Chapter Three
“What the hell are you still doing here?”
Franklin looked up from the business pages of one of the newspapers he’d found laid out on the lions’ breakfast table. He immediately met Cameron’s gaze, but he took another sip of his coffee before he deigned to answer. “I’m checking the financial section. Good morning to you, too.”
Cameron seemed frozen in place in the doorway.
He didn’t even seem to breathe until another lion nudged at his back in an effort to clear a path toward the food.
Finally, Cameron stepped into the dining room, still glaring at Franklin as if he was offering him some sort of mortal insult simply by existing.
“You said you were leaving,” Cameron snarled, apparently not in the least concerned that most of the pride was there and shamelessly eavesdropping.
“No,” Franklin said, flipping over to the next page in the paper. “You said I should leave. That’s quite different. I don’t believe I’ve ever given you any reason to think I’m the kind of man who’ll obey your orders.” And he turned his attention back to the paper.
He hadn’t given Cameron reason to think he liked doing as he was told. Franklin was sure of it. He’d run their time together the previous night over and over in his head. He’d relaxed back and let Cameron do all the work while the guy went down on him. That was all.
As he tried to focus on the words in the article, the only thing he was really aware of was Cameron glaring at him.
A shiver ran down his spine. A stupid little voice in the back of Franklin’s head actually wanted him to back down and apologise.
He shook out his paper in an effort to hide his discomfort instead.
He had nothing to apologise for. And, if there was going to be any backing down to be done, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the man doing it.
Reaching past the paper, Franklin picked up his mug and took another sip of his coffee. It should be almost impossible for a lion, even one as stunning as Cameron, to get another guy hard just by standing perfectly still on the other side of a room. But, somehow, Cameron was managing it.
Franklin snuck a peek at Cameron past the corner of his paper as he tried not to squirm too obviously in his seat but couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Would you like some breakfast, Cameron?”
Franklin glanced toward the other end of the table. Arslan’s sub was smiling across at Cameron, inviting him to take a chair at his side.
Cameron glared at Franklin for several seconds before walking across the room with more feline grace than anyone should be able to pack into just a few steps, and sitting down.
Pulling one foot up to rest on the cushioned seat in front of him, Cameron leaned negligently against the carved mahogany back and reverted to glaring at Franklin.
Determined not to acknowledge just how aware he was of Cameron’s every movement, Franklin gave ferociously fake attention to his paper.
“Do you have any plans for today?” Ryland asked Cameron, as if he had no idea they weren’t all having a nice companionable breakfast.
Franklin made a point of keeping his attention on the paper, as if he didn’t care what the answer was going to be.
“I’m working tonight.”
“In that club?” Arslan asked, from the head of the table.
Franklin peeked over his newspaper. Arslan didn’t seem to like that idea at all. For once, that was something he and Franklin could agree on.
“There’s no need for you to keep working there,” Franklin cut in, before Arslan could say anything else. Setting down his paper, Franklin met Cameron’s eyes across the table. Cameron glowered at him in return.
“Oh?” Arslan asked.
Franklin ignored him in favour of keeping his attention on Cameron. “You needn’t worry about money anymore.”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’ll pay my way?”
Franklin took another sip of his coffee. “Yes.”
“No,” Arslan snapped, before Franklin had even finished the damn syllable.
Cameron said nothing. He just stared, apparently not the least bit grateful for the offer.
Franklin held his gaze for as long as he could, trying to ignore how uncomfortable doing that made him feel deep down in a part of his psyche that he’d never explored before.
Finally, he had to give up. He quickly turned his attention to Arslan in an effort to cover his lapse. “That’s not your decision,” he informed him.
“Cameron has no need of your money,” Arslan shot back at him. “His pride will take care of him.”
“You mean you’ll pay his way?” Franklin asked. He looked Arslan up and down, letting his doubts show clearly in his eyes. “Great. I’m sure Ryland will be thrilled at sharing you with another paid boy.”
Arslan launched himself to his feet. His chair crashed back, toppling onto the floor behind him. The dining table shook as his hands thudded down on the well-polished surface. The chinaware rattled.
Unless Franklin was very much mistaken, it was only Ryland’s fingertips, placed gently on Arslan’s arm, that kept him from hurling himself across the room at Franklin and quite possibly tearing him limb from limb.
“I’ve got more sense than to take any notice of petty insults,” Ryland said, calmly. He glanced down the table at Franklin. “I know exactly what my master’s interest in Cameron is, just like I know how little interest I have in his money.”
Franklin took another sip of his coffee.
Still sitting back in his chair, he gave everything he had to making it quite clear he wasn’t going to be intimidated, not even if the uncomfortable feeling shivered its way down his spine every single bloody time he pushed forward.
“So, your…master rescues all the lost little lions, not just the pretty ones?” He set his cup back on the table.
“Franklin,” Arslan warned. “Cameron is—”
“Cameron is still sitting here.” Cameron rose to his feet as he said it, kicking back his own chair as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.
The room fell silent.
“I’m sorry,” Ryland said eventually, with what sounded suspiciously like genuine regret in his voice. “Will you tell us what you want?”
“I’ve survived on my own and paid my own way for years. What the hell makes any of you think I need either of you to look after me?” Cameron demanded.
“This pride will support any lion in our territory who needs our assistance while he looks for more suitable employment,” Arslan said. He turned his glare on Franklin. “And we won’t expect anything in return.”
Cameron made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat.
Arslan straightened up, his annoyance seeming to turn into cold fury.
Franklin didn’t miss how Cameron’s lips twisted into a bitter smile when he noticed that.
“Oh, don’t worry. I know you have no interest in screwing me, darling.
But no pride never gives without expecting something in return, does it?
” Cameron looked up toward the ceiling as if trawling back through his memories.
“Let me see. Obedience. Respect for the rules of the pride. Living up to the standard expected of a pride,” he sneered.
“There’s more than one way for a man to get screwed in exchange for a few quid. ”
Franklin smiled, thoroughly enjoying Arslan’s discomfort. Then, Cameron turned back to him, still as angry as ever.
“And there’s a reason why I’ve always stuck to guys who pay by the hour.” He looked Franklin up and down with no more respect than he’d offered Arslan. “I’ve no interest in letting some pathetic little punter think he could ever own me for any longer than it takes for him to zip up.”
Franklin rose, putting him on the same level as the other two. Even as anger rushed through him, he knew in some deep bit of his psyche where he didn’t often explore, it came less from embarrassment over being spoken to that way by a damn rent boy and far more from fear.
It actually sounded like Cameron actually intended to walk away. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. But, for the first time he could remember, Franklin wasn’t sure if a large enough check would change someone’s mind. He’d never known a fear like it.
“I am nothing like the men who pushed a few notes into your hand in an alleyway,” Franklin bit out. He was better than that. And, maybe more importantly, he wasn’t someone who Cameron was going to walk away from—not now, not ever.
“Because you can afford more than a few notes?” Cameron mocked.
Because I’ll look after you for the rest of your life.
Franklin managed to stop the words escaping from his lips, but the very fact that they’d been there, right in the front of his mind, waiting to be said, was more than a little bit terrifying.
He looked down for a moment and stared at the neatly laid breakfast table as he took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together.
“Because my intentions are different,” he finally settled on. “Do you really think I would have taken the time and trouble tracking you down if all I was interested in was some alleyway fumble?”
In the silence that followed, Franklin carefully studied his own words.
They were…acceptable. A little bit of weakness may have crept into the statement, but his true level of interest in Cameron hadn’t been disclosed.
He still held a reasonably strong bargaining position.
There was no way anyone else could have guessed that Cameron was the only man Franklin had ever met who really could name his own price.
“What are you interested in then?” Cameron demanded.
Franklin’s attention instinctively went to Arslan and Ryland. They stood next to each other with an entirely casual form of intimacy, the lion watching over his sub, Ryland obviously happy to be owned by his master.
A movement in the doorway pulled his attention then. Ellery and Kefir had arrived. Franklin’s gaze fell on the collar around Kefir’s neck. Yes. That was more like what he should be looking for with Cameron. Yes. That would be acceptable.