Page 11 of Brought By the Storm

Chapter Seven

Carrington

Between thinking about what I had uttered to Eric, the continuous wind and rain pounding the house and a snoring Stefan within millimeters of my ear, I hadn’t slept the rest of the night. I heard Eric exiting his room and going down the stairs. I glanced at the clock he had left on the guest room nightstand, and it indicated that it was a little after seven in the morning.

I thought about rising as well, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be alone with Eric again. My feelings about him were confusing and troubling. I had told Eric I had never been attracted to a man before, but that was untrue. I had been enamored with a male friend when he and I had been teenagers. The boy was a fellow football player, but at the time, I had dismissed my yearnings to being young and hormonal. Once I had discovered women, that boyhood attraction seemed an aberration and unimportant. Now, here I was twenty years later, feeling like an awkward teenager once more—experiencing desire mixed with embarrassment and fear. There was no way I could act upon these feelings. I was the president of Yastarus, and its people didn’t elect me thinking I fancied men. We just needed to leave Connecticut as soon as the storm broke, and Eric would be forgotten as I resumed my busy schedule.

Stefan let out a combination of a snort and a choke, which must have jolted him awake. He was surveying his surroundings, and it seemed he had forgotten where he was. Once he had his bearings, he looked at me and grimaced. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “Impossible. I never slept with all the noise.”

He wiped a hand over his dampened face and turned toward the battered window. “Hmm. Yes, the storm is quite loud.”

“Yes, I suppose it is loud too,” I complained. “I was hoping it would become white noise and drown out the incessant death rattle emitting from your orifices.”

It was difficult to embarrass Stefan, but this time he did appear shamed. “I apologize. Was it that bad?”

“I was about to ask Eric if there was a nearby exorcist we could summon,” I deadpanned.

He paused before smiling and rasping, “Your mother sucks cocks in hell.”

“I beg your pardon?” I demanded.

Stefan appeared confused then alarmed. “Oh! No, I don’t mean your mother. It’s a line from the movie—The Exorcist. Your mother isn’t even dead. And if she was, she wouldn’t be in hell doing that!”

“God, stop!” I snapped.

He laid his head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling, as did I. It reminded me of when we had been mates in college and would sometimes go to the riverbank on a nice day, and lay in the sun to talk about school, politics and girls. The memory made me think of how Stefan might recoil if I shared with him my thoughts about Eric.

“Are you going to be in a crabby mood because I kept you awake?” he asked. “Not to take advantage of it, but I could explain to our host that it is why you aren’t affectionate toward me today. It will eliminate the need for a ruse.”

“We don’t need a ruse,” I sighed. “He and I spoke last night. I told him everything.”

Stefan couldn’t hide the panic in his voice. “I see. Are you sure that was wise, Carrington?”

I nodded, unsure if he was looking over at me to see. “He’s a good man. I am sure of that.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “But you should impress upon him not to tell anyone. Your safety is assured because we stumbled into this place. If our whereabouts are compromised…”

“I know,” I acknowledged. “I’ll say something to him. Our conversation ended a bit…abruptly…before I could ask for secrecy.”

From the way I stated the last sentence, Stefan sensed my discomfort. “And why is that?” He paused, then got a knowing look on his face. “Oh. He made advances toward you, didn’t he? I knew he was interested in you. The way he was fawning over you during the meal preparation and afterward. You know, I find that quite offensive considering he thought we were a couple.”

I cast him a glance of annoyance. “He wasn’t fawning.”

Stefan crossed his arms over his chest. “He looked at you like you hung the moon.”

I returned my gaze to the ceiling. “Well, that’s because I did. Right after I created the earth and sun.”

My bed mate snickered. “Okay. Just another ruler who fancies himself a god.”

I smirked. “You know I don’t. But you think he fanciesme a god, huh?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “Check your ego. I didn’t go that far. Hanging the moon is just an expression. But yes, I think he fancies you.”

I turned to stare at my companion—he was serious. “Well, he didn’t do or say anything inappropriate. He was quite respectful of our alleged relationship. On the contrary, it was I who crossed a line.”

He turned to me, curious. “How so?”