Reeve of Veils (Inheritance Book 4)

by Amelia Faulkner

  Frederick chuckled. “Fear not. It’s a dog-friendly hotel.” He gestured toward Icky, but looked at Laurence. “Have you given him the news?”

  “Give me a chance!” Laurence rubbed his jaw.

  “That wasn’t the news?” Icky blinked up at Laurence as he used the sheets to pat his face dry, then he ruffled Pepper’s ears. “Settle down, sweetie,” he murmured to her.

  Pepper calmed immediately. Her tail still wagged, but she stopped trying to climb inside Icky’s mouth. As with Laurence’s suspicions about Icky’s facility with animals, it certainly appeared miraculous.

  Or psychic.

  It didn’t mesh with Icky’s other skills, though, which was interesting. There were potential ramifications which Frederick didn’t have time to explore at this exact moment, so he sauntered into the room and draped himself into an armchair by the window. “Useless! I bought Wilson’s house out from under him, Icky. Laurence has a copy of the keys. It’s yours to live in, should you so wish, but if you do you must promise me to do away with that ghastly decor.” He waved a hand. “Sell it off, use the proceeds to redecorate. I won’t have all that chintz in my portfolio.”

  Icky directed Pepper off the bed, and she jumped down obediently. “I can’t possibly.”

  “You must. I insist. I can’t bear the thought of you living in that matchbox any longer. Besides, Laurence tells me his apartment is even smaller.” Frederick shuddered. “Absolutely appalling. And at least this way should any of these youngsters still require a roof over their heads, they have a responsible adult looking out for them. I am, of course, referring to Laurence.” He grinned.

  Icky glanced between Frederick and Laurence, then grumbled, “Why don’t you stay and take care of it yourself?”

  “Because unlike you I have a career to get back to.” He sighed softly. “And one of us has to be there for Nicky.”

  “Very well.” Icky inclined his head. “Where is Lisa?”

  “She’s out on the farm with Mom,” Laurence said. “I don’t think it’ll be long term. She just wanted to get away from everything for a while.” He flexed his jaw. “And I think being around so many men was making her uncomfortable.”

  Icky scowled, but nodded. “Thank you. Both.”

  Frederick risked a peek into Laurence’s head, and while it turned out to be successful, it was also like watching pornography. Laurence was still fired up from whatever they’d been flirting about before Frederick burst in. “Come along, girls,” he cooed as he rose from his seat. “Let’s go for walkies and leave these two alone for, oh—” he checked his phone “—I would say two hours.”

  He ushered the dogs out and closed the door. Two hours should give the dirty bastards time to muss up his nice spare bedroom, so at least Icky was well and truly recovered from his induced cardiac arrest last night. Mia’s word had been true.

  He harnessed the dogs and led them from the suite while his mind niggled over the new problem like a crow with a bottle cap.

  If Icky could control animals, was it possible that Frederick had reach beyond the gift he had long believed to be his only one?

  If so, how did he even begin to uncover it?

  He eased into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor, then pursed his lips and sifted through his memories to examine each and every one of Icky’s little displays of power.

  THE DAY WAS A WHIRLWIND. Frederick almost exulted in how busy he was, but realistically what truly satisfied him was the exercise of power. He had the ability to help, and using that ability left him with the sense that he was at least on the path to forgive himself for his errors. Nowhere near the end of that path, of course, but at least he’d taken baby steps.

  He walked the dogs. Arranged a car to take Laurence and Icky — and the dogs, of course — to their new home. He organized moving companies to fetch all of their belongings from both homes and deliver to the mansion in La Jolla. He kept one eye on the news as it matured throughout the day to ensure that there were no reports of preternatural activity or implication of guilt on anyone but Wilson. He used the television as an anchor to reach out and push a few ideas into the minds of those speaking: nothing outrageous, naturally, but merely suggestions to divert their attention onto Wilson and away from Icky and those close to him.

  Leftover teens were a boon. Some had fled the house and gone back to their families, but others were taking the time and space Wilson’s death afforded them to re-evaluate their lives and figure out what they wanted for themselves. A handful, Frederick was confident, would remain. They had become attached to Icky, or had no homes to go to, and because of that Icky now had something nobody else had managed to give him in all these years.

  He had responsibilities.

  Oh, dogs were an excellent first step, and Frederick applauded Laurence’s ingenuity. But a house full of children was a gift. Not only would it help pin Icky down at last and maybe grow up a touch, it might also give him something to fight for.

  If he wouldn’t defend himself, perhaps he would defend the children.

  It was a masterstroke. All Frederick had to do was wait around long enough to ensure Icky got himself settled in.

  His bruise came up nicely by the evening, but Frederick was a lot happier with it. That he’d earned.

  The coast was clear, and it was time to call Michael as promised.

  42

  MIKEY

  For some reason, he hadn’t thought Frederick might have gone out to blow up a yacht. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was just something about the guy which didn’t scream yacht destroyer.

  Oh yeah, that was it. Frederick’s insistence that he wouldn’t dream of getting his hands dirty.

  Mikey snorted as he flicked through channels and exchanged the occasional text message. Some mess this was. A few hundred million dollars had sunk overnight, and some politician was spouting off about terrorism on TV all day. The guy was spinning the disaster with calls to do away with the city’s gun controls, like somehow if everyone at a party had been armed the yacht wouldn’t have sunk.

  Mikey wasn’t convinced a hundred guns had the buoyancy to keep a boat on the water, or was Lansky really suggesting that they could’ve all shot the bomb to stop it going off? ‘Cause surely they wouldn’t have shot the guy who took the bomb on board before he planted it, because until it went off they didn’t know there was a bomber.

  Crazy. Still, he figured someone out there would lap this shit up, flawed logic and all.

  He surfed away from the news and toward quiz shows, and by the time his doorbell rang he was on to nature documentaries.

  He rose slowly. If it was someone bad, the bodyguards would have stopped them. Unless someone bad had killed all the bodyguards. Or paid them off. Or—

  “Are you going to open this bloody door, Michael?”

  Mikey let out a groan of relief and hurried to the door. He still checked the spy hole, but it was definitely Frederick out there, so he pulled the door open. “Sorry,” he gasped.

  Frederick’s eyebrow only raised so far before it stopped, likely because the cut over his eye and the purple which spread outward from it like water from a tub probably didn’t feel so great when he did. He stepped into the room and closed the door. “Everything is dealt with,” he rumbled.

  “Dealt with?” Mikey’s hands fluttered in a state of decision-making failure. He wanted to reach for Frederick, to clutch him in his hands and demand to know what happened last night, but he didn’t think Frederick would appreciate being manhandled. It might upset his precious stiff upper lip or whatever it was he had going on. “You’re hurt!”

  His fingers fluttered up toward the bruise, but stopped an inch away. Poking it would just be dumb.

  “Really, it’s nothing,” Frederick murmured. He eased his arm around Mikey’s waist and drew him away from the door. “I must apologize for leaving you for quite so long.”

  Mikey trotted in his wake and frowned. “Does this mean all the stuff you�
�re dealing with is done now?” He waved over his shoulder at the door. “We can get rid of the bodyguards?”

  Frederick sank into an armchair and gazed up at Mikey with a calculating glint in his eye. “You don’t like them,” he concluded. “They make you feel as though you are a prisoner.”

  “Oh, shit, it’s like you’re a mind reader or something.” Mikey snorted and sat on Frederick’s lap, one hand behind himself on the arm of the chair to prop himself up. “It’s kinda weird, you know? Makes me not wanna go out at all, or if I do, not for very long. You can’t even talk with ‘em.”

  Frederick laughed as he laid his hand on Mikey’s thigh. “They have a job to do, and they can’t do it if you keep chatting to them.”

  “I get that.” He leaned in to eye Frederick’s cut now that he had the height advantage. “Looks okay,” he muttered. “Should really suture it if you don’t want it to scar up, though.”

  “Hm.” Frederick pursed his lips slowly. “It should be all right. I don’t mind a little reminder of what a complete arse I’ve been.”

  Now it was Mikey’s turn for escalating eyebrows. “You’re not admitting to getting something wrong, are you?”

  The man under him snorted with derision. “As if I would.” He eyed Mikey and rocked his jaw. “Yes. I got something wrong.”

  Mikey held his breath. A month ago he would’ve mocked Frederick for an admission like that, but now? No. He’d come too far. Too much had changed. And this was the man who had seen his nightmares and still held him after.

  He released the air at last and dipped his head. “Are you okay?”

  It was impossible to read those glasslike eyes as they met his own. Frederick was every bit as enigmatic as he wanted to be, and he obviously wanted to be enigmatic as fuck right now.

  “I’ve discovered something,” Frederick finally mused. His stoic features relaxed into a more thoughtful set.

  “What’s that?” Mikey’s arm began to ache, so he pulled it forward and draped his hand over Frederick’s.

  “Icky is mildly telepathic.” Frederick coiled his arm around Mikey’s waist and tugged on him until Mikey had no choice but to fall against his chest.

  “Holy shit.” He frowned. “Is that gonna be a problem? Can he read you?” Then he gasped. “He didn’t find out about me, did he?”

  “No, no.” Frederick’s hand settled over Mikey’s hip, and he rested his chin on Mikey’s shoulder. “I say mildly because he only appears able to use his ability on animals. He doesn’t even seem aware that he’s doing it, though Laurence has his suspicions.”

  “Huh.” Mikey lowered his head to Frederick’s shoulder. There was more to this, he was sure of it. Frederick liked to speak in slow chunks, like he was drip feeding information while he decided whether his audience was worthy of more. “Okay. What else?”

  He felt a slow shift in Frederick’s tension beneath him, and the hands on him moved until Frederick had his arms wrapped around Mikey’s waist.

  “I have a theory,” Frederick began with caution. “Now, I am no scientist, and as yet I have no evidence, but I have done some reading on the nature and circumstance of twins. We’re clearly not maternal twins because we aren’t in any way identical. We’re also quite uncommon as fraternal twins in that we’re both of the same biological sex, whereas it’s far more common for dizygotic twins to be of differing sexes. Not always male and female. Sometimes one is intersex or hermaphroditic—”

  “You’re rambling.” Mikey smiled dryly.

  Frederick snorted at him. “There is also potential for twins to share a placenta. Now, normally this results in the death of one or both children, either during or after birth, but it does allow for the transfer of biological material between siblings in utero.”

  Mikey sat up slowly. “You think he got this doggy telepathy from you?”

  “I’m not wholly sure,” Frederick said. His gaze was settled on some distant point beyond the glass of the window. “Mother was an incredibly strong telepath. I have no doubt I gained my abilities from her, but she never bore an ounce of psychokinetic talent whatsoever.”

  “So your brother must’ve got that from your dad?”

  “Agreed.” Frederick nodded. “But I do wonder whether the intent of the union was to produce a child with both.”

  Mikey frowned and nudged a finger against Frederick’s chest. “You’re making it sound like breeding cattle.”

  At that, Frederick laughed, and finally looked him in the eye. “Dear boy, this is what the aristocracy is. Hundreds of years of animal husbandry. Every single sexual union handpicked to produce offspring who are strong enough to maintain whatever fragile allegiance brought about their birth. I would not doubt that some families have been breeding for preternatural power as well as political advantage. We have played this game for centuries.”

  “Oh my God.” He slid from Frederick’s lap and paced toward the windows. “You talk about it like it’s some fucking game! Don’t any of you people ever marry for love?”

  “Probably.” Frederick’s broad shoulders flexed with a mild shrug. “And those families generally lose. They lose power, influence, wealth, status. This is a survival strategy, Michael. All humans are doing is attempting to secure the success of their own genetic material, and by amassing privilege they protect their offspring far into the future.”

  “So one day you’re gonna marry some woman you don’t care about, put babies in her, and carry on with me on the side?”

  The way Frederick looked at him, Mikey knew he’d overstepped the line. He could’ve kicked himself. It didn’t matter how he felt about Frederick. Hell, falling for the guy was dumb as a sack of rocks anyway. Frederick had made it crystal clear right from the get-go that Mikey was property to him, and Mikey had agreed. He’d as good as signed a contract for Frederick to use him and then discard him however he wanted.

  Then it had to go and get complicated.

  “I don’t have to maintain the line,” Frederick finally drawled. He looked away and sniffed a little. “That’s Icky’s job. Anyway, pansexual doesn’t mean cheat, dear. And I very much doubt I will tire of you just yet. You are putting the cart before the horse.”

  Mikey threw his hands up. “That wasn’t the reassuring speech you were looking for, man.”

  Frederick rose from his seat with slow, deliberate ease. He continued to unfold like he wasn’t ever gonna stop getting bigger and bigger until, when he was done, he loomed like a goddamn iceberg.

  Mikey swallowed tightly. His breath quickened, and he froze like it was a raid.

  Shit, Frederick was the hottest fucking guy Mikey had ever been with.

  “You had a nightmare last night,” Frederick finally said.

  He shrugged as his hands fell. “I was worried about you,” he muttered.

  “Hm.”

  Frederick strode toward him, and Mikey did his best to look away, but the sheer magnetic force of the man was hard to resist. In the end all that happened was he managed to stare at a fixed point on Frederick’s collar as large hands gripped his shoulders.

  “Tomorrow,” Frederick murmured, “we shall see if your passport has arrived. And once it has we will leave this place and I will get you the very best help available. But if you wish, I can make it so that you don’t dream tonight.”

  Mikey hated that Frederick’s touch made him feel so weak. He shook his head and dragged down a deep breath. “You act like you care about me.”

  “Yes.” Frederick sighed. “There is a reason for that. I realize that it’s difficult to understand, but that’s because I do care for you, Michael. I am every bit as unused to it as you are, believe me. So perhaps don’t be so hard on yourself, and don’t be so hard on me, all right? Don’t shoot this in the foot before it even gets off the starting line.” One hand left Mikey’s shoulder and cupped his chin.

  Mikey resisted a moment, and then relented. He allowed Frederick to raise his chin, and glowered into his eyes.

  “I don’t eve
n know what ‘this’ is,” he muttered.

  “Nor do I.” Frederick shrugged. “Must all things be named? Can we not simply explore them and learn as we go?”

  Mikey couldn’t help it. He laughed, short and sharp. “Something you don’t know?”

  “Will wonders never cease?” Frederick’s lips quirked gently, and he leaned in to press them against Mikey’s forehead. “Now, will you stop complaining and come to bed?”

  Mikey huffed. The lips were warm, soft where most of Frederick was hard and unyielding, and the kiss seeped through him until he couldn’t hold his irritation any more.

  “Fine,” he said. “Your place or mine?”

  Frederick laughed and slipped arms around Mikey. “Don’t be silly. They’re both mine.”

  43

  FREDERICK

  Still, he took Michael back to the penthouse. Frederick was hardly about to spend the night in a junior suite.

  The poor boy had worked himself into quite a state throughout the day. It was as though he had taken a step backward, but it was understandable. Waking from a nightmare to the morning news must have been quite a fright, especially once that keen mind had put two and two together to realize that Frederick must have been on the Theophrastus when it went down. Despite text messages to assure him that all was well Michael had niggled away at what if scenarios throughout the day, and then the dam had burst.

  This was proving a most fascinating engagement. There was a diamond buried deep within the rough, and polishing it out would take time, investment, and skill. Frederick did not have all the required skills, so careful selection of the correct trades throughout each and every step of the way would be essential, and if ever things got too much for Michael, Frederick could always install another personality in there to give Michael time away from the world in which to heal and recuperate.

  For now, though, he knew what he could do for the boy.

  Michael had settled slightly in the elevator on the way to the penthouse, but the weight only really began to leave him once they were alone again, without their bodyguard escort to remind him of how stir crazy he was going.