Taming the Lion (15 page)

He’d gained the impression that, somehow, it mattered very much to Jon. The way his lover spoke indicated the revelation had surprised him, but in a good way. He couldn’t help wondering how Jon might have reacted if he’d confessed to having a significant number of previous conquests.

Kaspar hefted the vibrator and his smile turned to a wicked smirk. “Seeing as I’m a novice when it comes to sex toys, I’m really keen to find out what this can do. Why don’t you get undressed and let me see how long it takes for me to make you come…”

Chapter Eighteen

Kaspar eased out of bed, trying his best not to disturb Jon, who lay sleeping beside him. He’d tried his hardest to stay still and let sleep claim him, but it just wouldn’t happen. He needed to be outside, running through the fields.

He was suffering from a bad case of what his mother had always called ‘
jeukende poten
’. Itchy paws. Kaspar knew of no better term to describe the restlessness that afflicted him. Even if he tried to talk to Jon about it, he knew he couldn’t make him understand. No human would ever know how it felt to be compelled to shift, to let the animal that lurked within have free rein.

Jon stirred and muttered something. For a moment, Kaspar thought he’d woken up. But then he clutched at the covers and rolled over. Kaspar’s alarm faded and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

He grabbed sweatpants and a hooded top but didn’t put them on till he got downstairs. Socks and underwear would only be an inconvenience when it came to undressing. He slipped his feet into comfortable trainers then went to collect his bike.

The sleek racing cycle was nothing like the black-framed old rattler he’d owned in Amsterdam. This model had ten gears, ideal for negotiating the hilly landscape between his home and Jon’s.

Kaspar shut the front door behind him. No lights burned in the windows of the neighboring houses. The street was silent, deserted. As he pedaled along the side of the park, a fox regarded him curiously then scurried away into the undergrowth. It seemed as if the whole city slumbered in the July heat.

He had no destination in mind, only knowing that he needed to be out in the open country. Soon his thigh muscles burned from his efforts and he regretted not having the foresight to bring a bottle of water with him.

The road turned sharply to the left. In front of a low stone wall, a milepost stood half hidden by long grass. It seemed like as good a place as any to stash his bike. A marker he’d remember when he came back this way.

Kaspar got off the bicycle and wheeled it behind the end of the wall. Then he quickly stripped out of his clothes and trainers, placing them on the ground in a neat pile.

In one of the trees close by, a barn owl hooted. He looked up at the ghostly white oval of its face as it swooped down in pursuit of its prey.

He lifted his head toward the sky, letting the moonlight bathe him. Then he closed his eyes and dropped into a crouch on all fours. The transformation was swift, welcome. The blood seemed to tingle in his veins as his body changed from its human form into that of a full-grown lion.

At last, he could give in to the urge that had pulled at him since the sun had gone down. He began to lope through the soft grass, away from the road and up into the woods. Every sinew tensed as he hurdled over a fallen tree branch. The light breeze ruffled his mane, and he inhaled deeply, relishing the sensation of being truly alive.

It felt good to become an animal, ruled only by thoughts of the next meal, the next fuck.
If only life could always be this simple…

Kaspar ran until his muscles ached, only pausing to quench his thirst by drinking from a swift-running brook. Though he hadn’t paid any heed to the direction he’d been traveling in, it seemed some unconscious impulse had driven him on. When he crested a hill, he found himself staring at a familiar group of stones, wreathed in shadow.

Instinct told him to follow his trail back to the place where he’d left his belongings, but Jon’s stories had piqued his curiosity.

Did they really worship my kind here? And if so, what did they think that sacrificing innocent victims in our name would hope to achieve?

He sniffed the air. Overlying the various spoors of small animals were two scents that made him unaccountably nervous. The first was the coppery reek of blood that seemed to have leached into the very fabric of the landscape around the Foolish Brothers. The second, which should have been more innocent but chilled the marrow in his bones, was that of freshly dug earth.

Kaspar shook his mane.
Why should I be afraid? Nothing can threaten me here. I am king of this domain.
Yet he proceeded with caution, afraid of what he might see if he went any closer. A faint yellow light shone in the distance, and he realized for the first time that there was some kind of dwelling on the other side of the copse, standing alone from the rest of the village.

Even though he knew whoever lived there would be unable to see him, he flattened his body as close to the ground as he could, proceeding with the same stealthy caution he might use when hunting.

He halted as two figures emerged from the trees. Both big, bulky men, one older than the other, with unkempt gray hair and a beard. His companion had dark hair tied in a ponytail and wore glasses that glittered with the reflected moonlight. On their own, they were not enough to concern Kaspar. What they struggled to carry between them was a different matter entirely.

The object had been wrapped in a tarpaulin, which had been trussed up with rope in a manner reminding Kaspar of the way his mother would prepare a joint of beef for roasting. The makeshift parcel gave off a rank smell of blood and excrement. Kaspar pawed at the grass, his teeth bared and his animal senses on high alert.

“Hurry up,” the bearded man snapped.

“I’m going as fast as I can, Bulmer,” his companion retorted. “This thing’s a dead weight.”

“Stop moaning. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get to bed.”

“I appreciate that, but why does it have be us getting our hands dirty again? Why can’t Lord High and Mighty lower himself to do some digging? Or would that somehow be an offense to almighty Leweilun?”

“He went and found the tribute in the first place. I’d say that counts as doing his share, wouldn’t you?”

The dark-haired man appeared distinctly agitated, looking around as if he expected to be caught in the act. “I just don’t know how you can be so laidback about all this. You don’t ever stop to think someone might be able to trace these disappearances back to us?”

“It’s a bit late to be getting cold feet now, Dane. And anyway, who’s honestly going to miss a seedy little rent boy? Some people might think taking him off the streets was doing the city a favor…”

They stopped their shuffling procession by a shallow trench. Reddish mud had been piled up beside it, giving off the scent that had agitated Kaspar so much.

The two men swung the untidily wrapped bundle forward and dropped it into the prepared hole. Then they reached for shovels that rested against the mound of recently excavated earth. Kaspar heard the hollow sound of clods of earth pattering against tarpaulin.

He yearned to spring from his hiding place and tear the pair to shreds with his teeth and claws. Everything he’d feared about this place had been proved. The body they carried between them, the talk of Leweilun…

But what would killing them achieve? It wouldn’t bring the corpse they’d just tossed into that shallow grave back to life. And from what he’d overheard, at least one other man had been involved in the evening’s activities. Someone who would surely come running at the sound of any commotion. Someone who might have a knife—or a gun…

He needed to get back to the house and let Jon know what he’d seen. Jon would know what to do. Stealthily he paced backwards, out of the clearing, keeping wary eyes on the two men as they continued to fill in the trench. When he stood on a dry twig, it snapped with a crack that seemed to echo in the quiet night. He froze, holding his breath.

The dark-haired man stopped what he was doing. “Did you hear that?” he exclaimed in panicked tones. “Someone’s here. They’ve seen us. Oh, God, Bulmer, what are we going to do?”

His companion scoffed. “Calm down. Why would anyone be skulking around in the woods at this time of night? It’ll have been a rabbit or something. Nothing to worry about.”

Kaspar waited till they’d both resumed digging then turned and ran back in the direction he’d come. He crashed through the undergrowth, following the course of the brook. It led him out to a grassy slope, at the bottom of which he saw the main road, winding round the hill like a long, dark ribbon.

He sucked more air into his burning lungs and hurried down to where his bike still waited for him. Even though he was sure he’d left the two men back in the copse, he couldn’t resist one last look back to convince himself he hadn’t been followed.

As it always did, the transformation from lion to man left him disorientated for a moment. Crouching on the ground, he rubbed the back of his neck and blinked slowly a couple of times. Then he rose to his feet and went to pick up his clothes.

Once he’d dressed, he climbed onto his cycle and began to pedal down the hill. All the way back to Ellie’s house, his mind replayed the scene in the shadow of the Foolish Brothers. The body wrapped in tarpaulin, the two men working to bury it as quickly as they could. The lingering scent of blood and the shadow of death that surrounded the stones. He wished he could forget what he’d seen but he knew the images were etched too deeply on his memory.

Things will be better when I’ve spoken to Jon. He’ll help me make sense of all this.

Kaspar unlocked the door and let himself into the house. As he stowed his bike against the radiator in the hallway, Jon emerged from the living room, his face a mask of barely contained worry and self-doubt.

“Hey, Jon, I didn’t expect you to be up.” He tried to keep his voice light. He knew he owed Jon an explanation but didn’t know what he could say that wouldn’t make him sound crazy.

Chapter Nineteen

Jon had woken with the urgent need to relieve his bladder. He’d wanted to turn on the bedside light so he could negotiate his way through the unfamiliar bedroom but that ran the risk of waking Kaspar. As his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, he’d noticed there was an empty space where Kaspar should have been lying and the bedcovers had been thrown to one side.

“Kaspar,” he’d called out. “Are you in the bathroom?”

When he didn’t get an answer, he’d tried to tell himself not to worry.

He’s probably just got a case of the post-sex munchies and gone down to the kitchen to make a snack.

With the lamp switched on, he had found his shirt among the tangle of clothes on the floor. Even though Kaspar had said that Ellie wouldn’t be back for a couple of days, he didn’t feel comfortable walking around in the nude. Having pulled the garment on and buttoned it up, he’d gone to the bathroom. Once he’d used the toilet, he’d gone downstairs in search of Kaspar.

There had been no sign of him. Moreover, his bike was missing from the hallway. So Kaspar must have gone to the fridge, discovered he was out of milk and set off for the all-night supermarket down the road. Jon hadn’t been able to think of any other reason for his disappearance—at least, not one that didn’t conjure up all manner of unwanted implications.

His mind had raced.
What if he’s got some kind of drug habit he’s never told me about and he’s gone off to score a fix somewhere? What if I wasn’t enough for him tonight and he’s gone out to meet another man?

Those ideas were foolish and he’d known it. The sex they’d had—the punishment scene they’d played out and the game with the vibrator—was the hottest he’d ever known. Kaspar had been thoroughly satisfied by the time they’d crawled into bed, exhausted.

You wouldn’t be thinking like this if not for the way Simon treated you.
Not everyone had that kind of dark side, that compulsive need to cheat and sleep around. Though who was to say Kaspar wasn’t hiding some secret of his own. After all, how well did Jon really know him, for all the time they’d spent in each other’s company? He’d never been particularly forthcoming about his reasons for leaving Amsterdam, for one thing.

No, Kaspar’s just popped out to the shop. He’ll be back in a couple of minutes and then we can both have a cup of tea.

Except as Jon had sat in the living room, half-watching one of the rolling news channels, five minutes had stretched into ten and still there was no sign of his lover. Half an hour had passed, and he found himself picturing the worst.

He’s had an accident. God, that’s it. Some drunk driver’s knocked him off his bike and he’s on the way to hospital. Or maybe he’s dead, and the police are on their way here right now to let me know. Unless he doesn’t have any identification on him, in which case…

Jon had been distracted from his frantic imaginings by the sound of the front door opening. He’d dashed out into the hall to be greeted by the sight of Kaspar wheeling his bike into the house.

“Hey, Jon, I didn’t expect you to be up.”

“And just where the hell have you been?” Jon had hoped to keep the venom out of his voice, but he didn’t manage it. He’d been eating himself up with worry and now here was Kaspar, strolling in as if absolutely nothing was wrong.

Except that wasn’t the case. Kaspar had dark circles etched under his eyes and wore a strange, haunted expression, as though all the demons of hell had pursued him back from wherever he’d been.

“Jon. Something terrible’s happened.” The words tumbled out of Kaspar’s mouth. “The stones… They’re killing people.”

“Kaspar, slow down. You’re not making any sense. What do you mean the stones are killing people?”

“No, no.” Kaspar took a deep breath and made a visible effort to compose himself. “It’s like you said. There’s been a sacrifice at the Foolish Brothers tonight.”