by Cardeno C.
“I hadn’t planned on it.” He had planned to make an appearance at each party, give his greetings, and then go home and do what he had been doing every night for the past week—lose himself in pleasure with Johnnie. Although now he was amending that plan to first include a conversation about whatever was bothering Johnnie.
“Oh,” Johnnie said on a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay.”
“You’re okay waiting until later to talk?” Hugh repeated to be certain Johnnie wasn’t simply appeasing him.
“Yes.” Johnnie nodded.
Relieved that issue was resolved, Hugh said, “I want you to enjoy yourself at this festival.” He kept his voice low so the shifters behind him wouldn’t hear. “I realize it’s still hard for you, but I want you to try.”
Arching his eyebrows, Johnnie parted his lips and then blinked rapidly. “I don’t understand.”
“Bob for apples. Walk around the circle in the cake walk. Play horseshoes. You know”—Hugh grinned—“fun.”
“I’m a Siphon.”
“And I’m your Premier. Your job is to hold my power. My job is to interact with the pride so everyone feels included and important. We can both do our jobs and still enjoy ourselves.”
“I…I’ll try.”
That was all Hugh could ask for, so with what he hoped was an encouraging smile, he squeezed Johnnie’s nape a final time and then turned around and focused on his pride.
Hugh paid attention to his power throughout the afternoon, making sure his connection to Johnnie wasn’t stretched too thin. But he had been perfectly comfortable the entire time so he knew Johnnie had been diligent about staying close. He had also looked around for Johnnie every so often to see if the lion was enjoying himself. At first, Johnnie had been nervous, fidgeting as he darted his gaze around the field, but eventually, he had gotten comfortable enough to interact a bit with other lions and even play games.
By six o’clock, the crowd had thinned out—the shifters with cubs had gone home to trick-or-treat in their neighborhoods and those whose pride homes were hosting parties had left to get everything ready for their guests. When Hugh was sure he had made some sort of contact with each of his pride members, he glanced around, looking for Johnnie so they could leave. The sooner they started making the rounds at the parties, the sooner they could get home for the night.
The field where the pride held the festival, and other all-pride events, was fifty acres of mostly cleared land, interspersed with small clumps of ash trees. With booths, jumping castles, and rides set up everywhere, it wasn’t easy to locate one person. Knowing Johnnie couldn’t be far from him, Hugh started walking around, smiling at his lions and making small talk, but staying on track.
Eventually, he found Johnnie farther away than he would have thought possible, at the opposite end of the festival grounds, throwing orange beanbags into wicker baskets and laughing. Smiling in reaction to the happy sound, Hugh stopped walking, rubbed his palm over his chest, and watched Johnnie.
“You’re the Siphon, right?”
Though amusement booths blocked the person speaking from Hugh’s sight, it didn’t take him more than a few seconds to recognize the voice: Larry Ridley, Dennis Jones’s friend who was apparently still visiting. Hugh had never gotten in the way of his lions having guests on the Berk pride lands. Those visits often resulted in new lions asking for admission into the pride once the guests witnessed the prosperity of their community and the strength of their lions, but there was no chance of him granting Larry admission to his pride. The lion had an air of superiority and arrogance that set off warning bells in Hugh.
“Without you close to him, he dies, right?” The question sounded like an accusation. “Don’t you have to stay close to the Premier?”
“I—” Johnnie turned to his right, tension mapped on his face.
Larry sidled up next to Johnnie, their shoulders touching. “I guess it isn’t that close. Listen, I heard you tried—” He twisted sideways, put his mouth against Johnnie’s ear, circled his arm around Johnnie’s back, and continued speaking.
Between the distance and the ambient noise from the festival, Hugh could no longer hear what Larry was saying, but he saw enough to flare his temper.
“You’re standing too close to my Siphon,” Hugh growled as he stomped forward.
Jerking away from Johnnie, Larry flipped around and made eye contact with Hugh.
“Yes, I’m right here,” Hugh said in response to the surprise on Larry’s face. “These are my pride lands.” He closed the distance between them with heavy steps. “I belong here.” He wedged himself between the two men, blocked Johnnie from Larry’s view, and glowered down at the interloper. “You don’t. Tonight is the last night of your visit. Tomorrow you leave.”
Based on the ticking in Larry’s jaw and the defiance burning in his eyes, Hugh anticipated an attack or an argument, which he would have welcomed. He had always considered himself a calm and fair Premier whose pride followed him out of respect, rather than a mindless brute who used his physical strength to keep his lions in line, but never before had he felt such rage. Hugh struggled to keep himself from inflicting pain upon Larry, wanting the other lion to make the first move and justify anything that happened as a result. Unfortunately, Larry had enough sense to realize such a move would be his last.
“I apologize, Premier.” Larry dipped his chin and lowered his gaze, an action that would have been respectful by any other shifter, but wasn’t when he did it. “I didn’t mean any offense. I’m not from here so I didn’t know your customs.”
Though Hugh wanted to point out that the Berk pride didn’t have unique customs and that Larry’s actions would have been cause for punishment in any pride, he struggled to articulate precisely what had set his teeth on edge. And, more importantly, he could sense unrest from the pride members who had gathered around them. That wouldn’t do. Hugh wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to cause his lions worry, himself included.
Stepping back, he calmly said, “I’m sure Dennis has enjoyed his time catching up with you. Tomorrow you leave.” The point wasn’t up for discussion so Hugh didn’t give Larry the opportunity to start one. Instead, he turned around, met Johnnie’s gaze, and when he saw understanding there, took in a deep breath and began the slow process of saying goodbye to pride members as he made his way from the festival to his vehicle.
“You called me your Siphon,” Johnnie said ten minutes into their otherwise silent drive.
Hugh cringed. “I know how much you hate being called by your title instead of your name.” And at first, diffusing a volatile situation was the reason Hugh had made a conscious effort to use Johnnie’s name. But as they’d spent more time together, Johnnie had become…Johnnie, and Hugh had stopped thinking of him as the Siphon. “Dennis’s friend raises my hackles,” he grudgingly admitted. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” Which was a problem Hugh very rarely had so either he was out of sorts or Larry Ridley was dangerous enough to set off warning bells in his subconscious.
“No. I mean, yes, that’s true. But that’s not what I meant. It isn’t what you said.”
Glancing away from the road, Hugh looked at Johnnie and arched his eyebrows questioningly.
“Well, it is, but—” Johnnie licked his lips. “You said ‘my Siphon’ not ‘the Siphon.’”
Refocusing on the road, Hugh analyzed that comment. He had learned that Johnnie wasn’t one to make off-hand remarks. Which wasn’t to say he was quiet, necessarily, just…judicious in his words. When Johnnie said something, it had meaning, even if that meaning wasn’t always clear. So Hugh had learned to listen, really listen, when Johnnie spoke and to then think about what he said.
Had Hugh called Johnnie his Siphon at the fall festival? Thinking back to that moment, he recalled that he had. Not because he remembered what he’d said, but because he remembered how he’d felt seeing Larry with Johnnie.
“Yes, I did,” he confirmed.
“That’s different from before.
”
Once again, Hugh considered the comment. Before Johnnie’d had a name, he had been the Siphon. For ten years, he had been siphoning Hugh’s power, so technically that made him Hugh’s Siphon. But had Hugh thought of him that way? The truth was, he hadn’t thought of him at all. Johnnie—the Siphon—had simply been there.
“You’re right,” he said, the reminder of how little attention he’d paid to Johnnie for so long making his chest burn to the point of distraction.
“Why?” Johnnie asked after a prolonged silence.
Lost in his musings, Hugh thought Johnnie was asking why he hadn’t noticed him for all those years, a question he had pondered several times without finding an answer.
“What changed?” Johnnie added.
Nothing. Nothing had changed. Hugh was busy from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to sleep. Lions constantly vied for his attention, he had a tremendous amount of responsibility, and thousands of people counted on him to keep them safe, prosperous, and happy. Johnnie had been there for all of that, and yet Hugh hadn’t seen him. Now that he knew Johnnie, hunted with him, cooked with him, talked about his day with him, and slept with him at night, Hugh couldn’t fathom how that had happened.
“Why did you say ‘my Siphon’ instead of ‘the Siphon’?” Johnnie asked, reminding Hugh of what they’d been discussing.
“You are my Siphon,” Hugh pointed out. But for years he hadn’t referred to Johnnie that way, hadn’t thought of Johnnie that way, and now Johnnie was asking why. Hugh pulled up next to the first pride home on that night’s visitation rotation and ground his teeth as he remembered Larry standing close to Johnnie, talking into his ear, and touching him. “Something about Larry isn’t right.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and squeezed them so tightly the metal pierced his palm. “The way he was behaving with you wasn’t right.”
“What does what you called me have to do with him?”
There was something about the look in Larry’s eyes, the set of his jaw, and the tone of his voice that niggled at Hugh, bothered him. And the way Larry had behaved with Johnnie struck Hugh as intimate and therefore wrong. Nobody except him should be intimate with his Siphon.
And with that thought, Hugh jerked in surprise, suddenly understanding what Johnnie had been asking all along. He opened his mouth to ask about the foreign feeling when Johnnie’s eyes suddenly widened in concern.
“What is that?” Johnnie nose twitched. “Is that…are you bleeding?” He quickly unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over the console, and reached for Hugh’s arm. “You’re bleeding!”
Following Johnnie’s gaze, Hugh saw red drops sliding through his clenched fist.
“Let go of the keys,” Johnnie said worriedly. “Hugh, let go.” He peeled Hugh’s fingers open, tossed the keys aside, and carefully examined his sliced palm.
“What happened?” Johnnie snapped his gaze to Hugh’s face while he gently traced the area around the wound with his fingertips. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re purring.” If he hadn’t heard it with his own ears, he wouldn’t have believed it, but sure enough Johnnie was purring.
“Oh.” Johnnie gulped and then looked down at Hugh’s palm, cradled in his lap.
Once again, Hugh followed his gaze. “What the hell?” The blood surrounding the injured area was still wet but the wound itself had nearly healed. As Hugh stared, his skin stitched itself together and the slight pain of his injury dissipated.
“I told you.” Johnnie carefully dragged his fingertips over the lighter, puckered skin and Hugh realized the only visual reminder of his injury was the drying blood. “I, uh, guess you’re healed.” Johnnie turned his lips up in a nervous smile and touched his own neck and upper chest. “All done purring.”
Closing and opening his hand, Hugh nodded. “Yes.” He stared at Johnnie. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you ever done it before? Other than to yourself.”
“No.” Johnnie shook his head.
Unsure of what to say, Hugh stared at Johnnie.
“You’re okay?” Johnnie asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we should get going.” Johnnie tilted his chin toward Hugh’s shoulder. “They’re waiting for you.”
The sound of laughter suddenly registered in Hugh’s brain. He glanced around and realized happy, costumed lions were clustered around his car, waiting to welcome him to the party. He couldn’t decide if he was annoyed at the interruption or grateful for it. Either way, it was time to go to work.
He sighed, reached for the door handle, and said, “Ready?”
“I’ll stay close,” Johnnie promised.
“Good.” And not because Hugh was worried about a Siphon being available to hold his power.
Chapter 10
“Are you up to hunting tonight?” Hugh asked.
A shiny brown lock fell over Johnnie’s eyes as he glanced up from his book. Instinctively, Hugh reached out and gently tucked it behind Johnnie’s ear.
“Sure.” Johnnie ducked his face but Hugh could still see his lips as they turned up into a soft smile. “I like hunting with you.”
“You’re good at it,” Hugh said. Not as good as lions who’d been at it for decades, but for someone who’d only been out a handful of times, Johnnie did remarkably well. His instincts were sharp, his senses honed, and he took advice well.
“I have a lot to learn.”
“We have plenty of time.” Hugh reluctantly pulled his hand away from Johnnie’s hair and sat next to him on the sofa. “We’re immortal, remember?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced.
A Siphoned Premier could live indefinitely, his power growing with every passing day and a Siphon’s life continued along with his Premier’s, both of them staying at their optimal physical condition. But that didn’t make them immortal, something Johnnie had been doing his level best to prove up until a month earlier. Worried he’d made Johnnie remember all the reasons he’d tried to take his life, Hugh quickly changed the topic.
“What were you reading?” He pointed toward the book on Johnnie’s lap. “Anything interesting?”
“Yes. It’s about game theory.”
“Game theory?”
“Uh-huh.” Johnnie twisted sideways and looked at Hugh excitedly. “It’s a mathematical concept, but it applies to a lot of things. We can even integrate some of the ideas into hunting.”
After a month getting to know Johnnie, Hugh was no longer surprised by how bright he was, or how arousing Hugh found his intelligence.
“Tell me more,” Hugh said, partly because he was interested in the topic, but mostly because he was interested in seeing Johnnie’s eyes sparkle and his face glow with excitement as he explained the latest piece of information he learned from a book.
“Yeah? You really want to hear?” Johnnie asked, his tone hopeful.
“Definitely.” Not as much as he wanted to throw Johnnie on the ground and rub their bodies together until they both exploded, but, yes, he wanted to hear Johnnie’s thoughts.
“Okay.” Johnnie beamed. “The idea is there’s a limited resource and multiple people vying for it. If they compete, it’s better for the winner but bad for the others. But if they work together, it’s better for the group as a whole.”
Johnnie looked at Hugh expectantly, so Hugh nodded to confirm he was paying attention. It wasn’t easy. Showing his appreciation for his pride members’ Halloween parties the previous night had taken longer than Hugh had anticipated. By the time they’d gotten home, it was nearly five in the morning and they hadn’t had enough energy to shower, let alone talk or screw. Then they’d been, not surprisingly, woken by a telephone call from a pride member; this one a mother worried about her admittedly rambunctious teenage sons. A visit to her pride house followed the call, after which Hugh had an unscheduled meeting with another lion who lived there and had a question relating to her job for one of the pride
-owned businesses. By the time he finished helping her, they had to hurry home so Hugh could take a call with a young Premier who had just started leading a pride. With those back-to-back obligations occupying him, Hugh hadn’t been able to sate himself with Johnnie and the desire strumming through his veins made it difficult to concentrate.
“One of the most famous game theory examples is the prisoners’ dilemma,” Johnnie continued explaining. “Two prisoners are arrested for a minor crime but are suspected of a much bigger one. The small crime can cost them each a month in jail but the big one makes it ten years. They’re put in separate rooms and told the first one to confess their part in the big crime walks out free from both crimes and the other one has to go to jail for the big one. If neither of them confesses to the big crime, then they both have a short sentence for the little crime—two months between them. But if one of them doesn’t trust that the other one won’t talk, or if one of them would rather have total freedom instead of a month in jail, even if it’s at the expense of his cohort, then he’ll confess. The total penalty will be much worse for the group—ten years—but only one of them will serve it.”
Once he finished his rapid-fire explanation, Johnnie took in a deep breath and said, “What do you think?”
Hugh blinked and forced himself to focus on what Johnnie had said instead of on how beautiful his blue eyes looked.
“I think that’s a really perceptive description of human nature.” He also thought Johnnie was cute when he got excited. He curled his hand around Johnnie’s knee and wondered when he had started thinking anybody was cute.
“But it’s not just humans,” Johnnie said. “That’s what I’m saying. Think about when we hunt. A lion sees a herd of deer and goes after them, hoping to catch one. But there’s more of them, right? What if they turned around as a group and attacked the lion? Maybe a few would be injured, but it’s not likely the lion would be able to kill any of them if he was busy defending himself from the herd.”
