Close Quarter Read online

  Dinner conversation was nonexistent until Rhys spoke again. “Um, I’m not your servant for the next seven years, am I?” There was a clip to Rhys’s voice that was hard to interpret. Sarcasm, perhaps.

  “Thomas the Rhymer. You know your classic tales.” Impressive, though Silas suppressed a shudder. Seven years bound to another’s will? He’d not wish that on anyone. He’d lived it, for far more years than seven.

  Silas toyed with a shrimp on his plate. Rhys had gained back the color in his face, and splotches of red marred his neck. “No. I can’t bend your will to mine. There’s no Elfland beyond a river of blood to which I can take you. I’m as much of this world as you.”

  “I suppose that’s good. I’m not ready to believe in magical worlds beyond this one.” He looked up at Silas. “What do you really look like?”

  There was that tone again. Silas set his fork down. “You see me as I truly am. You ask why no one else reacts to me? To everyone else, I’m not quite as arresting.”

  He mulled that. “So whatever you’re doing doesn’t work on me.”

  “It doesn’t seem to, no.”

  “Why not?”

  Silas studied Rhys. Oh, there was skepticism there, perhaps anger as well. And why not? But the creeping awareness of truth lurked deep inside Rhys. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  He has to be lying. Rhys repeated that over and over in his head. Silas had to be lying, because the truth was impossible. Fae? Did Silas think he was a fool? Was he playing with the ignorant rich boy’s mind for some kink? This had gone too far.

  He latched on to anger. Fae? No way in hell. “That’s a convenient dodge.”

  Silas shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  What an asshole. “You don’t know what makes me so superspecial to see through your illusions?”

  “Glamour.” A touch of annoyance crept into Silas’s voice. “I have an idea but no proof.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  Finally, the anger Rhys had witnessed that afternoon spread over Silas’s expression. “Am I?” It was every ounce a challenge.

  “Yes.” Rhys pushed back his chair. Kissing a guy was one thing; people could ignore that. He took a deep breath and then shouted as loudly as he could. “Hey! Everyone! This guy says he’s a fucking fairy!”

  The conversations in the room didn’t even dip. No one turned. Dishes clinked; servers moved. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

  Oh hell. Rhys’s whole body grew warm. He looked down at Silas.

  “Are you through?”

  He sank to his chair. “Holy shit.”

  A quirk of a dark smile formed on the lips of the man—the fae—who sat at the other side of the table.

  “That can’t be real. You can’t be…” Oh fuck. Silas’s looks, his passion and strength, and that no one else on this entire ship wanted to jump him—as unbelievable as it sounded, the explanation fit. Except maybe—

  “I’m not being punked, am I?”

  Lines of consternation appeared on Silas’s forehead. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  Oh. “Tricked. Pranked.”

  “No.” Silas rose and towered over the table. “Do you require more proof?”

  He was afraid to say yes. Afraid to say no as well. “What are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t decided.” He rounded the table and looked down at Rhys. “Truth is, I could lay you out on the table, strip you naked, and fuck you senseless, and no one would bat an eye. In the end, our waitress would simply come over and offer us dessert.”

  Rhys’s mouth went dry and his whole body felt like fire. “You’re not going to…”

  Silas knelt. “No.” He grasped the leg of Rhys’s chair and pulled it sideways. “The china’s too nice to simply push to the floor. I have another idea.” He reached for Rhys’s belt and unbuckled it.

  His objective became blindingly obvious.

  “Silas!” Rhys hissed his name. “You can’t!”

  “I can. I will.” Silas looked up. “Unless you tell me to stop.”

  Rhys stared at those amber eyes. Oh God, Silas really was telling the truth. He should tell him to stop, voice that one simple word. More than anything else, he ached for this man. Fae. Whatever the hell he was.

  A grin parted Silas’s lips. He unbuttoned Rhys’s pants, pulled the zipper apart, and then shoved his underwear down.

  Cool air surrounded Rhys’s erect cock. A blowjob in the middle of a restaurant. Talk about a wicked wet dream come true.

  “Last chance.” Whispered words, smooth as silk.

  “Do it.” His own voice was guttural.

  A chuckle, then Silas’s hot mouth engulfed the head of Rhys’s cock as Silas wrapped his hand around the shaft.

  The slick, soft warmth and the flick of Silas’s velvet tongue over Rhys’s crown caused every part of his body to tingle. Deep inside Rhys, a chasm formed that could only be filled by Silas’s heat. “Oh fuck.” He tangled his fingers in Silas’s hair and bucked forward.

  Silas obliged and took more of Rhys into his mouth, before pulling back. The cool touch of air on Rhys’s shaft sent more fire into his veins, and to that aching place inside. Then Silas’s mouth engulfed Rhys again.

  Pulses like electricity zinged over Rhys’s skin. God. Silas’s tongue caressed the side of his shaft, flicked over his glans and the slit at the top. The air around them smelled like a rainy summer night, the windows open. Damp oak leaves and a warm, wet wind that carried just a hint of honeysuckle.

  Oh hell, maybe Silas really was fae.

  Rhys looked down. The sight of those perfect lips stretched open around his shaft caused that ache inside him to throb. Then Silas hummed, a gentle sound of pleasure that vibrated through every inch of Rhys’s body. Fire rushed into the chasm inside Rhys, and his balls tightened.

  “Silas, I—”

  Rhys came, clenching Silas’s hair and calling his name out loud in the middle of a five-star restaurant on a damn cruise ship.

  Apparently Silas was the type of guy to swallow. Because he drank every drop of Rhys and licked his cock clean. Then Silas tucked Rhys back into his pants. Even zipped and belted them back together.

  Rhys had gotten blowjobs before, but they’d never made him so damn…complete. He ran trembling fingers through those black curls. “God, Silas. That was fucking awesome.”

  “Look around the room.” His voice sounded rough but cheerful.

  Rhys did. Business as usual. Diners chatting and laughing. Servers moving with wine, drinks, dishes—both full and empty. No one looked their way at all.

  “I believe you,” Rhys said.

  Silas rose and leaned over and kissed him. “You damn well better. It’s not every day I go down on someone.” He was breathless, and a flush colored his tan skin.

  Rhys tasted himself in that hot mouth. “But you liked it.” He’d heard that thrum of pleasure and spied the bliss in Silas’s face.

  “Very much so.” Silas straightened, walked back around the table, and sat. He picked up a napkin and blotted his chin. “As I said before, I do like you.”

  He didn’t know how to answer that. Couldn’t sort through his thoughts fast enough.

  He was saved by the waitress. “Would you gentlemen care for dessert?” She handed each a menu.

  Silas waved his off. “Just a cappuccino for me.”

  Rhys handed the menu back. “The same, please.”

  She nodded and left.

  Rhys chewed on the inside of his mouth. How could he explain his feelings when he didn’t understand them himself? “Silas, I… How much did you read about me on the Internet?”

  Silas folded his hands. “Not much. You’re the son of a world-class cellist and an antiques dealer. You’re an artist in your own right—a sculptor. Your mother died two weeks ago, and you inherited eleven million dollars no one knew she had. That’s about it.”

  Rhys laughed. “I know there’s more out there.”

  “Ye
s,” Silas said. “But I stopped paying attention to the media years ago. Ninety-nine percent chaff, one percent wheat. It’s not worth the time to sift.”

  The waitress came back with their coffees and then retreated.

  Rhys wrapped his hand around the cup. “My family was perfect for seventeen years. A mother who let me sing and dance, explore the arts until I found what I loved. A father who taught me to throw a baseball and went to every one of my football games.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice and failed.

  “Then?” Silas’s voice was soft.

  That took Rhys by surprise, but then, so did everything about Silas.

  He took a breath and plunged onward. “Dad caught me making out with another guy. Would’ve thrown me out of the house that day, but I was seventeen. Mom wouldn’t let him. For my eighteenth birthday, he bought me cardboard boxes and told me to get the hell out. I did. Didn’t speak to either of my parents for years.”

  Silas seemed to absorb all of this. He nodded slowly. “But you reconciled with your mother.”

  “Yeah. For as much as that’s worth now. She and Dad divorced five years after I left. A month after that, she called me and begged me to forgive her.” Rhys sipped his coffee. That had been an awkward, painful, and wonderful conversation. But now—all that honesty and openness for those scant few years—it was all worth shit.

  “And your father?”

  “Oh, Derrick.” Rhys barked a bitter laugh. “He hates my guts. Blames me for the divorce. Probably for the cancer too.” He paused. “Are you still doing that thing you do?”

  “Glamour,” Silas said. “You can assume I am, unless we’re alone.”

  “Because”—Rhys lowered his voice—“I can’t tell you what I’m about to tell you. That was the deal. But you won’t understand if I don’t.”

  Silas tipped his head to one side, his expression changed to intense curiosity. “No, no one will hear.”

  “I mean, could another fae…?” Rhys waved his hand over the table.

  “Another fae could see and hear through my glamour, yes. But there isn’t another of my kind on this ship. I’d know if there were.”

  “What about someone like me?”

  Silas stilled and spoke as if choosing his words carefully. Even his accent became more pronounced. “I believe you’re fairly unique in the world.”

  Rhys chewed on that. Unique. He pushed the upwelling of questions aside. One thing at a time.

  “Nine months before I was born, on the last night of a tour in Europe, Mom had an affair with some guy she met at the after-concert cocktails. Came home with me. Told no one.”

  “But she knew she was pregnant by him?”

  “Yeah. And apparently that guy found out she had his kid and gave her a ton of money never to tell anyone. Not even her husband. Or her son.”

  Silas shifted in his seat and leaned over his coffee. “That’s a very odd thing to do.”

  Understatement of the year. “It’s a fucking hideous thing to do. At the reading of the will, not only did I have to face the contempt and hatred of the man I thought was my father, but I found out he wasn’t my father at all. And the guy who is wants so little to do with me he’s willing to fork over eleven million dollars so I never seek him out.” Rhys drank the rest of his coffee. “In an hour, I learned everything I ever knew about my life was a lie. My dead mother lied to my face, and I have two fathers who’d rather see me planted in the ground.”

  Silas sat back and watched him but said nothing.

  Rhys ran a hand through his hair and lowered his voice. “You know, most of the stuff in the papers is shit, but some of it isn’t. I didn’t handle the news well. Got drunk out of my gourd and smashed a car into a fountain in Vienna. Spent five days holed up in a hotel in my underwear. Punched a photographer.”

  Silas nodded. “Rage. Understandable.”

  “But that isn’t me. I’ve been…shattered. Broken. For weeks.” Rhys drew a breath. “And then I met you.”

  “And?” Honest curiosity in that voice.

  “I felt whole again. Myself.” Rhys laughed. “And now you’re telling me you’re fae, which pretty much destroys what I know about the entire fucking world.”

  “And?”

  “I feel as though everything is exactly right. Like my whole life just snapped into place.”

  Chapter Four

  Silas could’ve dealt with confusion, lust, or even anger. He understood those emotions. Not this. Not this.

  Wholeness. Rightness. Those words rammed through him like a pike to the gut. Sharp. Fast.

  His reaction surprised him far more. Warmth. Pleasure. A fierce protectiveness. If Rhys was what Silas thought he was…

  Mercury’s balls. His heart pounded.

  Complete. Two edges to that blade. Companionship. Eventual love?

  No. He couldn’t afford love. That cursed emotion had nearly destroyed him once. Killed everyone he’d ever cared for instead. Never again. Fae loved too deeply, for far too long.

  When Rhys’s smile faltered into horror, Silas knew he hadn’t schooled his expression.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.” He made to rise.

  “Rhys, it’s not what you think.” Sunset. Ice in his bones. Time was running out. Damn all the gods and their children to darkness. “Please…give me a moment.”

  Hurt in those eyes, but Rhys remained in his chair.

  Words wouldn’t come to Silas, at least not in any language Rhys would understand. Silas placed his hands on the table and stared at his fingers. He’d known English for centuries, used it more than any other language. But deep matters? They always brought him home.

  He found the words and translated. “I would like you to be happy, Rhys. I’m finding I want to see that you are.”

  Rhys settled, surprise replacing the hurt.

  “This is highly unusual behavior for me,” Silas said.

  “What, seducing mortals?” Rhys said. “I thought that’s the sort of thing fae did?”

  He had to chuckle at that. “Et tu?” He shook his head. “True, I suppose. Yes. But I don’t take them to dinner.”

  “Or go down on them.”

  Damn that quirky grin of his. Silas still wanted to see those lips around his cock. Or anywhere else on his body. “Also true.”

  Rhys shifted in his seat. “So do I invite you back to my cabin, or should we go to yours?” He looked expectant.

  Ah, this would be another delicate moment, but one for which he was better prepared. Silas stood and rounded the table once more. This time he held out his hand.

  Rhys hesitated but took it.

  Such warmth. Such energy. Silas wanted to swim in it. He tugged Rhys to his feet and pulled the other man against him. He found Rhys’s sweet mouth with his own and cupped Rhys’s ass, pulling him tight against his body. The gentle tugging of Rhys slipping his fingers into Silas’s hair sent a shiver down his spine.

  Silas was painfully hard and knew Rhys felt his length against him. After a minute he broke the kiss and relaxed his grip. He spoke low into Rhys’s ear. “Do you know how much I want you?”

  “Yes.” A breathless reply. “Much more than five inches.”

  Silas nipped his earlobe. “I’d love to take you back to my cabin and have you feel every inch slide into you.”

  Rhys stiffened. He pulled back. “But you can’t.” Frustration in his voice.

  Silas knew that emotion all too well and felt it as keenly. “I’m of the field and forest and meadow. A boat in the middle of the ocean is—quite literally—out of my element.”

  Understanding flickered in those green eyes. “You didn’t choose to take this trip.”

  “No. I was sent. And I have business to attend to tonight.”

  “And it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  Questions obviously warred within Rhys. His brow furrowed, then his expression snapped into determination. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  Rhys
was learning. Command rather than question. Harder to dodge. “It’d be better if you didn’t know.”

  “Either you don’t trust me, or you’re dealing with something really dangerous. I don’t like either option.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Oh great. Danger.”

  Silas chuckled. “Yes. But I’m very good at what I do.” He drew back from Rhys. Took his hand and kissed it. “Come. I have some time yet.”

  Rhys tugged him forward. “I’ll lead.”

  Now that was intriguing. Silas let Rhys set the pace and direction, a flicker of delight growing inside him. So often he was the actor. This—this was different. But not unpleasant at all.

  They took the elevator down two decks and walked the length of the ocean liner. “I read about this place when I booked the cruise,” Rhys said.

  Wisps of energy—of Silas’s element—flowed down the hall and wrapped themselves into…

  Rhys. Not him, but Rhys. Sweet Diana. Humans didn’t pull element like that.

  Up ahead, beyond double glass doors, shone a wall of green. Plants.

  “It’s a mini botanical garden. Orchids. Ferns. Tropicals.” Rhys led them through the doors. “And, of course, the requisite bar at the other end.”

  Greenery everywhere. Tall palms and the scent of citrus. Glass all around, letting in the reds and oranges of the fading sunlight.

  Life surrounded Silas, slid through and into him. He took three steps down the path and touched a fern. “I should’ve known this was here. Should’ve felt it.”

  “Well, we are on a big metal boat.” Rhys cocked his head. “Isn’t iron supposed to poison you?”

  “No. That’s a misconception. Iron doesn’t hurt us.” Silas turned. “It—” Words died in his mouth.

  Rhys glowed. Long strands of element licked from the trees and the ferns and every other plant and the energy twined and plunged into Rhys’s body.

  “Silas, what’s wrong?”

  This time he couldn’t find words in any language to speak. Finally one thought surfaced.