Dread crawled down his back.Gladwell. Avoiding them had taken the better part of a century, and he still didn’t dare return to England for fear they’d somehow know and cut his heart out. Roger forced a smile. “You must have misheard. He’s a Wright.”
Candide paused beside the door, her hand on the handle. She studied Roger’s face. “You don’t know?”
“I know he’s a Wright. I’ve seen his driver’s license, and he is my pet,” Roger replied.
“You must have used your time away to forget about us and truly disconnect,” Candide said, laughter lighting her eyes.
“I know I have a reputation for being the airhead of our little group, but I do have some intelligence. I would know if I was bedding a Gladwell.”
Candide took her hand from the door handle and tilted her head. A second later, a mischievous smile crossed her lips. “You honestly haven’t kept up. Thomas Wright married Carri Gladwell in 1995, uniting the two bloodlines. They have three children: Callum, also known as the Butcher, their youngest, Amber, who has recently earned a reputation as the Bolt. And then they have another boy, the middle child.Zackery.”
Zack couldn’t be a Gladwell. Hecouldn’tbe. He would have mentioned it.Only when did I ever ask?Roger put his hand over his face. The news was a sledgehammer to his psyche. Zack was from not one buttwohunter bloodlines? No wonder he’d been raised with such biases against the supernatural.
Has he been conquering that? Or is he playing a deeper game?After all, if Zack could rid the world of Seamus, Anton, and Roger, he would be a legend among the Gladwells. Wasevery smile a lie? Every kiss a deception? Just another step to completing a long con?No. Candide must be lying.
“You’ve gotten it wrong,” Roger said.
“I haven’t.”
“You have,” Roger growled.
Candide’s mirth faded away. “I do not mean to hurt your heart, mon cher, but if you don’t believe me, there is some simple proof.”
She opened the door.
The room had the thin veneer of a personal office, but the furniture was functional and overtly stable enough for fucking. Discreet metal loops were in the ceiling, dotting the walls, and adorned the furniture. It was a lush playroom designed for roleplay.
Ezra sat at the desk with a typewriter in front of him. He had his hands buried in his fiery red hair, and he glanced up from whatever on the page was preoccupying him. He had skin the color of pale moonlight and gray eyes the silver of steel. His delicate nose and cheekbones were offset by the noble demeanor he’d never lost.
The familiarity in Zack’s features that Roger had never been able to place suddenly made sense. Ezra and Zack could have passed for brothers better than Zack’s actual brother, Callum, did. The realization struck Roger hard enough that he was stunned into silence.
“When I said you should chain me to a desk and make me work, I didn’t meanliterally, mistress,” Ezra said crossly, his English accent obvious. He lifted his wrists. Thick, heavy chains hung from them and went to an equally solid ring on the wall on either side of him.
Then he spotted Roger, and his mouth fell open. He stood, revealing that he wore only a pair of black briefs. He’d had anipple ring when he was a mortal, and he had a sapphire in the piercing now. “Roger!”
“Down, boy.” Candide strode into the room and put her hand on Ezra’s shoulder. When he didn’t budge on his own, she pushed.
Ezra plopped down into his seat. “You’re alive! He’s alive!”
“I’ve been trying to contact you for two months.” Roger managed to force himself into the room and close the door. He had had shocks to his system before. Perhaps Zack knew everything and simply didn’t care. Maybe Zack was one of the few Gladwells who didn’t know the story of the massacre and Roger could clear the air before anything awful happened.
Thankfully, Ezra didn’t seem to note Roger’s distress and carried on the conversation. He glared up at Candide. “Mistress has been keeping me from my computer and phone.”
“Because we have a deal.” Candide opened what looked like a bookcase, but it turned out to be a wardrobe full of domination toys and tools. She plucked a ball gag off a hook and approached Ezra. She seized him by his hair and yanked his head backward. “Now, tell Roger about our arrangement before he worries about his wayward noble brat.”
“Candide, this is a little—” Ezra gasped as she tugged harder. “Mistress, please.”
“Mon chien, I gave an order.”
A thick roll of desire was mixing between them. Ezra trembled. “I made a deal with Mistress that I would be hers for six months if she could teach me manners and discipline. I didn’t know that included keeping me from important messages!”
“Tch, tch. No one asked for commentary.” Candide popped the ball gag into Ezra’s mouth and secured it behind his head. She gave his head a push, and he kept his head dipped down. “You’re worrying too much, Roger.”
“Forgive me, I’m still becoming accustomed to socializing again.” Roger sat in one of the chairs across from Ezra. The chair was wooden with scratches on its arms. He ran his fingers across one while trying to pull his mind back from the stream of memories that threatened to swell over him.
“Your boy has kept secrets from you.” Candide moved over to a filing cabinet that turned out to be a liquor cabinet. She poured herself a drink, looked over Roger, and then poured him a rum. With a concerned frown, she handed him the drink and sat in the other chair beside him. “And you’ve been falling for him. Oh, Roger, why do you always have to love the pretty ones? They only ever break your heart.”
Roger held the rum in his hand and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. All the manners in the world didn’t matter if he was going to get murdered by his lover. But Zack wasn’t like that. He’dsavedRoger.
