Page 24 of The Tenor's Shadow

Chapter 7

Anthony

“You’re okay.”

With those two soft words, something gave way inside of Anthony. He looked at Freddie for the first time, really looked, and saw that Freddie wasn’t just a brick wall to bash his head against. There was a possibility that the brick might form a solid foundation.

Without thinking, he leaned into Freddie. Freddie froze, and Anthony’s heart pulsed with anxiety. Had he misread the situation? Had he crossed a line?

“I’m…I’m sorry…” Anthony moved away.

Freddie’s powerful arms wrapped around him, keeping him in place, holding him in the most solid of embraces. Freddie was cool against him, a balm for his overheated emotions. He looked up at Freddie’s face. It was open and unguarded. Anthony hadn’t expected that.

Anthony was not used to being comforted. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He liked to be the most competent person in the room, the one who was calm and collected, the one who couldn’t be fucked with. But having Freddie pressed against him, being held tight to Freddie’s chest, some knot of worry and fear had released. Anthony was fully at ease for the first time in a long time.

And so fucking turned on. He could feel Freddie growing hard against him, and his own body responded. Anthony looked up to see the softness in Freddie’s face turn sharp with desire. Butterflies stirred in Anthony’s stomach.

“Kiss me,” Anthony whispered.

“Anthony…”

“Please.” Anthony heard how desperate he sounded, but he didn’t care. Freddie looked down at him, and his face flashed with indecision. For a moment, Anthony thought he would say no, but then Freddie ran his tongue over his lips and bent down.

He was gentle at first, his soft, warm lips grazing Anthony’s. It was sweet, careful and caring in a way Anthony hadn’t expected, belying the image of the musclebound brute Anthony had in his mind.

It was too sweet. Anthony pressed forward, needing more, desperate to deepen the kiss.

Freddie responded in kind, more urgent now, his tongue running along Anthony’s bottom lip. Anthony opened his mouth and Freddie’s tongue entered him, flicking and licking inside his mouth, searching and teasing. Freddie was strong, but he kissed with a coyness that was sexy as hell. Anthony closed his eyes as he lost himself in the warmth.

“You two should get a room.”

Freddie spun around, shoving Anthony behind him. In front of them stood three men. Two of them wore leather and tight black jeans, their cuffed up pant legs revealing the shine of combat boots. They looked young, in their twenties, if that. The one in the middle was older and was bald with a goatee and a neck tattoo. There was something familiar about him.

“Have I died and gone to the Buffyverse?” Anthony couldn’t stop himself. They looked straight out of central casting. “Or some alternative timeline where everyone dresses like Sandy at the end of Grease?”

The middle one’s eyes flashed with anger. “You’re one to talk. Your hair’s stiff enough to cut glass.”

At the sound of his gruff voice, Anthony recognized who he was.

“You!” The words burst out of him as the realization hit him. “You’re the asshole boyfriend who grabbed me at the hotel restaurant!”

“You’re coming with us,” Goatee said. “My master has business with you.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Freddie clenched and unclenched his fists, keeping himself as a barrier between Anthony and the threatening men. Anthony didn’t know what the hell they were up to, and he knew he should be scared, but he wasn’t. Maybe it was Freddie, tall and muscular and strong, protecting him. Anthony hated feeling weak, but he was no fighter, and seeing Freddie standing there like a shield made his skin tingle with excitement.

“This doesn’t concern you, bloke,” one of the others chimed in. “Go back to London, where you belong.”

Freddie said nothing, but Anthony could feel the rage pouring off of him.

“You know these guys?” Anthony asked. “Who the hell are they? Who is their ‘master’?”

“Someone who could cause you a lot of pain if you don’t do as we say.” Goatee was trying to act macho, but all three of them were eyeing Freddie with caution. They spread out a little, taking fighting stances.

“Freddie?” Anthony figured Freddie could handle himself, but it was three against two. Three against one, really, since Anthony hadn’t been in a single fistfight in his entire life.

“They’re no one,” Freddie answered.

“We’ll see about that.” Goatee gestured toward Freddie and Anthony, and the two toughs that flanked him moved towards them.

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