by J P Sayle
Jumping up into the van, he felt it shift under his weight. Aaden got straight to the point, working out how to direct Joe to the mountain.
“Have you found anything?” Aaden watched Joe shoot him a quick glance while he spoke.
Joe pushed his hands through his messy mahogany hair. Frustration was evident in every movement. Worry etched deep around his chocolate eyes.
“Yep, though I’m not sure it’s going to help us, Aaden. Joel got here around five weeks ago. The fucker came straight after I’d notified the army I’d moved here.”
Joe’s tongue swiped at his dry lips. Pausing, he appeared to be gathering his thoughts, and judging by the distress-soaked air that filled the small space inside the van, they weren’t in any way happy.
Aaden forced himself to put on a positive front. Not what he was used to, but he tried to offer a reassuring smile as he went about directing Joe to Stuart’s location. He spoke carefully, “From what I’ve gleaned over the last few hours, those buildings you found in your search are the only ones that offer the privacy Joel would need. I have eliminated everything else you had as a possibility, leaving just those two. You have good instincts; someone taught you well.” He gave Joe another bolstering smile. The slump of Joe’s shoulders had him rushing on, knowing he’d fallen short with the smile.
“Glen Helen has an old tea shop that’s been empty for several years. There is no caretaker, and though it sits on a main road, it offers hidden parking round the back. There would be no real reason for anyone to stop there in the winter. Well, none that I can see. There are limited windows that overlook the road. Add in the hidden main car park, and it makes it an excellent place to hide out.”
Aaden swallowed. His mouth felt as dry as the Sahara desert at having to lie, but how do you explain to your friend your weird-arse abilities without them wanting to sign you into a nice locked establishment? You don’t.
He ignored the clutch in his stomach and concentrated on how this would help Joe and hopefully Stuart. Gathering himself, he took a couple of calming breaths before continuing.
“The bike museum up on the mountain would be my first choice. Sitting off the road, only one route for cars to take, it has a panoramic view. You could easily set up an alert system for intruders, and it allows easy escape over the hills on a trials bike or quad. It has a large door at the side to allow a small vehicle entry, making it perfect for hiding out. It also does not have a caretaker that I can find. What are your thoughts?” Aaden thumbed through the few scribbled notes he’d made to make it look more authentic.
Joe tilted his head as if considering. Sucking his puffy lower lip between his teeth, he chewed for a second before giving a stilted nod of agreement.
Joe’s voice quavered when he spoke. “Let’s get this show on the road. Do you have everything we need?”
Aaden couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his cheeks, lighting his dark eyes when he guided Joe to Martin’s car as they got out of the van.
As he explained the rationale for the car, Aaden’s hand lovingly caressed the metal. “Martin’s Audi R8 is the only car that Joel won’t have seen you driving, so, though it’s far from conspicuous, we’ll have to take that. My only concern is the car’s size. Two seats will be a squeeze, and we don’t know what state Stuart will be in. We will just need to improvise as we go, but I don’t think we have any other options right now.”
Aaden clicked the fob to open the car, actively ignoring the raised brow Joe threw in his direction at his feeble explanation. Aaden got in and felt the soft leather cup his body like a soft pillow of clouds.
Aaden watched Joe manoeuvring his stuff in the footwell. His hair hid his face, but the tense set of his shoulders and white knuckles had him offer a reassuring pat to his freezing hand. Joe’s sorrowful, liquid brown eyes couldn’t hide the fear when his gaze locked with Aaden’s.
Aaden fought with himself not to blurt out the truth about what he knew. Needing a distraction, Aaden started the ignition and revved the engine. The roar filled the depressing silence as he shot away from the curb. He drove to the main road, where he floored the accelerator. The punch to his body pushed him back into the soft leather seat as the engine growled with life. Sensations vibrated up his body, making it tingle with joy.
The car ate up the miles. The scenery was a blur before he backed off briefly, cutting left at the top of Barregarrow. He drove up towards the mountain and thought about how to alleviate Joe’s anxiety, but when nothing came to mind he kept quiet. He took the quickest route, hoping Max was right and they weren’t going on a wild goose chase.
He watched the daylight creeping through the greyness. The grey caused the deep purple heather coating the hills to stand out proudly. The decorated hills appeared to float in the air before his eyes with their bottoms cloaked in lofty, light clouds. His gaze lingered for a moment longer. Changing gears, he decelerated and followed the road to the place they’d picked to park.
Aaden cursed under his breath at the loud sound of crunching gravel under their tyres.
So focused was he on the road, he initially didn’t register the pale blue Skoda parked to the left of the building. His eyes hooded, masking his concern about whose car would be parked in the middle of nowhere at this time of the morning.
His gaze drifted up to the building in front of him. His instincts kicked in. All his senses opened, agreeing that Max was right on the money.
He dug in his bag at Joe’s feet and pulled out the map of the area along with building schematics he’d printed off earlier and laid them across the steering wheel. Joe’s anxious fidgeting had him turn to give him a stern, no-nonsense look. He needed Joe to pull his shit together and now if they were going to do this and remain safe.
Aaden went through the plans and the contingency if things got out of hand. Though Joe agreed, the pinched brow had him heaving an internal sigh. Joe’s stubborn nature was not something he wanted to have to deal with on top of everything else.
They both got out of the car together. The weight of the silence was telling.
Aaden’s raised eyebrows questioned Joe silently when he pulled something out of his bag.
Joe’s whispered response had rumbling laughter escape before he could stop it.
“It’s just a little something I’ve been working on. As yet, I haven’t found anything it can’t jam. Joel may be clever, but he has nothing on me when it comes to electronics.”
Quieting, Aaden sucked his cheeks in, trying to keep his humour in check.
Rolling his shoulders like a boxer preparing to go into the ring, Aaden braced for what was coming. As he guided Joe towards the back of the substation and into the long grass, Aaden thanked whatever God there was as the wind barely stirred the air around them.
He registered the distant sound of a bike engine as the noise moved on the still air. He felt Joe falter at his side, and they both simultaneously dropped into the dewy grass. He disregarded the dampness soaking into his combat trousers when Joe’s freezing fingers dug into his wrist. The sound of the engine growing louder had Aaden squinting in the morning light. He searched the horizon. Grumbling low in his chest, Aaden caught sight of an all too familiar figure sitting astride a trials bike, heading in the direction of the rear of the museum.
Aaden figured Joe was on the same wavelength when they moved in tandem, creeping forward in silence. Needing to get to the building before Joel, Aaden paused at the sudden thud that came from somewhere outside the building. He was not sure, and he hissed in Joe’s ear.
“Did you hear that?”
A second later Aaden muttered a curse when he watched Joe’s arse sprint up the hill unchecked before he could stop him. As he gave chase, his heavy boots thudded on the hard ground, and his long stride overtook Joe when Stuart materialised in front of them.
He barely heard Joe shouting behind him when his gaze locked on the second person with Stuart. Aaden blinked repeatedly, and his hands moved up to scrub at his eyes as he co
ntinued to run towards what had to be some sort of a dream vision.
Aaden felt time slow as he watched his dream merge with reality. A pale, red-headed man with barely any clothes on struggled to hold on to a swaying Stuart. He watched Stuart’s livid, swollen face lose any natural colour at the shocking sound of a gun firing. Aaden moved lightning fast, his legs pumping hard to reach both men. His terror felt like a rabid dog attacking his lungs, preventing him from taking a breath.
He just had time to register Stuart’s legs buckling, taking him and the red-headed stranger towards the ground in a heap of limbs. Not thinking, his mind trying to cope with the flood of fear coursing through his veins, Aaden sprung forward. He somehow managed to catch both men and hugged them into his chest as they hit the ground. Aaden rolled, embracing them both, and landed hard on his back.
Aaden’s gaze moved to the red-haired man’s face with shocked alarm. The hairs on his body electrified and stood to rigid attention like an army of tiny soldiers. The pain ricocheting through him got lost under the flooding memories that were not his own, and left him gasping for air as sky-blue eyes locked with his.
Aaden fought with all his might against the abhorrent images replayed horrifically, showing scenes no person should ever have to witness. The grief welled fast, mixing with the images.
The crowd bayed for more. All the while blood soaked the grass beneath the wooden bench. Cries of anguish had Óláfr moving. Blood soaked his furs reaching his kyrtill as he held on tight to his beloved.
As he offered up his beloved, his mind spoke of promises. Then he stepped forward the raging pyre. Óláfr hooded his eyes to hide the torment. He lifted his soulmate high, praying to the Goddess Freyja that this was not the end as he threw Magnus on to the burning pyre.
Óláfr was unable to escape when the crowd swelled at his back, pushing him towards the flames. He watched as the fire stole the soul of his beloved. The smell of burning flesh filled his nose, making it sting and his eyes water. The billowing smoke darkened the sky that was lit with the dancing flames of the pyre.
Aaden fought with all his might to push the nightmare back into its box and close the lid. Cold sweat beaded on his brow, soaking into his hair. He blew at the damp hair falling on to his face, dragged in a deep breath, and tried to clear the images and scents from another time. His regret was instant when the fragrant scent of lemongrass filled his senses. The horrors of the past lingered on, torturing his mind.
The scent invaded him in ways that it made him want to beg for forgiveness, for the stupid fool who thought his crown was more important. The urge to bury his head in the sand like an ostrich and hide from the past was nearly too much to bear. Using all of his strength, he locked the memories back into the box. A box he’d built in his mind over the past twenty years. A box that allowed him to stay sane, but only if it remained closed.
Aaden’s limbs trembled under the strain of pulling himself together. The stark reminder of what he lived with for the past twenty years sat on his lap, captivating all of his attention. The wide, beautiful sky-blue eyes were glued to his. The moment was endless as Aaden felt the man’s hungry stare devour him in ways he’d only experienced in his dreams. A face, more familiar than his own, showed an abundance of freckles scattered across a button nose and pale cheeks. The freckles highlighted the sharpness of his cheekbones, giving an elfin quality to the face. The full, luscious red lips seemed to match perfectly the wild, glowing red hair that formed a bright halo around a face, so beautiful it hurt Aaden not to physically touch it.
Aaden watched in fascination as the man’s pale skin warmed, pink imbuing his pale cheeks, reminding him of the pink lady apples he loved to eat. Aaden’s tongue slipped out, wetting his lips as if seeking the sweet ripe tartness. The man’s sharp exhale brushing against his moist lips pulled him up short. Aaden forced his head to pull back from those luscious lips. Instead, he tried to focus on Stuart cradled in his right arm, and allowed himself a moment to pull himself together.
He gave himself a stern telling-off.
Now’s not the time to think about my past totally clashing with my present. No, it fucking isn’t. Or how tempting those luscious lips are, or how many wet dreams they’d given me as a teenager. Okay, maybe as an adult as well, but who’s counting.
I’m so fucked right now, and this is all Max’s fault, of that I’m bloody sure.
Aaden’s mind blanked when he felt the red-headed man shift on his left hip, pushing his arse towards Aaden’s groin. Warmth spread as pale, bare, sweaty limbs spread over his lap and thigh, making solid contact with his growing erection. The scent of lemongrass increased as the heat from their bodies combined, making it nigh on impossible for Aaden to breathe for fear of moving and showing how aroused he was getting.
Aaden held on for a second longer, telling himself he was asking for trouble with a capital T if he carried on encouraging the man to get closer. When the man wiggled harder against him, he exhaled, blowing into the man’s ear causing a full-body shiver.
Shit, shit, shit.
Aaden actively forced his left arm to release the man, placing him gently on the ground out of harm’s way. Aaden chose to ignore the immediate sense of loss that punched into his gut or how empty his arms felt. He valiantly tried to convince himself it wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d dealt with some seriously hard shit over the years that even constipation couldn’t compete with that hard shit.
Aaden vigorously moved his freed hand down his damp trousers, hoping sometime soon the tingling would stop. He cast a quick glance at the guy’s flushed face only to be met with a dreamy smile that pushed those lush, red lips up into a Cupid’s bow smile.
Aaden clenched his trousers to prevent his hand from disobeying him and pulling the man back in for a taste. The urge to groan in despair at his bouncing cock, that seemed to be having a fist fight with his zipper, had him clenching his teeth. He realised too late it had escaped when the man’s smile dimmed. He told himself it was for the best if the guy thought he was an arsehole.
Aaden swallowed back the disappointment and quickly glanced away before he did something utterly ridiculous, like pick the man up and run off with him.
His mind no longer clouded by the scent of lemongrass kicked into gear, reminding him he hadn’t come alone and of the shot he’d heard before grabbing both men.
Shit, I’m a real fucking prince, forgetting my friend while trying to hump the red-haired beauty. Aaden, you’re a real arsehole. Seriously, get your shit together.
Berating himself, he released a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Joe a couple of feet away, slithering across the damp grass. As Joe got closer, his distressed cry had Aaden looking at Stuart’s grossly swollen face that was for the most part unrecognisable.
Laying him down gently on the grassy bank, Aaden did a quick survey. He puffed out a breath of relief when there didn’t appear to be anything broken. The whimper Stuart released as he moved his limbs was music to his ears. How he’d heard Stuart he was unsure, when the noise level built to a crescendo in the museum. The sounds of breaking wood hitting concrete gave a sense of urgency for them to get moving and now.
Aaden willed Stuart to open his eyes, knowing their time had run out.
Greg felt warmth infuse his whole body as his arms flew out in fright when he landed on solid muscles, knocking the air right out of his body. He swore he felt his soul was being plucked right from the centre of his chest when dark, fathomless eyes held him captive. Overwhelmed, his system firing on all cylinders, he barely registered the second man he’d seen before the hulk had caught him and the other man he’d been helping.
The Incredible Hulk took all his attention. The man’s solid frame touching his had strange images dancing before his eyes and making them burn with unushered tears. His nose burned as tears balled at the back of his throat. He sniffed up as he tried to shake off the weirdness that was flooding through him. Breathless, he wheezed, inhaling. He hoped the much-nee
ded oxygen would ease the tightness inside his chest. His heart beat erratically against his ribs while words from Ellie Goulding’s song “My Blood’ sprang into his mind, confusing him. “My blood is all I see, as you steal my soul from me.”
What the ever shitting hell is wrong with me?
His mind was in turmoil, and it took a moment to register the large calloused hand burning into his naked skin. Greg felt hundreds of volts of electricity course through him. Trembles followed in their wake, causing every hair he had to stand to attention as if seeking more of those wonderful sensations when rough palms slid again down his arm.
He absently acknowledged the cold damp grass soaking through the material of his shorts where his hip sat on the hard, prickly ground. He couldn’t decide whether the man or the ground was harder to lie on.
His stunned mind finally registered the luscious mouth moving towards his. Hot, minted breath slid against his, causing tingles to race across his mouth. Anticipation curled into balls of lust and rolled through his lower body at thoughts of those wet succulent lips touching his.
Greg inhaled sharply. His eyes widened in disappointment when instead all he got was a fierce scowl, making a truly beautiful mouth turn down. Greg wanted to stamp his foot when he watched the Hulk pull away instead of giving him the blistering kiss promised a moment earlier.
Dark brows scrunched together and made it impossible to tell where one eyebrow started and the other ended. Greg had the inane urge to tell him he shouldn’t frown like that if he didn’t want to age prematurely. Had no one ever told him that frowning causes aging lines. What on earth were his friends playing at? They should at least have warned him.
Greg shifted at his stupid thinking, realising too late the guy under him was radiating anger when he went rigid.
The urge to poke out his lip and pout had him suck his lip into his mouth. He clung on to a cloak of dignity as hard as Harry Potter had when he’d used his cloak of invisibility to shield him. He wished he had one so he could hide from the dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to get angrier with every passing second.
