Spartan Resistance (28 page)

“Oh…
God
!” Billy exclaimed, his voice deep, hoarse with raw pleasure. He threw his head back, his body straining and Brenden felt his cock pump as he came with a low groan that seemed to tear from the back of his throat.

It acted like a catalyst, shooting Brenden’s pleasure into a hard, silvery climax that made his breath halt and his heart squeeze. He thrust heavily, ramming himself deeper until he grew still, the climax gripping him with an almost painful intensity.

They stayed locked together, both panting heavily, until Billy shifted on the mattress, dislodging Brenden’s cock. He was still hard, still aching. But now the harsh need was gone.

Billy stepped off the bed and turned to face Brenden, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Two can play that game,” he said and reached passed Brenden’s hip to pick up the pot of lubricant.

Brenden’s heart gave a hard little knock and something stirred in the base of his belly. His cock twitched. “Is that so?”

Billy grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, so that his back was to him. There was strength in Billy, even as a human, that surprised Brenden. He was used to being the strongest one in the room, either human or vampire. It had been a long time since anyone had moved him around like that.

“Bend over,” Billy said, his voice harsh with excitement, “or I’ll make you.”

Before he could comply, Billy shoved at his shoulder, the other hand on his hip, bending him. His feet kicked Brenden’s apart and he was opened up. Vulnerable.

His pleasure spiraled. He gripped the edge of the nightstand for balance and closed his eyes as Billy’s fingers teased his entrance, making nerves fizz and stir and his cock pulse heavily. His fingers pushed inside, preparing him. Brenden gritted his teeth together and groaned anyway, the sound escaping through his lips.

Billy slid into him, one hand on his back to keep him low and open. Billy’s cock was thick, spreading him open. Brenden breathed through his rising excitement. This time, he would make it last.

But when Billy began to thrust, his pleasure leapt like a beast, gripping him and tormenting his nerves. He started to shake with the power of the coming climax as it roared up from his toes, tearing his control apart. Brenden threw his head back and cried out as he came, his cock pulsing with the power of it, spilling his seed in hard spurts. For a moment even his vision dimmed.

He heard and felt Billy come, too, his ragged breath halting for a moment, his fingers digging into Brenden’s back.

Brenden kept hold of the nightstand, to maintain his balance, as the pleasure swirled and his thoughts scattered. When he thought it was safe, he opened his eyes. “Ares wept,” he said softly.

Billy withdrew and let him stand. Brenden faced him. “I’ve never done that before,” he confessed.

“Done what, exactly?”

“Come without a hand on my cock, just from being fucked.” Brenden studied him. “I want to do that again.”

Billy grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”

* * * * *

They did do it again. And again. They stayed in the room for the next two days and sent down to the bar for food, when it occurred to them to eat. Sometimes they slept, too, their frail human bodies shutting down on them even though they both wanted to remain awake. The first time, sleep caught Billy by surprise and he jerked awake, alarmed, until Brenden soothed him with a hand on his shoulder. “You were sleeping,” he murmured. “That’s all.”

Billy shuddered. “I’d forgotten what it was like. But I knew instantly where I was…how strange.”

When Brenden slept, Billy woke him. “You’re dreaming,” Billy told him. “Not good dreams, by the sound of it.”

Brenden shook off the sense of impending doom, the fragments of images that included Gabriel at his ugliest, with words of fury and condemnation spewing from him. “This is why I don’t like going back in time,” he said, annoyed.

“You don’t like your conscience speaking to you?”

Brenden sighed.

“You said her name. Mariana.”

He sat up and swept the covers aside, turning so he could put his feet on the cool floor. It put his back to Billy. “I told her,” he said gruffly. “That’s what I went back to do.”

“Mariana?” Billy settled on the edge of the bed next to him, his fingers loosely threaded together between his knees. “You told her about Laszlo?”

“Not the details. But I warned her that he was hiding something.” He glanced at Billy. “I couldn’t do…this, without telling her.”

Billy considered him, his green eyes warm. “Assuaging guilt,” he said gently. “How did she take it?”

“Well. I think.” There was something about Mariana’s reactions that wasn’t quite right—a jarring off-key note that needing teasing out, but Brenden hadn’t had a chance to think it through. He hadn’t been thinking much at all for the last two days. “She’s gutsy and she’s classy. She’ll walk away with her nose in the air.”

Billy’s shoulder bumped against his. Gently. “Perhaps she shouldn’t dump him. Not yet, anyway. Short of flat-out asking him what he wants here—there, I mean, in our time—Mariana might be our best chance of figuring out his agenda.”

“Spy for us?” Brenden clarified. “I’m not asking her.”

“Scared of a woman, Brenden?”

He grinned. “Nayara scares the crap out of me, sometimes,” he said frankly, “but Mariana…well, she doesn’t like me.” He looked at Billy. “She does like you, though.”

“She likes
Laszlo
,” Billy replied. “Are you suggesting I tell her?” He frowned. “I thought I was supposed to lie low and out of sight?”

Brenden grinned. “That’s right.” He gripped his knee. “You really have to learn to think in dual time lines.”

Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2265 A.D.

The big bedroom Cáel got to share with Ryan and Nayara when he was in Rome had an antechamber with outer doors that could be sealed shut if they desperately wanted to be left alone, but most of the time they were left open. The agency always needed at least one of them. Instead, they had learned to seize moments of quiet whenever they arose, between demands for their attention. That was why Cáel was able to move into the main room with complete silence and why he got to see Ryan trying to walk across the floor without his cane, his legs unsteady.

“What are you doing?” Cáel asked sharply, alarm spearing him in the chest.

Ryan looked over his shoulder, surprised. He pin wheeled his arms for balance and Cáel leapt to catch him as one knee gave out and Ryan sank to the floor. Cáel got his shoulders under him and lifted him back to his feet. Then he took a deep breath and lifted him right off his feet, carried him over to the padded bench that sat at the end of the bed and sat him on it.

Ryan swore and thumped his fist into the velvet-covered cushion. There was a deep furrow between his brows, but Cáel couldn’t see his eyes. He wouldn’t look at him.

So Cáel caught Ryan’s hand between his own, holding it still. He settled on the bench beside him, still holding his hand.

Ryan kept his head averted.

“So your balance isn’t coming back as fast as you like,” Cáel said. “It’s not the end of the world. You’ll get it back. You have before.” He made himself sound unconcerned.

Then he realized that Ryan’s shoulders were shaking and his gut tightened. “Hey,” he said, tugging at his arm. “Ryan. Look at me.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Ryan turned and lifted his chin. His expression was wretched. Worse, his eyes were shining with incipient tears.

Cáel caught his face in his hands. “No, no, no…you’re stressing your symbiot. You can’t do this to yourself.”

Ryan swallowed. “I think the symbiot…I think it might be dying.”

Horror burst through him and a bone-deep fear that grabbed at his throat and took away anything he might have been about to say. Cáel could only stare at him.

Then the tears actually spilled down Ryan’s cheeks.

Cáel shoved aside his selfish concerns. He wrapped his arms around him and drew him closer. “We’ll figure it out,” he said roughly.

“You can’t tell Nayara,” Ryan said brokenly, his lips brushing against Cáel’s neck.

Cáel closed his eyes. “I won’t,” he said, “but only if you promise me you’ll stop pushing yourself like this. If your symbiot is stressed it
can’t
recover and it can’t heal you, either. You have to give it a chance to do what it is supposed to do.”

Ryan didn’t answer. But Cáel could feel the moisture on his neck. Pain ripped through him, as he realized it was Ryan’s tears on his skin.

“Listen to me,” Cáel said. He spoke softly, because he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would betray him. “Ryan, you have to hand over your job for a while. Get Nayara to run the shop. She already has it ticking like a pocket watch. You have to step back and give yourself some breathing room.”

Ryan sat up and wiped furiously at his cheeks. “Nia already has enough to do. She can’t direct policy, deal with the Assembly and…” He blew out his breath. “I can’t dump it all on her,” he finished.

Cáel nodded. “Nayara isn’t a politician,” he agreed. “But I am.”

Ryan’s mouth parted. “No! If you come out in support of vampires, they’ll crucify you!”

“Maybe,” Cáel said calmly. “I’ll probably lose my seat in the next election, but perhaps that’s a good thing. I’m finally beginning to understand a little bit of the great weariness vampires feel if they are still passing as humans. The great lie that shapes everything you do, the constant watch over every little word and deed….I’ve had two years of it and I already grow tired of it.” He gave Ryan a small smile. “It’s time I publically declared where my heart lies.”

Ryan pushed the heel of his hand against his eyes, wiping them. “You’re the only sympathetic Assemblyman I know. Vampires have no representation in the Assembly and if you’re not voting for us, no one else will.”

“That’s something I can work on, while I’m dismantling my job,” Cáel told him. “I’ve always thought the operatives rallying support in the foyers had a more interesting life, anyway.”

Ryan looked down at the velvet once more. “Are you sure, Cáel?” he asked quietly.

“I’m sure,” Cáel said as firmly as he could. “I’ve been listening to you and Nayara for years. I know your aspirations for vampires and the agency backwards. Let me take over…just while you get your health back.” He caught Ryan’s hand in his once more. “Let me do this for you.”

The deep pucker was back between Ryan’s brows.

“I love you,” Cáel said and now he couldn’t keep the roughness out of his voice. “Let me help.”

Ryan nodded.

It was the relief in his eyes that scared Cáel the most.

* * * * *

Forty minutes after her strained and odd conversation with Brenden, Mariana’s board pinged her location in response to a whereabouts query.

She looked down at the telltale flag at the corner of the board, where it laid in the dirt. Who was looking for her, now? Nayara was in the costume wing with Cybelia for a fitting. Brenden was off the grounds—or so his implant reported. Everyone who might possibly need to find her had spoken to her in the last couple of hours.

The ice-cream she had eaten too much of was sitting at the bottom of her stomach, making her feel bloated and ill. She had found a solitary corner of Nayara’s rose garden where no one else would think to look for her, turned an empty terracotta pot upside down and perched on it, her skirt tucked around her knees. A few minutes to rest, think and let her stomach settle might give her a better perspective on the day.

Having someone impersonally ping her instead of simply calling her didn’t help her mood.

“Mariana.” It was Brenden’s voice.

She leaned around the rosebush that was hiding her corner. Brenden stood halfway in and out of the door into Nayara’s office.

“That was you pinging me?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer if I called.” He closed the door behind him and edged around the bushes to where she was sitting. “Are you…sulking?”

“Thinking,” she amended. “I’m trying to figure out what to tell Laszlo when I call to cancel dinner.”

“Before you do that, I’d like to take you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Mariana got to her feet. She was already much shorter than Brenden. Sitting only made her feel that much smaller. “Who?” she demanded.

“It would be much easier to explain if you’ll let me take you there.”

His clothes were old fashioned, she realized. The fastenings looked antiquated, for they were visible and mechanical. “Somewhere in the past?” she guessed. “Is that where you went that took your implant off-grid?”

“Yes, somewhere back there.” He glanced down at his shirt, clearly recognizing what had told her he’d been travelling. “Not too far back,” he added. “I need you to trust me just for a little while. Then you can go back to hating my guts.”

Mariana weighed up what he was asking. “You want to take me into the past somewhere, to meet some undisclosed person? Why?”

“Because it might make you feel a bit happier. You didn’t like what I told you about Laszlo, earlier.”

“You can’t just tell me?” She bent and picked the board up out of the dirt and brushed it off. “I’ve already got behind today because of this.”

He pushed his hand through his short hair, ruffling it. “Look, I’ll time the jumps so you’ll lose five minutes, maximum. I’ll have you back here before anyone even notices you have gone.”

“You can time your jumps that closely?” she asked, startled.

“I’ve been doing it for a while,” he said dryly.

Mariana shrugged. “I don’t understand why you’re making a big mystery out of it, but I can give you five minutes. Do I need to change?” She was wearing the simple skirt and top she had put on this morning, in between Laszlo running his hands all over her.

That felt like a small ice age ago, now.

“You’ll pass well enough in those.” Brenden stepped closer.

She realized with a start that time jumping meant being held in his arms. Her heart lurched and she drew in a quick, sharp breath.

“Relax, I don’t bite. Well, not anymore.”