Starlight Star Bright (The Men of Dragons' House Book 1)

by H. M. Wolfe

  Instead of devouring Alasdair with a greedy, demanding mouth, his kisses were gentle, shy, and tentative. He tasted the redhead bit by bit, making him shiver with pleasure, wanting much more. His mouth left a wet trail over the younger man's soft, flawless skin, as it went down. He followed the delicate path of red hair to his southern region, peppering sweet, innocent kisses along its way.

  Once there, Ardan stopped and raised his head, a questioning look in the expressive, stunning, turquoise eyes. For a second, Alasdair was at a loss, so he just nodded, but when the older man pulled him in his lap, the redhead knew. For some reason, his husband wanted him again in the same way their first time happened. Facing each other, no hierarchy between them, just two people making love as equals, and enjoying each other.

  After Alasdair was carefully prepared, he lowered himself on Ardan's erect cock. He was slowly taking it inch by inch with a smile of satisfaction, brightening his face. The redhead wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, whispering sweet words into his ear. He welcomed the long, deep thrusts with moans of pleasure and whimpers of need.

  With one hand wrapped around Spitfire's back, Ardan used the other to take care of his husband's cock. It had started to throb painfully, pearls of precum already forming at the tip which he used to lubricate his stroking. He stroke it lazily at first, but, with Alasdair thrusting greedily into his fist, the man had no choice than to speed up. He was then pulling the redhead closer, kissing his face and neck, before falling into the abyss of light, passion, and pleasure.

  Glancing down at his torso, sticky from his Spitfire's release, Ardan had once again a confirmation that everything was real. It wasn't just a wild dream or a figment of his imagination. This incredibly beautiful redhead with his head buried on his shoulder was living, breathing, and belonged with him forever.

  ''T

  hank you for the honor you've done me. Letting me be your first and giving yourself wholly to a man who didn't know very much about what love meant. I could have screwed things up big time back then, leaving you physically and emotionally scarred.'' Ardan shuddered at the thought.

  ''You could, but didn't.'' Alasdair ran his hands over the soft, blond hair covering his husband's cheeks and chin. ''Babe, what happened there? You know I'm the best listener.'' he looked into the loving, turquoise eyes.

  ''We were greeted by a desperate, loud, almost savage cry for help.'' the older man started the story, his voice distant and emotionless. ''The place was swarming with guards, so we had to find and take them down one by one. I was praying that it wasn't too late for that poor kid. When we finally arrived, and he was being held captive...'' Ardan's voice died down, his stare empty.

  ''Don't tell me that he was...that everything was in vain.'' Alasdair pleaded, searching for the right answer in his husband's eyes. But the pain was all he could see.

  ''The sick fuck was thrusting into the boy, mercilessly, again and again. I could see he was slipping away bit by bit. The beast couldn't believe it when he saw us. But, after the initial shock, he started to act arrogantly and staining your name with his filthy mouth. I punched him a few times, without holding back. I could've killed him.''

  ''Again, you could've, but you chose not to. That is solely proving you are a thousand times better than he is.'' Alasdair spoke passionately, hoping his husband heard the truth in his voice. ''Although I'm sure no one would have blamed you if you had taken his worthless life,'' he added.

  ''Don't speak like that. He's still your brother, black-hearted as he is. In spite of everything, and even after he finds out about Ronan being alive, your father would still hurt for his child.''

  ''Yes, you're right with that one.'' Alasdair agreed after a moment of silence. He remembered the conversation he and Tyler had a couple of days earlier. ''For dad, that wretched, poor excuse of a human being will always be the sweet, innocent boy who lightened his and mom's life.''

  He fell silent, as Ardan hugged and cradled him. Ardan covered his forehead and temples with sweet kisses and light caresses. His husband was acting a little bit strange. Almost like he was afraid he'd lose him, Alasdair thought, his heart aching. However, he knew better than to ask him anything. He decided to wait until the man opened up by himself. He always did, sooner or later, the redhead sighed.

  As if he'd guessed his Spitfire's thoughts, Ardan got out of bed, taking him in his arms, bridal style. He stepped into the bathroom, turned on the water, then placed his precious cargo into the tub, before joining him. The two husbands washed each other, their touches going from delicate, tentative, feather-like, to heated and passionate, but tender at the same time.

  But the redhead wasn't satisfied only with that. Smirking mischievously, he started to swirl his skillful tongue over Ardan's nipples. He began switching between them until both turned into hard pebbles. That, of course, transformed the man into a moaning mess. However, Alasdair didn't stop, in spite of his husband's hitched voice and his pleas.

  Putting those sensual, sinful lips of his around one the buds, the redhead sucked them, tenderly at first. He then sucked harder, bringing the other man to the edge of insanity. Almost to the point, he thought his heart would give out. With each twist of his Spitfire's tongue, Ardan's moans intensified. Those moans intensified until they became a long, sharp cry of victory as he shot his load under the water.

  Half an hour later, adequately rinsed, dried, and fully dressed, the two were laying in one another's arms on the bed. The shadow of a smile was playing on Ardan's face, and he was considerably more relaxed after their lovemaking.

  ''You know, thinking more about it, I have to be grateful to that cold-hearted bastard for believing Patrice's lies and abandoning you in New York City.'' the man finally spoke, his voice low and calm.

  ''I knew something more happened there! And I was right! Goddamn serpent!'' Alasdair snapped. ''What kind of poison did he spit out!? What was it that made you hurt as you did?''

  ''When I saw the kid's body, covered in wounds and bleeding, I wanted to end the monster's life right there at that very moment. It was like a blood-thirsty beast inside me took full control. It was demanding attention and submitting my will to its own...'' Ardan's voice broke as he recalled that moment of madness.

  ''You are not a monster! How many times do I have to repeat that? Before you finally understand? That scum must have said something to provoke you and to make you react that way.'' Alasdair caressed his husband's knuckles.

  ''Yes, he did.'' Ardan's turquoise eyes darkened as he remembered. ''The bastard told me he wanted to be the first who...took your virginity after you came out. But, with your parents always around, it was impossible.''

  ''What?! That man...No, he's not a man! He doesn't deserve to be called that! Real men have honor and protect their families, instead of abandoning and trashing them. But yes, I remember now. I remember all the things that seemed strange to me at the time. Like the way, he'd look at me sometimes. The way he'd talk to me or touch me...'' Alasdair's voice trailed off, thinking of all the little details he'd overlooked or missed back then.

  ''Touched you?!'' Ardan roared, his eyes narrowing dangerously. ''That piece of filth won't live to see another sunset!'' he hissed through gritted teeth.

  ''Not in a sexual manner. Not directly, at least, although...'' The redhead paused a little, aware of the impact his words were going to have on his husband. ''After I came out, and whenever I was shirtless. He'd touch my chest, especially in the nipple area. He was always saying that they were not big enough to be pinched and twisted. He also used to make remarks about how I hadn't a...you know...happy trail.''

  ''What about your parents? How did they react when you told them?'' Ardan felt a strong impulse to scream and shout. He wanted to curse and destroy everything around him. But, with a considerable effort, he managed to calm down.

  ''Mom died two months after me coming out. I didn't want to upset dad with those insignificant things. I figured that they were probably only in my imagination. So I
never told him about that.'' Alasdair whispered. ''What's going to happen to him?'' he continued in the same small voice, examining his husband's face.

  ''That's up to Mister Stark, as the patriarch of the clans.'' Ardan let out a long, heavy sigh. ''However, I think you and your father should also have a say in the matter.'' he continued in a calmer voice.

  Alasdair relaxed into his beloved's embrace. He then gave thanks to the Fates who'd blessed him by bringing this loving, protective, and wise man into his life. Always following a moral code, he once again proved worthy of the trust the former CIA director had in him. Although the things Ardan just found out would have justified his deed, had he'd killed Allen. Instead, Ardan would step aside, and let the bastard's family decide whether if or how he would be punished.

  A bright smile spread on the redhead's full, seductive lips. It immediately reached the stunning, emerald-green eyes at the sight of his husband's relaxed features, as he slept peacefully. The rhythmic, soft sound of Ardan's breath made Alasdair let out a sigh of contentment. As he was about to drift asleep, the persistent buzz of his phone abruptly ended the pleasant state of reflection.

  The number on the caller id made the blood freeze in his veins. Knowing that it was impossible to take the call in the bedroom, Alasdair messaged the caller back. He asked for a minute or two, so he could go to a more convenient location. Once downstairs, Alasdair redialed the number and braced himself for what was about to come.

  Eve-Marie Griesser stared incredulously at the report in front of her. She was still unable to overcome the shock reading it produced. So, she'd been right all along. Even if the names were wrong, she thought. Lorcan, the other boy she'd given birth to, was indeed destined to rule over a criminal organization. It was the one his father had created and was successfully running. It was all in the report she was holding.

  Murder, extortion, blackmailing—all these and many more were crimes Ardan MacNamara had committed to making his way to the top of the organized crime hierarchy. The report mentioned the name of at least two very prominent Detroit Mafia families, Fenelli and Moretti. They were among the man's most trusted allies and associates.

  According to the report, MacNamara's father, Godfrey, was the boss of a Mafia-like organization known as The Defenders. However, what terrified Eve-Marie the most were the ties her son's father had to Bratva, the Russian equivalent of the Mafia.

  According to the detectives she'd put in charge of investigating the man's activities, Ardan was like a son to Aristarh Mikhailovich Golovkin. He was the leader of that powerful and dangerous criminal organization. The detective agency was one of the most reputable in Brisbane. It was well-known for the professionalism of its employees. So the authenticity of the information that was included in the report was above any shadow of a doubt.

  Eve-Marie Griesser put the folder on her desk, straightening her back. She'd already made her decision, and there were nothing and nobody who could change it. After everything the woman had found out by reading that report, she couldn't leave her son in New York anymore. Not with that criminal! Even if it was too late for Lorcan, she could still save Cian, her son.

  However, Eve-Marie Griesser believed in fair-play. So she decided to call the man, giving him a heads-up about what she intended. But at the last moment, she changed her mind and dialed the number of Ardan's red-haired husband instead. Big-mouthed as he was, the younger man seemed to have more control over his temper than Cian's father. Who, according to the report, had quite a few unpredictable reactions.

  After initially rejecting the call, the redhead sent her a message. He was asking for a couple of minutes to get to another room. That confirmed the woman's suspicions regarding Ardan MacNamara's difficult temper. It made her congratulate herself for calling the husband instead.

  Soon, the second message, telling her that they could talk uninterrupted, arrived. Eve-Marie Griesser closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. ''This isn't going to be pleasant,'' she thought, ''but Cian's safety and well-being were above everything else.''

  W

  hen Alasdair was called to the base's clinic, to deliver Gaspard's babies, Lorcan and Cian went to their grandfather's, Thorvald and Namir in tow. However, the teen was agitated the entire evening, haunted by a strange feeling that took him over. He was almost positive that something was going to happen at home. An event of tremendous importance for his future was on the horizon.

  Although their mind link was closed, Thorvald sensed his mate's restlessness. And, with a tired smile, whispered to him to go home and leave Cian in his care. He would cast a spell on the boy, the shifter said. It would make the absence of his brother pass unnoticed. Lorcan thanked the blond, long-haired teen and, climbing into his car, drove back.

  Heading to the staircase, Lorcan passed the living-room entrance. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, the strange feeling becoming more intense. That was the place where the event was going to happen, he thought, stepping inside. For a while, Ardan's son sat there, in the dark, waiting for his father's arrival. He felt the man was connected, in one way or another, with the strange feelings his son was experiencing.

  Soon, however, Lorcan's eyelids became heavy with sleep. He then moved from the armchair to the couch, lying flat on his belly, with one of the throw pillows stuffed under his head. Thorvald's melodious, comforting voice lulled him to sleep. It seemed to be whispering in his ear that everything was going to be alright.

  The image of the long-haired, blond boy didn't leave Lorcan. He soon appeared in his dream, the blue eyes shining with affection. His body relaxed as the strong, warm arms were wrapped around the younger boy. After a while, the dream turned a bit weird and quite realistic. Ardan's son could hear with great clarity his father's husband talking on the phone, apparently with a woman.

  For some reason, the device was on speaker. It was allowing Lorcan to listen to the whole conversation. The things he heard made his blood go cold, and his heart hammer like crazy against his ribcage.

  ''Are you alone in the room?'' the woman insisted, to Alasdair's irritation. ''Can anyone hear you? Listen to this conversation?''

  ''Yes and no.'' the redhead answered. ''There is only Ardan and me in the house. He is sleeping upstairs. That's the reason why I asked you for some time. You do realize it's five o'clock in the morning here in the US, don't you?''

  ''Sorry, I completely forgot about it.'' the woman's voice was apologetic. ''But I would have called you even if I'd remembered.''

  ''The matter has to be of great importance, then. I suspect it concerns Cian.'' Alasdair softly spoke. ''I'm listening.''

  ''I'm coming to take him home.'' Eve-Marie Griesser abruptly started. ''I can't leave my son there after finding out the terrible news. Had I known before..''

  ''Of course, I understand. You are his mother, after all.'' the redhead sighed in defeat. ''I need one more week. That is all I ask from you, seven more days. And don't contact Ardan, please. He...he doesn't know, and I would prefer things to stay that way. Cian going back to Brisbane will cause him pain as it is. I don't want him to find out the other thing, too.''

  ''I will never understand what do you see in that man.'' Eve-Marie huffed. ''Fine, one week it is. I don't expect to encounter any difficulties or obstacles once I get to New York City.'' Although very subtle, the woman's voice had a note of warning in it.

  ''You won't. I give you my word.'' Alasdair firmly replied. ''I have to go now, my husband needs me.'' he politely ended the call.

  But, instead of going upstairs, the redhead propped the head in his hands. He then started to sob, quietly at first, then increasingly louder. The sounds coming from him were like knives stabbing Lorcan's heart. He desperately wanted to hug the man but didn't want to betray his presence. It would reveal the fact that he'd heard the conversation.

  On the other hand, the teen was surprised, in an unpleasant way, of how easy Alasdair agreed with Cian's mother coming and taking him back to Brisbane even though he knew that the kid wouldn't be hap
py there. Unless...Lorcan gasped in shock at the realization, but that was the only possible explanation for his step-father's behavior. He knew about Cian's heart condition.

  After a while, Alasdair's sobs died down, then stopped altogether. The redhead waited a little bit longer, then trudged his feet up the stairs. His posture was that of an old, defeated man. Left alone, Lorcan finally got up from the couch and started to pace the room. He was frantically trying to find a solution that would allow his brother to stay with him, but couldn't figure out anything that would work.

  All he could do was pray for a miracle, the boy thought. He was utterly defeated and hopeless. Shoulders slumped, he plopped down on the couch and lowered his head. It only took him a few moments before he sprang to his feet, facepalming himself. ''That's it!'' he thought, taking his phone from the coffee table and started to dial the number. After waiting for about a minute, the calming, paternal voice finally answered him.