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“Stop!” Marc shouted, the snap of fury cutting off his oldest brother, who’d been going on about responsibility. Marc waited and as they calmed down, he leaned against the wall, his lazy pose deceptive because Royce, standing to his side and back, could sense every rigid muscle.
“I see you’ve helped yourselves to the Chateau Latour.” He slid his hands into his pockets, but not before Royce saw one tighten into a fist. And he doubted any of the selfish people in the room heard the note of hurt in his voice. A note that cut into Royce so deeply, he stepped closer, hoping the heat from his body offered some sort of comfort.
Fuck, what must it have been like to grow up so much younger than these three? They seemed a united front—from their demands, their entitlement…to their inability to accept his sexuality. And to Royce, Marc was like a beautiful, wounded hawk that had spent its life hanging on to the side of the nest by its talons.
So, which one of these birds wanted him thrown completely from the nest?
“Marc, how dare you just disappear like that,” Richard continued as if Marc’s yell had merely been a tiny blip on his radar.
“I’m doing what I have to right now.”
The underlying threads of emotion in that short sentence slithered into Royce’s chest and tangled together into a brutal knot. He narrowed his eyes, the need to cut these people from the man’s life possibly larger than his desire to bury himself inside him. They didn’t deserve him.
Confusion crossed each face as Royce kept all his senses trained on the siblings. One of them was a damn good actor.
“What does that mean, Marc, sweetie?” This time, Lilah’s voice held her other favorite note. Soft manipulation. She sang that one with much finesse, having obviously spent her life practicing it.
Marc pinned his gaze on Lilah. “It means whatever you take it to mean.” He looked at each brother. “What all of you take it to mean.”
“You are obviously not in the right state of mind to listen to anything we say.” Gabriel brushed his light brown hair off his forehead as he moved away from the window. “I have an early surgery, so I’m going home.” Blue eyes, exactly like Marc’s, locked with his brother’s as he walked to him. Gabriel put his hands on Marc’s shoulders, then hugged him.
A more awkward hug couldn’t exist.
The doctor gave Royce the barest of nods before he left the house.
Royce stepped even closer to Marc, who slowly, deliberately, leaned back into Royce’s body. His back and ass fit him like he’d been made for Royce. And his height when he slouched like this put his neck right next to Royce’s mouth. He inhaled the alluring scent of the man deep into his lungs, then realized both Richard and Lilah were now watching. He didn’t look away as he pressed his lips to the side of Marc’s neck. His hand came up to clutch Marc’s hip when Marc tilted his head just enough to give him better access.
Visibly flustered now, the last two siblings must have realized Marc’s attention was anywhere but on them, because it didn’t take them long to leave after that.
When the door slammed behind Lilah, Marc growled, pulled away from Royce, and stormed into his bedroom. He muttered under his breath as he unbuttoned his shirt. Royce followed more slowly, not sure whether he should leave the man alone to work out his anger or offer to arm-wrestle him or something. He didn’t blame Marc.
Those three could enrage a Buddhist Monk.
When he reached the room, he stayed in the doorway and watched Marc pace, his shirt flapping open, offering peeks of his slim, tanned chest and sexy oblique muscles with every turn. He ran his hands through his hair, causing the long, silky strands on top to lie in wild disarray. He stopped, his blue eyes locking on Royce.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, but thanks for what you did. Ran them off fast, didn’t it?” He smiled, but there was no happiness in it. His almost severe features took on sorrow in a way that sent devastation through anyone unlucky enough to witness it. How did his brothers and sister not see him? Really see him? And see what their words did to him?
“Lilah knew you were saving that Bordeaux, didn’t she?”
Marc nodded, his lips tightening. “Wanna help me install a lock on the wine cellar tomorrow?”
“You bet your ass I do.” Royce walked into the room and grabbed his bag off the end of the chaise. “I’m going to change, then look at the footage on the cameras. With all three roaming the house while we were gone, I’d like to see where they went besides the wine cellar.” He knew Marc would have a fit, but he planned to throw out the rest of the bottle of that Bordeaux. Fuck, they could tamper with so many things in this house. Just that thought stopped him in his tracks on the way to the bathroom to change. He felt the blood drain from his face. “How would you feel about changing the locks on all of the doors as well tomorrow?” he asked without turning around.
