasdair’s simple presence was giving him strength and inner peace, Ardan realized when they reached their destination, the discovery bringing a smile to his face.
As soon as the car stopped, about ten men surrounded it, waiting for the two occupants to climb out, searching them and the vehicle for hidden weapons. Satisfied with the result, the guards escorted the two into a grey, seemingly derelict building. However, the interior was in great contrast with the exterior’s dull appearance.
The men surrounding the two guided them into a luxuriously decorated room that, judging by the great number of armchairs, loveseats and couches, served as a living room and left them alone. The noise of a door opening announced a presence, and indeed, a tall, solidly built man, followed by a boy in his late teens, stepped inside.
“Ardan McNamara, long time no see,” the man spoke, grabbing the newcomer by the shoulders and staring into his turquoise eyes. “You don’t seem happy to see me,” the man spoke harshly, letting him go.
“Lothier de Lavaliere,” Ardan replied. “I haven’t missed you all these years. I’m grateful for what you did for the boys back then, so I came to pay my debt.”
“I take it you brought him here to watch.” Lothier smirked, getting close to Alasdair. “Hello, little one. Nice to meet you,” he said, running his flat palm over the nape of the redhead’s neck. “You look exquisite, but not like my boy here. Come on, Ivar.” He gestured to the platinum blond who stood behind at a respectful distance.
“Yes, sir.” He lowered his gaze, a light blush coloring his pale cheeks. The boy looked undernourished and very skinny, especially in the all-black outfit he wore.
“So, Ardan, what do you think. Isn’t he a good boy? Doesn’t he deserve the best in the world, to be loved and protected?” As he spoke, the man ran his fingers through the boy’s almost white strands, lightly tugging at them from time to time.
“Yes, you’re right. He deserves much better than to kneel at your feet, like a dog on a leash.” Ardan narrowed his eyes, his voice cold as stone.
“Ivar, go,” Lothier said, and the boy lifted himself from the floor, disappearing in a matter of seconds. “And now that we’re alone, you think he has it bad? Was it better to leave him to be another... bed warmer for that fucker? Was he happier that way? You should know the answer better than me.”
“What do you want? I’m a man of my word. Name your price, and I’ll pay it.” Ardan was tense like a bow ready to launch the arrow.
“I already told you what I want. It’s either that or my sub will be another toy to use and discard.”
“So, you and the boss are no longer on the same page? Why don’t I believe you, Lothier?” This time, Ardan’s voice dripped sarcasm and irony.
“No, we are no longer on the same page, we never were. But you were, and still are too blinded by resentment for that place to see things clearly,” Lothier spoke in an almost affectionate voice. “I set you and your strays free, now it’s time to return the favor by hiding Ivar from that monster’s sight.”
“Is that what you want for helping me out back then? To protect the boy? From whom? Who’s after you?”
“Your former owner,” Lothier blurted, then, realizing that the remark might compromise his chances to secure a good hiding place for the platinum blond, apologized. “That bloody monster wanted Ivar for himself, and I stole him from under his nose. This was about two years ago, during one of his prolonged absences.”
Ardan didn’t say anything, examining the man in front of him with a cr
itical eye. Lothier de Lavaliere, once chief of BB’s security, was even bulkier than when he knew him, but something had definitely changed about the man. His eyes had lost some of the coldness they had back then, and the man’s lips weren’t curled in the threatening rictus Ardan remembered so well.
In the five years he spent in that place of despair, he learned to detect fear, to smell and taste it on his tongue, but there was no trace of it in that boy’s eyes. Even if Lothier occasionally tugged at his hair, the hand running through it wasn’t a harsh, punishing one.
Not even back then, did Lothier hit Ardan or punish him in any way for the sake of it. On the contrary, he was rewarded with a warm bed, a shower and plenty of food for him and the boys every time the guard took pleasure from him.
“I’ve managed to hide him for all this time, but then, somehow, the lowlife found out that I helped you and the others, and I had to hide. The men who brought you here are loyal only to me, but they aren’t enough to fight off the army of mercenaries in that bastard’s service. However, if you find Ivar a good place to hide, the rest is unimportant.”
“Let me talk to Daniel,” Alasdair said, who had been silent until then. “The mansion is guarded by Aristarh’s men, and although he’s no longer Bratva's leader, no one is stupid enough to mess with him. Besides, it has the most complex security system in the entire universe. Last, but not least, Leon, Elias, Liam and the guys from the team will be more than happy to help, too.”
“What’s your next move, once Ivar is someplace safe?” Ardan turned to Lothier, curious about the man’s intentions.
“I’m going to hunt the fucker down, like the wild beast he is,” the former guard spat, “and I’m going to make him regret he was born.”
“Sounds like a good plan, and since you mentioned the shortage of men, I have the perfect solution to that problem. I know some good fellows who would be more than happy to lend us a hand.” Ardan smiled evilly.
“There’s still a huge problem, and there’s no way to solve it. The goddamn bastard has a lot of hiding places all over the city, and he moves between them a lot.” Lothier frowned.
Alasdair thought a little, a concentrated expression on his face, then raised his head. “Daniel and the others don’t speak very much around me about the family business,” he winked to Ardan, “but I overheard a conversation between him and Grandfather about a man who knows where that scumbag’s hideouts are. All of them.”
“The guy is bragging about it,” Lothier said, shaking his head, an incredulous expression on his face. “Think of it, anyone possessing this kind of information would have been dead a long time ago.”
“Now, that you mention it, I remember Leon saying something about the handyman Tarquin hired a while ago. According to him, the man spent seventeen years as the beast’s prisoner, and one of his favorite pastimes was to brag about all the evil things he did.” Ardan turned to Alasdair, his turquoise eyes brightened by a smile.
“Let’s hope your guy is still sane after all this time,” Lothier replied, doubt filling his voice, “because if he’s not, our plan would collapse like a castle of cards.”
He fell silent, examining the other two. The lost kid he helped to escape wasn’t lost anymore. The harsh experiences he survived had turned him into a determined, quick-thinking, sharp-minded man. In fact, he had been like that even back then but not even the former guard bothered to look beneath the appearance of that beautiful, abused boy, silently screaming for help.
And then there was the redhead, a mystery to Lothier. At first, he seemed scared and fragile, staying in the older man’s shadow, but the first impression had been an incorrect one. Under that sweetness, the former guard was surprised to discover a lot of strength and determination, even stubbornness. He must’ve twisted Ardan’s arm into taking him to the meeting, Lothier thought amused.
“If the fellow you’re talking about is in his right mind, all we need from him is to tell us where the most exposed hideout is.”
“What’s the plan?” Ardan asked, his turquoise eyes burning with hate, nostrils flaring. “What do you intend to do, then?”
“I’ll set a trap and make the bastard head to the most vulnerable hideout. Once there,” Lothier stopped for a moment, “we’re going to hunt the fucker down and shoot him like the rabid beast he is.”
“No.” Ardan shook his head vehemently. “That monster’s death will be painful and humiliating, and I’ll make him beg for it.”
“Change of plans approved,” Lothier spoke in a cold voice, his eyes burning with hate. “Hunting time, boys.”
CHAPTER 17
Alasdair arched his back, eliciting sweet sounds of pleasure, meeting Ardan’s painfully slow thrusts. The redhead locked eyes with his lover, digging with his heels into the small of the man’s back, wanting him even closer, absorbed into him. His hands ran feverishly up and down the older man’s back while he whispered words of praise and encouragement.
Ardan was still very shy in bed, afraid that he could hurt his younger lover, in spite of the redhead’s assurances that everything between them was just like it was supposed to be. However, Alasdair enjoyed their sweet lovemaking, the way his partner moved inside him, slow and gentle, the tenderness he put into every kiss and touch.
Suddenly, Ardan went stiff, shooting his load inside the redhead, followed by his young lover, who came hard, splattering both their chests. Both of them spent but happy, the man and the boy lay next to each other, smiles on their faces, their breath and heartbeat gradually steadying.
As soon as the post-orgasm haze dissipated, Ardan got out of the bed, performing the after-care ritual for his boyfriend, then climbed back in, wrapping the blankets around them. Pulling Alasdair close, he brushed away a rebel curl which had fallen onto the boy’s forehead, covering it with butterfly kisses.
The redhead cupped Ardan’s face with one hand, tracing its contour with the fingertips of the other, concentrating on the jawline, cheekbones and the stubble-covered chin. He dived into the depths of the turquoise eyes that always looked at him with love, adoration and passion, like a devout to the statue of the deity he worshipped.
“Don’t you ever go away,” Alasdair said, breaking the silence. “I need you in my life. I love you. I want to spend my life with you.”
“That’s a hell of a long time.” Ardan grinned, then looked into the redhead’s emerald-green eyes. “Same here, Spitfire. I want to be with you in life and even in death. I’ll wait for you on the other side when I pass away.”
“Wrong answer, big guy.” Alasdair kissed his lover on the corner of his mouth. “We’re immortal, remember? I’ll wait for you at home and yell at you over everything and anything, just like it’s supposed to be.” The redhead looked into the older man’s eyes, the cutest grin on his face.
“What? Wait a minute! I was thinking you would want us to cuddle and do stuff couples do, not to be yelled at by you!” Ardan feigned shock, pulling his partner close to his chest. “I want to stay like this forever,” he whispered, closing his eyes and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his lover.
“I’m not the one stopping you,” Alasdair replied, running one hand through the man’s strands. “On the contrary, I’ll be very happy if you did.”
But the man didn’t hear him anymore, already fast asleep, exhausted as he was after a long day of patrolling, barricading The Base and planning the attack on the monster who ruined so many lives. Careful not to wake Ardan, the redhead straddled his waist before slipping behind him.
Like almost every time he fell asleep instantly, more so since the reminder from his past showed up four months ago, the man was haunted by horrible nightmares, which made him wake up, screaming in terror. They left him drained of energy and emotion, too afraid to go back to sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling or in front of him. Whatever the nightmares were about, Ardan obstinately refused to talk about them.
Not long after Alasdair moved behind his lover’s back, the telltale signs of anothe
r nightmare showed up as the man’s entire body went rigid, and he started to shiver, his breath hitching. Without losing any more time, the redhead started to lightly massage Ardan’s back, whispering words of love in his ear.
Gradually, under Alasdair’s skillful hands and fingers, the tension left the man’s muscles, relaxation taking over him. After quietly whimpering a couple of times, Ardan peacefully fell asleep, his breath calm and even. The redhead hugged him from behind, a huge sigh of relief escaping from his lips.
He never hated or wished death upon anyone in his life until then. Of course, at one time, Alasdair had been angry at his brother for leaving him alone in an unknown city, and even at Ardan, when he thought the man had cheated on him with Bailey. However, nothing compared with the burning hatred he felt for that bastard—now reidentified as Alexander Kane—who, in his immense greed for power and wealth, destroyed so many lives, starting with that of his uncle Benjamin, whose identity he’d stolen so many years ago.
Lightly touching Ardan’s spine with his fingertips, the redhead promised to always be by his side through thick and thin, helping him to fight and vanquish his demons. Then, clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth, he prayed to all the deities to send the enemy into his lover’s hands because, once there, the monster would curse the day he’d been born. Ardan and Lothier would rip his black heart out, feed it to the dogs and made him watch.
****
Alasdair was in the front of the tiny apartment’s entrance, key in hand, getting ready to unlock it, but for the first time in over a year, he hesitated to go inside. Since Ardan had left, almost two weeks earlier, he felt incomplete, every object in the bedroom or bathroom reminding him of his absent lover.
Until then, Alasdair had been too tired to realize, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep as soon as he put his head on the pillow. Today, however, had been the last day of work with the team, and the atmosphere was much more relaxed than usual, making the redhead dread the moment he’d have to go to the place he called home.