sepia and showing an older man, probably in his late
forties, dressed in a very old fashioned tuxedo. The guy
wore a large ring on the third finger of his right hand. The
stone was similar to onyx or some other dark jewel. He
stood proud and tal , with his hand resting upon a carved
walking stick. The walking stick itself was quite exquisite.
The handle was a dragon and the length of the stick itself
was the tail. Turning the photo over, he read a name and
date, Sebastian Proctulay — 1925. Michael turned it once
more to study the man’s face.
“Who are you?” Michael asked the empty room.
The journal itself was written in a language he didn’t
understand. It was more symbols then lettering. His memory
ticked over and he tried to remember where he had once
seen something like it before, something he couldn’t quite
put his finger on. Concentrating, Michael closed his eyes
trying to remember. Before he knew it, he had fal en asleep
on the dusty mattress with the journal and photograph
grasped firmly in his hands. His dreams were fil ed with a
past which was not his own. Michael found himself face to
face with Sebastian Proctulay, and he didn’t like that one
damn bit.
Michael thought Sebastian could see deep inside his
soul. It was almost as if Sebastian were twisting, changing
Michael’s very way of thinking. It was so intense. Every
time Sebastian spoke, all Michael could do was shake his
head. He didn’t want to hear anything that fell from his lips.
It would be all lies. Michael knew if he listened, the people
he loved would only end up getting hurt. Sebastian
seemed to be angry with him for changing things. What
things, he didn’t know. Yet, as strange as this was, he
wasn’t afraid of him. Deep down, he knew Sebastian held
no real power over him.
§ § § §
Sebastian wondered why Michael fought him so much.
Why did he keep chal enging him? Didn’t Michael know
sooner or later he was going to win? Sebastian knew his
plan could not fail.
He hated that, since Michael had joined the family, they
had started to behave more human again. His subtle
commands were being shattered and swept away until
nothing of him remained. He couldn’t al ow this to happen.
In his heart he knew Christian needed to pay for his crimes.
To be able to move on, Sebastian needed retribution for
what Christian had done to him, even if it meant destroying
them al .
Taking out Christian’s family wasn’t going to be easy,
but Sebastian knew there had to be a way both he and the
Eldren could get what they wanted. He realised that he
needed to give it some more thought. Hearing footsteps in
the hal he cringed in distaste — the bitch was coming. Oh
how he hated her.
§ § § §
Disorientation hit Michael as he woke many hours later,
more tired than when he went to sleep. In his hands he was
stil holding the journal and photograph. Two thoughts ran
through his mind: First, Ambrose Street meant “The Street
of the Ever-Living.” How appropriate was that? Second, he
was thirsty. So goddamn thirsty his throat burned with need.
He hated knowing he would soon have to do something
about it.
While he descended from the attic to the silent house
below, Michael thought about his dream and what it al
meant. It was now dark and he felt hurt that everyone had
left for the night. Why hadn’t they come to find him? It
pissed him off a little. Was this their way of saying he didn’t
matter enough to even worry about? The silent house felt
strange, yet in a weird way he relished the peace and quiet.
Stripping off, he walked to the bathroom and stood
beneath the stinging heat of the shower. His mind drifted
back to the little he knew of Sebastian. He wanted to know
more about the man because the more he understood him,
the better prepared he would be to face him when the time
came. Somehow he had a feeling the answers were
somewhere hidden in the attic. But before searching he
needed to feed.
Returning to his room he sorted through Christian’s
clothing until he found something suitable to wear. Inhaling
deeply, he sighed as he tasted Christian’s lingering scent
in the air. It drove him crazy with want. Dressing, he left the
top two buttons at his throat of the red dress shirt undone.
Glancing at himself in the mirror he thought he would do. No
use complaining; who would listen to him? He would just
have to live with al his flaws. It was just a pity there were so
damn many of them.
§ § § §
The Keyhole was ful of life when Michael walked in
through the door. So many unsuspecting people mil ing
around, not even realizing what stood among them.
Standing off to one side he watched. He hated the thought
of harming any of these people, yet he knew he must. Even
he knew he needed to build up his own strength, because
when the time came he needed to be at his best, not weak
because of his dislike of what he had become. Especial y if
he was going to keep being shunned by his new family.
Would they even stil want him in the house? If they kept
ignoring him he might just have to strike out on his own;
there was no sense in staying where he wasn’t wanted.
Time would tel he supposed. His gaze roamed over the
crowd searching for what he needed, for what would suit his
purposes the most.
A young man was staring at him from across the room.
The guy couldn’t be any older than Michael himself. With a
curt nod of his head Michael smiled, trying to be seductive,
and waited for him to respond. Hopeful y he pul ed it off
without looking like a complete idiot. A grin touched his lips
as the stranger bowed with mock formality. Michael knew it
wouldn’t be long before the young man would cross the
room to join him. Someone was staring at him, he could
feel their gaze boring into him, so Michael let his gaze
wander. He was surprised to see Charm, Kerr, and
Christian were sitting in the same booth he, Doyle, and
Christian had once shared. It wasn’t long before he spotted
Doyle walking toward the table carrying drinks. His
attention focused back on Christian’s face — he seemed
confused, hurt, and it made Michael’s heart ache.
Tearing his eyes away from Christian he refocused on
the approaching stranger. If he was going to do this then he
was going to do it his way.
“My name is Rhys. And you are?”
Taking the offered hand Michael brought it to his lips.
Rhys trembled in what Michael thought might be
anticipation as his lips pressed to the back of the hand he
held. Lust rushed through him when Rhys groaned as the tip
of Michael’s tongue darted out to taste his skin. It was al so
very intoxicating.
&n
bsp; “Michael,” he answered softly. It took al his wil power but
Michael’s eyes never wavered from his face. This trusting
guy was beautiful in his own way. Michael would have
preferred a woman, but beggars couldn’t be choosers
when his need for nourishment was this strong. He just
didn’t like the family watching him. It felt kinda weird.
“Would you care to dance or have a drink?” Rhys asked
nervously.
“Both.” He answered huskily, never relinquishing the
hand as he led the way onto the dance floor. Humming
along to the music, Michael pul ed Rhys in close. He
breathed in deeply as the scent of warm blood drifted
toward him. Soon. Rhys rested his cheek against Michael’s
shoulder and his arms came up to wrap around Michael’s
waist. It felt good and he couldn’t stop himself from
wrapping himself further around Rhys’s body. It was so
warm and vibrant.
Grinding his teeth in anger, Christian watched the
dancers on the floor. He knew Kerr hadn’t wanted to come
to the Keyhole, but had been persuaded just so Christian
would shut the hel up about it. At first, he was mildly
surprised by Michael’s appearance, and was even more
astonished by his choice of dance partners, seeing as he
declared to the family he wasn’t gay. Now Christian was
angry and confused. Hatred bit deep as he studied
Michael’s dance partner. Was this also one who would also
be al owed to remain alive? Earlier Christian had pointed
out the drunk to Kerr. The man stil seemed to be perfectly
healthy and positively human. Christian couldn’t take his
eyes off Michael as a whole world of pain crashed through
his soul. It hurt even more when at that exact moment
Michael chose to look straight at him.
“It seems our Michael has made a new friend,” Charm
murmured in Kerr’s ear, “and such a pretty one.” Her
fingertips brushed the back of his bald head. “Christian is
going to get his heart broken tonight. What do you think?”
Pretending not to listen, Christian was even more
confused by this conversation than he was by watching
Michael’s behaviour. Why was Charm tel ing Kerr his
business and how did she know watching Michael hurt
him?
“Yes,” Kerr replied softly.
For some strange reason Christian couldn’t dislodge the
feeling that tonight there was something different about
Michael — besides the fact he was wearing his clothes.
Something didn’t seem right. Was it just in his imagination
or was Michael pul ing away from the family? Pul ing away
f r o m him? His concentration final y broke as Michael
pressed his lips against the guy’s throat. Not wanting to see
anymore, Christian stood up so fast he knocked the drinks
out of Doyle’s hand. Trembling as hurt and anger waged a
war inside him. Christian stared at Michael for but a second
before he turned and walked away without saying a word to
Charm, Doyle, or Kerr. He didn’t want to have to watch
Michael like this. This was not something he needed in his
life. He knew he was pissed at Michael but he wasn’t
exactly sure why. It wasn’t as if Michael had ever declared
undying love for him or anything.
Doyle sat down in the seat that Christian had just
vacated. He was mesmerised by the sight of Michael and
the stranger he held in his arms. Turning he watched Charm
and Kerr to see what they thought of it al .
“Leave him be.” Charm’s grip tightened on the nape of
Kerr’s neck as he went to fol ow Christian. She, on the other
hand, was stil staring at Michael.
Doyle returned his gaze to Michael, who in turn was
watching Christian’s departure.
He was only half listening as Charm continued talking.
“They wil come together when and if the time is right. For
now they must do what they wil . Michael stil doesn’t know
who he truly desires.”
Stunned, Doyle stared at her and wondered what the hel
she was talking about. The dreams had told them al who
Michael bloody desired.
Kerr seemed to relax at her words. Doyle knew Charm
was right even if what she said made absolutely no sense.
He felt at a loss as to how much the family had changed
since Michael had come to them. It felt like he was losing
control of everything he held dear to him. The toughest
times were yet to come and he wasn’t sure how long he
was supposed to wait before he told them he knew who
Michael’s third and greatest love would be. It felt a little
weird tel ing them now, when Michael hadn’t even started
the first relationship.
Shaking his head, he sat back and watched Michael and
tried to figure him out just a little bit more.
§ § § §
Christian didn’t take much notice of his surroundings as
he walked home; his mind was occupied by other more
important things. He felt angry because Michael either
didn’t know — or if he did didn’t acknowledge —
Christian’s feelings for him. He realised maybe his feelings
for Michael truly were one-sided. He just knew he couldn’t
sit there and watch Michael anymore, couldn’t watch him be
with someone else. What the hel did Michael think he was
doing? If he was going to be gay then Michael could have
least been gay with him. Not that Christian had ever been
gay with anyone else, but he knew he would make an
exception for Michael. Somehow it just made sense for him
and Michael to be together. They shared a room and a bed
for crying out loud.
Al along the dreams had said Michael would love him. If
it was true then why was he now back at the night club in
someone else’s arms? How were they supposed to have a
relationship when Michael was already lying to him?
Straight my arse! He should just go straight back there and
thump the pair of them. Michael and the fucking stupid
hooker boy who was probably even right this second
seducing Michael away from him. Laughing out loud at the
stupidity of his messed up thoughts he startled a couple
passing by.
“What the hel are you looking at?” He demanded as they
stared at him.
Hurrying along, he stopped a few blocks over when he
came upon a baby owlet that must have fal en from its
perch. Staring up, he couldn’t see where it belonged.
Helpless like it was, he didn’t want to leave it here to
become the prey of something else. Picking it up and
cradling the tiny trembling creature to his chest he hurried
home. He realised it didn’t seem to be hurt as he gave it
the once over when they were safely home. He grabbed the
smal stepladder on his way past the laundry and took it to
his room. It would do for a perch until he found something
better. Leaving the baby bird huddled on the top tread,
before heading back to the kitchen to find something to
feed his new found friend. He s
miled when he saw his
charge was exactly where he left him. “I think I wil cal you
Drack. You look like a Drack to me. Do you like that name
my pretty baby?” Christian said softly as he gently stroked
the feeding bird. He was amazed the bird let him touch him
at al .
As he lay upon the bed Christian poured his heart out as
he watched the glittering eyes of the owlet as it stared at
him in the dark. “I don’t understand what he thinks he’s up
to,” Christian spoke softly to the bird. “I mean, he could
have at least asked me to dance. I wouldn’t have minded
being in his arms… he’s in my clothes after al . It would
have only been fair, don’t you think?”
Sighing, Christian scratched his chest. “Now he’s just
going to be covered in stink from the bloody stupid hooker
boy he just picked up. We’l never get the smel out of the
fricken bed.” The owlet shifted on the perch. “Stupid
Michael … If he’s straight then I’l kiss my own arse. Or his, I
don’t mind… Either way somebody’s arse should be
kissed. What do you think?”
§ § § §
As difficult as it was, Michael ignored Charm, Doyle, and
Kerr. He knew they watched him from where they sat. Were
they judging him? Honestly he didn’t care, except for the
little nagging voice who told him Christian had never
returned, and it was entirely his fault. Somehow he had hurt
Christian. Brushing his doubts aside, his mind fil ed entirely
with the thought of feeding.
His gaze focused on Rhys’s face. He admired the way
Rhys’s skin blushed under his touch. It made his scent so
much stronger and so much more tantalising. His finger tips
traced lightly over his cheek and his thumb caressed the
corner of his mouth. He wanted Rhys to feel at ease. He
wanted him to feel desirable. Most of al , he had to get Rhys
to give him what he wanted — what he needed — without a
fight.
Reaching for his hand, Michael entwined their fingers as
Rhys spoke against his ear, “We could go somewhere if
you want; somewhere a little more private.” He sounded as
if he didn’t expect Michael to agree so readily. Maybe he
was imagining things but Rhys seemed slightly
embarrassed as they left together. Michael thought maybe
Rhys was stil deep inside the closet.
Rules Are Meant to Be Broken Page 9
