Chapter Five
Cameron’s expensive new shoes crunched against the gravel in the drive as he strode up to Arslan’s front door.
Franklin was just a step behind him all the way.
Even with rage racing through his blood, Cameron couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the guy’s presence, of his scent, of every single bloody detail of him.
Franklin smelled angry, too—as if he had something to be mad about. As if Cameron was the one who had let him down. Pushing aside the bitter taste that idea left in the back of his mouth, Cameron stormed toward the stairs.
As his foot landed on the first tread, Franklin rushed forward and grabbed Cameron’s arm. He pulled at him, trying to drag him in the direction of the nearest door.
If there’d been any way in hell Cameron could have believed that a human could ever be strong enough to drag a lion anywhere that lion didn’t want to go, he might have had some excuse.
But there were no excuses. As Franklin slammed the door behind them, Cameron was acutely aware of the fact that he was only in the dining room because he had chosen to be—because he wanted to be.
Even after everything, he still wanted to be by Franklin’s side.
Another wave of anger pounded into Cameron with the knowledge. So bloody pathetic!
“What the hell were you thinking?” Franklin demanded as he hit the light switch.
The bulbs in the elaborate fixture overhead flickered into life. Cameron no longer needed a lion’s night vision to see Franklin glaring at him.
Meeting Franklin’s eyes, Cameron studiously ignored the part of him that just wanted to run away and hide from it all, like a silly little cub who wasn’t ready to act like a fully-grown lion.
Another part of him, a stupid part of him, wanted to apologise, to act as if he was the one who’d done something wrong—anything to keep the peace with his mate.
But, by far the strongest piece of him, that piece which had survived for the last few years in the clubs and alleyways where those other parts of him would have sobbed and perished, pushed its way to the forefront of his brain before any other segment of his personality had a chance to utter a single syllable.
“I am not answerable to you!”
“The hell you’re not,” Franklin shouted back.
Cameron stepped forward, closing the gap between them until he loomed over Franklin.
Tilting his head back to bridge the difference in their heights, Franklin didn’t back down. He didn’t even seem to notice the threat before him.
“What could possibly have possessed you to—?”
Cameron didn’t let him get any further. “I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know,” he snarled, as he turned away to pace.
Franklin faltered then. “What?”
“I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know,” Cameron repeated, as he stalked forward and closed the gap between them again. “But that’s not exactly news to you, is it?”
“What?” It seemed to be Franklin’s new favourite word.
“At least one of them knew what I was long before I walked into that restaurant tonight, didn’t he?” Cameron demanded, refusing to let either of them hide from the truth for a moment longer. “Was it Charles’s idea I should be part of your oh-so-precious deal, or was it yours from the start?”
Franklin stared up at Cameron in apparent confusion, as some sort of survival instinct finally seemed to speak up inside him and make him retreat.
He backed up so far, he reversed into the big mahogany table that filled the centre of the room.
There was nowhere for him to go then, not unless he planned to scramble up onto the top of the well-polished surface and climb over it.
Bewilderment filled Franklin’s eyes and screamed his ignorance of the facts, but Cameron couldn’t worry about that. If he let himself care about that, then he might have to admit that he cared about Franklin, and he couldn’t do that—not now.
“You’re no better than the rest of them!” he spat. “Rich men with thick wallets… You think everyone’s for sale, don’t you?” Cameron didn’t give him time to answer. “Well, I’m not!”
Not anymore! Cameron barely held the last words back. He leaned forward, until Franklin was forced to arch back over the table.
“Charles…” Franklin began.
“Charles made it quite clear what I needed to do to seal the deal for you,” Cameron spat.
Franklin’s going to make millions out of this.
You should be flattered your arse is worth that much.
The words scrolled around and around inside Cameron’s head.
Each time he heard them, he felt the Charles’s hands move against him.
“Was that why you came to the club that first night, because he’d seen me there? Because you thought I’d be able to seal your deal if I was your whore,” Cameron demanded.
As the memories echoed through his mind, he tried to rush them forward, desperate to get to the part where he’s strode out of the gents’ room at the restaurant, leaving Charles Handsford in his wake, leaving the guy no more satisfied than he’d been when he walked in there.
Franklin shook his head as if he had no idea what they were talking about. Cameron bit back a snarl. He’d have to be a fool to believe that.
Catching hold of Franklin’s throat with one big hand, Cameron stilled his head. Barely keeping his claws to himself, he leaned forward and growled into his ear. “That’s not the way things are going to be between us.”
Franklin’s throat moved against Cameron hand as he swallowed. But, when Cameron pulled back far enough to look down into his eyes, Franklin didn’t try to speak.
“You’re not the one who makes the decisions. You’re not the one who gives the orders. There’s only one master in this room—and it’s not you. Understand?”
Franklin swallowed again. His tongue snuck out and snaked across his lips. He nodded as far as Cameron’s hand allowed.
Leaning in again, Cameron let his temple brush against Franklin’s hair as he savoured his scent and his presence. “You’re mine—not the other way around.”
Another careful nod. There was more than a touch of fear in Franklin’s scent, but the subtle note of it was almost entirely drowned out by Franklin’s unmistakable arousal. That was easier. Cameron knew what to do with that. And he felt some of his own anger give way to lust in response.
He traced his lips down to Franklin’s ear and nipped at the lobe. Franklin tensed, his body jerking against Cameron’s.
“Your money won’t do you any favours with me.” Cameron spat out a chuckle that had no humour in it. “It’s more likely to see you whipped. It’s about time one of you was. About time one of the rich bastards who think they own those clubs got a taste of what he was so keen to dish out.”
Cameron rocked his hips forward. Franklin was just as hard as he was. Neither of their bodies seemed to care about the anger or the confusion filling the room. Cameron pressed their flies together, grinding their cocks against each other through the layers of clothes.
Franklin moaned. A moment later, he closed his eyes as if he hated himself for releasing the sound into the world.
“No!” Cameron bit out.
Franklin’s eyes snapped open.
“You don’t get to hide anything from me.
” Franklin was his. He’d had no right to stalk him through the club, no right to sneak into his head, take up residence there, but now that he was there, he had no right to try to refuse Cameron anything he wanted from him.
“You put so much effort into finding me. Well, congratulations! Here I am. Now, deal with it.”
Franklin’s hips rocked, and Cameron had no doubt that at least some part of Franklin liked what he was saying to him. And some side of Cameron loved that he liked it, too.
Still grasping him by the neck, Cameron fumbled at Franklin’s shirt with his other hand. When buttons and fastening became too annoying to deal with, he simply let his claws tear the fabric away from him.
The rest of Franklin’s clothes quickly followed. There was no complaint from Franklin. No doubt he could afford to replace them a hundred times over.
Cameron snarled as he snatched the last shreds of fabric from Franklin’s body. The freedom to strip Franklin down that way so often appealed, even if the fact he could only do it because Franklin could afford to buy new clothes that frequently didn’t.
As Cameron stepped back to survey all the skin he’d bared, it was all he could do to bite back a purr.
Franklin was perfect. Cameron moved closer again, only to find his pet trying to squirm away from him. He caught hold of Franklin’s arm and stopped him short, jerking him back around to face his master.
“I’m not…” Franklin began. “I mean, I was just going to get my wallet.”
Cameron had thought he was angry before. He hadn’t been. Not the way he was now. Sudden icy fury made the world before him swirl and distort around him.
Spinning Franklin around by his arm, Cameron shoved him forward, bending him over the table. Pressing against him, he easily held him down against the smooth polished surface.
No!
No money. No one else. Just him and Franklin. Just what he’d felt when they were together before—just perfection.
Cameron scrabbled at Franklin’s skin in his haste to bring them back to that place where it had all been so simple. He slid his hand between Franklin’s legs and his fingers brushed against Franklin’s arsehole, but Franklin flinched and tried to pull away from him.
“No!”
Cameron snarled at the back of Franklin’s head. He could smell the desire in his scent, feel the need in him. He was only saying no because he wanted to be the one in control, because he was used to being the one making all the decisions.
But it wasn’t going to be like that anymore. No one was going to be making Cameron’s decisions for him. Cameron would be the one who was in control, he’d be the one who gave orders.
“No!”