Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
SAWYER
Sawyer didn’t know where to start. He had a hundred questions, most of them about sex, but he figured those could wait until it was just him and Ciaran.
Because the more he thought about sex with him, the more he wanted it. Admittedly while being naked in bed with him, resting his head on Ciaran’s chest with his strong arms around him, Sawyer had been just about ready to agree to what-the-fuck-ever just to get railed by him.
All he’d had to do was turn in Ciaran’s arms, lean up, and kiss him, and Sawyer was pretty sure Ciaran’s restraint would have snapped.
Sawyer was so freaking turned on all the time. The closer he was to Ciaran, the worse it was.
Did he understand the bond? Or any part of the entire situation he’d found himself in?
No.
Not at all.
Was it weird?
Fuck yes.
But was he scared? No. Was he grossed out? No. But he was curious, of course.
His rational brain knew the bond with Ciaran wasn’t reasonable, and although they’d said he did have a choice in the matter, Sawyer wasn’t sure he had a choice at all.
He was going to choose Ciaran. He knew he was. He couldn’t fathom not choosing him. Sure, Sawyer could leave right now, go back to Hobart and bury himself in work until the pain subsided, but he’d rather cut off his right arm than ever see Ciaran sad again.
The idea of being the cause of Ciaran’s pain was unfathomable.
And they hadn’t even performed the ritual yet.
God, and now he knew how it would happen—the biochemical exchange, as Kellan had eloquently put it. Or rawdogging it, as Fray had helpfully added—well, now Sawyer was certain he wanted it.
The idea of having Ciaran genetically coded with him, whatever that meant, made Sawyer feel things he’d never dreamed of feeling. Better than a declaration of love, better than a vow, better than spoken promise.
He wanted that.
“Sawyer,” Kellan said, snapping Sawyer back to reality.
He had to drag his gaze from Ciaran’s, not even aware he’d been staring.
Right.
Room full of people, all of them watching.
What were they doing?
Oh, right.
Questions...
“Yes, sorry,” he said. “Questions. Um, I guess I should start at the beginning.” He saw a familiar face on the cot in the jail cell. “Hello again.”
Dylan flinched. “Hello. I’m sorry.” But then he looked at Ciaran. “What I did was reckless. I should have had better control. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dyl,” Ciaran murmured.
“I panicked and put us all at risk,” he said.
“We can talk about that later,” Ciaran said. “About the Bass Strait consortium. What they said.”
The Bass Strait...
Wait.
Sawyer did a double-take. “There’s another consortium?”
Ciaran gave him a nod. “Yes.”
“How many are there?”
“That we know? Or in total?”
“Both.”
Ciaran shrugged. “Globally? Many. That we know personally? Us, the Bass Strait boys, the Norway consortium,” he said, nodding to Fray, and then he pointed his thumb toward Otis. “And the Māori boys.”
Otis gave a wave. “Hey.”
“There are others,” Ciaran added. “Some warm-water dwellers.”
“And you’re cold water...”
Ciaran gave him a smile. “Yes.”
Sawyer looked at Fray then. “You’re from Norway?”
He flashed his killer-watt smile. “Originally. I was born there, but I’ve been here my whole life.”
“Born...,” Sawyer mumbled. “Okay, so are you born, or do you... hatch? I don’t even know the right word.”
Ciaran studied him for a long moment. “We hatch.”
“Holy shit.”
“New generations of our kind don’t happen often,” Kellan supplied.
Right.
Okay.
He’d said Māori boys. “And you’re all male?”
“Yes,” Ciaran said.
They were all male...
What the fuck?
“Uh....” Sawyer blinked. Because that meant... “So there’s asexual reproduction....”
He took a moment to get his head around that.
“Yes,” Kellan replied.
Okay, then.
Sawyer stored that away to ask more questions later when it was just him and Ciaran and decided to focus on consortium issues. “Uhhh, how have you remained undetected?”
“There have been a few instances throughout history,” Ciaran said. “But if we are seen in freeform, we are assumed to be octopuses.”
Sawyer suddenly remembered... “All those old sea tales of giant squid.”
That was so fucking crazy.
But he was getting off-track. “Okay, more questions.... Uh. How does it work? With your human bones and whatever. What happens to them when you go into freeform?”
Kellan fielded that one. “They are absorbed and become what is similar to cartilage. Our air sacs become lungs, for example, but some physiology cannot change.”
“Such as?”
“Our blood is blue, and we have—.”
Sawyer blinked, repeated that sentence in his head a few times, then blinked again, looking at all of them in turn. “S-say what now? Blue blood?”
Kellan gave him a patient smile. “Human blood is high in iron, hence the red colour. Ours is higher in copper. It aids us with cold water. And we have three hearts.”
Three... three fucking hearts.
Sawyer looked at Ciaran, and he nodded. “It is true. We can regulate our body temperature, and in freeform, each heart has a specific function.”
“In human form too,” Fray said. “One for circulation, one for stamina, and one supplies blood to our dicks, so there is minimal downtime and optimal go-time.”
Some of them chuckled, Otis gave Fray a fist bump, Kellan sighed, and Ciaran smirked.
“Is that true?” Sawyer whispered.
Ciaran’s eyes met his and he gave a nod. “More or less.”
“Fuck.” Sawyer’s head was starting to throb, but he added that part of this Q&A to his to-be-addressed-later list.
“Uh, more questions,” he mumbled. “So you guys are like octopuses, but you’re not octopuses... or octopi...”
“Octopuses is the correct term,” Tobin said flatly, not amused.
Was he pissed at Sawyer for some reason? Because with his arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on his face, he certainly didn’t look happy. More like he’d rather be anywhere else but in this room.
In an attempt to get this over with, Sawyer tried to focus, tried to remember what he knew about octopuses. “Uh, so you’re like octopuses, but you’re not in the same biological family as octopus.” He looked to Ciaran for clarification.
“Correct,” Ciaran replied. “Not unlike how humans evolved from primates, but primates still exist.”
Sawyer nodded slowly, trying to get his head around the evolutionary implications without much success.
“So there are different kinds of cephamorphs the same way there are different species of octopus,” Sawyer said, and Ciaran nodded. “So you and Hendrix are the same type of cephamorph, hence the cousin thing.”
“Correct.”
Sawyer put his hand to his forehead. “Sorry, guys. I’m just trying to understand...”
“You’re fine,” Ciaran said gently.
Sawyer gave him a smile, then continued with his questions. “And octopuses are really smart, right? Like the one that escaped from that zoo. Or through that tiny hole on that fishing boat. Were those cephamorphs or actual octopuses?”
“Octopuses,” Ciaran said.
“And the octopus that was caught on camera punching fish?”
They all burst out laughing, and Fray and Otis bumped fists again. Kellan chuckled, and the three guys on the cot all laughed, but Ciaran’s shoulders shook as he laughed, and he looked at Fray with such fondness.
Sawyer’s whole chest bloomed with warmth. He felt pure joy at seeing Ciaran happy.
Sawyer decided right then and there to make it his life’s mission to see Ciaran happy, to see him smile and hear him laugh.
It was like nothing else mattered.
He felt eyes on him and turned to find Tobin watching him, a displeased look on his face.
What the hell was that about?
Was he jealous? Did he have a thing for Ciaran?
Oh Jesus. Did they used to have a thing?
No, surely that would have come up before now.
Sawyer then had to wonder if Tobin didn’t like him personally or if it was that he didn’t like the fact that an outsider, a human, had been brought into their group. At any rate, he didn’t seem too impressed.
And that was, Sawyer could admit honestly, totally fair.
He was a risk.
Sawyer realised then that he was a risk to all of them, Ciaran included, and that struck like a hot iron in his heart.
Ciaran made an unsettled sound and slid closer to Sawyer, his leg now touching Sawyer’s, and the relief was immediate.
The connection.
And he knew, somehow, that Ciaran needed the connection just as much as he did.
Sawyer reached out and took Ciaran’s hand, threading their fingers, and didn’t even realise he was smiling up at him until someone mumbled. Tobin, of course.
“They can’t help it,” Kellan said quietly.
“Are there any more questions?” Tobin asked, pushing off the bars of the jail cell. “Or do we have to stay here just to watch them fawn over each other, because I’d rather fucking not.”
Yeah, Tobin was pissed off. Or disgusted. It was hard to tell.
Ciaran shot him a glare and made that damned sexy growl noise again and bared his teeth, but then Fray was between them, facing Ciaran, his smile long gone. “You’re not gonna do that.”
Sawyer didn’t want them to fight. Not because of him.
He stood up. “I’m not a threat,” he said loud enough to get everyone’s attention.
“Or a risk. I would never tell your secret. Not because no one would ever believe me, but...” He looked at Ciaran.
“But because it would hurt Ciaran, and that’s something I can’t do.
” He put his hand to his stomach, then brought it up to rub his chest and ease the sudden ache.
“Physically. Even the idea of hurting him is painful. I couldn’t. ” He met Ciaran’s eyes. “I wouldn’t.”
“I know,” he murmured. “They don’t blame you. It’s... it’s a consortium issue. And the timing isn’t ideal.”
Tobin scoffed. “Isn’t ideal,” he repeated, heavy on the sarcasm. He rolled his eyes but went back to his spot leaning against the bars of the cell and crossed his arms. “Whatever. Just get this over with.”