With a Kiss (19 page)

“Perhaps now would be a good time for you to seek out Mr. Bates’ company, sir,” Jenson said, mildly.

Marcus jerked up his head. The butler stood directly in front of his desk.

“I’m not using him as a blood whore,” Marcus snapped, not entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore. He slammed both his hands down on the desk as he launched himself to his feet. “I wouldn’t have fed from him at all if he hadn’t been in so much pain!”

“I am aware of that, sir. However, it is difficult for any observer not to realize that Mr. Bates does seem to have a somewhat calming effect on you.”

Marcus found his lips twitching in spite of everything. “Are you suggesting that I go and find the boy so he can cheer me up and talk me out of my temper tantrum?”

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting any such thing, sir.” Jenson’s face remained completely expressionless.

Marcus looked down at the desktop for a few moments. “He’s going to pay,” he said, making sure each and every syllable hit the air, clear and unmistakable. “Wallace is going to hang.”

Jenson said nothing. He was a smart man. There was nothing he could say that would convince Marcus to set aside three years of plotting and dreaming about his revenge, he didn’t waste his time trying. By the time he got his strength back, Marcus was going to have every detail of Theo’s current location, and be ready to set everything in motion. He was going to be ready for the little bastard this time.

However, in the meantime…

Pushing his chair back, Marcus stepped out from behind the desk. “Did you buy the magazines?” he asked the butler.

“Certainly, sir. I placed them in the morning room, as you directed.”

Marcus nodded. That solved the problem of where to find Liam very nicely. If there was one thing the boy really couldn’t resist it was a sensationalized story about some Z list celebrity who was falling in or out of love with some other talentless cretin and—

“However, I believe Mr. Bates is completing a short tour of the house,” Jenson said, just as Marcus reached the door.

“What?”

“His doctor suggested that once he feels capable, he should take some gentle exercise. Since you made it quite clear that he wasn’t to leave the house unless you were free to accompany him, I suggested he take you up on your invitation to explore the building further.”

Marcus’ hand clenched tightly around the door handle. There were dozens of rooms on each floor of the house. There was no reason for Marcus to believe he could successfully predict which one Liam would be in. But, in that moment, Marcus harbored no doubts regarding the boy’s location.

He strode out of his study without another word, letting the door swing idly closed in his wake. Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly turned several corners and strode along the hall toward the back of the house.

Just as he expected, there was only one door open along that corridor, and it was the one that led into the only room he’d been quietly determined to introduce Liam to in person.

It was an introduction that should have occurred several weeks in the future, and it would have been conducted so very carefully and… And it was pointless to regret that now.

Slowing his steps, treading lightly to ensure no floorboards creaked and betrayed his presence; Marcus crept closer to the open doorway. The light was on. Liam was clearly illuminated—standing in the middle of his stark black and white surroundings, his attention completely ensnared by a large object on the far side of the room.

Marcus realized then that there had been no reason to creep. Liam was so mesmerized; he wouldn’t have heard even the heaviest stomping step.

“It’s a St. Andrew’s cross,” Marcus said, as softly as he knew how.

Liam spun around. His face was paler than Marcus had ever seen it—making the leather that filled the room appear all the darker and more sinister in comparison.

Stepping forward, Marcus forced himself to come to a halt in the doorway, leaving several feet of empty space between them.

“I’m sorry, I…”

Marcus shook his head. “I told you that you had free rein in the house. I meant it. If I’d wanted to keep the room a secret from you, I’d have locked it and made sure you didn’t have access to the key.”

Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, Marcus looked around his playroom. A substantial film of dust lay over every item. The Jensons had obviously respected his preference that they didn’t enter the room—even to clean it—the entire time he’d been away.

The last people in there had been Marcus and…if he’d remembered rightly, it had been a rather bratty little Italian submissive. He didn’t bother to try to recall the boy’s name; he doubted he had even inquired what it was to begin with. The boy had been pretty enough, and his masochism had made him a reasonably interesting human to feed from, but he couldn’t compare with the man standing before him now.

Turning his gaze back to Liam, Marcus smiled slightly, desperately trying to appear relaxed and at ease when he felt anything but. Liam didn’t smile back. Marcus’ expression slowly turned more somber too.

He’d brought more than enough men and women back to that room to learn that an instinctive talent for submission wasn’t the same as a taste for leather or the games that a dominant might like to play. The sheer weight of disappointment that raced through him surprised Marcus, but he made damn sure than no trace of it appeared in his expression. That particular precaution turned out to be entirely unnecessary.

Liam’s gaze dropped to somewhere around Marcus’ feet and stayed there. The boy folded his arms across his chest in a move all about self defense. A second passed, and he shuffled his feet on the dusty floor, as if getting ready to run.

“Liam,” Marcus said, stepping forward.

The boy jerked away from him, rapidly retreating until his back hit into the St. Andrew’s cross. He spun around, as if the dark wooden beams might wrap around him and trap him there if he stayed within their reach.

His shoulder connected heavily with a rack of paddles, sending them tumbling to the floor. Liam twisted around again. Marcus caught sight of the panic in his prey’s eyes as fight and flight collided inside him.

Marcus’ own instincts took over. Two strides had him within arm’s reach of the boy. Wrapping Liam in a strong embrace, Marcus pulled him close, thinking of nothing but keeping Liam still and preventing him from hurting himself in his panic.

Frantic hands pushed against his chest, scrabbling at his shirt as Liam desperately tried to free himself from Marcus’ hold. Even the strength inspired by human panic was no match for a vampire, even one as malnourished as Marcus.

Planting his feet firmly on the floor in the center of the room, Marcus became a statue, just waiting the smaller man out. Finally, the hands that had been trying to push Marcus away relaxed against his shirt. Liam’s head dropped forward to rest against his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with me?” The words would have been inaudible to a human’s ear.

“Nothing at all,” Marcus whispered back, moving one hand to rest on the back of Liam’s head and welcome him close, while his other palm smoothed what he hoped would be reassuring circles on the boy’s back.

“Then why is it that I only ever fall for guys who are completely screwed up?” Liam asked.

Frowning over the top of the shorter man’s head, Marcus tried to follow the boy’s line of thought and failed completely.

“Even Ralph wasn’t into
this
kind of…” Liam murmured.

“What?” Pulling back a little, Marcus dipped his head, determined to catch Liam’s gaze.

“Why do I only ever fall for guys who want to hurt me?” Liam seemed to be talking to himself far more than to Marcus now. His eyes held a far off quality, as if he were staring far back into the past, or maybe way out into the future. All Marcus could be sure of was that Liam really didn’t like the view.

Holding him at arm’s length, Marcus frowned down at the younger man. “What the hell makes you think I want to hurt you?”

A burst of laughter, verging on the hysterical, escaped from Liam’s mouth. Covering his lips with one hand, he stared up at Marcus, wide eyed for several seconds before turning his head to look in every direction around the room.

Marcus didn’t follow his gaze, he didn’t need to. He knew every inch of that space. He knew how it all looked through his own eyes. It only then occurred to him that it would look very different through Liam’s gaze.

“This has nothing to do with the way Ralph hurt you,” he said, putting all the strength and certainty he’d ever had at his disposal into the words.

Liam swallowed. His hand was still over his mouth. He looked as if he was only just managing to keep his breakfast down.

“It has nothing to do with anyone wanting to hurt you,” Marcus said again.

“Don’t lie to me!” Liam pushed against him. The sudden move caught Marcus by surprise. The boy slipped from his grasp and headed straight for the door.

Shoe prints lingered in his wake, the stumbling steps scuffing the dust as he rushed away. Liam’s fingers caught hold of the doorframe and propelled him forward. He threw himself through the doorway so hard, he tumbled against the wall opposite it.

“I won’t chase you.”

Liam stopped, his steps grinding to a halt as the words seemed to shock all movement out of his feet. He looked over his shoulder at Marcus.

“I have no interest in keeping you in this room unless it’s where you want to be. The same goes for any other room in this house.”

Liam turned to face Marcus, leaning back against the wall directly opposite the door as if he wasn’t capable of supporting himself on his own.

Marcus didn’t move. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t reach out to try and catch hold of Liam again. He stood perfectly still, his empty hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t need an escape route anymore, Liam,” he said, very carefully. “And you don’t have to worry about me being between you and the door either. If you want to leave somewhere and I’m in your way, all you have to do is ask me to step aside and I will. And I won’t chase you if you run.”

One detail suddenly became apparent as Marcus studied both the other man’s body language and his body in general. It wasn’t just the room that was freaking Liam out. It wasn’t merely the realization that Marcus liked the kind of games that were played in there that was making him panic.

Unless Marcus was very much mistaken, Liam was far more worried by his own reaction to the leather he’d stumbled upon. Marcus ran his gaze over the way Liam’s erection tented his jeans. The room hadn’t only made him scared. It had also made him hard. His breaths weren’t just uneven from fear.

He seemed even more freaked out by his reaction to the room than he had been by his wet dream that morning, but still for much the same reason.

Marcus dragged his attention back to Liam’s face. He saw the blush on Liam’s cheeks and knew it was too late to hide the fact he’d noticed his hardened shaft the way he’d managed to hide the fact he’d been wide awake that morning and thoroughly enjoyed feeling Liam rub against him that way.

“Was this why Ralph…?” Liam began, in a voice so full of pain; it was all Marcus could do to keep himself those few yards away.

“No!” It was impossible to keep the word calm and gentle. It snapped across the room like a whip.

Liam instantly dropped his gaze, his blush fading as the blood drained from his face.

“Ralph hurt you because he is a sadistic bastard and he knew he could get away with it,” Marcus expanded.

Liam didn’t look up. He slowly slid down the wall to sit on the hall floor.

“Do you really think he hit you because he thought you’d
like
it?” Marcus asked, stepping forward just one pace.