Page 60 of Moonstruck
“I am saying it. You’re being irrational. Emotional. You’ve been screaming this entire conversation.”
The man began to really let loose, his voice an almost guttural roar. That was when Asa released Zane’s cock, his arm locking around his waist like an iron bar, his hips grinding up against him. Then Zane could feel his cock throbbing as he spilled within him. He dropped two delicate kisses onto the teeth marks he’d left, then on his neck.
This was so Asa. Two people. Two personalities. One for the public and one just for Zane. Nobody else got to see Asa as he truly was. Nobody. Except him. That alone was worth any discomfort, any risk, any…anything.
“Gil, why don’t you take some time to get yourself together and then we’ll talk about it on Monday before the board? See you then.”
He didn’t give Gil a chance to answer, instead just hitting the end button and dropping his phone on the desk to wrap both arms around Zane. “Mm, that was hot, as always. Is this what marriage is going to be like?”
“I fucking hope so,” Zane said, deflating against him. Asa pulled Zane’s t-shirt away from his shoulder to lick and suck at the mark he’d left.
“Did you have a good nap?” Asa asked against his skin.
“Yeah, the best. But now, I’m hungry. You need to feed me.”
“Your wish is my command. Do you want me to cook?” Asa said with a flourish of his hand.
“You can cook?” Zane asked, genuinely shocked.
Asa grinned. “I’m exceptional with knives.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can cook,” Zane said around a laugh. “Thanks for going to get my clothes.”
“You’re welcome. But now, for the bad news.”
Zane’s heart sank. “Bad news? What bad news?”
Asa kissed his ear again. “In about ten seconds, you’re going to have to stand up and things are going to be real messy.”
Zane rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God. Shut up.”
* * *
Zane’s leg bounced nervously the entire way to Thomas’s house. This was what they’d been waiting for. A lead. Finally. Calliope had called that morning and had laid the good news/bad news situation on them. The bad news was that she had spoken to Jagger, who had let her know that any computers collected from the victims had been returned to their parents, and that she couldn’t find anymore obvious suicide clusters, either at school or in other large social groups. At least, none that didn’t have to do with cults or politics. The good news, she said, was that she had something but had refused to say what without a field trip to the mansion. She said it was easier to show them what she found on the big screen in the war room, but Asa said not to be surprised to find they were being lured into an ambush.
The last forty-eight hours had flown by with very little to show for it with the exception of some new bruises for Zane. During the day, they’d spent hours researching everything they could about games like this, where they originated, how they were played, who played them, who built them, who was responsible. But there was nothing.
Profiling the players was proving much harder than he imagined as well. All he could say was they were all popular, all at the top of their game, all killing it when it came to their college years. It wasn’t hard to imagine somebody having a grudge against those kinds of people.
Their nights were much more interesting. Asa liked playing games, too. Games of the roleplaying kind. House. Doctor. Captor versus captive. Predator versus prey. He was very inventive and he really didn’t have a line he wouldn’t cross if Zane let him. And Zane found he had little interest in refusing Asa anything.
The hardest part of their relationship was enduring the strange looks he received whenever he left the house covered in Asa’s bruises. Those looks varied from pity to disgust to even lascivious from those in the know. Zane had finally made Asa stop at the drug store so he could buy makeup to conceal the evidence of his enthusiasm, but Asa had pouted about it for a solid hour. He was very proud of those marks. Zane was, too, but Atticus was right. At some point, rumors would start that wouldn’t paint Asa or the Mulvaneys in a good light. He didn’t want that.
When they entered the war room, Zane stopped short. Asa had been right. It was an ambush. The entire family waited inside. Nobody looked particularly threatening, but this many Mulvaneys in one room felt a lot like they were about to tie him to the conference room table and offer him up as some kind of sacrifice.
Atticus and Jericho were there, August and Lucas, Adam and Noah. Even the gambling brother, Archer. It was Archer who caught and held Zane’s attention. He sat slumped in his seat, clothing rumpled, wearing sunglasses in the dim lighting of the room. He had at least two days of beard growth on his chin and his wavy hair was pulled back off his face in a bun that sat askew on the top of his head.
“Is he okay?” Zane asked.
“We’re not entirely sure he’s even alive,” August said drolly. “It’s possible he’s just been well-preserved by all the alcohol in his system.”
Adam snickered. “Yeah, sometimes, I think Dad just pulls aWeekend at Bernie’sand stages him in different positions so the public doesn’t realize he’s dead. Bad for optics.”
Archer didn’t speak but did raise his middle finger in the general direction of his brothers. Before anyone else could retaliate, Thomas swept in wearing a pair of perfectly tailored gray pants and a black sweater that hugged his form and made those not related to him stare just a smidge too long.
Zane tried not to be obvious, but when Asa pinched his side, he forced himself to drag his gaze away. It wasn’t his fault Thomas Mulvaney was a snack. Asa led him to the two chairs at the end of the table, even holding his out for him. The rest of the family took notice.
“We’re all here, Calliope. What have you got?” Thomas asked. “And be quick, please. I have a meeting in an hour at the club.”
