Lucas slid to his knees between August’s legs, looking up at him. The world narrowed to the rasp of his own breath, the steady thrum of August’s pulse under his fingers, and the small,private conspiracy of two people who had learned, in all the wrong ways, how to make comfort and cruelty coexist. “You have no idea, Professor.”
August’s laugh was warm against the night. “I can’t wait for you to show me, Mr. Blackwell. Do your worst.”
“Do you want me to take you home, Lois?”
Zane leaned into the low timbre of Asa’s soft croon, the sound vibrating through his chest like a cat’s purr. “No. I need to make sure she really dies.”
He let his eyes fall shut as Asa’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the edge of his jaw like he was fragile glass. It was hard to reckon this man, the one treating him with such care, was the same man who lived to hunt and stalk him through the woods, the man who thought nothing of biting him, slapping him, using him in ways most people would call criminal, but that Zane just called a Tuesday.
“Do you want me to take you to bed?”
Did he mean sleep or sex? He pondered it for a moment. He wasn’t sure he could stomach either. The thought of lying still—or being touched with purpose—made his insides twist. He felt unclean tonight. Like that dream where he’s standing naked in front of a crowd of people. Except this was somehow so much worse than that.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Do you want to go see the boys?”
Zane pressed against his palm like a cat, greedy for the warmth.Yes.“No.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He wanted to see his babies—more than anything—but it would only distress them seeing him so upset, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a handle on his feelings and the last thing he wanted was to ruin the children’s fun. That thought brought a fresh wave of tears.
He was so lucky. He had a family who’d chosen him. He got to help raise the two most beautiful boys in the world. He had three men who thought he was worthy of their love and attention. That was real. They were real. Right? He just kept rolling it over and over in his head like a mantra, like repetition could make his brain—finally—believe it.
He wiped at his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. He was sure he looked like hell. His eyes burned like he’d tried to flush them with battery acid, his nose was raw, his skin hurt. He was a mess. He was sure all the work Felix had done on Zane’s makeup was now ruined. Something else to add to the list of fuckups.
Yes, he was feeling sorry for himself but he couldn't help it.
He didn’t know how to describe the chemical reaction happening inside him. He was grateful Thomas would finally put Bev down. He was humiliated that a house filled with his closest friends and family had heard just how much his own mother loathed him. He was reeling from the knowledge that his father wasn’t his father. But most of all, he was heartbroken for the little boy who’d deserved better but was now too old to ever have it.
The ache settled somewhere deep in his ribs, this knife-sharp wound that wouldn’t clot.
“Do you want to go downstairs?”
He shook his head. None of these questions were asked with impatience or irritation, just that steady cool cadence that letZane know he didn’t have to think about anything, that Asa was in control.
He glanced around the cozy nook where they hid.
The thing about the Mulvaney mansion—one of the reasons Thomas didn’t want to part with it—was that he’d spent years making sure every nook and cranny had a purpose, even the ones that weren’t meant to.
The original designer had created hidden rooms and secret passages long ago, back in prohibition days when being a criminal was the most lucrative life path. Not that much had changed. Before Thomas took ownership, most of the spaces were dusty, dirty, and unsafe. But Thomas had spared no expense turning each hidden nook into a child’s fantasy.
It was one of those hidden spaces the littlest Mulvaneys loved to explore. Each had a theme. Some passages like walking through space, others through jungle vines. There were rooms that looked like secret gardens and others that felt like falling through the looking glass.
Tonight, those places were locked down to the littles, leaving only Asa and Zane tucked inside a forbidden corner of quiet in a house full of chaos.
Zane exhaled shakily. The air smelled faintly of cedar and Asa’s cologne, dark, steady, grounding. His pulse began to sync to Asa’s, a slow rhythm that didn’t demand anything of him, only offered safety.
The kids called this space the mouse trap. It was a blink-and-you-miss-it spot tucked into the back corner of the attic floor. To those who didn’t know better, it looked like the door to a crawl space. But when you opened it and crawled inside, you were in a mouse hole. Well, technically, a mousehome.
It wasn’t a super small door, butAsa’s broad shoulders had almost foiled their plans for solitude. It had been the first andlast time since they’d arrived that Zane had laughed and meant it.
Inside, the cozy space looked like a tiny mouse had made a life there, a small bed, a kitchen, a table and chairs made for children. Fairy-light bulbs glowed weakly in the corners, making the shadows look alive. It was the kind of place that made you whisper without knowing why. There was a small vent that pumped air into the tight space, the low hum of it always soothed him.
That’s how they came to be sitting as they were now, Asa on the floor, back against the wall, knees up, Zane straddling his lap, using his husband’s thighs as a backrest. He’d hoped coming here might quiet the chaos in his chest, but so far, he was having a hard time holding on to any thought for more than a minute or two.
But there was one thing that never failed to grab his attention. He bit his lower lip, rubbing his palms up and down Asa’s tattered costume, the fabric catching slightly on the rough calluses of his hands. The torn material revealed Asa’s muscular chest peeking through. Zane ran his thumb over one nipple, earning a smirk and a brow raise from his husband.
“What? You look hot tonight,” Zane said, unable to hide his defensiveness.
