by Jaye McKenna
“Easy for you to say,” Kyn murmured.
Closing his eyes to shut out visual distractions, Draven examined the shield wrapped around Kyn’s mind. It took him a while to get a feel for the rhythm of its dance. Once the patterns of movement became clear, he committed them to memory for his own use. A shield that could make him invisible to even the strongest psions would make an excellent addition to his toolbox.
When he was certain he understood the way all the pieces worked together, Draven turned his mind to building the counter-pattern. One that moved like this, and twisted so, colors shifting, shapes morphing…
It seemed a shame to break something so breathtakingly beautiful, but Kyn had asked him so very nicely. He’d even said please. Very few people had ever said please to Draven.
When the key pattern was complete, he set it in motion, syncing the movements of the individual components with the different parts of Kyn’s shield, and pushed.
As the two patterns merged, there was a surge in the mythe, and both shield and key shattered in an explosion of color and light.
Draven blinked and shook his head hard as he came back to awareness, the echoes of the explosion still rippling through the mythe.
He’d been away for a long time. The cabin was dark, the only light coming from the moon shining in the window. His first attempt to stand ended with him sitting down hard as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Swallowing, he tried again, and managed to struggle to his feet and switch on the lamp next to the couch.
Kyn was out cold, but Draven could feel his presence clearly now, as he hadn’t before. He tried to shake Kyn awake, but there was no response.
He debated only briefly. Cameron trusted him, and damned if he would do anything more to break that trust than he already had. With a sigh, he dipped into the mythe and sought out the thread Miko had woven the other night, the one that connected them through the mythe. When he found it, he gave it a tug.
Moments later, Miko was there in his mind.
It was easier to send Miko the memory than to put it into words, so Draven pushed the whole thing into the mythe until it touched Miko’s thread. Moments later, he sensed Miko’s surprise.
Draven rubbed his face.
He didn’t. When Cameron strode into the cabin an hour later, a grim expression on his face and a stunner in his hand, Draven stood with his hands spread wide and took the stun-shot without a word.
* * *
“How’s Kyn?” Cam held the phone to his ear with one hand and raked the other through his hair as he paced the main floor of the cabin. After stunning Draven, he’d hauled him up the stairs and secured him to the bed, then flown Kyn to the campus. Now, Kyn was safe in the Institute’s infirmary, and Cam was going to have to deal with Draven.
“Still unconscious.” Eleni sounded tired, which wasn’t surprising. She’d started the day with a healing early in the morning, and it was now close to her bedtime. “Jaana’s checked him. She says… she says the null-shield is gone, and she thinks he’s psi-active again. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” Would he ever. Draven was going to be on the receiving end of some hard questions once the stun-shot wore off.
“I warned you. Told you he was—”
“Eleni!” He cut her off sharply. “You have something to say to me, you can say it to my face. One way or another, I’ll be back on campus tomorrow.”
The cold silence from Eleni was almost tangible.
“I’ll call you once I’ve got some answers,” he said.
“I’ll be waiting.” Her voice was icy, and she cut the call without even saying goodbye.
Cam stared at the phone for a long moment before slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans. Then he trudged up the stairs to see what Draven had to say for himself.
Draven was lying right where Cam had left him, wrists bound together and secured to the head of the bed. He turned his head and met Cam’s gaze steadily.
“Well?” Cam demanded, crossing the room to stand over him.
Draven lowered his lashes. “Well, what?”
“I trusted you, damn it. What the hell did you do to Kyn?”
“Nothing he didn’t ask for.”
Cam wrapped his hand around Draven’s throat. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Draven’s eyes dilated as he stared up at Cam, and Cam was suddenly intensely aware of the heat of his skin, the wild flutter of his pulse under his fingers. He held Draven’s life in his hand right now, and Draven knew it.
The arousal pouring off of Draven was a shock, but at the same time, it set an answering heat simmering low in Cam’s belly. It had been a long time since his body had reacted with this kind of intensity, and it was a struggle to push it aside and stay focused.
“He asked me to break his shield down.” Draven’s voice was a husky whisper. “Said he was tired of living in the dark. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought it would hurt him.”
“He asked you…” Cam relaxed his grip on Draven’s neck and backed off a little. “What made him think you could?”
“He was watching a news report from Indigo. The witch-burnings. I asked him why he was afraid.”
“You sensed him?”
“Not as clearly as I sense you. Just little flashes now and then. He said no one else could sense him. When I got close enough, I could see the shield that hid his mind.” Then, almost as an afterthought, Draven asked, “Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. He’s still unconscious.”
Draven flinched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I’m responsible for the safety of the people here, and I have to know for certain that you’re telling me the truth.”
Draven gave him a brief nod, apparently understanding exactly what Cam intended. “I won’t fight you,” he whispered, and dropped the shield protecting his mind.
Cam slipped into Draven’s mind and went straight for the man’s core. Draven put up no resistance, though Cam sensed him watching with a detached sort of curiosity.
There it was, his for the taking: every memory, every thought, every dream Draven had ever had. The memories pertaining to Kyn were fresh and near the surface, and Cam saw immediately — with no small amount of relief — that Draven hadn’t lied to him. Kyn had asked, and the shield that hid Kyn’s mind had been so fascinating, Draven hadn’t been able to refuse, even though he’d known Cam wouldn’t be happy about it.
Cam should have stopped there. He had what he wanted. But he couldn’t resist going a little deeper. Draven’s mind was full of pain and an almost crippling fear of losing his grip on reality. Cam caught flashes of a past every bit as dark and cruel as Miko’s. The years Draven had spent with DeMira had been heaven compared to what he’d endured before that. DeMira had given him structure. A place. A purpose.
And then it was over. At twenty, Draven had become too old to hold DeMira’s interest. In a single night, he lost his status of favored bedmate and became just another of DeMira’s staff. He’d been struggling to hold it together ever since. The fear was constant, along with the feeling of being cast adrift in a void.
DeMira had been his focus for all of his adult life. Even when he’d worked for Romani, his only goal had been to return to Alpha and the man who had shaped his world and given him purpose. Now he didn’t even have the faint hope of a reunion to cling to. DeMira had betrayed his trust, and now he was gone for good, leaving behind a lost boy
with a hole in his heart and no sense of direction.
No control.
Until Cam had come back into his life.
Now…
Now there was a flicker of hope that Cam might be able to help him before he lost his way entirely. Draven needed someone to anchor him.
Someone to master him.
“Jesus,” Cam breathed, pulling back out of the depths of Draven’s mind.
A muffled sob came from the bed.
Did Draven know what he’d seen?
The heady combination of hope, shame, and arousal coming off of him said he did.
Without a word, Cam released the binders securing Draven’s hands. Draven sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists but refusing to raise his head. The deep sense of loss almost overwhelmed both of them. Cam pulled back a little farther, but not before he caught a very clear sense of the desperation Draven had become so adept at hiding. Everything had been spinning out of control for so long, and he was so tired of fighting…
Could Cam fill the void left by DeMira? Could he be what Draven needed?
He’d seen what Draven craved. What was missing.
If he had any hope of putting Draven to work, he needed him functional… didn’t he?
Yes. Yes, he did.
Which meant…
Cam moved closer. Draven kept his head down, but Cam felt the hope and the need surging through him. He reached out to take hold of a handful of silky black hair.
Draven barely raised his head, but he watched Cam through veiled, glassy eyes. “Got what you wanted, Asada?” His voice was hoarse, and he was trembling with the intensity of the conflicting emotions sleeting through him: fury, fear, and desire, all twisting around one another until it was impossible to tell them apart.
Cam tightened his grip on Draven’s hair, firm, but not painful. “Not yet. Do you have something more to offer?”
Amber eyes widened and dilated, fixing on Cam as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered. Something deep inside Cam, something he’d never known existed, leapt with dark joy when he sensed the tentative submission coming from a man he’d once feared.
“Yes,” Draven whispered, closing his eyes.
“Yes, what?”
“Those things.”
“What things?”
A pink tongue darted out, moistened dry lips. “Those things you’re thinking about doing to me. Yes. I want you to do them. Please.”
Cam’s mouth went dry. Dark desire surged through him, and he found himself balanced on the knife edge between elation and terror. What if he had it all wrong? Draven was a complicated, fragile mess, and the last thing Cam wanted was to break him.
“Look at me,” Cam said in a rough, gritty voice.
Draven’s eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide as he stared up at Cam. The want, the desire, the raw need coming off of the man was so thick it nearly choked him.
“Please,” Draven whispered. “Let me…”
Before Cam could say another word, Draven was on the floor on his knees. Amber eyes raised and locked with his own, darkening with a heady combination of challenge and submission.
In a flash of clarity, the things he’d seen in Draven’s mind came together, and Cam understood that he was being tested. Draven was pushing, seeing how far he could go. Backing down now would be a terrible mistake; he needed to make it clear that he could be exactly what Draven needed him to be.
Draven brought his hands up to Cam’s belt, fingers working it open with cautious, tentative movements, as if he were still trying to determine whether he’d snared predator or prey in his web.
Cam stared down at him, keeping his expression neutral until Draven lowered his eyes. He had to bite his cheek to keep from crying out when Draven took him in hand and lapped gently at the head of his cock.
“That’s it,” Cam murmured, voice thick with desire.
Draven licked Cam’s cock from root to tip.
“Fuck…” Cam couldn’t stop the groan of pleasure that escaped his lips. A moment later, his cock was sheathed in the wet heat of Draven’s mouth. His hips jerked forward, and his grip on Draven’s hair tightened so he could hold his head in place and fuck his mouth. Draven relaxed his throat, taking him deeper, and Cam let out another groan in response.
The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside him, but he didn’t let go. With iron control, he allowed Draven to take him right to the edge before shoving him away.
Draven edged back, still on his knees, eyes closed, head down. Waiting. “Please,” he whispered.
“Strip,” Cam said.
Draven rose gracefully to his feet and started to remove his clothing.
* * *
Draven stared up at Cameron and dared to hope. Could Cameron give him the peace he so desperately craved? The peace that had eluded him for twenty years? Nikolai DeMira could, but there’d been no one since.
His whole body ached with longing, and when Cameron ordered him to strip, the years of denial and need slipped away, and he obeyed immediately. The air in the room was cool, but Cameron’s gaze was hot. His eyes darkened with desire as Draven started unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers.
The shirt slid to the floor, and Cameron’s eyes raked over him. Draven’s hands moved to undo his pants and slide them off. When he’d stripped to his skin, he stood before Cameron, eyes downcast, waiting for the next order.
“Turn around. Face the bed.”
He pivoted. The whisper of fabric sliding over flesh came from behind him, but he dared not turn and look. A hand on his back shoved him forward, and he landed face down on the mattress. Hot weight pressed against him, covering his body; skin and muscle, force and heat. Cameron’s breath was a searing furnace blast against his neck. His rigid cock, pressed hard against Draven’s backside, was a burning brand.
Teeth closed on his shoulder. The pain flared in his body and his mind, and he groaned and sank into it, letting it roll over him and through him. If he let it, the pain would take him to that place where blinding white light would burn all the tension away, leaving peace in its wake.
The body pinning him down shifted, and a line of nips and feather-light kisses traced his spine. Strong hands gripped him by the hips and hauled him up onto his knees.
A slick finger slipped inside him. Heat flashed through his core and his cock filled. A tremor shivered through him, and he had to bite his lip to choke back the moan of anticipation.
Draven pushed his hips back, wanting more: deeper, harder, faster… Moments later, Cameron took hold of his hips in a punishing grip and pushed into him. It burned, and Draven howled as he fell headlong into an abyss that was pain and pleasure, darkness and light, fire and ice, all spiraling around each other until he could no longer tell them apart.
Cameron wasn’t gentle, didn’t give him even a moment before he started to move. Draven hung on, pushing back to meet every punishing stroke, need burning through him until it was all he could feel.
“Mine.” A dark, husky whisper tickled his ear. “You’re mine, Draven.”
Draven didn’t say a word, but his mind screamed, Yes!
A hand closed firmly around his cock and he bucked hard, pushing himself into it with a hoarse cry.
The sensations tore him from reality, plunging him into white-hot nirvana, and there he flew free. He was nothing but sensation here, his only job to feel it, to ride it out and emerge pure and clean on the other side.
No thought.
No fear.
No Draven.
Chapter Seven
Miko traced the path of the data-stream through the net. It passed through multiple walls and veils, defenses designed to keep everything out, keep the data safe.
He moved through those defenses with ease, invisible to the bots that protected the vulnerable data structures within. Like a ghost in the net, he left no trace of his passing. The bots he designed did most of the work for him, but there were places even they couldn’t go. Places Miko reached by tunneling t
hrough the mythe.
When he found the end-point of the data-stream, he added it to the growing web of references to Draven that he’d discovered. Once he’d constructed Draven’s new identity, he’d destroy that web so no trace of the man Draven had been would exist in any data structure anywhere in the Federation.
He liked this kind of work. It was absorbing and required total focus, which meant he didn’t have to think about anything that was going on in the world outside of the mythe.
None of it had any meaning here.
Not even Rafe.
The sharp colors of anger and fear lashed through the mythe, snagging his attention like a flashing beacon.
Rafe?
No… not Rafe. Pat Cottrell, moving closer, mythe-shadow bristling and sparking.
Miko untangled his awareness from the net and surfaced. He remained sitting cross-legged on the couch, but dipped into the net to unlock the door at Pat’s knock. Pat came right in, and Miko flinched at the violence seething through his normally calm mythe-shadow.
“We need to talk.” Pat’s voice was hoarse, and he didn’t look as if he’d slept. Dark stubble lined his jaw, and his normally neat hair was in disarray.
“Are you all right?” Miko asked, making sure to use the most soothing voice he had for the voice synth.
Pat blinked, and there was a long pause before he sighed and said, “No. Not really. I… spent the night in the infirmary with Kyn. This is too much like what happened before, when he woke Luka up out of that nightmare.” Some of the spikes in his mythe-shadow smoothed a little as Pat made the attempt to calm himself.
“It’s not the same,” Miko said. “I saw Jaana’s log. She’s not worried about him.”
“I know. I was there when she checked him out. She says he’ll wake up soon, and he might even have his psi back. I’m trying not to get my hopes up.” Pat’s expression hardened. “But you and I need to talk about Draven and what happened yesterday.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“I’m aware of that.” Pat dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I know you have a history with Draven, and I know you’re trying to protect him, but he attacked Kyn yesterday.”
