Becomes the Rose (3 page)

“Anton was at the window,” Tarin said. For a second he felt foolish, then he was swept into strong hands, and he buried his face into the junction of Boyce’s neck and shoulder. Before he did, he caught a glimpse of two men; one the red-blond behemoth, Flynn, totally naked, the other a petit brunet in pyjama pants. He had not known there were others in Boyce’s home.

“Anton,” Boyce said curtly. “At the window, according to Tarin. Check we are secure, Flynn.”

“I always do,” the blond growled. “But I will go ‘round again. Eric, go back to bed,” he added more softly to the younger man at his side.

“I’d rather stay with you. You might need me,” the brunet added with a smile, his hand slipping into the blond’s huge paw.

“Imp,” Flynn rumbled, but did not try to dissuade the smaller man. “We’ll start downstairs.”

Watching the two men go, Boyce hesitated a moment and then strode decisively into his own bedroom. He laid his precious bundle carefully down and intended to sit in his chair, but Tarin clutched desperately at him.

“Don’t leave me, please. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t leave you,” Boyce promised. He gathered Tarin into his arms, pulling the trembling form tightly to his so that Tarin’s back was against his chest. He spooned up, curling protectively around the young man. “I have you, Tarin. It’s safe to sleep now,” he added. He licked behind Tarin’s ear, savouring the taste of the warm skin.

He knew the house was secure, but would feel better knowing Flynn and Eric were checking. He had seen Monique and Jorge emerge from their rooms as swiftly as Flynn and Eric, but indicated their presence was not needed. He felt sure he would know if danger still existed.

Anton would not touch this innocent. Not while Boyce could prevent it.

Blinking, Tarin slowly opened his eyes. He had fragmented memories of the night’s events; a really bad nightmare, Anton’s face at the window, a large, naked man, and being held by Boyce. He looked around, rubbing at one eye and then the other. The bedroom was immaculate. Beyond simply neat and tidy; it looked barely used. Thinking back, Boyce’s living room possessed the same quality.

Easing from the bed, he could see his bags had been brought into the room along with the clothes that had been in his own bedroom. He dressed hurriedly. He wanted to find Boyce and speak to him.

Checking the living room first, Tarin began to turn and almost bumped into the brunet he had seen the previous night.

“I was looking for Boyce,” Tarin said.

“He’s working. My name’s Eric. Would you like something to eat? I can do a really good scrambled eggs.”

“Sure. Eggs are fine.”

Looking around the kitchen, Tarin could see nothing out of place and not a spot of dust or dirt anywhere. Things looked as if they had been cleaned and cleaned again.

“Martha cleans here,” Eric said as if reading Tarin’s mind. “She can’t bear the least little thing out of place or a speck of dirt. She’s a marvel. We don’t have milk, I’m afraid,” he added as he served the eggs and set a cup of back coffee in front of Tarin. “The Mast… er… Boyce has a dairy intolerance, and we’ve just learned to live with it and do without, too.”

“Black is good,” Tarin said, wondering whether Eric was also going to have called Boyce ‘Master’ as Martha had done. The eggs were good, and he was surprised at just how pleased Eric was to be told so.

“I’m the newest to the household,” he confessed, grinning widely at Tarin. “I didn’t get much of an opportunity to prove my worth before—” He stopped, his hand going to his mouth.

“Before? Before what?” Tarin asked.

“Before meeting Boyce.”

The deep baritone with its hint of Irish brogue had Tarin turn to the doorway to see the man he had last seen stark naked. He could not stop the blush and simply hoped it would go unnoticed.

“This is Flynn,” Eric said. “He’s my… er… we’re…”

“I can see.” Tarin smiled, taking pity on the clearly discomforted brunet. The gaze of the two men told its own story with more eloquence than any number of words.

“Eric can show you around a little, Tarin,” Flynn said. “If he promises not to talk you to death,” he added, giving a knowing look at the smaller man. “Martha asked that you have lunch and dinner at her house. She and her husband would love to chat with you. Boyce asked if you would be free to spend time with him after your meals and spend the night here. We’ll make sure you’re away in the morning. Boyce has said you can use his car to get away. I’m… fixing… it at the moment so it’s not driveable today.”

Although Tarin was happy enough to comply, he could not help but feel that something was not quite right. However, there was nothing he could put his finger on. He idly wondered if perhaps he could learn something from Eric if he was away from the watchful Flynn.

“That sounds great,” he said with enthusiasm. “I’ll go clean my teeth and be back in a minute.”

Watching until he had gone, Eric worried at his lower lip with his teeth and then turned to his lover.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. I got carried away. He’s so easy to talk to, and it’s been so long.” Lips pressing against his stemmed the rest of his apologies and he eagerly opened his mouth to accept the demanding tongue of the bigger man. As they broke apart, his chin was cupped tenderly in Flynn’s large hand.

“I understand, Eric. Just be careful what you say. Take him to the stream and along the orchard. Get him back here within a couple of hours. I’m sure Boyce would spend a short time with him then and we can get him to Martha for the next session. Monique and Jorge will watch their house.”

“He’s special to Boyce, isn’t he? Like I was to you?” Eric asked.

“Like you are and always will be to me. Never forget that, my love. Boyce will not go further with the boy. Not while we exist here like this.”

“But, won’t he hurt?” Eric asked. His heartfelt sorrow for Boyce made it difficult for him to speak.

“Yes, he will. But in his place, I hope I would have found the same strength to let you go.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” Eric said vehemently, his arms snaking around Flynn to hold him with remarkable strength. “I love you.”

“And I love you, imp. But I would never have let you know. Now remember, watch what you say and beware of Anton and his people. They will want Tarin and will not care who is in their way as the day progresses.”

“I promise,” Eric said and pulled the bigger man down for a long kiss. “We’ll be careful.”

* * * *

They opted to go to the orchard first. Eric kept up a steady stream of small talk, asking questions and soaking up the answers as if he were a sponge. He laughingly scaled a tree and tossed down an apple for Tarin, scrunching his nose up at the suggestion he should have one.

“No thanks,” he said. “Can’t stand the things.”

“It’s a very dull and dreary day,” Tarin observed. The day was dark as if there would be a storm.

“It always is,” Eric said. “At this time of year,” he added at Tarin’s questioning look. “You get used to it.”

“Have you and Flynn been a couple long?” Tarin asked as he finished off the apple.

“A while.” Eric smiled dreamily. “I love him so much.”

“How did you know he was The One?”

“I can’t explain,” Eric sighed. “When we met, there was an immediate attraction. I instantly felt safe with him. His touch electrified me. I just knew. He courted me, though. He wanted me to be absolutely certain before we took the last step.”

“That’s so romantic,” Tarin said thoughtfully. Eric could have been describing how Tarin felt around Boyce. He wondered how he could make a relationship work with the older man as they headed to the stream.

As the two men stood staring at the scenery before them, Tarin frowned. By his reckoning, he should be able to see the forest and mountains that surrounded the area. However, although he could see the start of the woods the rest was hidden by grey mist. He gave an involuntary shudder at the thought that it was as though just this little pocket existed, isolated in space and time.

“It it always so misty?” he asked.

“Time of year,” Eric replied.

“Hey, look over here. They’ve let the baby out on his own and given him a pretty little playmate.”

The taunting words came as a shock to Tarin, and an even bigger shock was the defensive pose Eric adopted between him and the two big men that had silently appeared.

“Leave us alone,” Eric growled, his eyes flitting from the blond to the shaven-skulled men who were already moving apart, making it difficult to watch both.

“I don’t think so,” the blond taunted Eric. “I think you’re the one who needs to go and leave us to look after pretty. Anton knows how to show a guest a real good time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tarin saw the blond throw something at Eric. The young man cried out in pain, however, Tarin’s main focus was on the shaven-skulled lout heading towards him. As the man reached to grab him, Tarin blocked the outstretched arm and spun, levelling a solid kick to his attacker’s abdomen, knocking him off his feet to lie groaning. He wheeled to face the blond angrily as he saw Eric on the ground, his hands covering his face.

“I don’t know what you did, but you’ll pay for hurting him,” Tarin growled.

“Try using your feet against this, pretty. It’ll carve you up.” The blond hissed, a sharp stiletto knife waving in his hand.

“You get away from them.”

Tarin heard Martha’s voice and could see her blowing on a whistle although no sound could be heard. However, the result left Tarin stunned. As the shaven-skulled man got to his knees and the blond turned, Boyce and Flynn were there. Even as he watched, a single blow from Flynn sent the blond flying several feet through the air. Then he was at Eric’s side, peeling the younger man’s hands away to reveal a burn that marred a once-smooth cheek.

Boyce’s hand wrapped around the other man’s throat, lifting him easily into the air and shook him as if he weighed no more than a rag doll.

“You and Benton get away from us before I forget my vow not to harm your kind,” he snarled, before hurling the man to join his comrade. The two immediately raced away, and Boyce turned to Tarin.

“What are you?” Tarin asked in a whisper. “No one could have got here without being seen, and no one has that kind of strength.”

“Tarin, please don’t fear me,” Boyce said, reaching towards him.

“What are you?” Tarin repeated, backing away.

“Vampire,” Boyce said, his head dropping slightly.

Tarin shook his head. This was madness. “Vampires don’t exist,” he finally said.

“Yes, we do,” Boyce said, his voice sad.

“No,” Tarin repeated. He had no idea why Boyce would do this to him. He bolted. He ran towards the mist that hung heavily ahead of him and then stopped with a cry of shock. Already ahead of him, arms folded, stood Boyce. “No, no, no,” Tarin chanted. He turned to run back into the town but Boyce was now in front of him again. Tarin stood, panting heavily. “Vampire?” he asked, his voice so quiet another human would not have heard it.

“Vampire.” Boyce nodded. “If I meant you harm, Tarin, I could already have hurt you. Won’t you please come and listen?”

Still trying to recover his breath, Tarin realised it was true. He had spent the night in Boyce’s arms. He had felt safe and cared for. He had willingly entrusted Boyce not to take advantage of him. If the… vampire… had meant to hurt him in some way then it would have been easy enough.

He began to walk slowly towards the other man, his eyes never leaving Boyce’s face. Boyce did not make a single move. He remained in place, arms loosely at his sides, simply waiting.

“I… feel… something for you,” Tarin said as he faced the older man. “I felt… loved… and safe in your arms. I don’t understand any of this,” he added, his voice lost.

“In another time, another place, I would court you. Woo you the way you deserve,” Boyce whispered, a fingertip reaching to touch Tarin’s cheek fleetingly. “But I am cursed, my people cursed, for a crime we did not commit. I cannot, I will not, keep you here or allow Anton to touch you. Come back to my home. I will gather my family and explain everything.”

Tarin found himself leaning against the older man and felt steadier when a strong arm wrapped around his waist. Part of him still wanted to reject it all but there was no denying what he had just seen with his own eyes. Ahead he could see Flynn and Eric watching them.

“Tell me. Tell me everything,” Tarin demanded, surprising himself at his own audacity.

“I will,” Boyce sighed. “Back at the house where you can be protected.”

Tarin sat in one of the large armchairs and looked around at the men and women Boyce had gathered. Flynn sat in another chair, Eric in his arms. Already the burn on the brunet’s cheek was healing. Tarin had seen Flynn bathe the wound with his tongue. Boyce said that the burn, caused by holy water, would heal more quickly thanks to the healing properties of vampire saliva.

Martha sat in a wooden chair, an older man on her right who Tarin assumed was her husband. On her left was a young man with sandy hair and an attractive brunette woman. Boyce stood by the fireside, flanked by a darkly attractive man and a beautiful red-headed woman. Tarin was certain that they were vampires, too, as were Flynn and Eric, but he waited for Boyce to speak.

“Martha you already know, the others are Ewan, her husband, Edward, her nephew and Carole, who is a friend. They are all, like you, fully human. The old term for them was minion but they are as much friends as they are servants. Flynn, Eric, Monique and Jorge are my lessers and, like me, are vampires. I was originally a French noble before the time of the revolution. My name then was Pascal du Bois. I was turned just before the aristocracy began to be killed. Flynn was already my most trusted bodyguard, and at his pleading, I turned him and we left France.”

“
It
was
my
choice
,”
Flynn
added
as
if
needing
Tarin
to
believe
he
had
not
been
coerced.