by H. M. Wolfe
A collective gasp escaped from everyone’s lips when they heard the child’s words and the innocence in his voice as he spoke. Lothier, who was also in the first row, balled his hands into fists until the knuckles turned white. That was the only part of his past Ardan had no memory of, but Lothier remembered every single horrible moment.
About fourteen years earlier, a woman by the name of Eve-Marie Griesser, a filthy-rich Australian widow and one of Alexander’s business partners, had visited him, having a special request. The woman had wanted a beautiful boy with good genes, who could father her a child, and she had been willing to pay a small fortune for the service.
The bastard had drugged Ardan, injecting him with a cocktail that kept him erect for hours, and the widow had mounted him, getting what she wanted. After she was done, Alexander had given her some pills prepared by one of his minions, that Conroy Winters prick. She would give birth to twins, the monster had said, and one of them would be his, as soon as he reached thirteen, to replace the father in his bed.
After the woman had left, the seven hulks who’d formed Alexander’s personal guard corp had taken turns at Ardan, with the bastard’s permission, while he had filmed the whole thing. Because of the drugs, the kid hadn’t remembered anything, but he had looked frightened and lost for a long time after that.
And here he was, fourteen years later, strong, healed by the love of an extraordinary young man, face to face with his child of whose existence he’d had no idea. Lothier’s heart ached at the thought, especially because he knew that being a father and raising a family with Spitfire by his side was Ardan’s greatest wish.
The paternity of that boy would be a secret he’d take to the grave, Alexander’s former bodyguard promised, closing his eyes. The child would find two kind people who would take him into their hearts and house, giving him the love he deserved and most likely was deprived of.
“So, what happened to this Alexander fellow? You all look like a ghost just appeared behind me.” Lorcan’s voice brought Lothier back from his not so nice trip down the memory lane. The kid had a confused expression as he looked at the men surrounding him.
“He died a year ago,” Ardan answered in a shaky voice as he fought to push down the lump in his throat. “Anyway, you are welcome here. We...”
“Brother, look!” Caleb almost shouted, pointing to Lorcan’s neck. “A locket, and it looks like the one dad gave me. You said something about losing yours years ago,” the teen continued as the kid took the thin gold chain from around his neck, putting it in Ardan’s hand.
“I would’ve shown it to you anyway,” he spoke calmly, looking into Ardan’s eyes. “The beautiful lady who paid for my boarding at the monastery told me to do so. It belonged to a guy named Ardan, the one I was supposed to replace. Anyway, does anyone know what a bed warmer is?”
“Hey, kiddo. I have a better offer for you,” Alasdair spoke, watching how everything he and his boyfriend had built over the last year was ready to collapse under the weight of the revelation. “What about some ice cream? I’m sure there’s plenty of it in the kitchen. I saw some when they stocked the fridges yesterday.”
“Sounds cool,” Lorcan approved enthusiastically. “Can he join us too?” He pointed to Ardan who was still in the same position, staring at the locket in his hand. “Speaking of cool things, my name means ‘fierce little thing’ in the ancient Celtic language. The lady said Alexander picked it for me, so I could put up a good fight when the time came.”
“You’re already a champion, a fighter, a brave boy, who will make someone very happy one day. Until then, you are making me super proud. My name’s Ardan, by the way.” The man straightened, his turquoise eyes glistening with tears.
For a long moment, Lorcan stood on the spot, studying the man from head to toe in silence, his turquoise eyes innocent and confused. Then, without warning, he headed to Ardan, throwing his arms around him, putting his head near his father’s heart, listening to its beat, recognizing the voice of blood.
Slowly, overwhelmed by emotions he couldn’t find a name for, the man started to caress the dirty-blond, medium-long strands with a hand, wrapping the other one around the kid, in a protective, affectionate, fatherly gesture. Just like Godfrey MacNamara had done when they’d met for the first time, Ardan started to whisper Gaelic words into his son’s ear, pouring his heart into them.
Alasdair looked at the two from the distance, aware that they needed space and probably also time by themselves. His lover was still very confused and probably hurt, too, the redhead was sure because, like anything related to Alexander, conceiving Lorcan wouldn’t have been a happy experience for Ardan.
When the emotions overwhelming him at the moment settled, his boyfriend would come to him, sharing his thoughts and feelings, but for the moment, spending time with his son, getting to know each other, was the most important thing.
“Hey, Alasdair. What are you dreaming of, dude? You said something about a kitchen and a fridge filled with tons of ice cream. Are you going to take me there or not?” Lorcan took the redhead by the hand, winking.
“Of course, boss, at your orders.” The redhead mocked the military salute. “You and I will run this place, how about that?” He ruffled the kid’s hair.
“I hope the almighty deities of the Universe won’t allow that.” Ardan raised his head, feigning despair “Otherwise, this place will become one of chaos and destruction.”
“What’s here, anyway?” Lorcan asked, looking around with unmasked curiosity. “Some sort of orphanage, a big foster home, or what? I saw a lot of kids in the yard earlier. Where are they going? Do they live here?”
“This is The Base. A place where children who have been rescued from dire situations get love, food, shelter, education and medical assistance. All of them generously provided by our contributors and associates, Alasdair’s grandfather among them.”
“Dude, your grandpa has all my respect.” Lorcan let out a low whistle. “Back in Brisbane, there were a lot of filthy-rich people, millionaires, who came to church every Sunday, but they didn’t give a damn about the orphanage or the church’s roof.”
“Mister Stark is indeed a very special man.” Ardan smiled, his eyes lit from inside. “And you’ll get to know him very soon. In a few hours, we’ll fly to Connecticut, where he and the rest of the family are spending vacation. There are a lot of kids who will be glad to get to know you.” He gently caressed his son on the head.
CHAPTER 19
As he was stepping inside the little apartment a month later, Ardan heard the buzz of conversation and the sound of Alasdair’s giggle, and he smiled, a sense of peace and contentment taking over him. Just another evening with his younger brother and the Spitfire hanging out together and having fun.
This time, however, things were a little different because his son was also there, enjoying the older boys’ company and making witty comments here and there. To Ardan’s great amusement and disbelief, Lorcan had teamed up with Alasdair, yelling at anyone who didn’t perform their duties properly.
Caleb and Avery had taken it upon themselves to explain to the thirteen-year-old what kind of place The Base was and what all the men in the crew were doing. From that moment, the affection the kid already felt for Ardan had increased tenfold, respect and admiration adding to it. He started to call the man ‘Pater familias,’ Latin for ‘father of the family,’ the honorary expressing the reverence Lorcan had for the man.
“Hello, family. How was your day?” Ardan said, stepping into the dining area, wrapping everyone in his warm, bright smile.
“Yay, Pater is finally home!” Lorcan jumped from his seat straight into the man’s arms, hugging him tightly. “How many bad guys did you catch today?” he asked, adoration shining in his eyes.
“None and that is a good thing.” Ardan smiled, ruffling the kid’s dirty blond hair. “Because it means fewer children are hurt; therefore, safe from harm. The bad guys think twice before hurting the innocent and defenseless.”<
br />
“Yes, because they are afraid of you and the others in the team. You’re the best! When can I meet them?”
“Tomorrow,” Alasdair answered. “We’re going back to Connecticut to spend the rest of the summer holiday there and taking you with us, of course. That way, you can also meet the rest of the kids, your future classmates, so to speak.” He winked.
“Wow, cool!” Lorcan exclaimed, his turquoise eyes shining with excitement. “But... if I start studying with them, I’ll have to live with them, and that means I won’t see you anymore.” The light dimmed, replaced by sadness.
“Not at all.” Alasdair shook his head. “As I told you, Seymour spends a lot of time in my Uncle Rayne’s company, and he could drive you back and forth, so you can spend the evenings and mornings here at The Base with Caleb and the guys. And with me, of course.” The redhead grinned.
“Of course,” Lorcan imitated Alasdair, giggling. “Pater, Spitfire is the best! We cooked dinner for you, the Scottish stew you like so much,” he proudly added.
“Yes, they did, and I cleaned the kitchen afterwards,” Caleb replied, feigning resignation and horror. “Brother, you should’ve seen the place, it was hellish!” he said, shuddering. “It looked more like a battlefield than a place where food was cooked.”
“What?” Alasdair and Lorcan said at the same time, making Ardan let out a short, amused laugh. “Don’t listen to this brother of yours, who ate half of the stew and then started to blame us for... imaginary reasons.” The redhead nonchalantly shrugged.
“Well, little brother, you are clearly in minority here, I’m afraid,” the older man said in a light-hearted voice. “You better take the diplomatic path; otherwise, there will be no more stew for you.” Ardan gave Caleb a toothy grin.
Continuing the playful banter, the boys set the table for seven because Luca, Erling and Avery also made an appearance, brought there by a message the youngest of the MacNamara brothers had sent them. It contained the suggestive photo of a pot full of deliciously looking stew, and it had made the young men instantly hungry.
The place was crowded, but that didn’t seem to bother the occupants of the apartment and their guests, who were having a great time, enjoying the tasty food and the company of one another. The sound of laughter reverberated through the small apartment, filling Ardan’s heart with joy and making him smile. From across the table, Alasdair gazed at him, the emerald-green eyes shining with love, desire, adoration and a thousand other emotions.
After cleaning the table and washing the dishes as thank you for the delicious meal, the guests left, bidding goodnight to their hosts and wishing them a good night’s sleep. Lorcan, who was also exhausted, went to Alasdair’s former room, where he enjoyed both the comfort and independence it offered. Half an hour later, Ardan, closely followed by the redhead, went to tuck the kid into bed, kissing him on the forehead.
While the older man spent a few minutes more in his son’s company, Alasdair went back into their bedroom, where he turned off the lights, replacing them with discreetly scented candles, then put some soft music on in the background. Waiting for his lover to return, the redhead was shivering in anticipation, and he couldn’t wait to see Ardan’s reaction.
Over the year that had passed since they’d made love for the first time, the older man had offered his beloved Spitfire countless romantic moments, candlelit dinners and picnics under the moonlight, but for the first time, Alasdair did it. The redhead was a little nervous, his palms started to sweat, and he felt like he was going on a first date.
“Oh, gods of hell and heaven, what is this?” The sound of Ardan’s voice, followed by a loud gasp, made the young man turn his head. “You did this for me?” the man continued, tears of happiness glazing his eyes.
“I did it for the one I love, who is now standing in the doorway,” Alasdair replied, his usually snarky voice thick with emotion. “Oh, wait, that’s you over there. So yes, I did it for you.”
“May I have this dance?” Ardan finally stepped into the bedroom, graciously extending his hand, a small, shy smile on his lips.
“Of course, and the next one, and the one after that, for as long as you want.” Alasdair took his hand, getting close to his lover.
The two partners started to dance, moving slowly to the rhythm, their bodies becoming one, their souls intertwined. From time to time, Ardan passionately squeezed the redhead to his chest as if he was afraid of losing him or was trying to convince himself the boy was real and not a beautiful illusion, a product of his imagination. A small sigh of relief escaped from his lips every time the man realized his Spitfire was really there, made of flesh and blood, moving in sync with him.
Alasdair sensed his lover’s turmoil, his heart aching for the man, for how desperately he clung onto him, for the lost expression in those beautiful, turquoise eyes. Tarquin, his twin sons and his brother's older kids having been kidnapped by Conroy Winters' men had done quite a number on Ardan, even if he let nothing show, and he needed to decompress somehow. That was the reason the redhead planned what he hoped to be a quiet evening with a nice atmosphere, so his lover could get rid of the tension he’d accumulated over the past few days.
“Oh, gods who rule over the universe, how much I love you, Spitfire,” Ardan said, his gaze filled with a mixture of love and longing. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. Stay safe for me, please!”
“Hey, sexy guy with gorgeous eyes, did it ever occur to you that I feel the same about you?” Alasdair grinned adorably to hide the emotion that overcame him.
“Thank you for taking me in your heart, for allowing me, tainted as I was, to love you, someone so luminous and pure. And above all, thank you for being such a great friend to Lorcan. I feel lucky and blessed to have you in my life.” Ardan brushed his lips over the redhead’s temple.
“You know, back when I was with Paul and he was beating the living hell out of me, I dreamed that, one day, someone would come and save me, someone who wouldn’t be disgusted at the sight of my skinny, bruised body. I never imagined my dream would come true.”
It was Alasdair’s turn to cling to his lover and hug him tightly, inhaling the man’s scent and putting his head on his chest. There was the heart beating only for him, belonging to the most generous, caring, handsome, brave, intelligent and loving man he knew, second only to his father.
Suddenly, Ardan stopped moving, cupped the redhead’s face with both hands, his gaze filled with intense desire, but also uncertainty, as if he was asking for permission. Alasdair sensed his lover’s hesitation and responded by tilting his head backwards, a silent invitation for the other man to take whatever he wanted.
Delicately, barely there, Ardan’s lips touched the soft, sensitive skin on the redhead’s neck, caressing it while flicking the tip of his tongue on the kissed spot. The man’s actions sent small spikes of electricity to Alasdair’s groin, making him moan quietly and wrap his arms around his lover’s neck.
Encouraged by the reaction, Ardan advanced to the ultimate, sweet trophy, his Spitfire’s mouth. There, the man stopped a little, catching his breath, a small, mischievous spark appearing in his eyes as he launched a surprise attack on the redhead rosy, full, tempting lips. Alasdair counterattacked, the kiss becoming fierce, soul-searing, all-consuming, a battle for dominance and a declaration of love at the same time.
The two lovers drank each other dry, giving and receiving with intensity, surrendering into the other’s embrace. Exhausted, happy, breathless, they collapsed on the bed, two halves of the same soul, their bond tighter, love stronger than ever, belonging to each other in every sense of the word.
****
The subtle, unmistakable aroma of herbs and freshly cooked soup hit Ardan’s nostrils as soon as he entered the small apartment at The Base a few weeks later, making him smile. Minestrone was one of his favorite dishes ever, but the man suspected the thick, nourishing soup wasn’t cooked with him in mind. Well, not with just him, The Base’s boss though
t, a bright smile finding its way to his eyes.
Since Lorcan appeared in their life, Alasdair had taken his parental responsibilities very seriously, insisting that the kid should eat at least one freshly cooked meal a day. Since during the summer most of the children living at The Base were spending their vacation on various camps, little to no cooking was done, so the redhead took that task upon himself.
Alasdair was always buying the freshest vegetables, the most tender, best looking meat, and used only top-quality ingredients, an expression of the love he had for the boy and the man who ate the food he cooked. The non-ostentatious way his Spitfire fussed over Lorcan, taking care of him, made Ardan love him even more if that was possible.
It was a busy day for Alasdair. He had been a member in two complicated procedures, so he must’ve been dead tired but still managed to cook before going to sleep, his lover thought, heading to the bedroom to give the sleeping beauty a well-deserved kiss on the forehead. But to his surprise and confusion, the room was empty.
And then he heard them. From across the hall, through the open door of what was once Alasdair’s room, the redhead’s calm, warm voice Ardan had come to love so much, was explaining the functions of the brain to a fascinated Lorcan. The kid stood still, listening to the lesson, absorbing the information avidly, like a sponge, his turquoise eyes sparking with interest.
“Hey, what are you doing here, boys? Isn’t it time for a break? Did you eat?” Ardan looked worriedly at his Spitfire.
“Hello, yourself.” Alasdair’s emerald-green eyes shone at the sight of his beloved. “Of course, we ate, both of us. This boy here has a hunger greater than Benji’s if you ask me, but he also grows incredibly fast.”
“Why are you mean to Benji?” Lorcan playfully frowned. “He’s not that great of an eater... not all the time, at least.”
“Of course not.” Ardan nodded, a serious expression on his face. “He only invented the hunger and passed it down to Armand. The rest was history.”
