Page 7 of Elf

Xavier had filled Alaric in on just what kind of family he was dealing with. It was an ongoing investigation, but so far, Xavier hadn’t found anything that proved the two sons of Elijah Forsberg were involved in their father’s crime empire. The man had been taken out by an assassin in his home, the funeral just days before. Ezra being beaten nearly to death around the same time didn’t feel like a coincidence.

Alaric looked around the room, taking in how very sparsely Ezra lived. He had a beige couch with one matching chair and ottoman. A television and, surprisingly, a stereo that looked vintage. One wall had bookcases filled with CDs and vinyl records, so it was obvious where Ezra’s interests lay. Other than that, the walls were bare. No paintings or prints. No photos. Just the furniture clustered together in the center of the massive room.

There was one very sad fern on the coffee table that needed TLC something fierce. When Ezra went to bed, Alaric would work on healing it—though slowly so he didn’t alert Ezra. But there was no way Alaric could ignore it like he was forcing himself to ignore the urge to heal Ezra. Ezra might know he’san elf, but something held him back from showing the extent of his powers. The strength of that need was confusing. He studied the man closely. There was something…different about him. Something intriguing, despite the bad attitude.

And ass or not, Ezra’s pain did something to Alaric. Something that completely unsettled him. He was used to feeling protective over clients—that was his job. This was somehow…more. Like he wouldn’t be able to rest until all of Ezra’s pain was gone.

What the hell?

But no matter how hard it was to resist healing him, something told him to wait, especially since he’d been having so much trouble with the draining of his power lately. So he settled against the wall as Ezra turned the volume up on the movie he’d paused. Alaric would watch him. Stay aloof and professional. Try to figure this out. The need to heal, the need to wait, and of course the biggest unanswered question of all.

Why could Ezra see past his glamour?

Chapter Five

Ezra

On the fourth day after the beating, a nightmare ripped Ezra from sleep. He lay perfectly still, images of the last time he’d seen his ex still projected on his close eyelids. Though in reality, Brian’s back had been toward Ezra, in the dreams, that rare, pleased expression on his face as Brian had taken someone’s life was always present. And the fear Ezra had felt then had turned the reoccurring dream into something that made him dread sleeping. Because it came back more than doubled each time. And in every dream, Ezra was the man tied to a chair and begging for his life around a gag.

Groaning, he scrubbed at his eyes and willed the remnants of the nightmare away, focusing instead on the state of his body. He was in slightly less pain. In some areas. Others felt worse. He rolled onto his back in bed, not really ready to face another day of feeling like this. He hated the painkillers he’d been prescribed because they made him feel too funky, took away his control too much, so he’d been trying to get by on over-the-counter stuff. Which wasn’t cutting it.

And after two days of having a silent bodyguard, Ezra still wasn’t used to him. He was too noticeable with his unbelievably sexy good looks. For the first time in years, Ezra’s fingers itched to hold a camera. To use Alaric as a model because Ezra could only imagine how photogenic he must be. The elf was insanely fucking hot—big, with wide shoulders and strong, lean muscles. And Ezra, being himself, couldn’t resist digging into that austere exterior. Poking at him.

No matter what he said, Alaric barely responded.

But man, Ezra liked looking at him. He’d catch himself staring and had to work to try and do it without the bodyguard noticing. He had the feeling nothing got past this guy, though. Including the erections Ezra kept getting. Couldn’t seem to stop them—his dick not caring one whit that most of his body was in pain. He just kept imagining being naked with Alaric. Despite his cold attitude.

Would the elf be that stoic in the bedroom or would he let loose? Pound Ezra into the mattress? Gah, just the thought had him sweating.

He got out of bed, threw on some sweats and a T-shirt, and padded into the living room.

Alaric was in his usual place, standing against the wall. He wore tight-fitting dark jeans and a loose white shirt. Sexy knee-high black boots on his feet, crossed at the ankles. His black curls were pulled back in a thick tail at the nape of his neck, which made his features all the sharper. The elf had a rather large nose, but it looked good on him, regal, and now that he’d ditched the contacts, the bright purple eyes with rings of gold kept pulling Ezra’s gaze.

Nobody should be that hot.

He made Ezra weirdly nervous. He wasn’t used to that feeling. Not since he’d stopped caring what people thought of him. Since he’d accepted his family didn’t care if he lived or died.Not to mention his disaster of a marriage. But he didn’t want to think about that, so he went into his kitchen to make coffee.

What he really needed was to get out of the house. What better way to do that than to start questioning the people on his list? Decision made, he walked back into the living room. “There’s fresh coffee if you want some. I left you a mug on the counter.”

“Thank you,” Alaric answered, pushing off the wall to stroll into the kitchen. Damn. The man even walked with a sexy, sure stride.

When he came back, Ezra handed him his notebook. “I’ve laid around the apartment enough. This is a list of people I want to talk to about this.”

Alaric scanned the page. “Jake Langford is first?”

“He’s one of my ex-husband’s bodyguards. The only one who was nice to me. I doubt he’ll talk, but it’s worth a try. It’s his day off, so today’s a good day to get him.”

“Who is your ex-husband?”

“Brian Kemper.”

Both black eyebrows lifted immediately.

“Know of him, do you?” Ezra asked with a smirk.

“I do, though I’ve never actually seen what he looks like since he’s never in public and avoids all publicity. You were married to him?”

“I was the unfortunate winner of the arranged marriage lotto. My father had one use for me, and it was to help tie our families together.”

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