Chapter Two
Ryland lay very still as Arslan half-rolled over him, covering Ryland’s body with his much larger frame and effectively pinning him down against the rug in front of the fireplace.
As the half-roar Arslan had let out faded from the air, Ryland regained some semblance of control over his own body and closed his eyes.
Moments passed. Even after Ryland pulled himself together enough to re-open his eyes, he kept his gaze on a small patch of rug just a few inches in front of his face. He had zero inclination to look up and face the world.
Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been aware that they weren’t as alone as he and Arslan tended to be in his fantasies. Except, of course, for that one daydream where the professor called him down to the front of the lecture hall and…
Ryland closed his eyes again. There were important differences between that fantasy and this reality.
He wasn’t at the university; he was in the lion’s den.
It wasn’t his fellow students watching him; it was an entire pride of lions.
And he wasn’t being called to account for letting his mind wander during a lecture; he was pretty much whoring himself out so he could finish his degree.
His mind raced in a dozen different directions, but there was one thought that stood out from the others, clear and pure.
It wasn’t fair. All he wanted to do was stretch out in front of the fire and drown in afterglow with the professor.
It wasn’t fair for reality to intrude on such a simple, honest desire.
It wasn’t fair that he should have to face the fact that Professor Arslan wasn’t actually the only lion he’d agreed to be thrown to that night.
Unable to close his eyes any tighter, Ryland bit his bottom lip to keep back the sudden and overwhelming need to shout expletives at the sheer injustice of it all.
“Everything’s fine,” Arslan said. He sounded pissed off at the return of reality, too.
Ryland hesitated then, considering that line of thought very carefully, as his heart raced faster and faster.
He had no actual reason to assume that Arslan believed himself to be indulging in anything more significant than a quick screw on the rug in front of the fire—just a bit of fun with someone willing to do it for cash.
Ryland had no proof that Arslan had ever felt anything other than reality as they lay together.
Ryland dropped his head forward to rest his temple against the rug again.
When the professor pulled away, Ryland forced himself to stay where he was, resigning himself to staring at the carpet and waiting for whatever would happen next to happen. It wasn’t as if he could turn back now. It was far too late for that.
Even though he didn’t move, he was still very aware that the entire world changed around him. The pleasant ache in his muscles stopped feeling pleasant. It felt far more like weakness that he couldn’t afford.
The comforting weight of Arslan resting against him quickly became little more than a distant memory. With each second that passed, the heat from Arslan’s body faded a little further from his skin, too.
The warmth from the fire couldn’t compete with that of a lion who had been pressed intimately against him.
A shiver ran down Ryland’s spine. Whatever magic had let him lose himself in the sheer rightness of being with Arslan was truly gone now.
His head felt hollow, as if he had lost something that had been right on the edge of his reach.
And he still had the rest of the evening to get through.
A hand touched his shoulder. A gentle tug demanded he rise.
Ryland turned and sat up, hoping like hell that Arslan wasn’t going to order him to stand.
He wasn’t sure he could if he tried. Lifting a hand, he pushed it through his hair and tried to make his brain work through a fog of confusion.
Apparently, ascending into a fantasy world wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Reality was a real bastard when it came back and bit down hard.
Arslan crouched down just in front of Ryland. Tucking a knuckle beneath Ryland’s chin, he coaxed him to look up. Ryland put off the moment for as long as he could, but even naked on a hearth rug, Arslan was too imposing a presence to consider disobeying for long.
As Ryland met Arslan’s eyes, Arslan stroked his fingers through Ryland’s hair.
A question flickered in the professor’s gaze, and Ryland desperately tried to work out what it was, just in case he might be called on to answer. But his thoughts scattered as an unexpected noise from the back of the room made him jump.
“They can’t hurt you,” Arslan promised, not looking away from Ryland for a moment. “They’re just foolish cubs—harmless.”
A little grumble of discontent came from one side of the room as someone heard what he’d been labelled.
“Something to say, Luther?” Arslan demanded, still not breaking eye contact with Ryland. “Speak up.”
Ryland half-expected him to say that there were people at the back of the lecture hall who would love to hear whatever Luther had to say on the topic. He’d heard those words in that tone of voice so often, he could easily imagine that he was safely back in one of the professor’s lectures.
“No.” The younger lion sounded like he was pouting, but Arslan seemed to have already dismissed the guy’s existence from his mind. He continued to study Ryland until he felt himself blush under the scrutiny.
“If you’re not going to let us have any fun with him, can we at least eat?” someone asked.
“Fine,” Arslan said, with something that sounded suspiciously like a long-suffering sigh. “Bring in the food.”
The shadows in the corners of the rooms morphed into lions, more than a dozen of them.
As he remained on the rug with the professor, the other men…
the other lions who made up the pride…moved around them.
Doors were opened and closed. A light was switched on.
A handful of different conversations started up.
The scent of food drifted across the room to them.
As Arslan stood up, he casually stroked his fingers through Ryland’s hair once more. Ryland found himself leaning into his touch, and Arslan smiled when he noticed. As he reached his full height, he took Ryland’s hand to help him to his feet, as well.
The professor was all muscle. Ryland had been half-sure of that when he’d stared down the lecture hall at the man in an expensive suit. Now that he’d seen him without the suit, now that he’d felt that body pressed hard against him, there was no room left for any doubts.
Arslan pulled Ryland easily to his feet and close within the circle of his arms at the same time.
His hand quickly settled on the small of Ryland’s back, his touch strong and certain, as if he had no intention of ever letting Ryland take a step away from him again.
Suddenly, Ryland felt safer than he’d ever believed possible.
Frowning slightly, he tried to catch hold of a thought that flitted onto the edge of his consciousness.
As soon as he reached for it and tried to study it, it slipped out of his grasp.
It was almost as if it wasn’t really a true thought at all.
Maybe something that was more like a feeling, an instinct that dated back to a time before thoughts truly existed.
A rough palm slid up Ryland’s spine, calling his attention to more immediate considerations. Thin lines of sensitised skin ran along his back. Ryland moved to look over his shoulder, but Arslan shook his head, stopping him short.
“A few scratches. They won’t do you any harm.”
Ryland nodded, as if it made perfect sense for the professor to have left those sorts of marks on his body. And it did make sense to part of him. In a way, he couldn’t explain, even to himself, it felt…good? It felt right?
When Arslan led him across to the food, he kept his hand resting casually on the small of Ryland’s back, almost like a mark of ownership over him.
Ryland glanced up at the professor as it occurred to him that Arslan really wasn’t the kind of man who’d leave scratches on someone by accident. He was far too controlled for that, too careful. If there were scratches there, it was because Arslan made a decision and put them there on purpose.
A slight heat stole to Ryland’s cheeks as he dropped his gaze.
Maybe it wasn’t so strange that something inside him liked the idea of those marks, after all.
As he and Arslan walked into the middle of the knot of lions, Ryland found himself staying close enough to Arslan for it to be easy for the professor to keep his hand resting against his skin.
When he looked up from the various plates of food, he saw that the other lions were waiting for Arslan to take his share first. The professor selecting something off one of the trays seemed to be the sign that everyone else could do the same.
Arslan was obviously in charge in some shape or form, and not just in charge because he was the type of person who took charge, but because he held some sort of official rank in the group.
As Arslan walked away and left alone him by the table, Ryland hesitated, not inclined to choose anything for himself until he had a better understanding of the situation.
Studying the lions very carefully, he did his best to work out if there was some sort of order of precedence after Arslan and who was next in the shifters’ chain of command.
But, if the signs were there, he wasn’t able to spot them.
Only one of the other lions stood out from the group at first glance.
He was smaller than the rest, his hair shorter and fairer, less like a mane.
That lion caught Ryland’s eye and nodded to the trays of food, silently encouraging him to take whatever he wanted, but even he didn’t actually go so far as to speak to Ryland.