Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (72 page)

“Yeah,” Ez chuckles, “the ball wasn’t in play yet.”

“Ah, a technicality, I’m sure,”
Caleb laughs as he pulls away. “Besides, this is lockdown central, no unauthorized personnel allowed.” We all look to Julio and our other party guests, Wil and Fate. We all stare at the old friends in awe. It’s strange seeing Ez act like a guy. “Lucky for us, that means no Cortez Abernathy to darken our doorstep.”

Since Cortez
has pissed Caleb, Fate, and me off, and he’s running around rubbing his flings in Ezra’s face, it’s a good thing he isn’t here right now. We wouldn’t need an imaginary soccer ball as an excuse to kick the smug off his cunning face. Of course, Wil is still anticipating Cortez as a new partner- there is that.

“What’s it been? Almost two years? Looking good- got some muscle definition, but a little brat already told me all about that,” Caleb insinuates while winking in my direction. Ezra blushes high in his
pale cheeks.

“It’s only been seven months since I saw you last, but I couldn’t really make eye contact,” Ez grumbles and my skin enflames. “
Whittenhower Estate’s foyer, if I remember correctly.”

“I don’t think any of us could forget that. Only one of us wasn’t there,” Caleb looks at a confused Julio. “That was un-fucking-comfortable for everyone involved.”

“Who’s hungry?” I chirp, trying to change the subject. But I get ignored.

“Thanks for coming, bud.” Caleb puts his hand out to Wil. “We good?”

“We’re good,” Wil smirk is cutting. “But if there is a repeat, you’ll be missing an appendage.”

“You gonna takes his, too?” Caleb taunts Wil by drawing Ezra into this mortifying conversation. Stanton blushes and disappears to get Bianca. Julio is looking between three of the four men I’ve ever had sex with
. He flashes me a thumbs up and mouths
rockstar
at me. His gaydar picks up on Ezra’s disposition, and I’m pretty sure he’s cocking his head to check out Ez’s ass. Fate covers her burning cheeks with her palms and walks over to me, giggling underneath her breath.

“When did that happen?” she whispers in my ear. “Holy Hannah, he’s smoking hot. Good thing you called dibs, Kris would eat him alive.”

“I think he could hold his own,” I say with a blush. If I turn any redder, I’ll burn my flesh off. “Before you ask, yes, he fucks like he looks,” I rasp out. Fate and I are pinned by every eye in the living room. My husky voice carried-
shit!

“Thanks for the stunning endorsement, Syn” Caleb cockily purrs. “But Wil didn’t answer me yet. I’m leaving in a few hours and I need to know that he won’t be a dick to Ez.”

“You haven’t seen him in years, where is this loyalty coming from?” Wil growls, fists clenched at his sides.

“We went
to school together- I was in first grade when Ez and Cort hit kindergarten, that’s ten years of history- that’s where it’s coming from. But it’s my loyalty to Faith that is coming through. I need to know my family is safe, got it?”

“I’m good until Ezra’s eighteenth birthday
- eleven months. All bets are off after that date. He touches her, and yeah, I’m ripping it off,” Wil seethingly bites out.

“Y’all gonna piss on me next, for Christ’s sake!”
I shriek.

“Chickadee, Cort isn’t here to smack your ass for blasphemy,” Ez teases to turn down the wattage on my impending shit-storm.

“Cort is another one, he touches her for any reason, I swear to God, I will cut that
thing
off his body,” Wil vows. I shudder in fear, thinking of that thing touching me, impaling my body. I can’t do it. If the game voted on my bedding Cortez, I would gladly take a punishment.

“I guess we’re copasetic, now aren’t we?” Cal
eb says, walking towards the dining set near the big windows.

“Yeah, we are. I respect Ezra’s right- after that, it’s Syn’s choice. But that choice doesn’t
include any of them,” Wil warns.

“So glad I get a say in my future
, after you remove all my friends from the options. Thank you, Wil,” I snidely say. Caleb gives me an atta-girl smirk as I sit next to him at the table. “Dinner’s on,” I shout to draw Stanton and Bianca. Neither wanted nor needed to see the pissing contest the guys were engaging to mark their territory.

I am not a territory, Goddammit!

~Chapter Sixty~

“Cake and presents! Cake and presents! Cake and presents!” Bianca chants
the moment the last of the forks land on our empty plates. Her spoon and butter knife handles pound into the tabletop in rhythm with her chant.

“This gets cleaned up first,” I inform my overly-excited sister. “I cooked, so I’m not doing it. The birthday boy can supervise.”

“Ah! C’mon, Faith, no fair,” Bianca whines.

“The presents are on the roof and I’m taking the cake with me. So you better get working,” I tell her as I grab the cake.

“I’ll help,” Fate, being Fate, offers. My sister has changed in the past few months, less entitled. But then again, losing both parents, becoming The Simpson, and having Regina riding your ass will do that to a girl. Fate readily offers help and has strangely taken to the role of servant. I’m sure the eagerness to help our baby sister has nothing to do with the blush riding her cheeks every time she glances at Stanton.

“I need help with the cake,” I say to Ez, pushing the glass serving tray into his waiting arms. “I need help, alone,” I stress to everyone else, “preferably for a few minutes.”

Caleb reaches for a slice of Italian bread and another serving of lasagna to slow the helpful helpers down. The second I demanded alone time with Ezra, Wil and Stanton started clearing the table like maniacs. Interesting that they once opposed one another, yet now they are best fucking buddies. I know I have exactly the time that it takes to push the button on the dishwasher, even with Caleb trying to gorge himself on his third serving of dinner.

“How are you,” I softly ask as Ez follows me
up the stairwell to the roof. “Any more episodes?”

I hold the door open and gesture towards the wrought iron table near the side of the stairwell housing.
I want to cry when I notice the way Ezra’s shoulders bunch in on themselves, like he’s trying to fold himself in half for protection. I walk over to the edge of the roof and lean against the half-wall. I look to the street below, listening to the chaos from the restaurant and bar flanking our building. The few people interacting below are just a snapshot of the billions of lives being led right this very moment- it’s surreal how small we are as individuals in the grand scheme of life.

“Would you believe me if I said it hasn’t been too bad?” Ezra murmurs when he joins me. His earlier cheer vanishe
s the minute we’re alone. I know Ez was putting on a brave front downstairs. I’m sure being in the presence of The Green, The Simpson, and The Meyers’ enforcer didn’t do well for his disposition. The fluttering of his eyes was obvious to me from across the dining room table- a sure sign he’s barely keeping it together. Caleb may have been Ez’s childhood friend, but he is still The Green enforcer. Basically, everyone downstairs in my apartment is Ezra’s future enemies or allies.

“I could lie, but it wouldn’t make us feel any better. You can relax and take a deep breath, Ez. It’s just the two of us now.” I reach over and clasp his hand as it rests on the wall. Usually Ez’s hands are warm and soft. The elegant fingers feel icy cold to my touch, as if he’s expending a lot of energy keeping himself even.

His breath shudders out, almost a moan of agony. “Not good. I… I think he knows… or suspects. He stopped letting me touch him. After you left, he hasn’t touched me since. He… is… fucking… every… single… person… that will say yes,” he sobs, turning to me and falling into my arms.

I hold him tightly as sobs wrack his body. With every breath he shudders in my arms. I liked Cortez, but at this very moment, I despise him.

“He… he fucks everyone that says yes… but I say yes and he says no. He was even saying no when we were with you. It’s been almost six months since he kissed me. He says he’s not gay, that he doesn’t want me anymore. He pushes me away. Seventeen years, he has been by my side, a constant companion. I thought I’d spend my entire life with him… always. Every night I fall asleep with him beside me, far across the bed as if we were a thousand miles apart. Every morning I wake to a fresh betrayal as he goes off to fuck whomever that will have him- be it a fifty-year-old heiress of a fourteen-year-old Hillbrook girl. There is always a fresh fuck to be had,” Ezra seethes, anger cutting through the agony.

“You think he knows about the game? How?” I gently rub his back, my eyes flick to the door to the stairwell housing. Wil is standing there listening, looking tortured
, and making sure we aren’t disturbed.

“I don’t give a shit about the game. I’d tell him if I could. He’ll know soon enough. I think he know… I think he knows… we’re related. It disgusts him to touch me now.” Ezra moves as if he can remove the Hunter DNA from his body. I know, because it’s how I feel about the Meyers blood flowing in my veins. It’s like the tai
nt burns like acid as it nourishes your body.

“
If Cort knows, he will have to come to terms with it. But I don’t think that is it,” I admit. “I think he’s struggling with his sexuality. The rampant screwing is a huge clue. It’s Cort- he’s pissed at you because you make him question himself. Somewhere, somehow, he thinks that a man doesn’t do men. It’s what I think.”

“Are you sure? Do you think that is it?” childlike hope laces his voice so strongly that tears spring to my eyes. “I mean, I don’t care that we’re related, but I’ve had four years to come to terms with it. If he’s worried about being gay, I can handle that. I don’t care if he never touches me like that again- I just can’t live if he doesn’t love me anymore, and he won’t if he finds out the truth.”

“I’ll never tell him,” I vehemently promise, “never.”

“I trust you,” Ezra says as he pulls away. He sniffle
s and wipes at his eyes as if surprised to find dampness. “I… it’s been hard,” he readily admits now that he’s purged his pain. “It’s a daily struggle. It’s gotten to the point that I just skim underneath the surface and let Master Ez drive. I’m still there, still talking, walking, living, but Ezra is buried deeper.” His heavy sigh pierces the night. “Ah, hell, I can’t explain. It’s like… the only way to survive isn’t to be whole. It’s still me, but seventy/thirty. The strong part has to hold the scared and angry part down or I’d hurt something. I don’t feel right. I feel off.” He shudders as if cold, but it’s a soul-deep freeze that is ruining him. He rubs his arms for the heat of friction.

“Well, yeah,” I growl. “You’re not all there right now. You are suppressing yourself because of that selfish fucker. I hate-”

“No,” Ez softly says, putting a fingertip over my lips, “no, Faith, don’t. Don’t say it out loud. I can’t hear it. It feels good to know you will always have my back. But I can’t hear you say the words, because a part of me wants to say them, too.”

“I-”

“I better go clean up,” Ezra cuts me off, finally seeing Wil standing sentry at the stairwell. Ez brushes the hem of his shirt over his face- wiping the tears and his emotions away with them. “I’ll be back up in a moment,” he hurriedly says, fleeing the roof.

“I think I better be nicer to him,” Wil says, leaning next to me on the wall.

“Why? I thought you were going caveman on Ezra’s ass the second he became The Holden. I’m waiting for you to piss on my leg and growl,” the words sound teasing, but they are scathing with fury. “I’m not a material object to fight over.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Wil says, and for some reason he is smiling. “I could beat you. I could hold you down and fuck you senseless. But I’ve figured out that there is no forcing you into anything. I have to let you come to your own conclusions, because even if you
want
to do what I suggest, you won’t just to be spiteful. So if I said that screwing Caleb is a deal breaker, you’d do it just because I said it, even if you didn’t want to. So… no rules… do whatever you want. I’ll be waiting. I don’t have anything better to do anyway.” Wil’s eyes cut to the side and a self-deprecating smile flirts with his lips- will the real Wil please stand up!

“You’re fucking with me, right? You’re trying re
verse psychology or some shit. Has Stanton been talking to you?” I ask, suspicion heavy in my tone. “You two been trading recipes or some shit?”

“I’m rather fond of fighting with you, so I like it when you hit back.” Wil turns to the side and looks at me. I’m taken aback when he bites his lower lip. “No matter how badly I want inside you, it’s not the right time. I’m not ready for that, and neither are you. I will say that what I heard in the training room yesterday afternoon
, will feed my orgasms when I whack off.” Wil’s white/blue eyes rake over my body, heating every spot they touch. “But I’m not ready for sex, and I think you know that. Don’t you, Pixy?”