Taming the Lion (21 page)

Now they lay together, talking in soft voices, mindful of Ellie sleeping in the neighboring bedroom.

Jon’s injured hand had been properly dressed by a paramedic. Kaspar raised the freshly bandaged palm to his lips and gave it a gentle peck.

“You’ll have a permanent scar here,” he said, “but it’ll just make you look roguish. Like a proper Indiana Jones.” He grinned. “My hero.”

“I didn’t feel very heroic at the time,” Jon admitted.

“But you saved my life, and I need to thank you.”

Kaspar kissed Jon—a tongue-tangling, teeth-clashing kiss loaded with passion. His breathing quickened, blood surged to his cock, and he snaked a hand down to catch hold of Jon’s hardening length.

“Kaspar, we can’t. What if Ellie hears us?”

“I don’t care. I need to fuck you.” Kaspar nipped at Jon’s ear with his teeth. His animal passion was roused and only being buried balls-deep in Jon’s clutching arse would tame his need.

He sat up and put out a hand, fumbling to open the drawer in the bedside cabinet where he kept his condoms.

When he brought the packet out, Jon said, “No.”

At first, Kaspar thought his lover was still objecting to making love with the possibility of being overheard but then he realized Jon was asking him not to bother with protection.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Kaspar, after everything that’s happened, I don’t think I should be worrying about whether or not I can trust you or whether you’re going to leave me for someone else.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you from the start. There
is
no one else and there never will be. But there’s only one way I can prove that to you.”

Kaspar got out the tub of thick lube. He dipped a couple of fingers into it then smeared the gooey stuff onto Jon’s anal pucker. Jon, lying face down, shivered and humped his hips against the mattress.

“Cold?” Kaspar chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll heat you up.”

He fingered Jon’s arse, opening up the tight hole by degrees. His lover’s soft moans and sighs of encouragement prompted him to press harder, deeper. Then he hooked his fingers in a beckoning motion, catching the spot deep in Jon’s channel that had him clawing at the bedclothes.

“Go on. Let it go,” Kaspar urged, aware Jon was holding back the full extent of his pleasure for fear of waking Ellie.

Watching Jon fight to retain his control had Kaspar at full hardness and he couldn’t wait any longer to possess his mate’s body. He withdrew his fingers. Before Jon could complain about the loss, he’d replaced them with his cock. For the first time, he slid into the hot, clinging recesses of Jon’s arse with no barrier between them.

Beneath him, Jon let out a long, sighing, “Yesss.”

Kaspar held him tight, not moving, simply glorying in the feeling of claiming the man he loved. Then he rocked his hips forward a little way, filling Jon to the hilt, before pulling back.

His movements were gentle at first but soon he had Jon begging for more. Kaspar thrust harder, lost in the feeling of being intimately joined to his lover. Jon was his, body and soul, and he shuddered as he remembered how close they’d come to being torn apart forever.

“That’s it, Kaspar. Fuck me,” Jon groaned.

“Are you close?” Kaspar muttered in his ear. “Are you gonna come?”

“Yes.” The word was a bitten-back whimper, an indication that Jon had lost the last of his self-possession.

“So come for me, then.”

Jon’s channel clenched around Kaspar’s shaft, the rhythmic milking motions enough to trigger his own climax. They reached their peak at almost the same time, Kaspar biting Jon’s neck as the delicious spasms shot through him.

It was a long moment before either of them could move.

“So what happens now?” Kaspar asked as he at last climbed off Jon’s prone body.

Jon rolled onto his back. “Well, the police are going to want to talk to us again once they’ve tracked down the rest of Henry’s little cabal and made an investigation of the land around the stones. If I’m right about the objects I saw on the altar in Henry’s room and each one was taken from someone they sacrificed, then there are at least four bodies buried there.”

Kaspar shuddered. “I still can’t believe Henry and the others were prepared to go as far as they did. I mean, if they were just taking those guys up to the stones to have sex with them that would have been one thing—but actually killing them…”

“Henry was offering them the prospect of unlimited power and the ability to have everything they wanted. People will take all kinds of risks if they think that’s what’s at stake.” Jon ran a hand down Kaspar’s bare flank.

“What about Bulmer?” Kaspar thought back to the man who’d taken such an active part in preparing and bathing him in advance of the ritual—the man he’d slashed so savagely as he’d fought to protect Jon.

“As far as we know, he’s going to be okay. He’ll probably need skin grafts for those claw marks you left in his back but I reckon he’ll consider that a small price to pay, given what you did to Henry.”

“He deserved it. They all did. I only wish I could have made Henry suffer for longer before I killed him.”

Jon stopped his gentle caressing of Kaspar’s skin. He propped himself up on one elbow. “Whatever would make you say something like that?”

“Everything I did was to protect you. There were moments when I didn’t care whether I died or not, just as long as I knew you would be safe.”

“But what I don’t understand is how Henry managed to get you out of his home and up to the Foolish Brothers without a struggle. I know it’s the last place you would have gone of your own volition.”

“He drugged my port. I think he’d done the same to yours so that you wouldn’t be able to stop him when he took me.”

“But I’d been knocked out anyway. God, he planned all of it so meticulously. And he kept up the pretense of being interested in both of us for so long when all he cared about was getting his hands on you.” Jon sighed. “One thing’s for certain. I can stop worrying about whether or not I ought to accept that visiting fellowship at Columbia. I’m beginning to doubt Henry had even arranged it in the first place, given how good he was at telling people exactly what they wanted to hear.”

“If it was real, would you have taken it?”

“I don’t know. I always thought a position like that was everything I could ever want. And then you came along and changed my whole world…”

When Kaspar looked into Jon’s eyes, he saw tears glistening there. “Hey, Jon, it’s okay. I understand how much your dream means to you. I couldn’t ask you to just throw it away.”

“You know what the stupid part of all this is? When I was driving up to the stones, the only thing I could think was that I hadn’t been able to tell you how much you mean to me. For all I knew, you could be dead and I hadn’t said I loved you. And by the time I got there, it would be too late.”

“I felt just the same. Even though you’re my mate, the true love of my life, I was too afraid of ruining what we had to admit it. But I love you, Jon, with all my heart. I always will.”

They fell into each other’s arms, Kaspar planting kisses on Jon’s lips and cheeks. He clung onto his lover as if he would never let him go again.

“You know what,” Kaspar declared at length. “It’s not enough for us to know we love each other. I need the people who matter to me to know it, too.” He caught the sound of Ellie’s bedroom door opening followed by footsteps descending the staircase. “Starting with Ellie.” He got out of bed then picked up his sweatpants. “Come on. There’s no time like the present.”

“Kaspar…” Jon sounded doubtful.

“It’ll be okay.” Kaspar continued to dress as he spoke. “I’ve been so worried about how Ellie and the rest of the pride would react to the fact my mate is human, and now I realize it doesn’t matter. What we have is meant to be, just like with Arjan and Kees. Nothing can change that. Jon. I love you and I want everyone to know it.”

“And I love you, too, Kaspar. Never doubt it for a moment.”

Kaspar waited while Jon pulled on his T-shirt and trousers then he led the way down the stairs. Ellie stood in the kitchen, filling the kettle at the sink. He took a deep breath and went to tell her just how much Jon meant to him.

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

Down to Earth

Elizabeth Coldwell

Excerpt

Chapter One

The ground was coming towards him far too fast.

Remembering the words of his instructor, drilled into him when he’d first started taking skydiving lessons, he did his best to relax. His main parachute might have failed—the problem caused by more than a simple twist in the lines that could quickly be untangled—but he still had a reserve. He could see the white expanse of Craig’s chute fluttering below him, and tried to judge his own altitude from that. Less than a thousand feet, he reckoned. It left him no time to cut the main chute away. But that’s why he had a back-up. The chances of that failing, too, were so small as to be negligible.

Pulling at the deployment handle of the reserve chute with all the strength he had, he counted down the seconds, waiting for the reassuring feeling as the furled bundle of nylon cloth opened and the wind tugged him upward.

It didn’t come.

Oh, fuck, this is bad…really bad.

Fighting against the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, he tugged at the handle a second time. Still nothing. Despite the odds, the second chute had turned out to be as faulty as the first.

Below him, Craig’s parachute was a white blanket spread across the springy grass. It appeared he had landed safely. For him, this had been nothing but a routine jump. Praying that once Craig had gathered up his chute, he’d look up and notice what was wrong, Ryan closed his eyes, wanting his lover to be the last thing on his mind. Hitting the ground was going to hurt more than anything he’d ever known, and he needed a pleasant memory to distract him from thoughts of the pain to come.

Thinking of something pleasant where Craig was involved wouldn’t exactly be hard. Until then, today had been pretty much the best day of his life…

The smell of freshly brewed coffee awoke him. What was happening? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off? He couldn’t be late for work again, not with Mel in New York. Someone had to be around to take delivery of the artwork for the gallery’s latest exhibition, and he couldn’t screw up, not when Mel had been muttering darkly that, with the economy the way it was, and the gallery’s takings significantly down, there might have to be job cuts…

“Hey, Ryan. Happy anniversary, babe.” Craig’s voice cut into his confused thoughts. Hauling himself up into a sitting position, he watched his boyfriend walk into the room, carrying a tray that he set down on the bedside table. “Thought I’d treat you to breakfast in bed, seeing as it’s our special day.”

This was a first. In the year they’d been together, Craig had never been up and functioning before Ryan—or, if he had been, he’d be hogging the bathroom, showering, applying his anti-ageing moisturiser and eye cream and tweaking his honey-streaked hair into a style that gave the impression he’d just tumbled out of bed.

Ryan’s immediate anxiety eased—if today was their anniversary that made it Sunday, which meant the gallery was closed. No delivery till tomorrow—no need to panic. Instead, he could enjoy a leisurely breakfast with Craig.

Alongside a cafetière—the source of the appetising coffee aroma—the tray contained that morning’s newspaper and a plate of Danish pastries, bought from the bakery down the road. Ryan couldn’t have expected anything more ambitious from Craig, given that the limit of the man’s culinary skills was programming the microwave, but the gesture was much appreciated. He felt spoilt, wanted.

Craig stripped off his T-shirt and jeans, making sure to put them on hangers so they wouldn’t crease, then climbed into bed beside Ryan.

“Has it really been a year?” Ryan asked. Their first date, in a cocktail lounge in the city centre, seemed only moments ago. He’d been smitten with the vivacious blond hair salon owner from the instant they’d met, but he’d never expected them to form a lasting relationship. Craig was everything Ryan wasn’t—a night owl, obsessed with celebrity gossip and the latest fashions—but they had clicked. They’d had their rocky spells, but they were still together twelve months later, and Craig was obviously determined to mark their anniversary with this unexpected show of affection.

“Hasn’t the time flown?” Craig grinned. “Speaking of which, I’ve got something special planned for us later on. We’re going skydiving.”

“You’ve arranged that? Wow, thanks, Craig.”

Skydiving had become their shared passion. Ryan had already been a veteran of close to a dozen solo jumps when he’d met Craig, and he’d never believed his boyfriend—happiest holding court in a darkened club with a fresh mojito in his hand—would have warmed to the concept of throwing himself out of a moving plane. But Craig, who had a passion for campy old spy films, had enthusiastically embraced his inner James Bond, and learnt to skydive—first in tandem with an instructor, then on his own. Ryan privately thought that freefalling through the air was the only time his lover really let himself go. Even when they had sex, he never seemed so daring, so unconcerned about everything. Not that Ryan had any intention of sharing that impression with Craig.

In gratitude, he gave Craig a soft peck on the lips, half expecting him to recoil at the stale taste of his breath. Instead, he returned the kiss with surprising enthusiasm, rolling over so that he was on top of Ryan, pinning him to the mattress. His tongue flickered into Ryan’s mouth, and he ground his crotch against Ryan’s through the bedcovers.

“Hey, what about breakfast?” Ryan asked when they finally broke the kiss. The strength of Craig’s reaction had made his cock, already sporting the beginnings of a healthy morning erection, stiffen further, and his groin ached pleasurably.