Xavier
The gate swings open before Miles comes to a complete stop, and he smoothly parks right next to Hunter’s car. He’s watching the perimeter. Good.
Hunter’s waiting at the door for us, a scowl on his handsome face. He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his hip against the doorframe, not giving us room to enter. “What are you doing here?”
I take my time looking over his figure, checking for any hints of damage. Completely unscathed, not a single hair or piece of clothing out of place. His ability to remain calm in any situation never fails to turn me on exponentially. My cold prince.
“I heard you had a spot of trouble with your teacher.”
His scowl deepens. “You heard that, did you?”
“Neighbours reported shots fired at Matthew’s residence,” Miles says, his gaze scanning the fence line.
He’s tense, agitated, like he’s waiting for hordes of men to come sweeping over them.
There are more protections on this house than just the fence.
I don’t recommend anyone trying to get inside without permission.
“Interesting how that information got relayed to you.”
“You aren’t the only one with fingers in certain pots, darling,” I drawl. “Are you going to let us in?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
He doesn’t retreat when I invade his space. I flick the collar of his shirt, and his green eyes flit down to the movement. He swallows hard and looks me right in the eye, daring me to come even closer. I don’t need a dare to want to be fused with him.
“It’s good to see that you’re okay.” I can’t resist leaning in close, dragging the tip of my nose up his neck, inhaling deeply. “And your teacher?”
“H-he’s fine,” Hunter replies, voice unsteady. “Shaken up, but he’s not like you and me.”
No, he certainly isn’t. Pressing my lips against Hunter’s ear, I whisper, “Let us in.”
“Tell me why you’re here.”
“You were involved in a shooting, and you think I wouldn’t come?”
Hunter lets out a breath and shakes his head, stepping back to put distance between us. “My job has always been dangerous. You don’t show up here every time I’m involved in something that could cause me harm. Why now, Xavier?”
I may not have shown up, but if he thinks I don’t know what he’s been up to all these years, he’s very wrong. There’s nothing he does that I’m not aware of. His safety is of utmost importance to me, and that won’t ever change, regardless of whether he’s in my arms or not.
“This time it’s different.”
A muscle in Hunter’s jaw twitches. He glances behind me to where Miles hovers at my shoulders. “How?”
“This is my mess, as you so eloquently put it. I’m at your disposal until we sort it out.” As if this has some kind of expiry date. I’m at his disposal, forever. Whatever he needs, I’ll provide.
“I don’t need your help.”
“You have it, regardless.” He won’t get rid of me so easily.
He seems to sense this, as he finally moves out of the way and allows both of us to enter. “Shoes and guns.”
“No,” Miles says abruptly, stopping right in front of Hunter. “Not this time. You might think you’re safe here, but nowhere is infallible, and I won’t be caught with my pants down.”
“Interesting choice of words,” Hunter says lightly. “If you take out your weapon without there being a reasonable threat, I’ll make sure you can never pick up a gun ever again.”
Miles places a palm on the wall beside Hunter’s head and leans in, the tips of their noses grazing. “If you think you can take me, I’m right here.”
Hunter doesn’t back down, pressing forward until their lips are a hair’s breadth from each other. “I know I can. Guard dogs always have a worse bark than bite.”
The corner of Miles’ mouth lifts. “Not this guard dog.”
“We’ll see. Take your shoes off.” His lips mimic Miles’ expression. “And your belt.”
There’s a story there, I’m sure.
Leaving them to their foreplay, I carefully remove my shoes and then place them on the provided rack before venturing further inside.
Matthew is sitting at the breakfast bar, a steaming mug of something that smells like coffee and perhaps something a little stronger cradled in his palms. He looks like he could use it if only to put a little colour back in those cheeks.
“Hello, Matthew.”
He licks his lips nervously, hands tightening around his drink. “Hello.”
A quick sweep of his figure assures me he’s unharmed as well. I don’t expect anything less, given Hunter was with him. He wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to the man. There’s a soft spot there that I’m not sure my husband has noticed.
The teacher is certainly endearing. And completely out of his depth here in the midst of monsters.
I’m sure he wants to get off this ride now.
But there’s no getting off now, not when he’s been specifically targeted.
Even if they were simply following Hunter and took an opportunity presented, he’s still in the crossfire now, whether he likes it or not.
The way he looks between us makes me think he’s wondering if I’m about to bend Hunter over this counter.
There’s an appeal to that, for sure. Anyone who knows what Hunter feels like, squeezing around their dick, would be thinking about it as well.
I’d have to kill them, of course, but that part’s irrelevant.
Hunter belongs to me, and anyone who thinks they can claim that is welcome to try.
Does Matthew think he has a claim on Hunter, I wonder? The dull anger at the thought is a bare blip against the curiosity and intrigue. Just what part does Matthew think he has to play in this?
“Augustus,” Matthew says abruptly, letting go of his mug and sliding off his stool. “I have to get him. I left him there.” His eyes widen, a thin sheen of tears covering them. “I left him there,” he repeats, almost to himself. “I’m the world’s worst parent.”
Hunter looks amusedly at me, and I stare back impassively.
Whatever he’s implying is justified, though the sting still hurts.
I’ve provided for my child her whole life.
I simply haven’t met her. What looks like neglect on paper was a very deliberate choice to give her the best start to life. That was never going to be me.
“You have a child?” Miles asks, frowning. He turns to Hunter, who responds before he can follow up the question with something I’m sure is less than flattering. Neither of us would expect Hunter to leave a house full of goons while there’s a child in residence—and not take the child with him.
“It’s his lizard,” Hunter says, looking increasingly tired. “Not a person. He’s not at school?”
“No, I took him home for the weekend.”
A lizard. He’s this worried over a reptile? “I’m sure the creature is fine.” They aren’t like dogs or cats, where they need constant attention. Are they?
“He needs feeding every day. And Sunday is his bath day. What if they hurt him? Or—or took him. Maybe they eat lizards!” The last sentence is said borderline hysterically.
“They weren’t there to eat your lizard, they were there to kill you,” Miles says abruptly. He’s staring at Matthew like he’s a new species he’s just discovered. It certainly feels that way. “A lizard assassination wouldn’t require that kind of firepower.”
I can’t believe he just said the words “lizard assassination.” How cute.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Matthew stalks towards the door. “I have to go get him.”
Hunter stops him with a hand on his stomach. “I don’t think so; you aren’t leaving this house until we can ensure your safety.”
A warmth curls in my stomach at the use of the word “we.” Including us in the statement means that he’s accepted we aren’t going anywhere.
“I can’t just leave him there. He’s relying on me. He won’t survive in a cage all by himself, and what if he’s scared all alone?”
“Do lizards feel fear?” Miles asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know! Maybe! I’m sure feeling a lot of it right now.”
Hunter sighs and rubs his forehead. “I’ll go and get it. Any particular instructions?”
“He’s in a bigger enclosure at home, but you can transfer him to the smaller one that I use when he’s at school. He doesn’t bite, don’t worry.”
Hunter narrows his eyes. “I wasn’t worried about that, but now I am. Do they bite?”
“I think they can. He doesn’t.”
“Anything else?”
“Make sure you get his water bowl and his food bowl. His fruits and vegetables are in the fridge, and so are the worms. He eats crickets, too, but he’s run out, and I was going to get some more tomorrow.
Dead ones, not live ones. I can’t stomach feeding him live anything, but he has a vibrating bowl that mimics them moving, so that it entices him. Uh, oh, and blueberries.”
“Worms,” Hunter repeats. “And dead crickets.” He closes his eyes briefly. “Okay. Forget the fruits and vegetables, we have some here. I’ll see what I can do about the rest.”
An errand to rescue a lizard. Not how I saw the day going. “You aren’t going alone.” If he thinks I’m allowing him to leave this house unprotected, he has another thing coming. “Take Miles with you.”
“And leave you here with Matthew?”
“You were about to leave both Miles and me with him,” I point out. Halving the equation can’t make things worse, surely. “Don’t worry, I’ll give him back to you exactly the way he came.”
“Reassuring.”
“Uh…” Matthew looks between us, head turning to and fro. “I could come with—”
“No. If they come back, Miles and I will handle them more efficiently if we don’t have to worry about you as well.”
Matthew sits back down on his stool heavily. Something tells me he needs some more of his special coffee. “I don’t want to know what that means, do I?”
“It means—”
“It means we’ll handle them,” Hunter interrupts Miles, shooting him a warning look. “Stay here, we won’t be long.”
“Keep him safe,” I order Miles, who nods sharply. The request is unnecessary, but I’m a firm believer in never letting words go unsaid. Regret is a beast I know all too well, and I never make the same mistake twice. Not when the first cost me everything.
Matthew closes his eyes, hunching over the counter, mug back in his grip. It doesn’t look like he’s taken a single sip of the liquid.
Without a word, I check the cupboards until I find what I’m looking for: excellent vintage whiskey. Hunter has always had excellent taste. The glasses are easier to find, and I pour a generous amount.
I present the amber liquid to Matthew, and his head jerks up in surprise. “Oh, um, no thanks.”
“Drink it.” Leaning my hip against the counter, I remain in his space. No one is better at waiting a person out, at patience for the right result, than I am. He’d best learn that quickly and do as he’s told without fuss.
As if hearing my thoughts, he takes it without more protest and downs it quicker than I’d have advised. Based on the way he coughs and clears his throat, he’s not expecting it to punch quite so hard.
While it’s smooth and husky, it’s not meant to be skulled like he’s drinking from a keg at a frat party.
“Feel better?”
“Not really.” He pushes it away and rests his elbows on the counter. He turns his head sideways to look at me. “It’s Xavier, right?”
“Correct.”
“You and Hunter—you’re—are you—” He bites his bottom lip and stares down at his mug as if it will give him all the answers he’s looking for.
“We’re married,” I supply. The way he lifts his head with wide, horrified eyes is mildly amusing.
“Married? Oh my God, I didn’t know. I didn’t—I would never have—”
“We’re separated,” I add if only to put him out of his misery. In a manner of speaking. An inadequate description for our situation but enough of one to satiate pieces of his curiosity. And get rid of the scared look on his face.
“Oh. That’s—” He deflates, relaxing. “That’s good.
I mean—it’s not good like good, you aren’t together anymore.
Not like—I just mean because I didn’t want to be that kind of person or believe that Hunter is that kind of person.
I don’t mean because you’re not—because—” He closes his eyes, mortified.
There’s certainly more colour in his cheeks now.
He’s as red as a tomato, in fact. I much prefer that than the ghostlike shade from earlier.
He’s so incredibly earnest, like a baby duck. If his brown hair were blond, he’d even further resemble one. So innocent. He shouldn’t be here; Hunter should never have dragged him into this world.
I tilt my head at a new noise and then twist to look at the small tablet on the corner of the breakfast bar.
The screen gives a clear view of the front of the house, including guests.
Given the timing, Hunter must have called him before we arrived.
He’s probably forgotten. He wouldn’t leave Jericho and me alone in the same room under any circumstances.
“While I’d love to explain everything to you, we have a guest.”
Matthew tenses and stands, grabbing at the flap of my jacket. On purpose or instinct? “Like… more of those people?”
“Oh, no. Much worse. My brother-in-law.”