Kiran held out his hand. “Come here.”
Rohan clasped Kiran’s hands, savored the bite of his fingers as they gripped and drew him closer. Their gazes met, held. Silent messages passed between them, acceptance and understanding.
They kissed, hunger driving Rohan, making him want to stake a claim and be claimed. His urgency leapt to Kiran and soon their bodies strained against each other, chests rubbed and cocks ground together. Choppy breathing interspersed with whispers of love. Rohan rolled, taking Kiran with him.
Rohan grinned up at Kiran. “Your turn.”
“What if I hurt you? This doesn’t seem familiar to me at all.”
“Sure, it might hurt, but it will be good at the same time. I’d like you to do this, but if you don’t want to that’s okay.”
“What does it feel like?”
“It’s amazing. It’s like being part of you. You’re tight and hot and I love the way you go crazy when I hit you in the right spot. What do you want to do?”
“Everything,” Kiran said without hesitation. “I’m trying hard to forget the lack of past but sometimes it’s easy to slip back into the black hole. It’s hard not to worry.”
Rohan nibbled Kiran’s biceps and licked the letter K over the bulging muscle before he answered. “I know, but you’re not alone. Remember that. You’re a good man, Kiran. Don’t let anyone try to tell you different.” He paused. “Why don’t you grab the lube?”
Kiran’s eyes widened, his chest and shoulders jerked in a noticeable quake before he reached for the bottle of lube Rohan had left sitting on the nightstand. He fingered the mark he’d put on Rohan and jerked away when Rohan gasped and arched against him. Their cocks slid together in a sensual kiss and they both groaned.
“Damn, if you do that again I don’t think I’ll last long. It felt as if you’d lit a fuse.”
“Good to know,” Kiran said, a hot gleam in his eyes. He moved down Rohan’s body, pausing to stroke and kiss, taking more time than Rohan had ever seen him use before. It made Rohan realize that although Kiran participated with enthusiasm, he didn’t initiate anything.
Rohan made a mental note to encourage Kiran to explore and lead, not that he minded taking the dominant role, but sometimes it felt damn good to receive attention from a lover. He hissed out a breath when Kiran’s hot mouth closed over his cock and he started to suck. Like now. Not even the faint bite of a sharp canine pushing against the side of his cock detracted from his excitement. He grasped the pleasure and rode it, exhilarated by the sensual hum crawling through his body. He registered the faint hiss the lube bottle made when squeezed and his excitement intensified. Seconds later a slippery finger stroked across his hole. The suction of Kiran’s mouth distracted him from the initial intrusion, but careful strokes across his gland grabbed his attention.
“Hell,” he muttered, the automatic jolt of his hips pushing him deeper into Kiran’s mouth.
The vibration around his cock told him Kiran was laughing while the pump of a finger in his ass told him Kiran was either a natural or he’d had previous experience. Another finger joined the first and the scissoring action opened him. Need roared out of control, a desperation to come.
“Damn, Kiran. You’re killing me, man.”
Kiran lifted his head, releasing his cock with a faint pop. “Good, I must be doing it right.”
Rohan swallowed the demand for Kiran to suck his cock again. This was Kiran’s show, and besides, Rohan didn’t think Kiran’s mouth should be anywhere near his delicate parts when Rohan marked his shoulder. The last thing they needed was an embarrassing emergency call to Gavin. They’d never hear the end of it despite medical confidentiality because Ambar would find out and tell everyone. He paused then he realized the contortions they’d have to go through for his thought to come true. He snorted. He was nervous and not thinking right.
“Rohan?”
“Any better and we’ll have to call Gavin.”
Kiran laughed. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be a kick?” He removed his fingers, leaving Rohan feeling empty and still needy.
The bottle sounded its distinctive squelch again. Rohan’s heart thudded three hard beats.
“You okay?”
“Eager,” Rohan confessed. “Empty.”
“I can fix that.”
“They why are you talking so much? Fix it for me.”
Kiran laughed, his bark of humor calming some of the impatience and angst in Rohan. Kiran moved and Rohan closed his eyes, the darkness highlighting every sensation bombarding his senses. The faint pressure against his entrance brought a rush of both anticipation and a sweet burn.
He wanted to tell Kiran to take it slow, to give him orders as to what to do and how to do it. He didn’t, remaining silent and still, waiting to learn what Kiran would do next. Kiran withdrew a fraction and returned, pushing farther this time. He leaned over Rohan and kissed his neck using a combination of sucking and nibbles, the rasp of his tongue. Then Kiran placed his mouth over his mark and gently laved it with his tongue. Once again the surge of lust and pleasure took him by surprise. His entire body bucked, impaling Kiran’s cock deeper.
Face-to-face, with Rohan’s cock trapped between their bodies, they moved in an increasingly faster dance. Kiran withdrew and thrust in slow even strokes until his cock fully impaled him.
Kiran lifted his head and sought his lips. The kiss was sweet, almost chaste, but it said more than words ever could to Rohan. Kiran loved him. If he would only say the words…
Kiran’s breathing became labored, his large body shuddering in Rohan’s arms. Rohan wanted to ask if it was still okay for him to bite. He wanted permission but fear kept him quiet. There was still a tiny part of him that doubted Kiran. Shoving the anxiety away, he focused on the pleasure, the cock filling his ass, the scent of sex, of Kiran. The touch of Kiran’s mouth. The friction as the head of his cock rubbed Kiran’s chest.
“Rohan, I understand what you meant. This feels so good.” Kiran punctuated his words with a leisurely stroke until he filled Rohan.
Rohan groaned, his balls so tight he thought they might burst. Each time with Kiran felt better than the last. He gripped Kiran’s shoulders and nuzzled his neck. “Touch my mark again,” he said. “Please.” He turned the abrupt order into a plea.
Kiran covered Rohan’s mark with his mouth and sucked lightly. The jolt of pleasure made Rohan moan out loud. Before the thought even registered, he bit down on the fleshy part of Kiran’s neck, the roar of ecstasy making his toes curl. He tasted Kiran’s blood as he came, the warm spurt of semen trapped between their clammy bodies. Kiran’s warm breath caressed his mark, and he was vaguely aware of Kiran coming as well. They collapsed together in a heaving pile, both gasping for air.
“That was amazing,” Kiran said in a low voice. “Intense. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in all my life.” He ran his fingers over Rohan’s chin and placed a kiss on his jawbone, almost purring as he rubbed against Rohan.
Rohan took a look at his shoulder. “Shit, you’re bleeding still.” Rohan flicked his tongue over the wound, cleaning it gently.
“I…will it always feel so sensitive?” Kiran asked, shuddering. “Every time you touch it, my cock twitches.” With another soft gasp, Kiran pulled away and stood. He stumbled from the bedroom, and Rohan heard running water.
Sighing, he placed his hands behind his head. Pleasure and well-being suffused his entire body. Kiran appeared with a cloth in hand and handed it to Rohan.
“Thanks. You okay?” Rohan’s gaze went to the livid mark on Kiran’s shoulder. At least it wasn’t bleeding now. He took care of cleanup and waited in silence while Kiran returned the cloth to the bathroom. “Kiran?”
Kiran was difficult to read sometimes but he felt a connection, stronger now than before. He thought his new mate was okay but he wanted confirmation.
Kiran joined him on the bed, sliding his arms around Rohan. He pressed a kiss on Rohan’s shoulder and smiled. “I feel great. Really great.�
� That was amazing.
Rohan froze. Had he imagined that? Kiran’s thoughts in his mind. In a test, he thought, I love you. I’m so glad we found each other.
Holy shit! Kiran stared at him. I can hear your thoughts.
I couldn’t hear them until after I marked you. “Wow,” Rohan whispered. “That’s amazing.”
They grinned at each other, and the residual tension inside Rohan seeped away. They were marked mates now, and they had the future in front of them. A future together.
Chapter Nine
Kiran slipped into sleep, cuddled in Rohan’s arms. Almost immediately the dreams started.
Blood. So much blood.
It ran across the floor, soaking into his clothes, covering his body.
Horror shook his hand as he pushed to his knees and stood, the tiles cold beneath his bare feet. He blinked, took an involuntary step forward, almost slipping in the puddle of blood.
A moan of terror escaped. Three bodies. Two women and one man. Naked. Their throats cut. Numerous cuts on the rest of their bodies. Horror in their wide, staring eyes.
His gaze zeroed in on the bloody knife. The blade gleamed dully from the floor, not far from where he stood.
Footsteps sounded in the passage outside the room. The door knob rattled. He whirled around to see the door open. At the back of his mind, he noted his bloody footprints as he backed away, his heart pounding in fear.
“Holy hell. What happened?” the man in the doorway asked. His voice was rough and smoky. Low and soothing, yet the hair at the back of Kiran’s neck prickled with warning.
“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He had no memory of how he’d arrived in this room or what had happened. Kiran took another step, distancing himself from the man, pressing into the wall at his back. Fear was a tight band around his chest. His breath came in raspy gasps, tinged with panic, especially when the man smiled at him. That smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Kiran knew he was in trouble. The man thought he’d committed this atrocity. Another thought occurred and he sensed it was right. No, the man knew who had done this and intended to blame him.
The man scanned the room. He didn’t enter, his expression didn’t change. “Did you do this?”
“No!” Kiran’s denial rang with truth and a touch of revulsion. How could the man think he’d murdered his friends? He would never hurt another living creature, let alone one of his friends. It didn’t matter how much blood covered his clothes or how big the gap in his memory, he knew he hadn’t done this to his friends.
“That’s not what it looks like to me.” The soothing tone turned accusing, and Kiran’s dread grew proportionately. “Come with me.”
“No. I didn’t kill them.”
The man didn’t listen. He shouted for a guard, and two came running. They escorted Kiran to a room and shoved him inside, locking the door after him.
The tiny room was dark. Cold.
Kiran sank to the floor, his thin tunic and cotton trousers no barrier to the chill coming through the floor and walls. He shivered, his thoughts as dark as the room. Time ticked away. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Kiran wrapped his arms around his knees in an attempt to keep warm.
Helpless anger burned in him. They intended to blame him for the deaths. Damn, he was so cold. A rumbling growl sounded in his mind. Agitated and terrified, he pushed to his feet and started to pace. Back and forward. Back and forward. It helped him disperse the cold but didn’t do a thing for his fear. It was a living, breathing thing, pushing at his chest, his mind.
Hours passed, and Kiran had no idea what time it was, whether it was day or night. Then, finally, he heard footsteps. The bolt shot on the door and a man stood there.
“You will be tried for their murder this afternoon.”
Anger swelled inside Kiran. He hadn’t killed them. A growled started in his mind and suddenly pain overtook him. His body distorted, his mind screaming in agony. His bones stretched and reshaped, his face reforming then the pain disappeared. His senses sang with clarity, and the stench of the room made his stomach bubble with disgust. A horrified gasp drew his attention back to the man. He stood frozen in the doorway, and Kiran charged, a harsh growl of irritation echoing through the wall as he sprang.
He hit the door as it shut. He heard the panicked breaths of the man, the curses and the clang as the bolt shot home, trapping him inside the room once more.
“A tiger. A fuckin’ tiger.” The man’s voice was audible through the door. His hurried footsteps signaled his departure.
Kiran prowled the room, frustrated by his failure to escape.
Ten minutes passed and Kiran heard footsteps again. He tensed, his muscles bunching. The door flew open, bright lights blinded him before he could spring at the enemy. A gun fired. He felt a second of pain before he started swaying. Blackness followed and with it a soul-deep terror. Monsters stalked his mind. Everywhere he looked, they were there. They sliced his flesh, his frantic attempts to avoid them useless. Pain battled with fear. Hopelessness assailed him. A scream formed in his throat, the force of it burning his throat.
“Kiran. Kiran.”
His eyes flew open, his body ready to spring into flight mode.
“Kiran, it’s Rohan. You were shouting in your sleep. Growling. You okay?”
“A dream?” Kiran sat up and checked all corners of the room before swiping his hand over his hand. His rigid form relaxed slowly. A dream. It had all been a dream, yet it had seemed so real. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No problem.” Rohan’s warm arms came around him, tugging him back to a reclining position. Kiran fell against Rohan, his heart still pounding with remembered fear. Had it been a dream? Or had the accusations been right and he’d really murdered three people? He swallowed and forced his thoughts to sex. He didn’t know if Rohan could read his mind all the time, and he wasn’t ready to talk about the dream yet. It would be best if he kept this to himself while he thought about it and what the dream meant.
—
Two Weeks Later
Nando’s girlfriend informed David that Nando had gone to New Zealand on business. When pushed she’d admitted Nando rang her every few days and he was currently in the South Island. Blackmail gained him all sorts of information, and David wasn’t afraid to use every method at his disposal if it helped him learn the fate of his beloved slave.
His inquiries at the house had produced a concoction of weird stories about screaming men and the roar of tigers in the middle of the night. And blood. One servant swore that blood flowed across the tiled floor of the one of the slaves’ common rooms. David wasn’t sure what to make of that tale since the servant seemed to spin into madness, sometimes lucid. Sometimes not.
He’d checked again for the tracking beacon he’d planted at the back of his slave’s neck but found no sign of life. It was as if his slave had vanished off the face of the Earth.
The plane touched down in Christchurch. Fatigue ate at David, slumping his shoulders and making him feel every one of his forty-five years. Despite wanting to start his search for Nando, he knew rest was necessary. He’d asked his secretary to contact him once she knew of Nando’s most recent location. He’d book into a hotel and rest while he waited.
—
When Nando hit Christchurch the tracker unit started beeping. Nando turned the rental onto the shoulder of the road and grabbed it off the passenger seat to check the location.
“About time!”
He scanned the unit and checked the map. South of Dunedin. A small town called Middlemarch. Perfect. Fewer witnesses in a small town. He could be in and out in a matter of hours, find Kiran and do the deed.
“I should have killed him in India. Done the job myself instead of delegating the task.” Nando’s words echoed in the interior of the car. He checked for traffic and pulled back onto the road, the nervous tension inside dispersed by newfound confidence.
No, he’d done everything right. He’d imprisoned Kiran, and taken his opportunities as they’d come
. At least now he could kill Kiran away from prying eyes at home. Kiran’s death would appear like a random murder, and he’d leave the country before the local cops had a chance to pin the death on him.
Perfect.
He’d go back to his life with no one the wiser.
—
“He’s going to Middlemarch,” David’s secretary said in her crisp voice. “It’s a country town not far from Mosgiel. I’ve booked you a flight from Christchurch to Dunedin and organized a rental car. Nando is driving from Christchurch so you will arrive in Middlemarch before him.”
“Thank you,” David said. “Do we know why he’s going to Middlemarch?”
“No. The girl doesn’t know.”
“Do you believe her?” David trusted his secretary’s judgment and paid her accordingly.
“I believe she is telling the truth.”
“So it’s possible he might change his destination?”
“Possible, but according to the girlfriend he sounded excited about reaching Middlemarch. Would you like me to book a room in Middlemarch for you?”
“No,” David said slowly. “I think I’ll try to locate him first so I can follow and observe. He won’t be expecting me. I want you to find out where he’s staying. Ask the girl to find out.”
“She might balk at that,” the secretary warned.
“Try,” David ordered. “I will contact you at the same time tomorrow.”
The next day he waited impatiently in Dunedin. Damn, he was tired of this chasing around the countryside looking for Nando. All he wanted to do was learn the truth about Kiran. Although his gut told him Kiran was still alive, reality had to intrude. It hadn’t taken long to learn about his youngest brother and the mask he wore for the family. It was possible Kiran was dead despite what his sources in India had told him. Either way, his brother had to pay. He had to learn who the boss was in the family, where the power belonged.
His cell phone rang, and when he checked the screen he saw it was the call he was waiting for from his secretary.
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