A rumor on the Hunters’ Information Network was that a wizard had discovered how to grind pixies into a concentrated magical dust that could be used in glass to make it glow. He’d read it months ago and never considered the ramifications of it.
Nell’s gardens had a whole community of pixies living in it. While they were troublesome when they wanted to be, they were intelligent, beautiful creatures. Destroying them for some pretty lights was about the cruelest thing Zack could think of.
Even ground into dust, they’re worth something. Me? Mom and Dad tossed me away. Zack sank to the floor. If he kept looking up, maybe his tears would stop before they started.
“Zack,” Roger called.
The others were heading toward the elevators. Zack scrambled to his feet and hurried after them. He wobbled as the elevator started to rise.
Roger had his arm looped over Takashi’s shoulders, and they were whispering to each other. Zack didn’t have a hard time picturing them in other eras. Smiling, laughing. Kissing.Together. And Takashi would have a chance to do that when Zack died. Takashi could be with Roger forever, and Zack was just a moment. Something to forget.
His descent into sadness was soaked in whiskey and rum and a hundred other things. When the elevator came to a stop at the forty-second floor, Zack flailed, just a little. Just enough to grab onto Carver on accident.
Carver grinned at him.
But he doesn’t really want me. He wants Roger.Zack swallowed, another rock of potential tears joining the others forming in his gut. He followed Roger and Takashi out of the elevator and into the hotel suite.
The opening room was double the size of Zack’s parents’ living room, and the ceiling went up to a second floor. Windows took up the far side except for a sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony. A sleek staircase on the right seemed to hover, but the support beams and structure were discreet. A full-service bar was nestled in under the stairs and landing to the second floor and near the exit to the balcony.
Excitedly, Kit took Zack’s hand, and they explored. On the second floor, they discovered a sitting area that overlooked the floor below and two bedrooms, one of which Kit claimed. The style was minimalist and sterile, the linens incredibly smooth and the colors cool. The two bedrooms upstairs shared a bathroom, but each had its own unreasonably sized closet.
Directly underneath the partial second floor on the first was an office and an exercise room complete with a treadmill, weight machine, weight bag, elliptical, and solid floor mat. Across the way, they found the master suite that had the same high ceiling as the living room and gorgeous windows. The bathroom had a tub big enough for three people and a shower with five different heads that could probably fit all five of them intimately—and maybe squeeze in one or two more before it became too congested.
The whole place was ridiculous.
And this was where he was going to live for the foreseeable future. Roger would only buy a house onceSeamusapproved. That could take weeks. Months.
Months of playing nice. Of watching other people get hurt. Of gaining the bastard’s approval so we can stab him in the back instead of the front.Zack stumbled over to the bar.
“You better be after a bottle of water,” Roger said lightly, a smile on his lips.
Because everything was a show. Or was this the true Roger? Had he played Zack? Was this just a long con? No. No, he needed Seamus dead. He’d been sincere.
Hadn’t he?
Zack didn’t recognize any of the brands, but he spotted a bottle of vodka. He snatched it from the shelf and placed it on the counter. Then he hunted for a glass.
Just as he reached for one, Roger grabbed his wrist.
The anger came back. The alcohol couldn’t keep it at bay. Zack stepped in closer and snarled, “Get your damn hand off me, bloodsucker.”
The trace of warmth in Roger vanished, and he yanked on Zack’s wrist, tugging him toward the master bedroom. Zack turned his wrist so he had leverage, but before he could pull free, Roger released him. A flash of joy sparked in him from the victory.
Roger spun to face him and, in a blurring motion, threw Zack over his shoulder and began to carry him across the room. The sudden change in position threatened the contents of Zack’s stomach.
“Someone’s in trouble with daddy,” Carver crooned. And Kit laughed.
Zack pushed himself up enough that he could glare at Carver. “Fuck you, you fucking slut!”
Carver shot him an ice-cold glare and flipped him off. Zack flopped back down and used both hands to flip Carver off in return.
The world spun three times when Roger tossed him onto the bed. The troubling part was that physically, he’d only been flipped so that the extra spinning caused his stomach to roll.Zack managed to hold on instead of vomiting, but only barely. Acid was in the back of his throat.
Roger slammed the bedroom door shut. He kept his back to Zack for a long moment. When he turned to face Zack, his expressionless mask was gone, and a familiar warmth was in his brown eyes. He came over to sit on the end of the bed. “You’ve been off since last night. Please talk to me.”
Zack clenched his fists. Because there was realization buried deep underneath the pain of the last day. One that had been growing. An obvious stumble in their routine that he’d noticed and tried to compensate for. The previous night had made his miscalculation plain to see. Tears burned hotter than the bile.
“If this is about Carver or Takashi—” Roger began.
