Page 37 of Shaman

Alec looped an arm across his shoulders. When he spoke, it was in that same soothing tone he’d been using all day. It spread across Ian’s rattled mind like balm across a burn. “It’s okay to be upset,” Alec said. “Or to not know how you feel.”

“I feel…” The rest of the sentence caught in his throat, hitting that old roadblock that was part British stiff upper lip, and part the reticence of an abused child. Mercy, the big bastard, had said talking helped Tango, right? Ian had never talked, not ever, not to anyone. He couldn’t bring himself to sit down in a therapist’s office, not anytime soon, but maybe he could do this. Put his jumbled thoughts and feelings into words for Alec, who’d watched him kill two people, and who loved him still.

He cleared his throat and tried again. His breath came a little short, but he pressed on anyway. “I feel like I protected you today. Like I was useful. Like an actual man, for once,” he added, under his breath.

“Oh, baby,” Alec said, voice tender and Southern, pressing his lips to his forehead.

“And I also feel like, if I think about it too hard, about the sound of – of – that I’ll be sick. And that I might never sleep again. I.” He swallowed and pushed his cheek into Alec’s neck, seeking out the warmth of skin, the reassurance of a steady pulse. “I don’t know, darling, I just don’t know. How could you still want me? How could I deserve you?”

Alec sighed, breath rushing through Ian’s wet hair. His arm tightened. “I love you,” he said, slowly, like he wanted to make sure Ian heard every word, “because you’re you. Because you’re a snob, and also because you’re sweet, and you care. And are really good in bed.” Ian felt him press a smile to the top of his head, and then sober again. “I don’t love you for your money, or because you can physically protect me.” He took an unsteady breath. “I love you so much, and when I think about the horrible things that people did to you, I want towreckthem. I want to tear them to bits with my bare hands, get their blood on me,rip them apart.”

“Oh.”

“Please don’t push me away anymore. I just want to be with you, wherever that is, with however many guards you want to hire. Please, Ian.” He turned pleading. “All I need is for you to love me back.”

“I can do that.” He squeezed him tight. “Oh, darling, I can do that.”

Ian lifted his head and Alec met him halfway, a kiss that was tender and hungry all at once. It felt like a promise. Like sealing a pledge to one another.I’m with you, no matter what.

Ian laid him back on the bed and Alec went down easy, pliant and open, trusting.

They went slow this time, shedding their robes and chasing the damp terrycloth with gentle hands. Touching, teasing. Tasting. Moving against one another until they were both hard and leaking.

Separating long enough for Ian to grab the lube out of their bags felt like an eternity, but it was worth it for the way Alec welcomed him back, catching him by the hair and pulling him in for a bruising kiss, wrapping his legs around Ian’s hips.

Ian opened him up with careful consideration, stretching, taking care of him, until Alec was whimpering, begging “please, please. Come on, I’m ready.” Panting and sweating and testing every ounce of Ian’s patience.

“Stop,” he said, trying to sound stern, laughing instead, as he smoothed his hands along the sensitive insides of Alec’s thighs, spreading him, lining himself up. “Wait, wait, I…oh.”

He entered on one smooth slide, Alec grabbing his shoulders,pullinghim. And it was almost too much; he almost came right then. But he leaned down and rested their foreheads together, breathed through that first perfect surge. And then Alec’s hands smoothed down his back, and found his ass, kneading, encouraging.

“Please, Ian, please, I need you.”

Ian needed him, too. He kissed his throat and he moved, slow at first, building steam, going harder, deeper, faster.

Alec caught his face in both hands, smoothed his thumbs across his cheeks until Ian opened his eyes and looked at him…

And nearly drowned in the adoration he found there. The wealth of emotion he had no right to evoke, but which he would take, selfishly, grab onto with both hands and not let go.

“I love you so much,” Alec said, gaze full of wonder, and that was it.

Ian went tumbling over the edge, but not into an abyss, no. Someplace warm, and wonderful, and welcoming. A place where he could fall, and Alec would always catch him.

Ten

“Will she be mad?” Ian asked, shuffling his feet a little on the welcome mat. “It’s almost five.”

Ghost sent him a smirking glance. “Are you kidding? Last time I talked to her, Aidan was babysitting all the kids, Mercy was making the dressing, and she and Ava were having wine in front ofA Christmas Storymarathon. This is probably her best Christmas ever.”

Ian snorted, and the MC president opened the back door and let them all into his kitchen.

Mercy Lécuyer stood at the table, tossing a giant bowl of cornbread and dressing fixings with his bare hands, his hair tied back in a tidy bun, his silver rings in a little pile off to the side. “Hi, honey, you’re home,” he called in a sing-song voice without looking up. “I’m so glad my daddy’s finally here.”

“If you don’t stop fucking saying that,” Ghost said without any heat, goosing him sharply in the ribs as he walked past.

Mercy swung around with a handful of soggy cornbread he no doubt meant to dump down Ghost’s back, but Ghost was already darting out of the room, laughing under his breath.

Ian came to a halt just inside the door, Alec beside him, feeling like an interloper. “Um,” he said, elegantly, when Mercy looked at them.

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