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Whatever I’m expecting to be on the other side of the door, it’s not a half-finished office with windows overlooking some of the smaller buildings of the city. There’s very little furniture in the unfinished, white-walled room that smells of paint and construction, but a large desk with a chair sits in front of the windows like it’s the future seat of some mafia CEO who wants to look at everything in his territory.
Only, this isn’t their territory, so I’ve been told. It’s the Chancellors’ and by extension, belongs to the Lost Boys.
I suck in a quiet breath as my eyes rove around the room. I’m glad that, as of now, I’m standing right behind Isaac’s shoulder, and neither man is looking at me. In case my face betrays me before I can school myself to something other than indifference or polite interest, I’d rather not be in their line of sight.
A man stands up from the other side of the desk; dust-covered from whatever labor he’s been doing to finish the office. His hair is blonde but graying at the temples, and like the rest of the room, he doesn’t fit with my perception of what’s going on here. His eyes, a light blue, flick from Ashe to Isaac, then finally land on me. Puzzlement finds his expression just as a soft, friendly smile curls over lips framed by ample, graying facial hair.
“Hello boys,” the man greets, resting his paint-splattered hands on the desk. “I can’t say I’m exactly surprised to see you here, though you are early. It’s a bit embarrassing for you to see this place in such disarray.” He looks at me again. “I wasn’t expectingyou,” he goes on. “But you’re just as welcome as they are.”
I wonder just how ‘welcoming’ he feels toward Isaac and Ashe. And, by extension, me. He has to know they aren’t here to bid him welcome, and they sure as hell haven’t brought a fruit basket along. Yet here he is, acting like the two of them are old friends he’sinvitedinto his unfinished office.
“I didn’t thinkyou’dbe here,” Ashe admits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Doesn’t Declan send the family members he doesn’t care about when he wants to scope out the danger of a business venture?” His smile is wolfish. “But here you are. His favorite brother. So have you fallen out of favor with your dearest older brother, or does he just not think much of us?”
The man’s smile turns apologetic. “I have to say I’m not sure how much or little he thinks of you,” he admits. “He told me to come here and work on getting his new offices ready, so I’m here. You know I’m not much of a businessman, after all. I just take care of the heavy lifting.”
The words feel like they mean more than they should. Likeheavy liftingdoesn’t just mean the literal hard labor that he’s implying or the fixing up of this particular office.
But why would he admit that much to the Lost Boys?
“You’re kind of putting a dampener on our plans, Deacon,” Isaac admits, slinging an arm over my shoulders once more and dragging me to him. I let him, my eyes onDeaconRoger instead of his. “I thought I’d get to break someone today. But I doubt Nathan or Cyril would like it very much if we brokeyouwithout provocation.”
Deacon has the audacity to chuckle like Isaac has made a very funny joke. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he shrugs. “But it’s just me. I know you’d probably rather see Henry or Doug. But…” he trails off. “Well, youdidjust kill Charles, so I’d have thought your little bloodlust problem would be sated for now.”
“Ididn’t kill Charles,” Isaac corrects. “So nothing about me issated.”
“Not even by your girlfriend?” Deacon smiles again, the look all for me. “Does she get off on the shit you boys like to do? Is that why you brought her here?”
I itch to deny his words, to tell him he’s wrong. But there’s no better answer that I can give him right now, and I doubt any of the Lost Boys would appreciate the truth from me in this situation. So I snort instead and look back at him, not bothering to lower my gaze or glance somewhere else. “Yeah,” I tell him. “I’ve got kind of a blood kink, actually. They promised me we’d fuck in it after they were done.”
“That seems unhealthy,” Deacon points out. “Not everyone’s blood isclean, you know. That’s why we weargloves.” He says it slowly, fingers drumming on the desk like he’s explaining blood-borne pathogens to an elementary school student instead of a rational adult.
“Well, what can I say?” I sigh. “Kink is all about mutual awareness and acceptance of risk, right?”
Ashe shoots me a quick, approving glance that has my stomach flipping in all of the good ways. I like that he isn’t upset about me speaking up, and I love that he likes what I’ve said.
“While that may be true, you’d do better to find yourself a different group of young men,” Deacon tells me, walking around and sitting on the edge of the desk closest to us. He stretches his legs out in front of himself, ankles crossed, and lets out a groan as he stretches like he’s been crouching on the floor for hours doing whatever work he’s been up to. “I know that they might seem all that to you. But you’re young. They’re dangerous, and you don’t look like an idiot.”
“Well…” Isaac grips my hair and coaxes me to spin around, lifting my hair to show Deacon the tattoo on the back of my neck.
All I can think is that I wish he would’ve told me he might do that. It takes everything in me to just stand there, and when Isaac pulls me back into his grip to face Deacon, I almost don’t go. “You’re a bit late,” he tells the older man. “She’s completelycommittedto us.”
When I meet Deacon’s eyes again, I find pity and worry that I’m not expecting. A frown creases his lips, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he watches me. “I see,” he says finally, looking back at the two men instead of at me.
I’m grateful for it. I keep playing Isaac’s movement and words in my head, over and over again, as my heart thumps protests in my chest.
I wish he would’ve told me he might do that. I can’t help but repeat that thought as well, and by the time my attention is back on the conversation between the three men, Deacon is spinning a knife around on the desk with one finger, nodding along to whatever Ashe is saying about getting the fuck out of town.
“I know you boys get real worked up for Nathan whenever he has Cyril sic you on his enemies,” Deacon agrees the moment Ashe is done talking. “But I think you might be over your head this time. I think you should let things go and let Nathan fight his own enterprise battles. Just this once.” His smile never falters. His relaxed pose never waivers. “Now, if I can get back to what I was doing?” He gestures to the unfinished office around us. “I do have a deadline; otherwise Declan will kick my ass back to the stone age.” He chuckles at his own joke, though no one else does.
“All right,” Ashe agrees amicably, nodding his head along with Deacon’s words. “You’re right, this time. Wecan’tdo anything to you. Not when all you’ve done is built a desk.”
Deacon brightens. “It’s not done yet,” he says, enthusiastic about his work. I can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, however, but he goes on nonetheless. “I plan on building most of the furniture in here. It’s my office, after all.”
“Maybe don’t get too comfortable?” Isaac suggests, his tone justsofriendly that he could really be giving friendly, helpful advice. Instead of low-key threatening this man’s life if he doesn’t leave.
“Maybe,” Deacon shrugs. “Never can tell how these things will work out.” He catches my eyes before I can look away and grins at me once more. “It was nice to meet you. Think about what I said, all right? These boys aren’t so tough as they seem, and if you want to leave, they can’t actually stop you.”
I blink, my eyes narrowing. No matter how I feel about Isaac’s display, I’m not going to stand here like a fawn on the road about to get mowed down by an SUV. “Obviously,” I agree. “But since Idon’twant to go anywhere, your point is…well,useless.”
