Olympic Cove 2-Breaker Zone (3 page)

“No problem.” Ian bent down and petted
the wriggling terrier again, watching in concern as Aphros guided the weary man
towards the bedroom door. “What’s wrong with your dad, girl?” he said quietly.

“Take a look at his aura,” Bythos said
just as softly, bending down and offering his hand to Norma to smell. The
terrier took a few sniffs,
then
licked his hand in
approval.

Warily, Ian focused his powers through
the bedroom wall. What he saw bothered the hell out of him. The bioelectric
field known as an aura was generated by all living creatures and had a dominant
color overlaid with a shifting iridescence that reflected mood and health. His
aura glowed butter yellow, Aphros’s light blue, and Bythos’s a deeper
blue-green.

But Nick’s aura was grey, a drained,
sickly color that made the doctor look like he was surrounded by static.
“That’s not good, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Bythos agreed. “There’s
something very wrong with your friend. You need to talk to him when he gets
up.”

“Definitely.”
Ian looked down
at the terrier, which was now nosing his sandals. “Unless you’ve got something
you want to tell me, sweetie.”

Bythos chuckled. “You’re a god, love,
not Doctor Doolittle.” He gave Norma a last pat. “Why don’t you take her for a
run on the beach? It should be safe enough there.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Ian clapped his
thigh and whistled softly, leading the terrier to the back porch while his mind
was on the exhausted man in his guest room.

Nick, what the
hell happened to you?

****

That will look
so lovely. Hold still, now.
Just a little more.

Nick struggled to sit up with a barking
cry, legs tangled in the sheets. The wound on his chest burned from the sudden
movement.

Panting and disoriented, he stared
around the dark room. For one terrible moment he thought he was back in
Barnard’s bedroom.

And then memory returned.
I’m at Ian’s cottage.
He can’t find me here. I’m okay.

Rubbing his eyes, Nick glanced around
the room again. A small digital alarm clock sat on a nightstand next to the
bed. It read 3:12 A.M.

He’d gotten to the cottage sometime
around two in the afternoon, after throwing Norma and some clothes into the car
and driving straight through from Chicago. Twenty hours on the road, then
thirteen hours dead to the world. By now Barnard had to know he was gone.

His chest throbbed in counterpoint to
his thoughts. The pain had kept him awake on the road, bitterly welcome then
but unwanted now. Gingerly he touched the square of gauze he’d taped over the
incisions. The gauze felt dry, if a little stiff.
Good. At least I’m not bleeding. That’s something.

He kicked off the thin cotton blanket
and sat on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the shape next to the alarm
clock. It turned out to be a lamp, and turning a switch lit the small but
pleasantly decorated room with a warm glow.

Slowly, he got to his feet, wincing at
the complaining muscles in his back and knees. A door across from the bed
turned out to be a shared bathroom. He pissed for what felt like an eternity,
then
washed his hands and face, staring at his reflection in
the mirror.

What are you
waiting for? You need to check it. Just do it.

He stripped off the t-shirt he’d worn to
bed and saw the taped square of gauze on the inside of his right pec. Hating
the tremor in his fingers, he peeled off the tape and gauze, grimacing as
strands of chest hair came with it.

And stared at
the letter carved into his skin.
No, not carved—incised. An elegant
little
design,
flourishes and swirls surrounding a
cursive capital B.

B for Barnard.
It had been said
with the gentlest smile.

Nick’s stomach suddenly rebelled. He
dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, retching. Bile, thin and
yellowish-green, splattered against the white porcelain. He coughed and spat,
then spat again, rolling to a seat on the clean linoleum floor and wiping at
his mouth.

You bastard.
I
said my safeword. I screamed it. And you cut me anyway.

He dropped his head into his hands, and
was startled when he heard himself sob.
You bastard.
You
fucking bastard.

The bathroom door opened. “Nick?”

He hunched over more, automatically on the
defensive. A warm hand tentatively touched his shoulder, and he flinched.
“Nick, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, wanting to hide.
Wanting to go somewhere, anywhere, where nobody could see what had been done to
him. What he’d let Barnard do to him.

There was a movement of air, and then
the toilet flushed. Something soft dropped around his shoulders. “Come on, you
need something to settle your stomach. Can you stand up?”

Sucking in a shuddering breath, he
nodded. An arm slid around him then, helping him to his feet. He hunched inside
the towel, pulling it around him. Covering that damned scarlet letter on his
chest.

“Are you cold?”

He looked up, at the handsome bearded man
currently holding him.
Af-
something — Aphros.
Ian’s boyfriend.
One of them.

“No,” he said, a tiny sound even in the
tiled room.

Aphros gave him a look that suggested he
didn’t believe a word of it. “Would you like some tea? Or I can get ginger ale
if that would be better.”

“I—no, I’m fine. It was just …
stress
.” His now empty stomach rumbled, and Aphros’s eyes
widened slightly at it. “Sorry,” Nick mumbled.

Aphros laughed softly. “Don’t be. A
rumbling stomach, I can fix.”

He led Nick out of the bathroom. The
doctor paused, hearing a soft grumbling snore coming from the living room.
Moving quietly to the doorway, he saw Ian asleep on the couch.

“He was worried about you, so he slept
down here in case you needed something,” Aphros explained. “I was coming down
to check on him when I heard you.”

“Crap. He didn’t have to do that.” Nick now
wished he’d gone to a motel instead of dragging his personal disaster to Ian’s
door. “This isn’t his problem.”

Aphros gave him a look that was
sympathetic without
being pitying
. “Ian likes to think
he can protect the world. Ga ... God knows he’s good at it.” He smiled oddly at
his own statement.
“Anyway—food.”

Still feeling guilty, Nick followed the
other man into a clean, slightly old-fashioned kitchen, blinking against the
sudden light as Aphros hit the switch and went to the refrigerator.

“Sit down, and I’ll make you a sandwich,”
he said over his shoulder. “Or would you prefer soup?”

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

“How about I split the difference?” Two
minutes later, a turkey sandwich with a light spread of mayo and a cup of
chunky soup were delivered to the table. “Let’s start with that,” Aphros said,
scraping a mayo-laden knife back into the jar. “If you want anything more,
there’s plenty.”

Nick nodded numbly and picked up the
sandwich, taking a bite. “Thank you,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

“You’re very welcome. Any friend of
Ian’s is a friend of ours.”

Ours.
He tried to
sneak looks through his lashes at his benefactor, who had taken a chair
opposite him. Ian’s boyfriend appeared to be somewhere in his late twenties,
with curly hair, bright blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a loose
pair of cargo shorts and nothing else, revealing a set of broad shoulders, a
sleekly muscled chest, and long, sinewy arms. A glint of red-gold showed just
above his waistband, hinting at the treasure trail that led downwards.

Nick usually wasn’t attracted to
redheads, but Aphros was giving him a whole new appreciation for the species.
“So, uh, you and Ian,” he said, trailing off when he realized he had no idea
how to end that sentence. “I didn’t expect that.”

Aphros smiled. “It’s all fairly new. The
three of us are still getting used to each other.”

Three.
So the other one—
Boyfriends.
Ian had said boyfriends, plural.
“Wow.”
He winced at that. “Sorry. It’s just—I had no idea Ian was bi.”

A shrug.
“I don’t think
it was something he told many people. Don’t feel bad that you didn’t know.”

“I just wish I’d known earlier.
I would’ve—” He bit off that thought, covering his embarrassment
with a quick spoonful of soup.
He was pretty sure Ian knew he was
attracted to him, and didn’t have a problem with it. Hell, Diana used to tease
them both about celebrating with a threesome when Ian sold his first novel.
“Never mind.”

Aphros smiled at him. “You would’ve
tried to get him in bed. I can’t blame you. He’s incredibly sexy.”

“Uh, yeah.
And this
conversation is incredibly awkward.”

“Let’s talk about something else, then.”

“Good idea.” He looked around the
kitchen. “Where’s Norma?”

Aphros glanced at the ceiling. “Sleeping
with my brother, I’m afraid. She seems rather taken with him.”

“Oh. So, your brother is here, too?”

“Yes, you saw him earlier.” He rubbed
the back of his fingers along his beard. “No beard, looked very serious? Which
is his default expression, by the way, so don’t be bothered by it.”

Nick felt his jaw start to open, and
closed it with a click. “Wait. You and your brother are Ian’s boyfriends?
Both
of you?”

Aphros chuckled. “I know, it’s a bit
unusual, but I assure you it works for us. We’ve managed to share him quite
nicely so far.”

Dimly, Nick wondered if he’d somehow
wandered into a soft porn fantasy.
Twins.
That lucky
bastard got twins.
“Uh, okay. It’s cool,” he said, only slightly strangled.

At which point said lucky bastard ambled
into the kitchen, blinking sleepily and scratching his belly.
“Thought I heard voices.
Hey, angel.”
He leaned down and gave Aphros a kiss, then wandered over to the refrigerator.
“Nice to see you rejoined the land of the living, dude. I see Aph fed you.”

“Yeah.
Thanks, by the
way.” Nick nodded at the redhead, who smiled. “I don’t feel like I’m about to
fall over and die anymore, which is a plus.”

“True.” Ian came back with a glass of
orange juice, taking the seat next to Aphros. “How long were you on the road,
anyway?”

“Twenty hours, give or take. It seemed
like the best thing to do since I had Norma with me. I didn’t think a motel
would take both of us.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to kennel
her somewhere and fly down here?”

“I couldn’t leave her in Chicago.” Nick stared
at the crumbs on his plate. The letter on his chest throbbed, an echoed
heartbeat. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Ian studied him,
then
turned to Aphros. “Angel, I need to talk to Nick in
private. Would you mind giving us some space?”

“Not at all.
Call me if you
need anything.” Aphros kissed him, then stood and came around the table,
resting his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came down here, Nick.”

He had no idea how it worked, but that
simple contact drove back the churning in his gut. Aphros left, and Nick tried
to smile. “If you ever get tired of him...”

“Yeah, no.”
Ian didn’t
smile back. “Nick, tell me what happened.”

Nick hunched under the towel still
draped around his shoulders. He had no idea where to start, how to explain. Not
something like this.

He closed his eyes.
Just start at the beginning.
“What do you know about BDSM?”

****

After a half hour of talking, Nick’s
throat felt like sandpaper. Ian had gotten up and fetched beers for both of
them. When Nick explained how Barnard had cut him, Ian’s knuckles had gone white
around the beer bottle.

Nick played with his own bottle, rolling
the bottom on the kitchen table. “So, do you think I’m a freak?”

Ian blinked.
“Of
course not.
Jesus, how long have we known each other?”

“Two years. But before tonight you
didn’t know that I liked to be tied up.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t know I was bi,
so we’re even. Besides, from what you just told me it sounds like everything
you do
is
pretty much negotiated beforehand.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it’s supposed to
go.
Safe, sane, and consensual for people like me, or
risk-aware consensual kink for people who go in more for edge play.”
His
stomach clenched. “Like Barnard.”