“It was Miller’s idea!”Buckley shrieks, straining against his restraints until the zip ties cut bloody furrows into his wrists.“He’s always hated Blane!Said he was too pretty, too smart, thought he was better than us!”
I turn slowly, still holding the grisly trophy in the pliers.“Too pretty?”I repeat, something clicking into place.“Is that what this was really about, Justin?You couldn’t handle wanting him?”
Miller makes a garbled sound of denial, blood still pouring from his mutilated mouth.But the terror in his eyes tells me I’ve hit on something true, something he’s probably never admitted even to himself.
“Doesn’t matter now,” I say, dropping the severed tongue into a metal bowl with a wet slap.“You won’t be telling anyone how pretty he is ever again.”
I nod to Grey, who positions himself behind Buckley.My father forces his mouth open while my mother watches with cold satisfaction, her arms crossed over her chest.
“One by one,” I tell the remaining men as Buckley’s screams fill the basement.“Each of you will lose the thing you used to hurt him.And when we’re done, when you’ve healed enough to leave this room, you’ll remember every time you try to speak.Every meal you try to taste.Every slur you can no longer say.”
The next hour passes in a blur of blood and screams and the sizzle of cauterizing iron against flesh.Four men, four tongues, four lifetime sentences to silence.When it’s done, when they hang limp and semiconscious in their restraints, I wash my hands in the utility sink, watching pink water swirl down the drain.
“What now?”Demon asks, wiping blood spatter from his forearms with a shop towel.
“Now we make sure they understand the rest of the rules,” I reply, drying my hands on a clean section of towel.“No police.No revenge.No coming within a hundred yards of Xavier or the clinic.”I turn back to survey our handiwork, four broken men who will carry the evidence of their crimes in their mutilated mouths for the rest of their lives.“If they do, we won’t stop at tongues next time.”
My father nods, satisfaction evident in his grim expression.“I’ll arrange for them to be found somewhere public.A message to anyone else who might get ideas about targeting the doctor.”
“Make it clear,” my mother says, her voice hard as she looks at the bloodied men.“Anyone touches that boy, they answer to all of us.”
I check my phone, seeing another text from Tiana confirming Xavier is still asleep, still safe.Relief washes through me, tempering the cold rage that’s driven me through this night’s work.I need to get back to him, need to be there when he wakes, need to hold him and assure myself that he’s really okay.
“Clean this up,” Greyson tells a few of the prospects.
As I climb the basement stairs, I feel the weight of what we’ve done settling across my shoulders.Not regret, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but awareness of the line I’ve crossed.Xavier wouldn’t approve.Would probably be horrified if he knew the full extent of my retribution.But that’s why I’m the enforcer and he’s the healer.That’s why I handle the ugly work that keeps him safe.
I step outside into the predawn air, filling my lungs with the clean scent of approaching morning.In a few hours, Xavier will wake.He’ll be in pain, confused, and afraid.He’ll need me to be steady, to be calm, to be the man he believes I am.
And I will be.For him, I will be anything.
But part of me will always be the man in that basement.The man who ensures that anyone who hurts what’s mine pays a price they’ll never forget.
I start my truck, heading home to the man I love, leaving behind four men who will never speak his name or any name again.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Xavier
A week has passedsince the attack.My head still throbs occasionally, a dull reminder of what happened at the clinic.The stitches pull when I move too quickly, but Dr.Reeves says they’re healing well.I’ve been sleeping better the last couple nights, the nightmares of shattering glass and slurred hatred gradually fading.
I drift toward consciousness slowly, my body heavy with the pleasant weight of deep sleep.Sunlight filters through the blinds, warming patches of skin where the covers have slipped away.Something feels different this morning, a pleasant tension building low in my body, a warmth that doesn’t come from the sun.
My eyes flutter open as I register the sensation of something hot and wet between my legs.The covers are tented, pulled back just enough that I can see dark hair spread across my thighs.Zach’s broad shoulders shift beneath the sheet, his mouth working with deliberate purpose.
“Oh,” I gasp, fully awake now as pleasure shoots up my spine.My fingers find their way into his hair, not guiding, just needing to touch, to anchor myself as his tongue traces patterns that make my toes curl.
He hums in response, the vibration sending another jolt through me.I feel him smile against my skin before he takes me deeper, the wet heat of his mouth enveloping me completely.
“God, Zach,” I manage, my voice still rough with sleep.“What a way to wake up.”
He doesn’t answer, can’t answer, but his hands tighten on my hips, holding me in place as he increases his pace.My breath comes faster now, chest rising and falling rapidly as heat builds in my core.The morning stubble on his cheeks scratches lightly against sensitive skin, the slight burn only adding to the sensation.
I lift my head, wanting to see him.The sight nearly undoes me.Zach’s eyes closed in concentration, his expression one of pure focus as he works.There’s something reverent in the way he touches me, like I’m something precious, something to be savored.
“Come up here,” I whisper, tugging gently at his hair.“Want to kiss you.”
He releases me with a final, teasing lick that makes me shiver, then crawls up my body like a predator stalking prey.His weight settles over me, familiar and comforting, as he captures my mouth in a kiss that tastes of me and him and morning.
