Page 7 of Demented

Noir didn’t look around. “I’ve read every book here.” He handed Lazarus a book. It was almost like a comic book, but smaller and much thicker. “Here’s one.”

Lazarus’ mind reeled as he flipped through the pages. Each image accompanied a story. He couldn’t believe Noir had read every book there. There had to be thousands. Lazarus checked the copyright page to see what name Noir used for his illustrations. No way did the guy work under his real name. N.R. Stalker. Lazarus nearly snorted at the name until he noticed the author was also N.R. Stalker. His chin shot up. “You wrote this?”

Noir remained expressionless. He nodded.

It hit Lazarus. Noir had likely been schooled to always hide his emotions. He couldn’t land his family on the news. Noir had to be stoic and invisible. Chances were good he used that training to keep from getting hurt. He had exposed himself to Lazarus with this secret. That made Lazarus feel something.

Lazarus went back to checking out the pictures. “How many of these have you done?”

Noir stepped aside and motioned toward the shelf. The bookcase was filled with similar-looking books. “It’s a series, following adragon shifter throughout his life.” Noir hesitated. “He’s a prince who fights in his family’s militia, going against other dragon sects trying to take over their land. There’re fifty-two so far.”

Lazarus had never been more impressed by anyone. He couldn’t imagine how much time it took to write and draw the entirety of that many stories. “You’re very talented. I bet you make your parents proud.”

“They don’t know.” Noir took the book from Lazarus and put it back on the shelf. “I was sent here to be a symbol of trust, unity, and alliance with the United States. It is my duty to always foster and uphold my country’s reputation and relationship with your country. My wants do not factor, nor does anyone care. I do my bi-yearly return home for TV’s sake on holidays. Otherwise, I’m just here.” He motioned toward the shelf. “Doing this.”

Lazarus experienced an emotion he never had. Guilt. Just like everyone, Lazarus hadn’t noticed the real Noir. Lazarus had less excuse than anyone. He was a watcher. A hunter. His life and freedom depended upon his ability to read people. He couldn’t read Noir. Maybe that was what fascinated him so much.

“I was serious about spending the day together. Do you want to show me how that drawing tablet thing works?”

A hint of a smile touched Noir’s lips. “I’d love to.”

Oddly, Lazarus would too. He had come here for the off-the-charts sex. Now he couldn’t wait to hear about a tablet he cared absolutely nothing about. He just wanted to be with Noir.

Chapter Four

The air was thick.Heavy. Lazarus explored Noir’s mouth like he had nowhere to be. It had taken nothing to strip him of only a robe. Other than losing his shirt, Lazarus hadn’t gotten in a hurry to go further. If he had ever made out like a teenager, Lazarus couldn’t recall it. Noir made sexy sounds and writhed beneath him. Lazarus didn’t ease him. The sadistic side of him needed Noir to suffer for him.

To his shock, Lazarus found himself on his back. It seemed Noir was stronger than Lazarus thought. He started to take back control, but Noir’s mouth was already headed south, and Lazarus was enthralled. Noir unbuttoned and unzipped Lazarus’ jeans. Lazarus let him finish stripping him. The moment they were both nude, Lazarus’ cock was in Noir’s mouth and Lazarus couldn’t move. Lazarus always fucked and ran, if he touched anyone at all. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable and showing weakness. Getting blown was way too personal. It gave anotherperson too much power over him. With Noir, he genuinely couldn’t move a muscle. He wanted to shove him away. Lazarus had warning bells clanging in his head, but he remained completely frozen. He stared down the line of his body. Every muscle was flexed, as if he meant to spring from the bed. He couldn’t look away from Noir pleasuring him.

Noir’s gaze met his. He stroked Lazarus' stomach. “Relax.”

Lazarus couldn’t. Yet, Noir’s mouth felt so fucking good. Amazing, actually. Lazarus was under his spell. He swallowed Lazarus’ erection. A deep moan rumbled from Lazarus. Without realizing it, his eyes slipped closed. His muscles relaxed. Lazarus’ hips lifted. He savored every sensation. His guard dropped. Noir was completely inside his head and under his skin. Lazarus forgot to protect himself. Anyone could have slit his throat in that moment and Lazarus couldn’t manage to care. All he felt was the way Noir’s hot mouth consumed him, sucking him toward the edge.

Noir used his hands and saliva against Lazarus. He toyed with Lazarus’ balls and stroked him as he suckled Lazarus’ crown. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. He sucked air and felt. Lazarus felt everything. The pressure climbing his shaft had him grabbing Noir’s hair. He wanted to take his pleasure, but he couldn’t bring himself to tug. He simply held on while Noir controlled him. The pressure beat at his crown. Lazarus’ muscles tensed. A half second before he flew apart, Lazarus realized he hadn’t pleased Noir. He shook from the power of his orgasm while Noir licked him dry. His mind was a mess. It didn’t immediately return to his normal ironclad control. He hadn’t made Noir come. Lazarus hadn’t completed the job. Everything went haywire inside hisbrain. He had to finish what he started. Lazarus wanted to lash out. He fought the urge to come unglued and smash things. Things were incomplete.

Noir held his face between his hands. He looked softer than Lazarus had ever seen him. “It’s okay. Take a breath. Look at me. Just breathe.”

Lazarus drew a sharp breath. His lungs burned like they hadn’t been used in a while. The room came a little more into focus.

Noir stroked his face. “That’s it. Keep breathing. The night isn’t over yet. I’d never let you leave this bed without finishing the job.”

Horror overcame him. He had said those things out loud. It had been years since he had a meltdown like that. He usually stayed locked down. Lazarus knew how to keep himself in check. It was Noir. Something about him made Lazarus weak. He took him back to childhood when Lazarus couldn’t control the outburst. They had been the thing that destroyed his life. Each one had gotten him beaten and locked in his room. Eventually, his parents had simply driven him into the middle of nowhere and left him. He was crazy. They couldn’t afford to fix him, and he scared them. Lazarus scared himself.

His heartbeat slowed. Lazarus’ mind fully cleared. Noir held him. Lazarus’ throat unexpectedly swelled. He didn’t… goddamn it. Lazarus didn’t know how to handle the emotions suddenly crushing him, but the job still wasn’t complete. Lazarus gently rolled Noir onto his back. He slowly straddled him—in case Noirwas completely terrified of him now. He wanted to give Noir time to say no. Noir stared up at him, looking like he cared, and like he still wanted Lazarus. The entire situation had him completely fucked up. Yet Lazarus couldn’t stop himself from covering Noir’s mouth with his. Their tongues brushed. It was sweet. This kiss was unlike anything he had ever shared with anyone. He moved against Noir, trapping the man’s erection between their bodies. He rolled his abs, using his strength against Noir and the friction to draw a shaky breath from Noir. Lazarus calmed a little more. He was still in control. There was still time to salvage things.

Their kiss turned more heated. Desperate. Tiny mewling sounds came from Noir as Lazarus made love to him. That was exactly what it felt like. Lazarus couldn’t stop this any more than he could have stopped that blow job. Noir was different from everyone else. Lazarus didn’t understand quite how yet, but he was special. For once in his life, Lazarus wanted someone’s time. He craved Noir’s entire focus. Lazarus wanted to own him. Possess him. Consume him. He felt insane at the idea of anyone else touching him. Lazarus was in trouble, and he couldn’t stop.

Noir’s breathing turned ragged. Lazarus worked harder at pleasing him. Noir’s fingertips dug into Lazarus’ back. The newly unleashed, possessive beast inside him roared with pleasure. He had Noir on the edge. Lazarus hadn’t let him down. Noir tore his mouth away and visibly fought for air. Lazarus studied his features, ensuring he gave Noir exactly what he needed. When Noir finally blew, creating a swamp of cum between them, Lazarus recognized the truth. He wanted Noir. Not just for the night, but for good.

Noir always found peace in drawing. Life slipped away as he brought the story inside his head to life. He had never slept well. Noir assumed it was because he had no limits on his schedule. He could sleep eighteen hours or not at all. Maybe he had slept so much over the years, he wasn’t tired anymore. Whatever the reason, rest eluded him. With his legs crossed and his feet tucked beneath his thighs, Noir’s forearms rested on a throw pillow while he swiped his electronic pen across the screen. He had always loved dragons. When he was small, he had a nanny who read to him constantly. He never tired of disappearing into a fictional world. Noir was a thousand percent certain he had been born to create stories for other people. Unfortunately, creative people were often completely insane. That trait hadn’t missed him. If he didn’t make peace for himself, there was none.

Noir’s eyes slipped closed as strong hands squeezed his shoulders and massaged. Lazarus’ hands felt fucking amazing on Noir’s body. No matter where he put them.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Lazarus’ lips touched his nape.

“I don’t know. After you fell asleep, I lasted about an hour before I gave up. It’s not uncommon. I don’t sleep well.”

“You know that’s a sign of a heavy conscience.”

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