Part 13 (1/2)

It was all coming back now. The flash of Deven's smile, the softness of his mouth, the way he moved like a dancer and an a.s.sa.s.sin in one . . . the cold fire in his wide eyes that belied the molten pa.s.sionate core of him, a core that had only ever laid itself open for one man . . . and that man was not Jonathan.

For ten years David and Deven had been inseparable. From the night they first fell into David's bed, stripping off each other's Elite uniforms and pressing needy, sharp canines into each other's flesh, they had been bound by blood and s.e.x so tightly that neither of them knew their boundaries anymore.

Finally Prime Arrabicci had gotten wind of what was going on in his Elite and called the Second and his lieutenant into the Prime's office.

”I've heard some disturbing rumors regarding the two of you,” Arrabicci had said tiredly, and David had known exactly who had been in here first, ranting and raving about the perverts in their midst. ”Lieutenant Torvald has informed me that the two of you have been conducting some sort of horrible s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p.”

David and Deven had stood side by side in front of their Prime, and Deven had said, ”Sir, Lieutenant Torvald is, as always, mistaken. David and I are not conducting some horrible s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p. We are in fact conducting a f.u.c.king fantastic s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p.”

Arrabicci had groaned and put his head in his hands. ”Do you two see the position you've put me in here? Aside from any concerns about the two of you doing . . . whatever you do, the fact is we have rules about senior Elite consorting with their juniors. I could have you both thrown out of here on your a.s.ses.”

”But you won't, Sire,” David had pointed out. ”You've said yourself we have the best record in the Elite. To toss us out just because we sleep together-off duty, Sire-would be strategically unwise.”

”Rules are rules, Lieutenant. Therefore I have no choice but to promote you.”

David had paused, frowned. ”I'm sorry, Sire?”

”You are hereby promoted to co-captain and will serve at Deven's side. You aren't to be granted any privileges or pay raises before a six-month probationary period, just to make it clear that I'm not rewarding deviant behavior-I want everyone to see you've earned your place at the top, David. And as for your . . . relations.h.i.+p . . .”

David had braced himself.

But all the Prime had said was, ”Obviously it's affecting your fighting abilities in a positive and useful manner. You've both gone from the best d.a.m.n warriors in my Elite to the best d.a.m.n warriors I've ever seen. So whatever you two are doing to each other in bed, keep doing it . . . just don't let me hear about it.”

”As you will it, Sire,” they had both said together.

Then they had left the office and walked with utmost dignity back to Deven's quarters, where they proceeded to s.h.a.g each other senseless for the entire rest of the night and the following day.

Deven had needed someone to bring him out of his darkness. David had needed someone who wouldn't die on him. At first it had been an ideal friends.h.i.+p, two very different lone wolves in search of a pack . . . but soon . . . a look began to linger; a touch seemed to happen of its own accord; and was there a softness in Deven's eyes when speaking of him? Neither had been looking for a lover, yet they had tripped and fallen headfirst in love like a pair of hormone-ridden teenagers.

They had spent ten years fighting gangs and making love. Their desire for each other thrived on combat. A victory in the streets meant they would be half naked and going at it in the car on the ride home. Their blood boiled and they tore into each other rabidly. David's entire world contracted to whichever bed they were in, the exquisite pleasure-pain of who was sucking or stroking whom, the sweetness of Deven's blood on his tongue.

And now, when things were so very different, his traitorous heart wanted to travel back in time, back before either of them knew the burden of a Signet, back when he had believed they had a future together.

No. It's over with. You're friends now. Nothing more.

It was understandable that seeing Dev again would cause old feelings, and old hurts, to bubble to the surface. The last time they'd seen each other, David had been lost in his grief for Miranda, so there was no time for any of that, only time for Deven to help bring him out of it, set him back on his feet, and leave him ready to go back to work. This time there were no such emotional distractions. Now, the Pair were here, and he was about to go to sparring practice as they had a thousand times, and either they would start airing some things out or their friends.h.i.+p was ultimately doomed.

Logical, yes . . . and about as appealing as a fireplacepoker lobotomy.

The bedroom door opened and Miranda walked in laden with several shopping bags and the expression of a woman who had just been victorious in an epic battle.

”Thank G.o.d that's over,” she said breathlessly, dropping her plunder on her chair by the fireplace. ”I'm set for a few months provided I don't acquire too much more muscle.”

She came over and kissed him on the forehead. ”Aren't you supposed to be in the training room beating up our houseguest? Whoa . . . what's wrong, baby? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

She knelt in front of him. He leaned his forehead against hers. ”In a way, I have,” he managed. ”I don't suppose you would come with me?”

She looked into his eyes, and he didn't bother trying to hide his feelings. It would be pointless.

Miranda laid her hands on the blade he was holding, projecting calm support, though if he were her he would be a bit perturbed at finding his husband in such a twist over an ex. ”Tell me what you're afraid of.”

David tried to find words. ”I don't want to upset you.”

”All the more reason why you should,” she said. ”If there's something you think you can't tell me, it must be important. No secrets, remember? Although . . . I can guess.”

”Can you?”

”Of course. I'm not blind, David.”

He rested his head on her shoulder. ”What should I do? Force a confrontation? Go on pretending nothing's wrong?”

”I don't think that would work,” Miranda told him. ”It's just going to keep getting in the way-and if you want to stay friends you're going to have to get it all out in the open and just deal with it head-on.”

”I hope you're not worried that I'll . . .”

”I trust you, David. I know you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our relations.h.i.+p. Besides, I can sense . . . it was really intense between you, but intensity has a way of burning to ash in the real world.”

”I don't know,” he murmured, tracing her upper lip with his thumb. ”I think things with you and me get pretty intense sometimes.”

She smiled, and her tongue flicked out to touch his skin, sending electricity between them. ”True, but I have a few distinct advantages over Deven.”

”What are those, beloved?”

”One: I have a v.a.g.i.n.a, which statistically you prefer. Two: I'm prettier. Three: I'm not a total a.s.shole.” She stood, pulling him along with her. ”Now, come on. No hiding, remember? You go and cross swords-and I mean that in a martial arts sense, thank you-and try to get some of this angst out of your system. I'm going to take a shower, and then Jonathan has asked to hear me play.”

”Are you sure you won't come with me?” He tried not to sound plaintive.

”I'm sure. You're the Prime of the Southern United States, baby. You strike terror into the souls of lawbreakers and tremors into the thighs of your Queen. There's nothing in your heart that you need to fear.”

He smiled at her, kissed her, then said, ”I am the luckiest b.a.s.t.a.r.d on this earth to have found you.”

Miranda nodded. ”I know.”

Then she handed him his sword and ushered him out the door.

Gossip traveled with vampiric speed in the Haven, and by the time David reached the training room a sizable crowd of off-duty Elite, including Faith, had gathered to watch him go up against the Prime of the West.

Deven was already there, punctual as always, and David wished that Miranda had come-not because of his dread of the whole thing, but because she would have loved to see Deven out of his rock star apparel. Dev wore the same sort of black workout clothes as anyone else who practiced in the training ring; even without all the leather, though, he was still an impressive sight, as the s.h.i.+rt he wore revealed the full-sleeve tattoos he'd had as long as David had known him.

”You're late,” Deven observed mildly.

”Prime's prerogative,” David answered, shucking his coat and s.h.i.+fting his sword from its concealed sheath to one at his belt. Underneath the coat he, too, was dressed to fight. He gestured at Deven's tattoos. ”Did you get the angel touched up?”

Deven glanced down at his right arm. ”The color was fading in places. Ironically the other side hasn't changed at all.”

David smiled. ”I don't find that particularly ironic, Sire.”