Askai woke slowly, the luxurious silk sheets a tangle around his legs, the scent of expensive soap and Vance clinging to his skin. His mind, usually a fortress of cold logic, was softened, pleasantly blurred by the passionate excess of the afternoon.
He was tucked securely against Vance's chest, the powerful arm draped possessively over his waist. The warmth was immediate, encompassing, and utterly treacherous.
He felt the heavy, creeping weight of the guilt—now no longer a tiny sliver, but a massive, throbbing ache that reminded him of his effortless surrender to his primal desires.
He had traded his freedom for a moment of exquisite, self-indulgent oblivion.
He should have put up a better fight, maybe should have tried to convince him more to let him go or should have looked for ways to escape the monstrosity standing outside the door.
Jordan's assessment of this place as a safe haven was a massive lapse in his judgment. He didn't know how sparks flew every time they came into each other's vicinity. If he stayed here any longer, there were definitely gonna be many more such wild afternoons and nights.
The closer they became, the closer they would come to knowing each other's secrets. Something he could not afford.
He knew what Vance thought of him, yet he had chosen to maintain his silence over his past. He had no doubts that tomorrow if his affiliations to the West came to light, his silence alone would be treated as betrayal and foul play.
He gently shifted, pulling away from the magnetic heat of Vance's body. Vance groaned softly, his grip tightening instinctively. Askai looked at the chiseled, relaxed perfection of Vance's face—the man who held his freedom hostage—and held his life quivering in his palm.
He still could not get himself to hate him. What he felt was quite opposite, in fact. In some wild, twisted and perverse sense, Vance cared for him.
He cared for him enough to sieve through the streets of East and West so that he could save him.
That was a first.
Many people in the past had hunted the streets like dogs for a sniff of Askai - only so that they could kill him. He had deserved that.
But Askai had no idea what he had done to deserve this.
He cleared his head of all such distracting thoughts. He had to use the aftermath to secure his immediate release somehow. Dirty move but needed.
He pressed a lingering, tender kiss just below Vance's ear, then whispered, his voice low and persuasive, "Vance. Wake up."
Vance only pulled him closer, burying his face in Askai's hair. "Five more minutes, sweet threat. The world can wait."
"It can't," Askai insisted, his tone suddenly firm. He twisted slightly to face him, gazing into Vance's heavy-lidded, drowsy eyes.
"I need to move around, Vance. This confinement is driving me insane. I won't run, I promise, but if you keep me locked in this room, you will have a very angry, very bored disaster on your hands."
Vance sighed, a sound of pampered annoyance. He knew Askai meant it; the wild spirit in him was already starting to chafe.
"And if I relent? You won't try anything stupid?"
Askai offered a soft, utterly convincing smile—the same smile he used when negotiating a truce with a rival gang.
"Just let me explore the house at least. You probably have a dozen more men watching its parameter. I can't miraculously disappear, you know?" he said, trailing his fingers lightly over Vance's bare, muscular chest.
If he was so convinced that he was a pampered brat who was out to rebel, where was the harm in pretending so?
Vance's lips lifted into a smile at those words. He saw the logic; a controlled, placated Askai was better than a trapped, frantic one.
"Fine," Vance conceded, a slight grimace back on his face, "but only the main floor and the gardens. And you'll have supervision."
Askai gave a small, internal cheer.
It was some progress.
It was almost late evening, the light slanting golden and long through the windows, when a sharp, authoritative knock broke the lingering silence.
"Enter!" Vance called out, already sitting up.
The door swung open, and the giant man from the morning filled the frame. He was a colossal wall of muscle with eyes that seemed permanently set to 'suspicious.'
"Sir," the giant grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Visitors."
Vance's easy smile vanished. The tiredness returned, hardening his features. He glanced at Askai. "Tell them I'll be down in fifteen minutes."
"Understood." The giant gave Askai one final, long, assessing stare before retreating.
Vance turned back to Askai, regret clouding his face. He leaned down and delivered a deep, passionate farewell kiss, a promise of a swift return that Askai felt in his bones. "Duty calls, sweetheart. Behave yourself. I'll see you later tonight." And with that, he was gone.
Askai dressed quickly, his clothes now smelling faintly of the East End, of wealth and confinement. He slipped out of the room, fully intending to start his exploration, only to find the giant waiting patiently by the door.
"And you are?" Askai asked, trying for aloof princely boredom.
"Kyrion," the man stated, his expression unchanging, a granite monument in a hideous blue shirt. "And I'm your shadow. Main floor and gardens only, per the boss's orders."
Askai mentally groaned.
This was going to be fun.
Askai tried to shake him off immediately. He walked fast, then stopped suddenly by a statue. Kyrion, despite his bulk, stopped with surprising agility, planting himself three feet away.
Askai tried the charm offensive, almost turning into an East End babe for a minute.
"Kyrion, old boy. Why don't you just relax? The house is huge. I could get you a coffee. Or maybe a scone? I heard the pastry chef here is divine. The breakfast was exquisite."
He almost puked while listening to himself but Kyrion only squinted down at him, his brow furrowed as if Askai were speaking in ancient Sumerian. "Orders are to remain within six feet."
"Ah! Ridiculous Orders, you see? Where could a damsel like me possibly escape to?" Askai pressed, batting his eyelashes dramatically.
Kyrion's voice was utterly flat. "I don't buy your act. My master does."
The hell he does!
Realizing he was not merely dealing with a wall of flesh but a man impervious to his sordid attempt at deception, Askai resorted to stealth and quickness of his feet.
East End babe was not his thing at all!
There were a few in this infuriating world that could challenge Askai when it came to dexterity of his hand and swiftness of his moves.
He wanted to walk? Let's walk!
He took a sudden, rapid succession of turns—through the library, down a service corridor, and around a massive suit of armor—before finally disappearing behind a heavy velvet curtain. Without any break.
Kyrion, momentarily disoriented by the abrupt change in pace, was shaken off. He stepped into the corridor and looked around, trying to figure which way he took off. Finding not a sign of him, he finally walked down an empty hall and Askai breathed a sigh of relief.
Free at last!