The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  Awareness seeped past his internal grump and tiredness, causing him to raise his large hands, pressing them to his chest. The odd tugging filtered through his tiredness. His steady heartbeat reassured that it hadn’t been a nightmare that had woken him. His brows drew together, and his breath whooshed out. The tug inside him turned into a sudden sharp pain, making him fight to breathe.

  Aaden catapulted forward. What the fuck?

  He attempted to take several shallow breaths to ease the tightness that was making his lungs feel as if he was swimming underwater. When the air finally managed to fill his chest, he found his head was pounding and his vision wavering. He groaned in despair, knowing what was coming.

  Aaden shut his eyes, not fighting the vision that leapt into the front of his mind. No matter how many times it happened over the years, he still never got used to the feeling when his brain decided it needed him to see something important that wasn’t necessarily connected to him.

  It hadn’t been enough for his fourteen-year-old mind, which was already boggling at his cat being older than Methuselah; the universe had thrown Max’s guardian abilities into the mix, somehow or other being transferred into him.

  The visions had started not long after Max had opened up their link. It had somehow screwed with his brain chemistry. Or that’s what Max thought. It had never happened with any of Max’s other charges, so he’d, of course, blamed Aaden.

  At fourteen, he’d not given a flying fuck, because what child didn’t want to be a superhero with invincible powers? Only, he’d found out he wasn’t invincible or that the power didn’t come at a cost.

  Max had spoken with his peers trying to find something to help Aaden, but to no avail. Something else Aaden had struggled to comprehend at the time was that there were more cats roaming the world, helping people find their one true soulmate.

  The years that followed had been hard on both of them when he’d not been equipped to help those that needed it, until he’d joined the army.

  His extra talents, as he liked to think of them, saved lives, and this, he realised, was why he had never truly shared himself with anyone; frightened they would think he was mad. He got it. He’d thought he was going mad for quite some time before he understood and accepted his fate. A fate that required him to build a box in his mind to shut away the images, to ensure he didn’t end up in a crazy farm. Well, that was till it up and broke on him.

  He would have snorted at his misfortune, but the vision wasn’t waiting and took over.

  Colour shimmered in front of his eyelids, his mind’s eye taking him to what appeared to be a hotel. He exhaled, his breath whistling past his clenched lips. His fingers gripped the soft cotton of his duvet, digging into the cover as Greg’s laughing face filled his mind. Aaden pushed past the painful throb behind his eyes and continued to watch the scene unfold.

  Greg leant against a large gleaming counter dressed in too tight skinny jeans. A dark-fitted jacket hung open showing a soft red jumper, displaying the leanness of his chest. All the while, his hip was cocked out, his slim fingers played with the red sexy scruff on his chin, and his sky-blue eyes sparked with flirtatious laughter.

  Stuart’s blond head was lowered. His dark charcoal suit hung open, revealing a pewter tie and crisp white shirt. His gaze fixed on whatever he was writing on. Martin stood off to the side, his casual navy trousers and matching jacket showed off his powerful lean body. But it was the male receptionist Martin spoke to that drew Aaden’s eye. The man showed no interest in Martin, his eyes were firmly glued on Greg.

  Aaden choked back the anger when Greg turned to collect his suitcase after taking his room key card. The receptionist moved forward leaning on the counter and ogling Greg’s arse in his tight skinny jeans. His snarl reverberated around his empty bedroom at the predatory gleam in the man’s eyes. Aaden’s hands curled, crushing the duvet. He sweated bullets with the urge to rip the guy’s eyes out of their sockets.

  Searching for the name of the hotel in his mind, he followed Greg, catching sight of what was written on his room key card.

  Bingo.

  Giving himself a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief when the images faded.

  He drilled his fingers into his eyes to help ease the throbbing. Only when it dulled to more of an ache than the roar it had been did he grab for the water bottle on the floor next to him. Swigging it back, he let the cool water rinse the bitter taste of jealousy out of his throat.

  Aaden fought to control his temper at Greg’s disobedience. He knew deep down the little shit would do the exact opposite of what he wanted. He growled at the flashing pictures on the tiny TV screen. He rolled off the bed, grunting at the twinging muscles in his lower back. He shuffled on to his knees, grateful no one could see how undignified he looked. He crawled to get off the bed, totally over roughing it.

  He cursed loudly when he remembered they were delivering his bed in three days, on Saturday. However, all his brain could focus on was Greg and getting to him as soon as possible. His aching back had to take a back seat.

  The nagging negative voice inside his head followed him downstairs. His socked feet slapped against the dirty wooden steps, creating mini dust clouds. Coughing, Aaden went into the back room to grab his laptop. Sitting on the rocky chair next to the darkened window, he snapped it open going straight to Sky Scanner to look for a flight to London.

  “Bastard!”

  Crap, crap, crap. His shoulders slumped at how far away Greg was.

  Well, this is just fine and dandy!

  He cursed loudly at the lack of flight options for Thursday. His large fingers flew over the keyboard, searching for the next available flight to London. He continued to curse at his shitty luck as he found he couldn’t leave the rock until Friday morning unless he wanted to take the ferry and the train.

  He grumbled but booked the flight before he could second-guess himself. He hoped Greg didn’t do anything stupid before he got there. He really didn’t want to kick some sense into his tight arse or anyone else’s for that matter.

  He glanced out into the darkness, thinking he might need to let Brody know he was in the UK, just in case he got into trouble and needed bailing out.

  Their last conversation to cancel the cavalry had garnered him a planned visit at the same time as Nick. To his mind, that was going to be about as much fun as a visit to the dentist, to have a tooth extracted with no anaesthetic.

  Fun. I don’t bloody think so.

  For some reason, his brother had taken a dislike to Brody around the same time he’d shut him out. He somehow knew they were connected, but for the life of him, he couldn’t correlate the two things. Distracted by the ping of an email, he confirmed the flight details and downloaded his e-ticket.

  Aaden set aside the computer to fish out his phone from his jean pocket, dialling Joe’s number. His other hand tapped impatiently on his hard thigh as the phone rang several times before Joe’s sleepy response had him looking at his watch. Oh, crap.

  He quickly remembered this was all Joe’s fault. If he hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. No, I bloody wouldn’t.

  His internal voice of reason quietly reminded him how much he’d wanted to find his soulmate. That they were precious and did he really want to end up like Óláfr? He firmly ignored the voice, or at least he tried to.

  “Hey, Aaden, what’s up, man?”

  “Sorry, mate, I didn’t realise the time.” Aaden struggled to contain his groan when Joe’s smug giggles filled his ear. His friend, it would appear, knew him better than he originally thought. He’d never openly talked about his sexual orientation with anyone, and for some reason, no one ever asked either. He supposed his size and stature might have had something to do with that, and “his mind your own business” tattooed on his face most of the time.

  He shrugged off his internal musing and pulled his thoughts back to Joe. He spoke sternly. “Okay, you can stop with the silliness.” Aaden felt his own disbelief at what he was openl
y going to admit to. He paused, sucking in a deep breath.

  “I give up, okay? I like him, but if you mention I said that to him, I will kick your fat arse from here to Douglas.”

  Joe’s rippling laughter coming through the speaker created a wave of heat to creep up his neck. He felt only slightly mollified they weren’t in the same room so Joe couldn’t see his adolescent reaction. He has never been a blusher, but it now seemed it was how he spent half his time flushing in temper, frustration, or mortification. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

  Dropping his head down, he waited for Joe to respond, knowing there was no way he wouldn’t resist teasing him.

  “Oh man, I love that you can finally admit you like him. Though I think it may be more than like him. Hell, if the sparks flying between you two were anything to go by on Sunday, you two could have started your own bonfire.”

  Aaden cringed at Joe’s choice of words. He really didn’t need those images as well as what was going on in his head. He listened as Joe continued.

  “I thought Greg was going to combust when he came back into the kitchen after you dragged him outside. What did you say to him? I was convinced there was smoke coming out of his ears, but the bugger kept shtum. And, by the way, this avoiding me shit for days ain’t cool. Or that shit you pulled on Sunday. You ran away like a fucking girl. Acting like you were hiding behind her mother’s skirts for God’s sake, only in your case it’s Max’s fat body. What the hell, man, I thought you had more balls than that?”

  Aaden sat back, letting Joe rant. He supposed he deserved it, but run like a girl! He didn’t fucking think so. The silence floating in his now ringing ear had him asking, “You finished now? And you’d better not let Max hear you calling him fat. You know he’ll have your guts for garters for that.” It was testament to their friendship that Joe understood the way he spoke about Max, as if he was human.

  “Fuck you, man. I’m not scared of Max. Okay, well maybe a little. Shit! Stop side-tracking me. What was I saying… yeah, I’m supposed to be your friend, so stop fucking hiding like a wuss. I can help, you know, if you want it.” Joe’s hissing anger stung when it hit the mark.

  “Okay, okay, I don’t think I need help, well, not yet anyway. He went away, didn’t he?” Aaden asked anyway, just so Joe wouldn’t get suspicious.

  “Yep, they left this evening. The plan as far as I know is, they’ll be back Saturday evening. They’ve given themselves Saturday to recover from clubbing. Martin has a VIP pass to Beyond, so they’ll be hitting there Friday night.”

  Joe’s wistful tone had Aaden wondering why he hadn’t gone with them. As if reading his thoughts, Joe spoke.

  “I wanted to go with them, but Brad couldn’t go because of work. So, Martin laid it on thick and then asked me to stay and keep an eye on him. Even though it’s been several months, he still feels antsy about leaving Brad on his own. But please don’t tell Brad that, or he’ll have a hissy fit. He doesn’t like being mollycoddled.”

  Aaden chuckled at Joe’s slight understatement. He may have only known Brad weeks, but there was an unmistakable rod of steel coating Brad’s spine. He’s seen first-hand how he handled Martin, regardless of the fact he was pint-sized. He supposed what they said about the bigger you are, the harder you fall, was true for that pair.

  Not acknowledging that he was in the same boat, he answered Joe.

  “Stop worrying. I won’t say a word. I’ve booked a ...” He stopped in mid flow, realising to late what he’d been about to reveal, and he backpedalled. “Bed… yeah… bed delivery for Saturday. Could you let them in if I’m away?” Aaden sighed in relief when Joe didn’t seem to notice his hesitation.

  “Yeah, no probs. I could carry on with the painting if you like, now that the electrician has finished the rewiring.”

  He let Joe ramble on about the work on his house, but his mind went back to the hotel receptionist.

  That smug arse fucker better not hit on Greg in the next couple of days, or there’ll be hell to pay.

  “You listening to me, Aaden? Aaden, hey, you still there?”

  He gave Joe an affirmative, not that Joe took much notice as he started talking before Aaden had gotten the words out.

  “Do you want me to look after Max while you’re away? I know he spends most of his time at Brad’s mooning over Princess, but I can make sure he’s fed if you want me to?”

  Aaden paused. Fuck. He’d not even given Max a thought when he’d planned his trip. He cursed up a storm internally at how Greg was messing with his head.

  “Yeah, that would be cool. You’re right; he probably won’t need much, but if you could make sure his dish is filled, that would be great. He’ll use the cat flap anyway to come and go.”

  After gaining Joe’s agreement, he finished the call. Glancing at the stairs, he mentally prepared himself for another night on the torture chamber. He got up reluctantly and packed up the computer. He rubbed his tired, gritty eyes. He ambled back up the stairs, praying tonight’s sleep wouldn’t bring another nightmare. He wasn’t sure he’d cope with the remnants of the vision headache that still nagged behind his eyes and a nightmare.

  Switching on the light in the bathroom, he had a moment of satisfaction that the spotlights were positioned in just the right place to capture what would be his large open-plan wet room combined bathroom.

  “Buggering hell!”

  He’d forgotten the plumber was coming Friday morning. Yanking back out his phone, he fired off a quick text to Joe to advise he’d managed to book flights Friday, and asked him to sort the plumber. His hand buzzed almost immediately. Aaden brows drew together, shaking his head at the smiling emoji.

  Why the fuck couldn’t people just use words?

  Aaden planned his next move in the cramped shower.

  “Let’s see how my red-headed beauty reacts to the forceful silent me, shall we?” He felt a mischievous grin spread across his face as he hummed to himself.

  Two days later

  Aaden silently seethed as he stood listening to the same receptionist who’d ogled Greg, telling him there had been some mix-up with his room booking and that the only room available was a single.

  How the fuck am I supposed to squeeze my frame into a matchbox for fuck’s sake?

  Snatching the key card, he ignored the alarmed look in the guy’s hazel eyes. Picking up his bag, he stalked to the lifts.

  Aaden couldn’t help but wonder, as he travelled up to his room in the mirrored lift, with gentle music playing in the background, if the universe was insulting him. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt why everything had gone wrong. His overall distraction made concentrating on the task at hand nigh on impossible. When a certain red-headed beauty was roaming London alone, doing God knows what with God knows who, when he couldn’t keep tabs on him.

  His ability to slip into people’s minds and read their thoughts was limited to him being in their presence. The fact he’d never attempted it with Greg before had him questioning why. It could have solved a lot of issues if he’d done it last Sunday to see what his intentions were for this trip to London. He gave himself a mental slap for his own stupidity as silently stalked down the corridor while searching for his room.

  Aaden’s broad shoulders stooped as he stepped into an overheated shoebox of a room, suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit. Eyeing the tiny window that probably didn’t open and the bed with some misgivings, he gave a nonchalant shrug. He supposed it was better than nothing and his blow-up bed at home.

  Deciding he’d have a nap, he undressed, dropped his clothes on the tiny chair next to the narrow bed, and climbed naked on to the white top cover. The oppressing heat pressed against his skin as he closed his eyes, willing himself to relax against the scratchy cover. Thinking he should move and pull it down was his last thought as he sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Aaden berated himself for deciding to take a nap before finding Greg, which resulted in him having to stand in an overcrowded, sweaty, noisy nightclub. H
is ears felt like they were bleeding slowly while the music battered at his eardrums. The unbearable heat had him sweating bullets. His once crisp shirt now felt more like he was wearing a piece of wet lettuce. And to top it off, he was forced to watch men paw at Greg’s body every few seconds as they passed by him.

  Aaden’s teeth ground together. His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly with the urge to break every finger that touched Greg. The bite of pain in his palms hardly registered when he spied Greg staring at the tall, blond fucker leaning on the wall to his left. The guy’s gaze locked on Greg, offering him a come-hither look.

  Did the guy seriously think that shit worked?

  Rolling his eyes in disgust, Aaden looked at Greg in disappointment when he seemed to show some interest. His large frame twitched when he saw Greg try to get the attention of a tall, gorgeous amazon standing next to him. Watching with interest, Aaden assumed Greg was trying to talk to her when he kept yanking on her arm.

  Aaden flipped through his mental file of people connected to Martin’s business. This he felt for sure was Ann, their business assistant.

  Pushing off the wall, Aaden chuckled as the crowd parted like the red sea. His sheer size and steely glare made those around him scurry away like ants. Uncaring, he kept his target in sight. The dark-haired twink had been giving blondie the eye for the last half hour. Not thinking twice, he slipped into the guy’s mind. The images the guy projected had him wincing when his own trousers tightened against his will.

  Aaden quickly slipped back out. He didn’t need anything to distract him from his goal. Grabbing the smaller man’s arm, he ignored his questioning look before the guy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, stroking up Aaden’s body. The fire in his eyes made Aaden glad he was no longer in his mind. Dashing his hopes by pushing him up against the blond, he whispered directly into the shell of his ear.