Selkie Cove (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 5)

by Kara Jorgensen

  “Are you all right? We can wait.”

  “Yes, no, but I’ll be fine,” Immanuel replied breathlessly as Adam helped him straighten but didn’t relinquish his hold. “I missed you.”

  “And I you.” Leaning so close his breath set his hair on end, Adam whispered, ”Let’s get upstairs before I take you right here.”

  Immanuel’s heart sputtered between anticipation and lingering fear as Adam urged him up the stairs. As they rounded the landing, Adam caught Immanuel’s lips and led him back toward the bedroom door. Immanuel glanced over Adam’s shoulder between kisses to find the curtains already drawn against prying eyes and the bedsheets open and ready.

  Following his gaze, Adam grinned as he reached for the front of Immanuel’s grey jacket. “Without employment, I have a lot of time on my hands, so I figured I may as well be ready for when you came home.”

  The breath hitched in Immanuel’s throat as Adam pressed his lips to his neck. Branding his skin with kisses, he wrapped his arms around Immanuel to capture every subtle jolt and silent moan. Every time Immanuel closed his eyes, the ghost of the selkie surfaced, but with each taste of Adam’s skin or a whiff of the perfumed pomade in his hair, he grounded himself. Adam would be his anchor.

  “Your skin is like ice,” Adam breathed into the soft flesh of his collar as he drew a line down Immanuel’s pale chest.

  Biting back a cry, Immanuel closed his eyes at the brush of Adam’s hand across his trousers. Before he could utter a word, Immanuel’s jacket peeled away, followed by his belt as his hands frantically worked across Adam’s buttons to keep up. Last time Adam had surprised him this way, he had received a bonus for helping to solve a money laundering case at work.

  “Things went well, then?” Immanuel asked, pausing long enough to admire Adam’s sturdy, henna-dusted chest as his shirt fell open.

  Adam’s hand closed over his while the other snaked around his waist. He swept Immanuel back in a swaggering waltz. Stopping at the edge of the bed, he brought his hand to Immanuel’s cheek. The tip of his finger traced the curve of Immanuel’s lips before coming to rest on the raised stripe of his scar.

  “I would like to tell you, but I’d prefer it if my mouth was occupied with something much more interesting.”

  With a tug, Immanuel’s trousers slid to his ankles in a rush of wool. The hunger in Adam’s gaze as it glided over Immanuel’s nearly naked body sent his blood pulsing. In three steps, Immanuel was in bed with Adam straddling him as he yanked the heavy covers over them. Adam laughed, collapsing into Immanuel’s waiting arms. When they had first started living together, Immanuel had feared this sort of intimacy. That the closeness would turn into claustrophobia, that it would resurrect his memories of torture and confinement, but he found with closeness came comfort. When the nightmares came—and they came often—Adam was there to hold him, and when reality slipped from his grasp, he could ground himself in the cinnamon and black tea of Adam’s skin or the hum of Percy’s bones. The breath hitched in Immanuel’s throat at teeth grazing his earlobe and deft hands sneaking lower. It had been a year since he was kidnapped. The thought hit him so hard he opened his eyes. Only a year.

  “Are you all right?” Adam asked, his eyes softened with concern as he leaned back. “Tell me if I’m crushing you with—”

  “No, no, it isn’t— it isn’t that,” Immanuel replied, running his hands over Adam’s shoulders to keep him close. He opened his mouth, the words hanging in his throat as he met his lover’s gaze. “It’s nothing. I just realized it’s been a year since I was taken by Lord Rose.”

  “Today?”

  “No, but within the last week. I honestly don’t remember the exact date. I didn’t even think about it until now.”

  Adam watched him with the same look of concern he had seen so many times after waking from some dreadful memory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Enveloped by a quilt, safe in a house with a man who loved him, that time seemed so impossibly long ago. Lacing his fingers with Adam’s, he stared into his eyes. Adam’s heartbeat radiated through Immanuel’s ribs where they met. There was never a time he looked at Adam and saw Lord Rose. That was, until the day before. Adam kept the monsters at bay. He couldn’t be one, too.

  “Don’t be. It feels strange to speak of it and not want to cry, so that’s progress, I guess. In December, I’ll have been free for a whole year. Adam, I need you to promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  Immanuel’s eyes burned as he blinked. “Don’t do what you did yesterday again. I don’t want to— I can’t be afraid of you. I can’t.”

  A stricken look passed across Adam’s features, but it dissolved into the firm set of his jaw and the hurt look in his eyes as he nodded. “I promise. I love you, Immanuel. I hope you know that.”

  “I do.”

  With every ounce of fear and relief, Immanuel kissed him. When Adam issued a stifled moan, Immanuel locked his legs around him and twisted until Adam stared back at him, prone against the sheets. For a moment, Adam merely watched him. Even without touching him, Immanuel sensed the rush of his lover’s heart at being held beneath him. Adam let his arms fall on either side of the pillow. Mental chains could be as strong as the real ones Immanuel refused to inflict upon his lover. Sensing him stir, a knowing smirk crossed Immanuel’s lips. With the tip of his tongue, he slowly traced the trail of hair down Adam’s chest until it reached the hem of his drawers. Kneading his sides, he locked gazes with his lover but lingered at his waist with his lips pressed to Adam’s skin even as the fabric beneath his drawers tented and brushed against the aperture of his neck.

  “Tell me your news, and you’ll get what you want.”

  “Now?” Adam squeaked, his voice uncharacteristically tight.

  “Hmm,” he hummed into Adam’s flesh as he hooked a finger beneath his waistband and pressed his knee between his legs to nudge them apart.

  Adam released a hoarse laugh and hid his face in the pillow. “You’re a horrible tease.”

  “I said, I’ll stop for a price.”

  “Fine. Fine. You know how Lord Dorset’s estate manager was murdered a few months ago? Well, he still hasn’t found a suitable replacement, and Hadley told me they have been paying an exorbitant amount for a firm to take care of it for him. It was only supposed to be until they found someone else, but he forgot to keep looking.”

  Keeping his head down, Immanuel frowned into Adam’s skin as his hand traveled lower. “They were taking advantage of him?”

  Adam jerked. Biting his lip, he shot a look at Immanuel. “Hadley believed so. Before I could even say anything about what happened at work, she asked if I would be willing to look over the books to double-check their work if I wasn’t too busy. I looked over his accounts and what Hadley had laying around and told her they were doing a good job as far as I could tell but they were overcharging him. Lord Dorset seemed relieved that I could make heads or tails of it at all, and he wanted me to visit again when he could get all of his papers together. When I said I had plenty of time to help him due to, you know, Lord Dorset asked if I would be willing to take it on full-time.”

  “So you didn’t turn it down?”

  “Strangely, no, but I haven’t formally accepted yet. I told him I would think about it because I had a promising offer from someone else.”

  “Do you?” Immanuel asked, resting his head on Adam’s thigh as he spoke.

  “Not yet, but I don’t want to leech off Lord Dorset. I pictured what I would say if he or Hadley offered some hand-out to keep us out of the gutter, but he is offering me a real position any accountant would covet. Being his estate agent would require me to go to Dorset a few days each month to see to his tenants and I would have to deal with his late-father’s investments and companies. I do that with our family businesses already.”

  “It seems a small price to pay for security.”

  “I agree, and as an added perk, I would have more leisure time if I accepted it. An estate
manager doesn’t have to sit in an office every day, so it’s a step up from being an accountant even if it is more work. Eilian may be oblivious, but if I do it, I have to prove that I can do a good job— an even better job than that firm. That—” Pausing as Immanuel massaged him with the heel of his palm, Adam released a contented shudder. “That will be the challenge. I would have cracked some champagne for us to celebrate this development, but it appears as though someone dumped it down the drain.”

  “That was all your doing, mein Schätzchen. We can get more later.” Immanuel’s eyes brightened as he dragged Adam’s drawers lower. “Luckily, I know other ways that we can celebrate.”

  Immanuel slipped beneath the covers as Adam closed his eyes. His hands crossed above his head, gripping the pillowcase. His hips bucked under breath and lips and the grip of unseen hands. Words and worries died away as the world extended no farther than the walls of their bedroom.

  ***

  Adam lay with his eyes closed, listening to the steady tattoo of rain pattering against the glass and the clatter of steamers sloshing over the wet cobbles. His side vibrated as Percy purred between them and Immanuel released heavy, puffed breaths on the edge of sleep. Adam curled and stretched his toes in satisfaction. That was infinitely better than champagne. Wiggling closer to Immanuel, he kissed his forehead, eliciting a sweet, sleepy smile from the German as he nestled into his arm.

  Just as Adam let his head sink into the pillow, his body jerked at the peel of the doorbell.

  “Raid!” Immanuel cried in a strangled whisper as he scrambled up, blindly grabbing whatever clothing he could lay his hands on. Kicking off the sheets, Adam leapt to his feet and threw on his dressing gown as he crept toward the window.

  “Go! Go hide!” Adam called, waving Immanuel out of the room. Pulling back the curtain, he kept his body flush against the wall. His labored breath fogged the glass as he looked up and down the street for any sign of grey police steamers. Below a woman in a maroon gown walked from their door into a cab. Relief washed over him as he fell back against the cool plaster to catch his breath.

  “It was a false alarm, Immanuel,” Adam said.

  Turning, he found Immanuel standing in the hall, his chest heaving with hiccupped breaths as he struggled to button his shirt. Panic pulsed through his features as he murmured something in broken German. His mismatched eyes stared sightlessly ahead while his fingers worked frantically.

  “No one is there, Immanuel. You can stop.”

  When he didn’t look up, Adam stepped closer until they nearly touched. Gently laying his hand on Immanuel’s shoulder, his lover leapt back as if he had been struck. For a moment it was as if he didn’t recognize him, but with a blink, his eyes cleared.

  “No one is here.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked breathlessly, following Adam back into the room with halting steps.

  “Very. There isn’t a single police cab here and bobbies would be banging down the door. Besides, it was a woman who rang the bell. I watched her get into a cab and leave. A policewoman or anyone of importance wouldn’t have left so quickly. She probably just went to the wrong house.”

  Immanuel dropped onto the mattress beside Adam, his legs sapped of their strength. His breath came in shallow, loud gasps that rocked his thin form. He wanted to stop. He wanted to get up, but his body stayed rooted in place as his mind spun with panic despite his best attempts to focus on the room around him. Adam was saying something he couldn’t hear. Finally, he stopped and merely rubbed Immanuel’s back. With a tremulous breath, Immanuel let his head fall against his companion’s bare shoulder and closed his eyes.

  A man was screaming, “Aufstehen, Stück Scheiße!” an inch from his ear. His clean-cut features contorted in fury had been burned into his mind for half a decade. The man had slapped manacles on his wrists and hauled him off to a cell after greeting his mother at mass the day before. Immanuel’s body twitched as the cell’s walls grew closer and filthier until all that remained was the voice echoing through the mortar loosely holding together his mind. Moisture collected at the edge of his eyes against his will.

  A voice broke through the memory as Adam wrapped his arms around him. He spoke softly to him, reminding him to see and feel what was around him. Pushing down, the soles of his feet rocked against the cold boards, and if he breathed deep, he could smell Adam’s cologne and the spice of his own skin on his lover’s lips. Adam slowly rubbed Immanuel’s shoulders until the tension released from his body and his panicked breath quieted.

  “Deep breaths. Take deep breaths, Immanuel. You know I would never let any harm come to you.”

  “I know, but, if it was them, if it was the police—” He didn’t want to think of it. Sitting up, Immanuel ran his hands over his clammy cheeks and up to his temples until he could string together a coherent thought. He swallowed and licked his dry lips. He needed to think of something else. “Was it was Miss Elliott at the door?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s blonde, isn’t she? But it could have been Miss Ashwood or Emmeline Jardine.”

  “I doubt it was her. I haven’t heard from Emmeline in months.”

  Immanuel lay back on the bed, breathing in measured breaths until his heart slowed enough that he didn’t hear its steady tide in his ears. Looking down, he found his shirt buttons askew and his trousers rumpled and cockeyed, only to realize they belonged to Adam. He released a silent sigh. If only he could keep a cool head like Adam, but his body reacted before his mind even registered what was going on.

  “If it was Miss Ashwood, why would she come to call on us and then leave?” Adam asked, pulling the blanket out from under Percy and wrapping it around his waist as he fished through his wardrobe.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, Immanuel tried again but his shaking fingers mismatched the holes once more. “Miss Ashwood may have been dropping off my sketchpad.”

  “The sketches from the dissection?”

  Immanuel nodded. “I stopped to see Miss Elliott before I went to the museum. The Interceptors were interested in the specimen as well, so I let Miss Ashwood photograph my anatomical drawings for the Interceptors’ records.”

  “Ah. Then, I’m fairly certain it was her, and we have nothing to worry about.” The mattress dipped beneath Adam’s weight as he knelt beside Immanuel. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and have a bite to settle our nerves.”

  Adam kissed his forehead before collecting the clothing strewn across the rug. Slipping on fresh trousers, he retied his blue silk dressing gown and called for Immanuel to follow him downstairs. With the lingering stab of fear in his breast, Immanuel stayed a step behind. As he passed each window and door, he pictured the protection sigils drawn on every entrance in blood and oil and wondered if they could hold back a legion of policemen. Somehow he doubted magic could ever stop gross indecency charges.

  At the bottom of the steps, Immanuel found his sketch book upended under the post slot with a large envelope lying beside it. As Adam disappeared into the kitchen, Immanuel dropped the book on the hall table and inspected the thick packet’s seal. Emblazoned in iridescent plum wax was a strange beast. While it had the torso of a man, its head resembled a bird and its legs forked into a fish’s tail. In its hands, it held a torch and shield, but when Immanuel squinted, he could see that surrounding the creature were the words, Obscuris vera involvens.

  “Truth in darkness,” he uttered under his breath, flipping the envelope over for any indication of who sent it. Making certain Adam was busy in the kitchen, Immanuel ripped it open and withdrew the first page.

  Dear Mr. Winter and Mr. Fenice,

  Miss Elliott has informed us that you have requested certain terms before joining Her Majesty’s Interceptors. It is highly irregular for one to make demands of us, but we shall agree to your terms for a probationary period. Be warned that if you fail to handle this case to the best of your abilities, you will not be accepted into the rank of Her Majesty’s Interceptors now or ever. All reading material from our libr
ary will be forbidden to you and any contact with other Interceptors will terminate immediately. That is the price you pay for your indecision and ambivalence.

  In regards to your notes and drawings, we were very impressed with your findings, particularly the detail regarding the selkie specimen’s internal mechanisms. Apply these skills during your investigation and you should succeed. If you decide to join fully now, we shall forego the probationary period. This will be your final chance to join without fear of repercussion.

  Please fill out the accompanying paperwork and return it to Judith Elliott’s office as soon as possible, as she will be acting as your liaison for this case. We are unsure if Mr. Fenice is aware of these proceedings as we have not seen him on the premises since the summer solstice. If he is not involved or refuses, consider your contract canceled and destroy the paperwork enclosed.

  We look forward to having you both,

  The Hierophant