After Ruhn spoke up, he fell silent and really wished that he hadn’t said anything. Actually, wait, what he would have preferred was not to have come here at all. Because if the latter had been true, then the former never would have been a problem.
I’ve always known you didn’t approve of me.
Had he really said that? “Never mind, it is hardly relevant—”
“What gave you the idea I disapproved of you?”
“I should not have brought this up.”
“No, I’m glad you did.” Saxton shook his head. “We need to talk this out. I’m trying to see how I could ever have given you that impression.”
For a moment, Ruhn got too busy falling into those gray eyes, those big, beautiful pearl-gray eyes. He loved the way they looked up at him, the thick lashes framing that stare, the brows arching perfectly, the head tilted in polite inquiry…
The mouth ever so slightly parted as if the male were still surprised.
“Whyever would you think that?” Saxton prompted.
“I cannot read.”
“And that matters how? Reading is a measure of something that can be taught, not intelligence, and certainly not worthiness. Ruhn, you gave up Bitty to parents who loved her for her own good. You let your bloodline go for her benefit and others. How could I not appreciate a male who could make such a selfless, loving act?”
“I couldn’t sign the documents.”
“You gave your mark…beautifully.” Saxton’s voice grew forceful. “Worry not ever, Ruhn, over my opinion. I could not respect you more. In fact, I have always been”—those eyes shifted away—“struck by you.”
An unfamiliar blooming sensation warmed Ruhn’s chest, relieving the pain there—and at the same time, the walls of the elegant penthouse seemed to shrink into them both, drawing them closer together even though neither of them moved.
Ruhn’s heart began to beat harder, and he coughed a little.
“Have I made you feel uncomfortable?” Saxton linked his arms. “I apologize. I assure you, I offer this only in the spirit of friendship.”
“Of course.”
“Regardless of my orientation.”
“Orientation?”
“I am gay.” As Ruhn recoiled, Saxton’s face tightened and his voice lowered. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”
More like a solution, Ruhn thought—before he caught himself.
Coughing again, he said, “No. No, it will not.”
“Are you certain about that?”
When Ruhn didn’t reply, Saxton looked away. “Well. In any event, thank you for updating me about Miniahna and I’ll take it from here. Your services are no longer required—”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me—”
“Wait, are you firing me?”
“Just so you and I are clear, I have been beaten for being what I am.” Saxton went over and opened the sliding door. “I have been disowned by my bloodline because my sire regards me as an embarrassment and a disgrace now that my mahmen is gone. So I can assure you, I’ve survived far worse alienation than your disapproval, and I will not apologize for something about myself that I am not ashamed of—simply because it makes you or anyone else uncomfortable.”
Ruhn took a deep breath.
After what felt like an hour, he walked over to the open door and the male standing stiffly and with dignity by the way out. As freezing air swirled into the penthouse, it ruffled through Ruhn’s hair and he wondered what it would be like to have Saxton’s fingers do that.
“Forgive me,” Ruhn said quietly. “I mean no offense. I honestly do not. I have…trouble expressing myself, especially around people like you.”
“Gays. You can say the word, you know. And it’s not like you can catch homosexuality like a cold.”
“I know.”
“Do you.” Saxton tugged at his cuffs, and as he did, there was a flash of red rubies. “I’m not sure that is true, and incidentally, a sexual preference should not be threatening. I’m not going to jump you or anything. People are as principled or unprincipled as they are. Whom I choose to sleep with does not affect my ability to recognize boundaries any more than a heterosexual male would not aggress on every female he comes across.”
“It’s not that.”
“So you believe I am morally wrong. Ah, right. It’s that, then.”
“No—”
Saxton put his hand out. “Actually, I’m disinclined to argue with you. Your reasons are your own. It’s cold and I would like to shut this door. Thank you.”
Later, Ruhn would wonder where the courage came from. Where the honesty did. The answer to that, when it occurred to him, was both simple and profound: Love had wings that demanded flight.
“I am attracted to you and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Saxton’s eyes grew wide, his shock altering everything about him.
“I mean no offense.” Ruhn bowed low. “I do not expect you to be complimented by that, nor do you have to worry I will embarrass you. I just did not expect to find a male attractive, and…” He looked away. “The only reason I tell you this is because I cannot abide you thinking that I would shame you or anybody else in that manner. So I’m sorry.”
There was a tense moment of silence.
And then Saxton reached out…and slowly slid the door back into place.
The downstairs male guest bathroom in Peyton’s family’s mansion was a small but dramatic space tucked in under the grand formal stairs. The floors, walls, and ceiling of the asymmetrical, slant-roof’d room were tiled with slabs of golden agate, and the fixtures and sink were gold. Brass sconces on either side of a gold-leafed mirror threw orangey illumination that had always reminded him of the end of a lit cigar, and the needlepoint rug underfoot had the family’s crest woven into it.
There was no bladder imperative to have come here. He’d just needed a break from all the shoot-me-now polite conversation in the dining room, and to waste some time, he took out his phone to see if someone, anyone, had texted or emailed him.
It was the first time he had ever prayed for spam. He didn’t give a shit whether it was Viagra from overseas, or a webcam scam telling him to text SUCKME to some number…or the president of Nigeria needing to hide money: He was in. Anything but going back out to that table, where his father and Salone were trying to one-up each other on who they knew, the mahmen was getting drunk and leering across the table at him, and that Emily Dickinson waif was pushing her food around without eating anything.
“I’ve quit better jobs than this,” he muttered as he checked the phone’s screen.
On that Annie Potts note, maybe he should just put the OG Ghostbusters on and watch from under his napkin—
Four texts. Three of which were from the club set. And one that made his heart pound like he’d been hooked up to a car battery.
As he went to type in a response to that last one, he stopped halfway through—and called instead.
One ring. Two rings…
Three.
Shit, it was going to go to voicemail. Did he hang up or—
“So is this a yes?” Novo said in a husky voice.
Instant erection. The kind of thing that tested the tensile strength of his tux’s zipper and suggested there was no way he was leaving the loo without giving himself a hand job.
“Yes,” he answered. “It is.”
“When can you come here?”
Now! Fucking right now! his cock said. You get that on that bus and you go to her right now!
Listen, little Pey-pey, you need to chill—
“Excuse me?”
Peyton shut his eyes and leaned into the agate countertop. “Ah, yeah, sorry—”
“Little Pey-pey? I didn’t know you had a younger brother.”
It was more like living with a frat boy who never lifted a finger until he had a bright idea that could burn the house down.
“It’s…nothing.” Actually it was more like eight inches. Hard. “And I’ve got a…I’m stuck in a family thing, but it’s just a meal. As soon as it’s done, I’m coming in.”
“How long? They said I had to feed before I can leave.”
“Not long. An hour. The cheese and fruit course is about to be served, and after that, there will be sorbet.” Thank God it wasn’t Last Meal or there’d be another two hours ahead of them. “I’ll arrange for transport and tell my father I have to go.”
“So dependable you are.”
“When properly motivated.”
“And altruistic, too. Or do you still feel like you owe me?”
Peyton looked at himself in that mirror over the gold sink. His eyes were rapt and hungry, a high color of arousal on his cheeks. In the golden glow, he was all tiger in a gilded cage.
“You don’t want me to answer that,” he heard himself say in a guttural voice.
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“Fine. I want you to take from me. I want your mouth on me anywhere I can get it. And I know better than to think you’ll let me fuck you, but just so we’re clear, the entire time, I’ll be back between your legs in my mind. That honest enough for you? Still want me to come…to you?”
He deliberately double-entendre’d that last one because he was a prick. And he wanted her so badly he was losing his frickin’ mind.
When Novo didn’t say anything, he let his head drop and decided to kick his own ass. Way to be supportive—
“Yes,” she said roughly. “I still want you to come.”
Holy thundering blood pressure, Batman.
“This time…” He bared his descending fangs, his upper lip twitching. “I want your fangs in me, I want the pain and the rush. And I want you at my throat.”
“Anything else?”
Okay, those two words, in that erotic drawl, were sexier than all the actual sex he’d had for the last year.
“Let me inside of you, Novo. You don’t have to explain anything or repeat it, but I just need to know what it’s like to finish in you.”
“You’re admitting weakness.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Why start now.”
He shook his head. “When have I lied to you?”
There was a pause. “When it comes to Paradise, you’ve been lying to yourself.”
Oh, no, he thought. That’s a wrong turn off a road he wanted to stay on, heading into a set of brambles he could totally do without.
“I’m not in love with her.”
“You’re just proving my point about the lying. Remember last night in that alley? Don’t pretend you weren’t being a bonded male with her, putting yourself and everyone else’s best interests aside to protect what you think of as your female.”
“Why are we talking about this?”
“I really don’t know.”
There was a beat of silence, and before she could change her mind, he jumped into the quiet. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I just need to get through this dinner with my father. If I could leave, I would, but with him, everything is a goddamn problem.”
A soft laugh came over the connection. “That exasperated tone in your voice is probably the only thing we will ever have in common.”
“Family problems, too?”
“You have no idea.”
“Tell me.”
There was a long pause. “I thought you were having dinner with your sire. Why are you on this phone with me?”
“I’m hiding in the bathroom. You’re giving me an excuse to stay a little longer.”
This time, when Novo laughed, it was shockingly natural—and he realized he’d never heard her like that before.
Lifting his hand, he found himself rubbing away an unexpected ache in his chest.
“Come on,” he said. “Spill. It’ll be your humanitarian gesture for the night. Keep me in here some more.”
The exhale was long and slow. “Come when you can. No hurries. Bye.”
As the connection was cut, Peyton refocused on his face in the mirror. Even though he knew the address of the house he was in, the zip code and the street and the number…in spite of the fact that he had been in most every room in the mansion, for all of his life…he was utterly lost.
And he had been for years.
Closing his eyes, he pictured Paradise, with her blond hair and her lovely face and her quick smile. He remembered her laugh coming over the phone, her sorrow and her pain, too. He heard her voice and her accent, her consonants and her vowels.
All those phone calls, all that time, day in and day out, while the raids forced them to stay indoors in their safe houses away from Caldwell.
What he had fallen in love with was her constancy. Her reliability. Her always-there, and her kindness…and even more than all that, the fact that she had never, ever judged him. He had told her things that had made him feel pathetic and things that had frightened him. He had talked about nightmares and the demons in his own mind. He had related his father’s hatred of him, and his mahmen’s absentee dismissal, his drugs and his drinking, his females and his women.
And still, she had stood by him. As if none of that ugliness made her think less of him.
Talk about family issues. He’d never had that support from his bloodline or the glymera. He had kept his secrets to himself, not because they were particularly unusual or shocking or perverse, but because there had been no one to trust his underbelly with. No one to care. No one to accept him as he was and forgive him for not being perfect.
That was why he had loved her.
But that was less about her, wasn’t it.
And more about what he’d needed.
Paradise had been, for a time, the paint on his canvas, the compass in his pocket, the light switch he could flip on when he needed illumination in the scary dark. Her good nature had offered him those salvations, although similarly that was not about him; she would have done that for anybody, because that was the way she was.
He had never been sexually obsessed with her.
She had never been like Novo to him. Novo was a bonfire he wanted to jump into. Wearing a suit of firecrackers and carrying a gas tank on his back.
No, he had stared at Paradise because he had mourned the loss of that tight connection, its absence thrusting him back into this world of gilded frames and plastic smiles and no grounding whatsoever.
Sometimes gratitude could be mistaken for love. Both were warm feelings that endured. But the former was about friendship…the latter was something else entirely.
And for some reason, he felt a driving need to explain this all to Novo.
Turning away, he reached for the door. He was going to leave the second he could—
Peyton jumped back. “Whoa!”
“Forgive me,” Romina said softly.
The young female was pale and shaky as she stood before him, and she checked over her shoulder with the paranoia of a field mouse in a cat’s path.
“I must speak with you alone.” Her eyes clung to his. “There is little time.”