by H. M. Wolfe
“Not at all. Great-Uncle even congratulated us on the choice when we discussed the matter with him,” Ezra said, once he regained the composure he’d lost after Leon’s positive answer.
They hugged each other, then the older man also pulled Peyton into a hug, but he did it with infinite care as if they were made of glass, and he was afraid he would break them. Soon, all the others joined, congratulating the parents-to-be and the future godfathers. From where he sat, Tyler was looking at them, sensing that the general enthusiasm was just the prologue of something bigger, something of great importance for him.
Indeed, after about half an hour, a black SUV pulled up at the end of the driveway, two men and a teen getting out of it. All three of them carried a lot of paper bags in their hands, and they were heading to the porch, smiling. The older of the two men was strategically placed a little behind the other one and the kid, covering their bodies with his own.
“Hello, bunch, did you miss us?” the youngest man, barely in his twenties, asked with a cute grin on his beautiful face.
“Spitfire, I missed you like the desert misses the sand.” Ezra rolled his eyes but wrapped the redhead in a warm embrace.
“Yeah, I missed your bony ass too, Bloom.” The other one returned the hug. “Beware of the kid, he doesn’t react well when people pick on his best friend, and in case you didn’t notice, his temper is very much like his father’s.”
“Exactly, polite and soft-spoken. Look, he already befriended Leon’s tenant, the one who rented my room. He’s a nice guy.”
“Nice to meet you, too, young fellow,” the man said while taking Lorcan’s hand. “I’m Tyler Flemming.”
CHAPTER 21
“Excuse me, sir,” Alasdair said in a shaky voice. “Did you say your name was Tyler Flemming?”
“Yes, son. I was just mentioning it to this fine young man, who seems very interested in visiting the city where I spent most of my life. That would be Seattle.” Tyler smiled, only to widen his eyes in shock, seeing how pale the redhead went all of a sudden.
“What’s wrong, Spitfire? You don’t look so good. I’ll go into the kitchen and get Pater,” Lorcan said, gently shoving Alasdair on a chair. “Here, have a seat.”
“Thanks, champ, but there’s no point in alerting your father. You know how much he likes to relax in Leon’s company. Why don’t you go and spend some time with the boys? Mister Flemming here will keep me company.”
“Yes, kid, don’t worry. Your friend here is in good hands. You go and have fun with the others.” Tyler gently approved.
“So, Mister Flemming,” Alasdair managed to regain his composure after realising who this man was, “did you live in Seattle? What made you come here if I’m not too nosy?”
“There was nothing for me there, only sad memories and places that reminded me of my dearly departed. The church where my beloved wife and I married, but also the graveyard where she is entombed. The hospital where my dear son was born, but also the morgue where he was taken after his lifeless body was picked up from the streets.”
“Did your son die? How?” There was nothing but pain and compassion in Alasdair’s voice, even if he and Allen weren’t close and hadn’t parted on good terms.
“I was told that he was using drugs as a way to cope with his mother and I being gone forever from his life. In spite of being checked into rehab, the poor boy relapsed twice, and eventually, he overdosed. So young, at only fifteen...”
Exhausted and emotionally drained, Tyler rested his head in both hands and started to cry, the loud sobs tearing through his heart and shaking his body violently. The noise got everyone’s attention, so they grouped around the man who was crying his heart out, letting out all the pain he’d kept inside while he was still in Seattle.
Like everyone else, Ardan left the kitchen and managed to move next to Tyler, gently touching him on the shoulder. There was something heart-wrenching about a man who sobbed uncontrollably. Something that resonated deep inside the younger one’s soul, especially after Alasdair explained him in a few words the reason why Tyler was crying.
“Sir, please. Think about your son,” Ardan spoke in the same voice he used with hurt and scared children. “He wouldn’t like to see you like that, would he?”
“You’re right.” Tyler lifted his head, looking into the younger man’s strange, turquoise eyes. “My little Alasdair hated to see people suffering, that’s why he wanted to become a doctor and heal everyone.”
“And what a great healer he is!” Ardan exclaimed, putting two and two together. That bastard of an older brother had covered what he’d done by lying to his poor father that his favorite son had died of a drug overdose, tainting the image of the boy in the man’s eyes. “One of the most brilliant med students, exactly how you pictured him.”
“Dad?” Alasdair was the next to realize that Allen hadn’t died, but he’d played a cruel farce on their father to hide what he’d done. “Look at me. I’m your Spitfire, very alive and kicking. Mom must have watched over me when Allen abandoned me in New York by myself because she sent Leon to be my guardian angel.”
“Alasdair, my dear, dear child! Is it you? Please, don’t laugh at this lonely, sad man,” Tyler pleaded with the voice and eyes.
“Does your son have a darker, heart-shaped spot on his left shoulder blade? And another one the shape and size of an almond where his waistline starts?” Ardan blushed violently while he mentioned the birthmarks.
“Yes, he does.” Tyler flinched. “How do you...” Then, the realization hit him like a hurricane, blowing his mind. “You must be Ardan, and you... Don’t lie to me, please. Are you really my beloved son, my little Alasdair?”
But the young redhead didn’t answer. Instead, he threw himself in his father’s arms, burrowing his head adorned with fiery red curls in the crook of his neck, just like he did as a child. He stayed like that, inhaling the familiar scent, smiling and letting out small sighs of contentment while Tyler petted his head, whispering words of endearment. It felt like it was Christmas and his birthday all at the same time.
Then Alasdair remembered. It was a special day; the reason Ardan took him and Lorcan to Leon: three years earlier, the man who had become the center of his universe freed the then-boy from Paul’s tyranny and had kept him safe from harm ever since. Clinging to his father, the redhead realized that there were a lot of things the man didn’t know.
“Grandfather will be so happy to find out you’re alive! Since I joined the family, two years ago, he has never stopped talking about you, telling me stories from your childhood. He mourns your death every single day, Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Spitfire, but I find that hard to believe.” Tyler’s voice had a tinge of bitterness and harshness when he spoke. “Three times I visited Washington to meet that man, and he refused to see me every single time.”
“I know. He and Uncle Joraan told me the whole story. It was because your name, the one your adoptive parents gave you, didn’t tell him anything. Did you know that before the adoption you were named Arthur? Grandfather gave it to you. It’s a royal name that belonged in the Stark clan for generations.”
“Joraan? Is he here in the city too? And how come he and Alastair Stark are on good terms? My friend hated his guts. He told me that numerous times,” Tyler insisted, still not convinced that he was welcomed in his father’s life.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know, Dad.” Alasdair smiled through tears. “But you have all the time in the world to find out everything now that you are back with me, with us. Speaking of Uncle Joraan. He’s happier than ever, now that Uncle Sebastian came back, too, and the two of them were reunited with Uncle Vincent.”
“What? They are together? All three of them? Is that what are you trying to tell me? Does... Father know about this?” Tyler hesitated at the word. “Didn’t he try to break them up?”
“Yes, Grandfather knows about them, and he’s happy that the three of them are together, and Daniel is also back home and hap
pily married and has a lot of kids, and this lazy ass here is Hayden, Uncle Sebastian’s youngest. I know you are confused right now, but in time you’ll understand everything,” Alasdair said in one go.
“You’re right, Spitfire. I don’t understand a single thing.” Tyler smiled. “But I can’t wait to meet everyone and know their stories. It’s going to be a long and complicated journey, especially since I believed for so many years that my father didn’t want to see me, that he gave me up for adoption because he didn’t care about me anymore.”
“No, Mister Flemming,” Ardan protested in a warm, passionate voice, “Mister Stark is not like that, on the contrary. Two years ago, when we first met, my body was scarred, my soul damaged, my heart broken, but he looked behind all my flaws and let me into Alasdair’s life. My healer, my rock, my heart, my son’s best friend, my guiding light.”
Tyler watched as Ardan sank to his knees, wrapping his hands around Lorcan and Alasdair’s waists, his head resting on the redhead’s abdomen. He stayed like that for a long time, like a devout worshipping the deity he believed in. Spitfire had a serene smile on his face, hugging the kid to his side with one hand and running the other one through Ardan’s dirty-blond strands.
There was something almost sacred about the three of them as the two younger males stood there, arms around each other with the older kneeling before his boyfriend and son. The love between the three of them could almost be touched, and Tyler had the impression they could communicate without saying any words, just by listening to the beats of their hearts.
Then, Alasdair helped Ardan to his feet, and with the mischievous smirk his father knew too well, he cupped the man’s face with both hands, gently brushing his lips across his mouth, enjoying the contact with the soft facial hair around it. The older man reacted to the tender, tentative kiss by moving his own lips in the same slow, sweet rhythm.
However, that was only a strategy as Alasdair captured Ardan’s lower lip, sucking on it, biting it lightly, testing the man’s patience. Letting out a low, possessive growl, he drew the redhead closer, pressing him against his own body. The action took Spitfire by surprise, making him release the captive lip and releasing control of the kiss.
The usually tender Ardan became passionate, wild, dominating, demanding, taking Alasdair’s breath away, exploring his mouth, conquering it and savoring the hard-earned prize, smirking when he finally broke the kiss. All the others, until then quiet spectators to the jaw-dropping show the two lovers put on, started to applaud and whistle wolfishly.
“My friend, you find new ways to surprise us all,” Leon spoke, still finding hard to believe what he’d just witnessed. “And you, young man, where did you learn to kiss like that? Or rather who taught you?”
“Why do you bother to ask?” Alasdair flashed one of his cute grins. “The answer was right under your nose, older brother.”
“Actually, it was the other way around.” Ardan lowered his gaze so the others couldn’t see the blush creeping on his face. “It was my Spitfire who taught me everything: how to let me be loved, how to react to sweet, innocent caresses, to return a kiss... As you know, I was new to all those things.”
“Well, what can I say, you are a fast learner, judging by this flawless performance.” Leon grinned again. “I don’t know about you, but all this made me hungry. And, since there’s plenty of food in the kitchen...”
“What’s the occasion? I wondered, though no one in this room seems to care,” Hayden philosophically scratched the back of his head, making Ezra, Justin and Marcus poisonously glare in his direction.
“Three years ago, Spitfire and I met for the first time.” Ardan wrapped his arms around Alasdair, who was holding Lorcan. “He found his way into my heart and never left.”
“Not that you need my approval, son, you are a grown man now,” Tyler wrapped the redhead in a warm look, “but you have my blessing. As for you,” he turned to Ardan, “I’m proud to call you my son.”
CHAPTER 22
“Ardan?” Alasdair asked, touching the man’s chest with his fingertips. Like every time, the redhead enjoyed the softness of the fine dust of hair sprinkled on his lover’s torso, smiling against his shoulder.
“Mmhmm?” the older man hummed, a little sleepy. “What does my little Spitfire want to know?” He kissed a fiery red, freshly washed, still a little damp strand of hair. “You smell so good!”
“And you are so sexy!” Alasdair grinned. “On a more serious note, something’s on your mind, and I want to know what, so talk to me, please. Maybe I can be of help?”
“You are always of help, Spitfire.” A melancholic smile appeared on Ardan’s lips. “And you’re right, there is something, in fact, more than one thing. My cousin Dunstan is coming to visit Father and get to know his organization, just when I won’t be around. I have to leave the city for a while, I don’t know how long it’ll be. Hunting trip.”
“Who?” Alasdair knew by then the significance behind the two words, and although his chest constricted a little at the thought of Ardan’s absence, he was glad another scumbag would bite the dust. “Someone important, I hope.”
“A superstar, none other than Isaac Williamson himself.” The man grinned evilly. “Someone tipped us off. The bloody bastard will have the surprise of his life.”
“Are you sure it’s not a trap? That snake is capable of anything. You better take care,” Alasdair said, worried.
“I’m very sure. We already double-checked the location. Drew and Devin are already there, keeping a close eye on the scum.”
“Good. I hate the thought of that sleazy weasel laughing at your expense. Don’t worry, I can handle things here. I did it before, remember?” Alasdair’s eyes were shining in the dark.
“How can I forget? I was so proud of you then like I am now.” Ardan smiled against his Spitfire’s fiery red hair.
He cupped the younger man’s face with one hand, running the fingertips of the other through his lover’s hair while barely brushing his lips against the redhead’s delicious mouth. Eyes closed, hands wrapped around his man’s neck, Alasdair inhaled the familiar scent, getting high on it. Ardan was his safe haven, his happy place, the source of his confidence and strength.
The older man looked in his lover’s emerald-green eyes and saw his soul reflected there, pure, untainted by evil words and horrible experiences, exactly like the Spitfire saw it. Two years earlier, he’d put the then-boy in charge of The Base during his prolonged absence, trusting Alasdair would protect what he created, and the redhead passed that exam with flying colors. It would be the same now, Ardan thought, smiling to himself.
“There is something you have to know,” he said, caressing his lover’s back, taking in every soft curve and line. “Lothier will be gone, too, on another mission, and no one knows when or if he’ll come back, so please keep a close eye on Ivar while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry, I will. The kid will be well taken care of, especially since Luca took him under his wing too. Speaking of, did you notice how feisty he’s become?”
“Yes, he’s a good don material if I can say so.” Ardan smiled satisfied. “Apparently, The Base is good not only for the children and kids in need of being saved but also for young men who need to find their way and build a strong character.”
“I’m the best example.” Alasdair sighed dreamily. “When I came out to my folks, Allen came into my bedroom and laughed at me, saying that I would end up some old pervert’s sex toy, and I was terrified at the prospect. But that was then, and I wouldn’t change what I have for anything in the world. And if that cousin of yours tries to play the boss here, he’s going to have to deal with me first.”
“Oh, gods of the Universe.” Ardan groaned playfully. “I don’t envy the poor man. I bet everything I own that you will make his life a living hell, so he better not try. However, there is no point worrying about something that may never happen. Let’s snore in each other’s ear.”
****
In the roo
m at the motel he’d rented for his crew and family, Dunstan MacNamara did a recap of the information he had received about his father’s younger brother, Godfrey, and his family. According to the report, the man had two sons, Ardan, twenty-nine, and Caleb, almost eighteen.
Apparently, neither of them were interested in taking over their father’s organization, and that was a relief for Dunstan, who didn’t like the idea of fighting against those who shared his blood. At that point, the man shivered in disgust, remembering the section in the report about Ardan, who was filled with the acts of utter depravity he committed in the company of a certain Alexander Kane.
Ardan was nothing more than a manwhore, and he was ashamed to be associated with that scum. The father of twins, a girl and a boy, age thirteen, Dunstan showed a moderate tolerance to the so-called ‘other sexual orientations.’ He wouldn’t hurt one of those people on purpose but also wasn’t fond of the idea of having one under the same roof.
Besides engaging in gross, debauched acts, most of those half-men were also preying on teenagers and young boys, whom they submitted to their most cruel, horrific, depraved desires, tainting their bodies and ruining their souls. There were not enough shelters and charitable organizations sponsored by churches or other government institutions to save those poor creatures from the hell they were trapped in.
At that point, Dunstan went outside to check on his children, who occupied the room next to him. The lights were off, but he decided to step in anyway. Hand on the doorknob, the man felt a pang of guilt in his chest at the thought that he didn’t spend enough time in the kids’ company but shrugged it off the next second.
He was doing what he had to do so his children could have everything that was denied to him at the same age. Besides, always being busy made Dunstan forget about how lonely he was, how badly he needed the company of a woman, after mourning his beloved Charis for thirteen years, who had died giving birth to the twins.
