by K. Z. Snow
Startled awake, Bentcross rolled out of bed with a thud and a string of curses. “Clancy?” he whispered, rubbing his elbow.
“Simon!” The floor quaked.
He scrambled to his feet and lunged toward the dim rectangle of the bedroom doorway. “Clancy!” he cried, making his way through the kitchen, banging his shin on a chair. “Is that you? Are you throwing a tantrum? Please tell me it’s you and you’re throwing a tantrum.” Once he’d stumbled out of his house and into the snow-flecked darkness, he flung aside the canvas covering the cellar doors. “I’m here, darling, I’m here. I’ll let you out.”
“Don’t call me darling, you lunatic! Why are you holding me prisoner?”
Simon responded with an ecstatic grin. “Yes, it’s you.” He fumbled in his pockets for the key to the padlock.
“Who else would it be? Have you kept other men in your cellar like crocks of pickles? And where are my clothes? And why am I bandaged?”
With a heavy clatter, Simon pulled the chain free and lifted the doors. He was still beaming.
Clancy shot out of the dark cavity like an albino bat with a score to settle, yet he landed beside Simon with his characteristic grace. Simon immediately kissed him, fervidly, then wrapped his arms around Clancy’s smooth, slender body. It was cool again, not feverishly warm.
“Come inside,” he said. “Your clothes are in the bedroom. They’re all clean.”
He felt Clancy’s muscles relax and then tighten in a different way as he returned the embrace, as he rested his cheek against Simon’s hair.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.
“I’ll tell you later.” Gods, it felt so good to hear Clancy’s voice, to hold him, to know he was himself again. Soon they’d be bantering and bickering, laughing and loving. They’d be together.
“Something’s happened, hasn’t it? Something’s happened that wasn’t good for either of us.”
“Yes.”
“Was I burned by the sun? My skin feels tight and tender under these bandages.”
Simon nodded. “I’ve been taking care of you, not keeping you prisoner. You haven’t quite been… in your right mind.” He pulled back far enough to look into Clancy’s eyes. “Gods, I love you. Now I know just how much. Don’t ever again feel you must answer to me or be at my beck and call. Tell me to go to straight to hell if I make any demands on you. I mean that.”
Smiling pensively, Marrowbone touched his face. “Some demands are justified, Simon.” He moved toward the back door. “Come on. You must be freezing out here. I’ll wash up and get dressed and shoot into the city to feed. Then I’ll come right back.” When they entered the dark house, Clancy again turned to Simon. “We’ll have the whole night to—” Smiling, he pushed his hips against Simon’s. Simon drew in a sharp breath. Clancy’s cock was rigid, demanding, and his own instantly stiffened in response. “It seems I haven’t been satisfied in a while,” Clancy murmured against Simon’s neck. “My flesh feels ready to split open like an overripe fruit.”
Simon groaned as they kissed. “Feed here,” he said in a husky voice, pulling his shirt open to bare his chest. Buttons pattered to the floor. He’d never felt such keen excitement.
The indigo of Clancy’s eyes deepened as he lowered his gaze to the offering. Thin red lines scintillated around his irises. His breath quickened, coming hard through his plush, slack lips. “You shouldn’t have said that. It’s an invitation, and very ill-advised.” Still, he languorously swiped his tongue through the dark hair on Simon’s chest.
Light-headed and panting, Simon pressed toward him. “Do it. I want you to.” They began kissing.
“It’s a very erotic experience. Heady.” Clancy’s cool mouth, warming now, again slid downward. “Your climax will be like none you’ve ever felt before. The fact we love each other will make it even more intense.”
Simon’s cobs felt like knots of flame. “You’re not exactly dissuading me, you know.” He felt the sharp scrape of Marrowbone’s piercing teeth across one nipple. Pulsing, his jack began to leak. He clumsily undid his trousers and shoved them down.
Clancy growled as their unyielding cocks crushed together. He dug his fingers into Simon’s back and thrust his hips forward and sucked at Simon’s sweat-slicked skin. His restraint was palpable—a hot, squirming thing.
“You don’t understand,” Clancy said hoarsely. “You’ll want to keep giving. And I won’t be able to stop myself from taking. And then… you’ll be doomed.”
“No, I won’t.” Simon lifted Clancy’s head to force another kiss, this one wild and openmouthed, their moist lips dragging across each other’s face and neck. Simon’s fingers curled into the silk of Clancy’s hair. “We’ll save it for special occasions. Holidays. Birthdays.”
Clancy’s movements stilled as he choked on a laugh. “Are you serious, you madman?”
“Absolutely.”
“But it isn’t a holiday. Or your birthday. Or mine.”
Smiling, Simon nudged Clancy’s head back down to his chest. “Yes it is. Tonight it’s all three.”
WILLIAM SLEPT on. Bentcross hadn’t voxed. Nobody had appeared at the Eminence of Taintwell’s door.
Fanule stood at the bedroom window, watching the earthbound swirl of snowflakes. Some skittered softly against the glass. The yard was sparkling white now, not sere, and the air slipping around the windowpanes was bracingly fresh.
The seasons had turned a page. Perhaps he had too.
He glanced over his shoulder at the bed. No movement there, save for the gentle rise and fall of the duvet over William’s chest.
Fanule had no way of knowing if his efforts had been fruitful. He couldn’t bring himself to contact anybody and ask. Maybe he couldn’t face the prospect of failure.
“You’ve earned your title and infused it with meaning.”
Had he? Fanule didn’t know. He would’ve been grateful simply to steer clear of the path his father had taken. Driving William away had scared him witless, and if he could avoid becoming a vain, self-important, self-serving creature, he’d feel he had accomplished enough.
His thoughts turned philosophical. Where was Zofen now? His physical being, or what was left of it, was back in the bog. But what had become of his essence? Surely a mind that inquisitive and a will that strong couldn’t be snuffed into nonexistence like a candle flame.
Fanule couldn’t help but believe his father’s spirit restlessly rode the winds. Zofen wouldn’t resign himself to rest. Not just yet. He’d do it in his own time.
Something knocked at the windowpane, making Fan jump.
“I think if I still lived in Taintwell, I’d hold my head a bit higher because you’re my son.”
A chill skated between Fanule’s shoulder blades. Don’t be ridiculous, he admonished himself. That was just an acorn, or falling ice from the eaves.
“Fan? What’re you doing?”
He wheeled around so abruptly, he nearly tripped over his feet.
“Please come here. I want you beside me. I’ve missed you.”
A mewl of surprise and gratitude came from Fanule’s throat as he loped toward the bed and dropped to his knees beside it. “William,” he exhaled, stroking his lover’s hair, holding his face and kissing him, his bones loosening and muscles melting at the feel of those soft, once-again responsive lips.
William held his head in place and kissed him again, passionately. He gently touched Fanule’s damp eyelashes. “Have you been crying? I hope you’re not still feeling melancholic.”
“No. No. I’m not having a low spell. Not the kind you’re used to me having. I just can’t bear the thought of what I did. I know I hurt you, William, and I beg you to forgive me. I’d rather lose my ears again than lose you.”
William frowned. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”
“It’s the truth. When I was punished in that subbasement, I knew I didn’t deserve it. Outrage helped dull my pain. But this pain I deserve.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Wi
lliam’s forehead. “My second wing was ripped off and no one was responsible but me.” He stared intently into William’s eyes and tried to pour every dram of his devotion into the look. “I adore you, sweet man. I cherish you beyond measure and expression. If cutting myself open would allow you see my love, I’d do it. If begging would emasculate me but secure your forgiveness, I’d beg without regret.”
William curled onto his side and covered Fanule’s hands with his. “It wasn’t as if you locked me in an iron maiden, Fan. Mrs. Scrubb’s accommodations are quite comfortable. Besides, I know that when your illness seizes you, you’re not entirely in control of your words and actions.”
“So you don’t really want me to leave you alone?”
“Obviously not, if I came back here. I’ve been heartsick from the moment you told me to go away.” William’s brows dipped. “Funny, but I don’t remember coming back. I remember wanting to, and being concerned about you, but—”
Fanule put three fingers against his lips. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Just let me look at you. Your eyes are so bright, William. When I first saw you in that tavern on Skipskin Mews, I marveled at how they shone through the smoke. Did I ever tell you that?”
William smiled. “No, but it’s not important. You’ve already complimented me enough for five lifetimes.”
“That’s because you deserve it.” Fanule briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been a total ass, but I promise—”
Now William silenced him. “You make quite the handsome martyr, Eminence,” he said, “but I prefer your other identity. Martyrs are tiresome. Just be Fanule Perfidor and tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you. There. Everything’s settled. Three sincere words are much more economical than three hours of self-flagellation.”
Fanule grinned. He was sure he’d never felt such joy. “From now on, I want you to tie me to the bed and pour that damned medicine down my throat if need be. I mean it, William. I’ll never again let my pride ruin our happiness.”
“I’ll gladly tie you to the bed, Fan, but it won’t be medicine I’ll pour down your throat.” William threw off the duvet and rolled half onto his belly. His hips writhed against the bedclothes, and his voice grew molten. “I’m quite desperately in need of your kind attentions. It’s been a while since the man I love has touched me.”
Fanule shed his clothing so fast, it might as well have been on fire. As he crawled into bed, he cast a glance at the window. Now this, Father, will be a good job.
About the Author
If there’s one thing K.Z. SNOW loves more than indulging her wayward imagination, it’s the natural world and, especially, animals. She’s been a companion to most domesticated creatures and a good number of the feral ones commonly known as men. After too many turbulent years, her life in the upper Midwest is now sublimely uneventful.
Her Dreamspinner novel The Zero Knot won a 2012 Rainbow Award in the YA/Coming of Age category.
You can visit K.Z. at her blog, http://kzsnow.blogspot.com
or website, http://www.kzsnow.com/
or chat with her on Twitter, https://twitter.com/k_z_snow
and Facebook, https://www.facebook.com/KZSnow.
Feel free to e-mail K.Z. at [email protected].
By K.Z. SNOW
NOVELS
The Zero Knot
NOVELLAS
Abercrombie Zombie
A Hole in God’s Pocket
Jude in Chains
The Prayer Waltz
precious_boy
Visible Friend
Xylophone
THE MONGREL SERIES
Mongrel
Merman
Machine
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
The Mongrel series from K.Z. SNOW
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The Mongrel series from K.Z. SNOW
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Also from K.Z. SNOW
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Also from K.Z. SNOW
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More Steampunk from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
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Historical Romance from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
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Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
5032 Capital Circle SW
Suite 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886
USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Machine
© 2014 K.Z. Snow.
Cover Art
© 2014 Anne Cain.
[email protected]
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only
and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-484-3
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
April 2014
