Page 56 of Blades and Bone

“Fuck me. Please.”

Brodie’s fangs dropped, and he kneeled behind him.

“Give me the napkin.” Hopefully, Hamish hadn’t been too efficient.

Hamish passed it to him. He slicked Hamish’s hole with his own cum and spit, then spat in his own palm and slicked his cock. He rubbed the head of his cock against Hamish’s hole, teasing while also taking a moment to gather some semblance of self-control before slowly thrusting in.

Hamish rested his head on his arms. “Fuck.”

Brodie tried to keep it slow and failed as Hamish moved with him, meeting every thrust. His ass was hot and tight, and the noises he made…

He gripped Hamish’s hips as he sought his own release, stilling as he came. He should have known that once Hamish was naked in his office it was going to end like this. He only had so much willpower, and he’d wanted Hamish from the first time he’d argued with his matriarch and protested the arrangement.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Um…I made a mess on your carpet.”

Brodie laughed and pulled out. He wiped his dick and passed the napkin forward. “Use the napkin.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

They’d collected his phone and then walked back to Brodie’s house in silence, but halfway there, Brodie had reached for Hamish’s hand and given it a squeeze…which had been so embarrassingly reassuring that he hadn’t known what to say. Maybe he didn’t need to say anything.

There was a primal part of him that didn’t want to like Brodie for the simple reason that he’d been handed over like an unruly and unwanted puppy, but another part that wanted to be liked, loved even. A third part still had no idea how Brodie took him apart so easily, and that should be troubling, right?

Except it wasn’t.

He liked it.

After checking the almost empty fridge for food, they’d ended up going into town, grabbing sushi and then picking up some steaks and corn and a few other bits because neither of them wanted to rely on resort food. It had been completely boring and ordinary, like shopping with a boyfriend, only this time no one was counting how much they were spending and getting cheaper steaks…or mince instead.

When they’d gone to bed, Brodie had pulled him close, and Hamish had fallen asleep far too easily in his arms. At some point during the night they’d drifted apart to their own sides of the bed…maybe that was why he’d woken up.

He lay on his back, staring at the strange shadows the trees made on the ceiling. The house made noises he wasn’t used to, and the trees sounded different. The possums thumped across the roof and deck like a drunk trying to creep in without being heard.

How long until this place felt like home?

Brodie had welcomed him into his space. It was a him issue. He’d been sliced out of his old life and transplanted. How could he expect himself to settle in immediately and accept his new life? At least his new life hadn’t rejected him…Brodie could’ve hated him on sight and been doing little more than tolerating him for the sake of the treaty.

Something made him still and hold his breath. It was just another weird noise. It wasn’t anything to worry about. Then it happened again, a scrape that wasn’t a branch on the roof. It was something else, something that didn’t fit.

He slid out of bed, naked and unarmed. He silently cursed Brodie and his lack of weapons as he crept over the carpet. But he didn’t wake him because it was probably nothing, and he was being paranoid. In his family, there was a normal level of paranoia that was expected.

With the Ashbys, that was abnormal. They’d never had a reason to worry.

He paused in the corridor, scanning the living area, his eyes used to the dark but not the shapes and shadows. The noise came again; this time he located it as coming from the sliding door. A man was pulling it closed; his shadow spilling over the floor. Hamish didn’t move, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

The man moved carefully through the house.

If Hamish shouted to wake Brodie, the man would be on him in an instant, and he didn’t know if it was a human trying their luck or, more likely, an Orlan-affiliated vampire. Blooded or unblooded? One would be a much harder fight, and from the glint in the man’s hand, he was armed with a knife.

The first thing he was doing tomorrow was getting hold of some knives and maybe a garrote, which was one of Garrick’s favorite weapons.

He must have flinched, because the man’s attention turned to the hallway. Something to his right moved. Fuck, it wasn’t his own pulse in his ears. It was the heartbeat of a second intruder. He barely had time to duck as the knife swung toward him. As he stood, he punched the guy in the balls.

An arm wrapped around his throat, and he turned his head, tucking his chin into the man’s elbow before the guy could get too much of a lock on. Teeth grazed the back of his neck as if the intruder had been hoping to take a chunk out, or maybe rip a vein or artery.

He needed to get out of this before the other guy shook off the hit. In the confines of the corridor, there weren’t many options, so he used the wall and his knowledge of the house to his advantage, running up the wall and using the man as leverage. He closed his eyes and hit the light switch with his foot, then kept going until he was able to throw himself over the man’s shoulder and break his hold. His back hit the wall, and he stumbled, taking his attacker to the ground with him. Now their positions were reversed. All he needed to do was get a good hold on him—and his attacker knew it.