by Sydney Croft
“What the fuck? Is this humiliate Earthquake Boy day?” he grumbled.
“Don’t make me beat it out of you,” Trance told him.
Stryker thought back to the day before last, with Rik’s howls ringing in his ears … the way Mel looked under the waterfall.
He’d never look at an icicle the same way again. And the guesthouse … the smile he’d gotten when she realized she had a place of her own. He’d thought the warmth of that moment could hold him through anything. But the look on Annika’s face, her accusations …
Just then, Trance moved, and Stryker bounded up. Got a good slam or two across Trance’s face before he spoke.
“I put Ani into labor,” he panted as he ducked Trance’s blows. Or tried to anyway. But Trance had him in a choke hold, and suddenly Stryker didn’t feel like playing this bullshit game any longer.
The ground rumbled slightly, enough to make Trance pull back from Stryker and stare at him. “You’ve been able to control that shit before.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I can’t anymore.” Stryker sank to the mat and leaned back with his palms down.
Trance walked over to the fridge to grab a couple bottles of water, tossed one to Stryker, who caught it one-handed.
He drained the water and hoisted himself up, but Trance stopped him from leaving the gym. “We’re not done.”
“Yeah, we are.” Stryker flung the empty bottle in the trash and swung back around to Trance. “How do you do it?” he asked suddenly, almost viciously. “You live with a killer. You love one. How?”
Trance had him on the ground and pinned by the throat, a sound dangerously close to a growl Rik would normally emit ringing in his ears. “Don’t you ever call Rik that. Understood?”
Stryker managed to nod. Trance let him up and then said, “Besides, the woman you’re currently fucking has the same reputation. So maybe I should ask you what it feels like.”
Those words made Stryker see red. The floor rumbled again and he went headfirst into Trance’s gut. And Trance let him. As the men slammed to the ground, Stryker willed himself to stop before the gym collapsed on his head. If that didn’t kill him, Devlin would.
“So you’re falling for her,” Trance said as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
And it was. But nothing seemed natural about Mel and her dual personality.
Mel. “Yeah,” he admitted. “And I thought I’d reconciled everything that happened with Akbar. So why do I sometimes still feel like I’ve betrayed him?”
“It’s not going to go away all at once. And you know as well as I do that everything comes at a price. Especially love.” Trance shook his head. “It was a battle, Stryker. It could’ve easily been you instead. Akbar knew he was in danger every time he went out on a job.”
“But I’ve fallen for the woman who killed him—sort of, anyway.”
“I thought you said they were separate people,” Trance said.
“They are. I know they are. But Ani …”
“Fuck Annika,” Trance said. “I mean, come on, she’s suspicious of everyone. She’s almost as bad as Ender.”
“I think she’s worse.”
“She’s also hormonal and terrified of losing her powers forever,” Trance pointed out. “Mel is dual-natured, just like Rik. And Annika still calls Rik a werewolf experiment or some shit like that.” Trance grimaced.
“How the hell did you do it, Trance?” Stryker heard his voice crack and yet he couldn’t look away from the man who was married to a woman whose other half had killed his father.
Trance looked up at the ceiling, his face betraying the emotion he felt. “It wasn’t easy. But in the end, I loved her more than I hated what she’d done.”
“So you don’t hold her responsible?”
“No more than I hold you responsible for something that’s not your fault,” Trance said, broaching an always sore subject with Stryker. “Just because you can’t predict disasters in time to save people doesn’t make you responsible for their deaths. Some things are out of your control. Some things were out of Rik’s control too. And it sounds like Mel would do anything to get her life together, even putting herself in the hands of people she knows want to kill her for what she—her sister—did to their friend.”
“What can I do?”
“Love her. Help her. Believe in her. Because you’ll be doing it when no one else can. And you’re the only one who really counts.”
Creed held the baby girl in his arms and felt his knees shake. Kept staring between her and Annika as if he feared this could all crumble and disappear at any moment. Because Oz was so rarely wrong—if ever.
But Annika had come through the labor and delivery just fine; in true Annika fashion, it happened quickly, with a minimum of drama and a great show of strength.
She hadn’t asked for—or seemed to need—any drugs or an epidural. But in the end, that was a good thing, because the baby came in record time—under an hour from the minute she’d felt her first contraction.
“I told you I’d be fine,” Annika said softly. She looked tired but happy. Glowing, actually. “And she’s great.”
Creed still didn’t believe it, but the proof was right in front of him.
Dammit, Oz. Why did you feel the need to scare me half to fucking death during her pregnancy? “I guess we’re just one big, happy family, then.”
But Ani was frowning a little.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you think … I mean, you were given the tattoos as protection,” Ani said. “Maybe?”
They stared at the tiny girl with the perfect skin and saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Mine didn’t come out right away,” Creed said, not sure if he wanted his daughter tatted up the same way he’d been.
Granted, he didn’t think she’d have much choice in the matter. That was up to Oz’s magic and whatever kind of deal he’d struck with the powers that … tattooed.
He placed the baby on Ani’s bed and she gingerly unwrapped her. Her skin remained unblemished on her front. Creed picked her up and held her so they could both see her back. And, as they watched, the tattoo began to form, a light, delicate swirl of ice blue and white along her back, a design as unique as a snowflake and one that offered her protection from the big bads of the world … but that would offer its own set of challenges she’d have to deal with later.
“I guess that answers the question,” he said quietly. Kat, the ghost who’d been his guardian since birth, was behind him, chatting away in his ear that she was now an aunt, and it didn’t bother him at all. Today, nothing could.
It had been a long road with Kat. She’d helped him hone his abilities as a ghost hunter and she’d been so protective for most of his life that he hadn’t been able to truly form any relationship—not until Ani, and even that was hard won. Now Kat was as protective of Ani as she was of him. And, he assumed, Kat would also take on that same role of guardian with his daughter.
At one time—hell, a lot of the time—he’d wished Kat would leave him, go into the light and free him. But now he realized he couldn’t imagine life without her. She was as much a part of him as his tats and his abilities. As much a part of him as Ani and the baby—both of whom had taken his heart.
He cradled the baby girl against him and said, “Any idea about names? I’m guessing Creedette is out of the running.”
She snorted. “As if.” And then she grew serious, nibbled her bottom lip. “I was thinking … Renee.”
“Renee.” He tried it on for size. “That’s nice.”
“It was my mother’s name,” Ani said quietly.
He held the baby against his chest with one arm and reached his free hand out to grasp hers. “Then I think it’s pretty damned perfect.”
Devlin was at his door. It was one of less than a handful of times he’d come to the dorms and the gesture wasn’t lost on Gabe.
“I’m here to apologize,” Devlin said after Gabe moved aside to let him in.
“I get it, Dev
. Oz sent me or whatever and you weren’t ready and that’s all right.”
“You weren’t ready either,” Devlin reminded him.
“It was, ah, cool while it lasted.”
“So you’re going to run again?”
Gabe shook his head. “No, I’m done running. But I won’t be the one you have to worry about hurting you. I get self-preservation. I understand your need for it. But I can’t keep doing this—whatever it is—without shredding myself up inside. And I’m not that self-destructive anymore.”
He’d come a hell of a long way in a short period of time. The fact that he’d allowed himself to attach to Devlin so easily told him so much more than anything else. Whether or not Devlin’s old lover had a hand in it, Gabriel felt things for his boss, his lover, he’d never thought he’d be able to.
And right now it could be crumbling beneath his fingers.
But instead of saying good-bye, Dev said, “Please. I’d like to invite you to my house. I’ve got dinner ready. I’d take you out, but there’s something I need to speak with you about in private.” He looked around the room at Gabe’s packed bags with a frown and then nodded. “Right. The rental house.”
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Yes. I’m apparently quite rusty in the relationship department,” Devlin admitted as he took Gabe’s bruised hand in his and looked it over, running his fingers over it gently. “Come. Dinner’s getting cold.”
It was still Dev—arrogant and self-assured enough to not think or worry about the fact that Gabriel might’ve had other plans.
On the drive to Devlin’s house, the man held Gabriel’s hand in his, but he was still majorly distracted.
And it was majorly annoying.
They didn’t speak until they arrived at Dev’s place and sat down to dinner, and then Gabe was surprised at Dev’s words.
“Next time I train, I’d like to do so with you,” Dev said as he poured Gabe a glass of wine.
“You don’t have to pity train with me.”
“So stubborn. I have a cure for that, you know.”
“Yeah, fucking me blind.” Gabe finished the wine in one gulp, something that always made Dev wince. “Tell me what you brought me here for.”
“There’s so much, Gabriel. I don’t know where to start.”
“Start anywhere. I’ll ask questions if I’m confused. But please, Devlin, share something with me.” Gabe was aware he was close to begging, and he never did that outside the bedroom.
But it triggered something in Dev, because he leaned forward and hooked Gabriel’s legs with his under the table, and he started talking.
“There are things you need to know. Things I’ve kept from almost everyone. Hell, if it were any other time in ACRO’s history, I’d keep you in the dark indefinitely too,” Dev started. His eyes drilled into Gabe’s. “We have a chance to take down Itor.”
Gabriel stood and kicked his chair back into the table. “Jesus, Dev—you sound like you’re giving a goddamned presentation to new clients. It’s me. Cut the shit and tell me something. Anything beyond your ACRO versus Itor rhetoric.”
He turned his back on Devlin, something he should’ve realized was always a mistake. Gabe was down on the floor in seconds, Devlin half on top of him.
Devlin’s hand inside his pants.
Gabe gasped as Devlin’s hand found his cock.
“You have more to say to me? I thought you’d just learned to keep your mouth shut,” Dev mused.
“Fuck talking,” Gabriel murmured as Dev ripped open his pants. “Talking is overrated.”
Devlin stroked Gabe’s erection, hard and fast, and Gabe found himself burying his head against Devlin’s chest, wanting—needing—that closeness. Asking for it, even as his balls tightened and Dev dipped his head down so he could take Gabe’s cock in his mouth.
There was no precursor. The second Devlin took him in, Gabe came, shooting in a hot rush that made his hips come off the floor. As he lay there, not wanting to come back down to earth, he was aware that Dev was stripping him. His bare legs opened wantonly for Devlin—they always had, there was no way he could deny this man anything.
That scared him. But he let Devlin claim him on the floor, coming again as Dev pounded him, leaving Devlin with a dark, welted bruise on his neck.
Laying his own claim to Devlin made him smile.
As they lay there in the aftermath, wrapped around each other on the expensive-as-hell rug, Devlin said, “I was adopted.”
“Okay. Well, at least you had a cool family.”
“That’s not why I’m telling you.” Devlin shifted so they faced each other. “My real father—my biological father—is the head of Itor.”
It was only then that Gabe understood the true weight of Devlin’s confession—and his distractions of late. All he could do was touch the man’s face, which was contorted with pain … all he could do was listen as Devlin filled him in on how he discovered this fact, how his biological father had used Devlin as a mole … mind-rape.
How Melanie and Phoebe, the alter-ego woman who killed Akbar and was currently fucking Stryker, was Devlin’s half sister.
What the hell do you say to someone after he’s told you that?
“I love you, Devlin,” he said, and yeah, that probably wasn’t it. But Devlin smiled, rubbed the back of Gabriel’s neck. “You don’t have to say it back to me.”
Devlin stared at him for a long moment. “Not now, Gabriel. I will say it, but not until this is all over.”
Gabriel didn’t quite understand that logic and wondered if it was just a way for Devlin to escape saying it back ever. But Devlin had shared one of the most important secrets of his life with him, and that was not to be discounted. “So what’s the plan?”
“That’s the problem—there is no plan.” Dev’s voice was tinged with frustration.
“You need to utilize everyone. And I mean everyone.”
Dev blinked hard. Gabe waited for him to say that was out of the question. But all he said was “That puts ACRO at complete risk.”
Gabe stared at him steadily. “ACRO’s at complete risk if you don’t. Either way, you need to shit or get off the pot. And I don’t think getting off’s going to be an option for that much longer. You can’t go in alone.”
“You and what army’s going to stop me, boy? I don’t remember needing your approval to go on a ground op and I can’t see that starting now.”
Gabe shoved him then—shoved him against the floor. “Guess what—you can see and it is starting now. You putting yourself on the line is bullshit and you know it. There’s no one else who can run this place like you—no one’s ready to do it. So before you go out and get your ass fried, you might want to think about shit like that, old man.”
Devlin tried to shove the boy off him, but Gabriel had the upper hand this time. Devlin grabbed his arm in a last-ditch effort to get out from under him.
“Go ahead—read me. Like I give a shit,” Gabriel snarled. “I still end up on top.”
Gabe gave him no quarter, spread his thighs, and Dev remained helpless beneath him, his palms around Gabriel’s wrist, reading emotions that he didn’t need to be a goddamned psychic to see at all. “You can’t do this alone, Devlin.”
Gabriel’s cock brushed the crack of his ass and Dev was achingly hard. The last time someone held him down like this …
“Oz,” Gabriel said as though reading his mind. “It’s always going to be about Oz.”
“Not always,” Devlin breathed. “Not right now.”
Would Gabe take him? There would be no stopping him if he really wanted to … and from the look in Gabriel’s eyes, he wanted.
So did Devlin. Which was why he didn’t stop Gabe from searching in his pocket for the lube, didn’t do anything but close his eyes and relax as Gabriel’s fingers entered him, one, then two, and then a third, opening him up.
“So tight, Dev.”
“Been a long time,” he murmured back as a knuckle brushed
his prostate and the jolt of pleasure nearly sent him through the ceiling.
“Want to make you relax. Want to make it all better for you,” Gabriel said as he withdrew his hand and replaced the fingers with the head of his cock. As it breached the ring of muscle, Devlin heard himself groan, loudly, felt his legs spread unconsciously, bucking his hips up to take in more. “That’s it, Devlin … just let me in. Let me in all the way, dammit.”
Devlin did, for the moment, let his boy take him and fuck him and love him until they were both coming, Gabriel’s lips brushing his when they were able to move again.
The words I love you nearly slipped from Devlin’s mouth then, but stopped when his cellphone rang—the special tone he had for Ani.
Dev cursed and Gabriel handed it to him, resignation in his eyes.
“Text message,” he told his lover. “From Marlena … shit, Annika’s had the baby.”
There was something really fucked up about going from holding a sweet-smelling infant to standing in front of one of the most evil women Dev had ever met.
But that’s what he’d done, and instead of rocking two-day-old little Renee, he was confronting Phoebe and having a hard time reconciling the seemingly genuine Mel with this psychotic fiend.
“Hello, bro. Nice of you to grow some balls and finally come see me.” Phoebe’s voice grated on every one of Dev’s nerves. “Maybe you feel guilty for shoving me in this wet, stinking cave?”
“There are a lot of things I feel when it comes to you, but guilt isn’t one of them.” Annoyance was a big one, though that was aimed more at Stryker, who had decided, after a few days of working with Mel and putting her back here at night, that they no longer needed to wrap Phoebe up in the fireproof blanket. Apparently, he was making sure she was discharged, leaving Phoebe powerless for the few hours she was here.
Stryker had better be fucking right about that.
“Why are you here?” Phoebe had been pacing back and forth in the twelve-by-twelve cell, but now she sank down on the stone bench to peer at him through slitted eyelids.
