Grounded

Pink Petal Books Pink Petal Books, an imprint of Jupiter Gardens Press, publishes romance novels where the relationship is primary. It doesn’t matter if you want to read super erotic or sweet inspirational books. Pink Petal Books believes that love is a beautiful thing, no matter what form it takes. For more information about Pink Petal Books visit http://www.pinkpetalbooks.com/.

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resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. GROUNDED ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ISBN# 9780982909966 Copyright © JAIME SAMMS, 2010 Cover Art ® 2010 by Winterheart Design Edited by Mary K. Wilson Electronic Publication Date: June 2010 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Jupiter Gardens Press, Jupiter Gardens, LLC.,

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Grounded Jaime Samms

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Chapter One

Outside his front window, Mikko watched the street with the dim outlines of houses at the far end, and the dark bulk of the cliff face toward the ocean. All down the road, trees whipped in the growing wind. He still had moments when the close proximity to so much water made him more than a little uneasy, but Ken had such confidence in their safety. He trusted that confidence. It smacked of Ken's few, calm moments in the garden, or the kitchen, when he knew exactly what he was doing, what he was capable of, and he let his guard down. A soft sigh filled the quiet with Mikko's unsettled vibration. The house was so still. So hushed. Not that Ken made much noise at the best of times. Under a paddle, he was stoic and silent, accepting of whatever punishment Mikko dealt, and he never made the same mistake twice. In the bedroom, he never begged with more than the look in his eyes, no matter how much Mikko held back, waiting to hear the words. He

couldn't imagine what experiences Ken had endured that made him so afraid to sound his own voice. He didn't want to imagine. There would be too many men he'd have to hunt down and hurt, he was sure. Outside, the houses faded into the darkness. The mass of rock looming over the neighbourhood became an invisible weight in the night. Few street lights shone along the deserted

Outer Battery Road , and none reached to illuminate this far. He rose and peered up into the dark. How long ago had it been since he'd stood in the center of a neighbourhood just like this one and looked up only to see the orange, sodium vapour glow? Too many years had passed for him to count. Too many disasters, lonely nights, regrets. Now, even from inside the house, he could once again see the stars. That alone had made him believe he could right his mistakes. He hadn't wanted to make any more. When Ken said he had to go back, had to set things right with his ex, Mikko had to let him go.

The glass, cold against his forehead, sent a chill through Mikko. It was too much to hope he'd ever hear Ken give up those coveted, pleading words now. He'd been gone weeks. At some point, Mikko was going to have to accept he might not be coming back. The possibility of Ken reuniting with his ex suddenly seemed more real than Mikko had been willing to admit when he'd permitted Ken to go in the first place. It had seemed like a foregone outcome at the time. Ken would go, get closure, and be back at Mikko's side where he belonged. Now, he wasn't so sure. He touched the implant at his ear and it snapped out. All he had to do was think the number. A grim smile crossed his face. That had been the only promise Ken had ever demanded of him, and Mikko would not go back on it. If Ken came back or he didn't, Mikko had vowed he would not call. The little implant zipped back into hiding, and Mikko wrapped his arms around his waist. He would not call. Why had he agreed to let Ken leave? In this moment, alone in the still house, with the cliff looming and the ocean thundering against the rocks outside, wind whistling down the narrow, steep streets, Mikko couldn't quite get his mind around why it had seemed like such a good idea before. Closure, he'd thought. Ken would never accept the relationship was dead unless he recognized and accepted his own contribution to its demise. Except now Mikko was the one being forced to admit maybe it wasn't so dead after all. He didn't want to believe Ken had deliberately lied about that.

Alone, in their silent, empty house, he didn't know what to believe. Didn't know if he could keep hoping.

"You are important to me is not I love you. How much does that hurt?" Ken's words, when he'd talked about it, had been bitter, sharp and brittle. "I wanted this great, maybe epic love affair. I wanted to be that image that inspired love in the first place. Instead I got love that turned to 'You're important to me.'" That had been Ken's explanation. Love had abandoned him, and that was the one thing he could not survive. Foolish of Mikko to think he could sail in and save the day when he'd been the first one to teach Ken what abandonment felt like. Mikko sighed and looked at the clock. Almost midnight. Ken wouldn't be back tonight. He didn't travel at night. He didn't like the dark. Mikko glared out the window. It shouldn't be a surprise. He told himself that about every five minutes. There was every chance Ken going back to make peace would end up as Ken returning to his ex. Mikko had known this when he'd let him go. So why did it hurt so much? He hadn't meant to get this involved. A short, sharp laugh escaped. "Idiot." There was never any question about getting involved. There had never been anyone for him except Ken. Seeing him so broken, so desperate, had shattered Mikko's resolve in the

first five minutes of meeting him at the airport all those months ago. Watching Ken slowly recover some of his equilibrium, remember his own strength, had only reinforced Mikko's own feelings. Resigned, Mikko settled back into the recliner in the living room. The chair gave a slightly wheezing sigh as he tipped it back. The irony of trying to find enough comfort in the padded chair to sleep was hardly lost on him. It had been his first command to Ken, when he'd arrived, to ban his sleeping on the couch. He'd made the bed, their bedroom, a haven, where Ken could be safe. Even their sexual scenes never happened there. On the off chance he made a mistake and pushed too far, caused Ken to flash back, or freak out, he meant to keep that space a sanctuary for him. Now, it was anything but for Mikko. The curse of being Ageless meant senses sharp enough to detect Ken in everything he touched. His lover's scent was ingrained in every fiber of their bed, and he couldn't sleep there alone. He scrunched down, pulled a fluffy quilt up to his chin and fixed his gaze on the dark square of the picture window. The prospect of going up to their bed tightened his chest until it ached. The prospect that he might have to learn to live with that tightness only made it infinitely worse. Hours later, he was drifting in the empty space between waking and sleeping when the sound of soft footsteps yanked him back to full awareness with a dizzying jerk.

"Ken." The fact of his lover's return knifed through the spin of reorientation, and he pushed the foot of his chair down. "You're back." Behind him, the sound of Ken's bag hitting the floor and his shuffling footsteps released the pain in Mikko's chest. "Home," Ken whispered. A long breath, held in limbo as Mikko waited, pressed against his patience. When he wanted to gather Ken up and protect him, he had to stand back, give him space, let him defend his own life and heart. Mikko ground his teeth, tightened his fingers on the arms of his chair. "Isn't it? Home?" Ken asked, voice still small and somehow very far away. "Of course." Mikko turned to look at his prodigal lover. "You built it. This is your home." "Why aren't you in bed?" Ken's tentative demeanour set off all Mikko's base, protective instincts. He forced a calm smile onto his face. "I understand now why you slept on the couch," he conceded. Ken nodded. "The old bed...it smelled like strangers. Stale sex."

"And ours smells like you." Mikko mentally pried at his fingers until their grip released and he held out a hand to Ken. "I missed you." From across the room, he could smell Ken's nerves, see the sheen of sweat they inspired over his skin, and the sharp tang of recent, consuming fear. "What happened?" "It's always good for a little while." Ken's dark gaze drifted to the floor. He struggled to lift it, and managed to fix his attention on Mikko's outstretched fingers. "Then I need...and he can't..." he blinked rapidly, and Mikko's heart shuddered. "Come here?" He couldn't bring himself to make it an order. Not yet. Not if Ken didn't want his comfort of his own volition. Finally, Ken looked him directly in the eyes—a rare enough occurrence; Mikko couldn't stop his audible reaction to so much pain. Such deep hurt was like a physical blow to him, making him gasp and struggle for another breath. What must it be doing to Ken? He leaned forward in his chair, about to rise, but then Ken was in his lap, collapsed and sobbing, and Mikko could only catch him, hold him, and take on as much of the pain as he could. "I love him so much." Ken sobbed between the words, confessing what Mikko had been so afraid to hear. It should have hurt a lot more to know he wasn't first, that maybe he never would be. But love wasn't enough to keep

Ken in that other man's arms. Maybe Mikko had what he needed. Maybe it would be enough. Ken's misery washed over him, wave after wave, plunging his oversensitive empathy into roiling chaos. He focused on the physical reality of Ken's weight and heat in his arms. Every sob and hiccupped breath ripped at Mikko's heart, but the almost physical agony of it grounded Mikko in each moment and allowed Ken to purge a little more of the desperate pain. He prayed Ken would be lighter for releasing it. Dawn found them still in the chair, Ken slumbering on Mikko's shoulder, his breath even and deep at last. Mikko rested his cheek against the top of Ken's head and watched the street outside slowly brighten and the cliff transform to giltedged, craggy glory. This morning the sea was calm, the wind gone, and Mikko imagined they would be okay. He was glad Ken slept and couldn't see the way he sweat, the shaking of his hands, or his utter exhaustion. The genetic predisposition that made him Ageless also gave him an extraordinary sensitivity to the vibrations of other people's moods, and so much deep emotion as Ken battled had a very real physical effect on Mikko. Now, much as he wanted to stay and hold Ken, keep him within reach and sight, he just couldn't keep awake. As the day began outside their sanctuary, he finally fell into real, resting sleep. Mikko woke with the essence of Ken infusing his senses and after a minute, realized he was in their bed with no

memory of how he got there. Peace suffused the air, and he sat, scrubbing a hand through the sticky, flattened spikes of his hair. Ken was not in the room. His heart fluttered and almost stalled, until he detected the scent of coffee under the overwhelming musk of his lover. Relief flopped him onto his back, and he laughed. "Okay. Get up, fool." A grin eased the sleep from him and he rolled off the bed and headed toward the shower. He didn't spend long. Just enough time to wash out the gel and rinse the sticky, lingering residue of worry from his skin. The transformation back to human was quick and reassuring. He pulled on a loose pair of ratty jeans and a clean white t-shirt before heading toward the enticing aroma of coffee and contentment. In their half-renovated kitchen, Ken had bacon sizzling, orange juice and bread sitting on the counter, and was bent to look in the fridge. His tight white tank hiked up to reveal the bumps of his spine and the denim shorts rode just low enough to reveal a peek of the tattoo across the tops of his ass cheeks. The white strings of the cut offs dangled down the backs of his thighs, and Mikko's mouth watered. "Morning." The greeting came out husky and gruff, and the air vibrated with Ken's instant attention. He straightened, turned, and the view of those short shorts

from the front did nothing to lesson's Mikko's attraction. He was suddenly glad of the loose fit of his jeans, the extra room they provided. Ken's nostrils flared, and through the tight shirt, the peeks of hardened nipples showed. "Hey." One arm came across his front, fingers gripping the opposite elbow, wrinkling up his shirt and obscuring Mikko's view. "Sleep well?" "Yeah." Mikko strode to him, pried his fingers loose and gently lowered Ken's hand back to his side. "Hiding something?" "No." Ken straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest a bit. Teeth worried at his lower lip, and it was more than Mikko could stand. He moved into Ken's space and lowered his lips to track kisses along the exposed section collarbone. Beneath his touch, Ken softened, moaned, leaned in, and Mikko spread a hand over his back, slid it up over the thin shirt and let his fingers play in the thick brown strands at the back of Ken's neck. "Breakfast—" Ken gasped as Mikko's other hand found an erect nipple. "Not going anywhere." Mikko moved his kisses up the side of Ken's neck, careful to avoid his throat, and any potential of triggering bad memories, and continued along Ken's jaw until he found lips. There was no hesitation in Ken's

surrender. He opened his lips willingly and groaned, sweet and needy, into Mikko's mouth. Mikko gripped his hair a little tighter, slid his other hand around and into the back of Ken's shorts, and his tongue into his mouth, drawing his body close and tight so their erections came under pressure and friction, sliding against rough denim and each other. Ken's throat worked, emitting tiny, mewling sounds, and Mikko backed out of their kiss, unwilling to miss a single word Ken might want to say. "Bacon's burning." Mikko laughed. Yanked Ken hard against him and brought his mouth close to Ken's ear. "So am I. Me first." "Turn off the—ah!" Ken jerked under the stimulus of Mikko's teeth along his collar bone, and again when Mikko's fingers found his entrance and prodded. His own arms had risen to wrap around Mikko's neck, and one hand dropped to rove distractedly over Mikko's back. "What do...you want? What should I do?" Mikko stepped back, slipping his hands free of Ken's clothing to watch him. The flush of his cheeks, his parted lips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, tantalized. Mikko reached and tweaked one firm nipple, causing Ken to gasp and his flush to deepen. He wiggled his hips slightly, as if finding the tight shorts constricting, and Mikko grinned "More of that, Kenny. You should do more of that. I like seeing your pleasure

all over your face." He tweaked the other nipple and Ken moaned and leaned a little toward him. "Feel good?" Mikko smoothed a palm over the stimulated spot. Ken nodded. "Tell me," Mikko encouraged. "Say it." "F-feels good." "Do it again?" Again, Ken nodded. Mikko's fingers brushed lightly over Ken's nipple, drawing Ken infinitesimally closer. "Say it, Kenny." "Do it." Ken's brow furrowed. His shoulders stiffened, and Mikko moved a little bit closer to offer a safe cocoon of warmth. "It's okay to want." He lifted onto his toes and kissed the lines crossing Ken's brow. "It's okay. You're safe to say anything you want." "Is it?" "What?" Mikko grinned. "You think I'm going to change my mind half way through?"

When Ken's expression didn't change, Mikko muted his teasing. "I won't ever leave you hanging, Kenny. Your happiness is my happiness. It goes both ways." Ken nodded, though he didn't relax much, and Mikko drifted his fingers over those tense features as he added this new piece to the puzzle of Ken's past. "Don't ever be ashamed of wanting. This is who you are. It's who I love." His fingers came to rest lightly on Ken's lips. "You'll learn to trust me. I'll show you. You'll see." He didn't dare promise. Ken didn't trust promises, but he would learn to trust Mikko, however long it took. Ken's eyes drifted closed, depriving Mikko of their soft, vulnerable light, but it was something Ken often did when he felt on the edge of panic. Somehow, maybe, he felt safer in his own darkness. "I want you." Mikko smiled, knowing it would translate in his voice, even if Ken couldn't see it. "And you have me." He kissed one closed eyelid. "As long as you want me." He pressed his lips gently to Ken's other eye. "Whenever you want me." "Don't." Ken opened his eyes, searched Mikko's expression as he rested his fingers over Mikko's lips. "No promises." Mikko ruthlessly stifled his disappointment. It was natural for Ken not to be ready. Even without the abuse of strangers,

he'd suffered a terrible blow in losing the man he loved. Mikko had to have patience. One day, Ken would believe in promises again. Mikko kissed his fingertips, held the promise in his own heart. It would be safe enough there. "I want..." Ken's weight settled, whisper by whisper, into Mikko. "Touch." Ken's breath brushed against Mikko's neck. "Love...." His fingers dusted over every inch of Mikko's back and ass. His erection was much less tentative than his touch. Mikko reached between them and popped open the buttons along the front of Ken's shorts. Loosed from his waist, the shorts dropped to the floor around his feet, buttons clanking on the plywood subflooring. Tiny moans rose and passed from Ken's mouth to vibrate against Mikko's skin where Ken kissed him. Shivers flitted through Mikko with every tiny, tentative peck, headed straight for his groin. He caught up Ken's teasing lips with his and delivered a scalding kiss that had the desired effect of making Ken shudder and clutch at Mikko's shoulders for support. Easing along with the pressure of Ken's fingers, Mikko sank to the floor at his feet where he paused and gazed up. The surprise on Ken's face drove into Mikko's gut, made him smile, made him want to share all the pleasure Ken had missed out on over the years. "You'll like this, Kenny." Ken nodded, his fingers tightening further, his eyes bright in his pale face. "I do like it."

"Then you should ask for what you like." Not giving him a chance to respond, Mikko made a quick, aggressive swipe with his tongue at Ken's cock, tasting the salty, musky flavour of him before sinking his mouth around his fullness. Ken moaned, rocked, pushing himself deep into Mikko's mouth. His fingers were painful, bruising, but the sounds he was finally making, little gasps and moans of pleasure, were more than worth it. Mikko worked Ken carefully, thoroughly, listening for every hitch in his breath that said what was good, what made him shudder in that delightfully out-of-control way. Mikko drew out Ken's pleasure until he feared Ken's knees might buckle under his spasmodic hip jerks, then he wrapped both hands around the backs of Ken's thighs, held him tight while he brought him off. Ken came with a garbled shout that might or might not have been his name. It didn't matter. The hitched sob as he drew a breath, the way he loosened a hand and petted it through Mikko's hair a few times, and the tiny tremors that wracked him were enough. The thick cum coating his mouth, sliding down his throat before he could even swallow, made Mikko all the more eager to take Ken in every way. The taste was more than just an aphrodisiac. Mikko wanted to own the man who could tempt him so easily, turn him on so thoroughly, compel him to offer up every bit of himself. He wanted dominance over him, wanted to find every way he could bring

pleasure to so precious a treasure. He pulled back enough to look up at his lover, and Ken blinked back. A slow smile spread over Ken's face. "I want you inside me." He said it simply, clear, sure. Mikko grinned and hustled to his feet, cock aching inside his jeans. "As you wish." He hefted Ken and plopped him on the counter, opened his own jeans to ease his discomfort, and reached into the junk drawer for lube. He kept it handy where they played out their scenes away from the bedroom, but this was no scene. This was just them. Ken leaned back, opened his legs and offered himself, as always, the enthusiastic sub Mikko loved so much. "You're so willing to please." Ken nodded, shifted his hips, lips parted in a sigh as Mikko's fingers slipped into him. His cheeks flushed as he seized the tube, spread some on his palm and took Mikko's cock in his hand. "You're good to me," he whispered. "You deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy." Mikko gently moved Ken's hand away, slid him forward and lifted him from the counter. "You came back to me, Kenny. I'm happy." Arms and legs wrapped tight around Mikko, Ken wiggled until Mikko's cock slipped against his entrance. "Won't work

like this." He grunted and swiped messy kisses over Mikko's cheek. "Put me down. Turn me around." "I want to see you." Ken flushed deeply. "Why?" "You're beautiful. I want to watch your face, see your eyes when I come inside you." Ken shivered. His features slackened, need evident in every hitched breath, the soft, turned-down frustrated purse of his lips, the glow of impatience in his eyes. "Chair." He pointed over Mikko's shoulder, hugged himself tight against Mikko's body again, and urged him toward the kitchen table and chairs. "Sit?" "Good idea." Still with Ken in his arms, completely wrapped around him, he backed up until his legs bumped against the chair and he sat. Ken stood immediately, took Mikko in hand and lowered himself until his hole was poised against Mikko's shaft. The look of concentration as he lowered himself, pressing over and around Mikko, was fascinating. Mikko traced the lines of his intense expression with gentle fingers, touched Ken's lips as he gasped through penetration and his mouth watered as Ken bit down on his lower lip, sinking down until he was once again seated on

Mikko's lap, this time with Mikko inside him. His eyes drifted closed and his head dropped forward toward Mikko's shoulder. "Take your time." Mikko stroked his back, kissed the side of his neck, the top of his shoulder. To his surprise, Ken reached, grabbed his hand and pulled it down behind him, pressing it to his ass. His voice came in a quiet, hot whisper. "Own me." A heady shiver raced down Mikko's spine and he dug his fingers into Ken's ass cheeks. He rocked his hips up, pulled Ken tight against him. He wished he could respond with all the possessive feelings in his heart, but any possession, any desire for ownership had to come under Ken's initiative for now. "Ken." He buried his face in the crook of Ken's neck, pulled him back hard when Ken rose up almost completely free of him, and breathed in the deep, musky smell of him. He let Ken set the pace, fast and firm, and held on tight. "Mikko...don't let me go." In answer, Mikko pulled him close again, reached up and tugged gently on Ken's hair as he rocked. "Look at me." Ken lifted his head, dark eyes wide and bright with lust and faith Mikko hadn't expected to see there. "Please say it?"

Mikko stroked his hair, kissed him. "Say what?" "I'm yours. I need to belong." "Ken..." Mikko fought the urge to hide himself, to withhold what Ken wanted to hear, in case one day he'd have to take it back, let him go. If Ken wasn't ready, if he left again.... "Mikko? Please." "You do belong, Kenny." A flood of relief washed through Mikko. Tight tension unwound, releasing his heart, his reticence. "You belong here. I want you with me. I want to take care of you." "Ungh." Ken hugged him fiercely, rocked hard against Mikko, doing the work, and breathing in hitched, sweet little sobs. His intensity infected Mikko, and the chair scraped along the floor under them as they moved. In just a few frantic strokes, Mikko's body tensed, his balls tightened, and his cum exploded. Ken's arms wrapped firmly around him, his ass tightened, and he shivered in Mikko's arms. "Thank you." He punctuated the thanks with kisses to Mikko's neck. "Thank you so much." For a long minute, Mikko could only hold him and try not to fall off the chair or drop his lover onto the floor. His orgasm

took its time letting him go, and he floated on the bliss of Ken's pleading words for the space of many long breaths. "You're welcome," he whispered at last. "You're mine now, Kenny. As long as you want to be. I'll take care of you." He longed to hear Ken say forever, but he knew that kind of absolute was beyond his lover right now. It was too close to the promises in which he didn't believe. Instead, he just sat there and held him, breathing in the scent of him, listening to the way his breath echoed the distant shushing of waves on rocks, and feeling Ken's heart beating against his own. Whatever Ken decided he wanted, Mikko was sure. This was right where he belonged. "Mikko?" "Mmm?" Mikko buried has face a little more firmly in Ken's shoulder, strengthened the grip of his arms around his waist, breathing in more of him to shut out the rest of the world. "Bacon's burning. Umm…Smoke, Mikko, let me up!" As soon as he said it, the blackened aroma that filled the room took over Mikko's awareness and he grimaced. "Ugh." "Lemme up." He tapped repeatedly on Mikko's shoulder and squirmed.

Mikko grunted, but firmed up his hold as he lifted his head to look Ken in the eye. "Pardon me?" "Please let me go, Mikko? I have to get rid of the smell." Mikko nodded. "Yes. Get rid of that, then shower." "Yes, sir." Ken wiggled off Mikko's lap, cheeks flushing again as Mikko slid out of him. The flush didn't stop him padding, bare foot, bare assed, over to the stove and removing the pan from the burner. The slick of cum dribbling out of him and through the hairs on the back of his leg didn't seem to faze him, either. The scent of sex, the lingering taste of Ken's pleasure overrode that of burnt bacon as Ken walked it to the back door and set the pan out on the stones. He came back, walking unselfconsciously past, and Mikko admired the fine muscles of his legs and his flat abs peeking from under the hem of his rumpled shirt. His cock swayed lazily between his legs, his hands loose and relaxed at his sides. Mikko couldn't help himself. He grabbed him as he walked by, plopped him back, sideways in his lap and planted a deep, possessive kiss on Ken's mouth, just to hear that sweet, needy moan from him one more time. His hand drifted along Ken's leg to his cock, surprisingly not exactly limp, if not fully erect. All sorts of images flashed through his mind of how he could take advantage of that, tease and tempt Ken to hardness again, admire his eagerness for release, cajole a few begging words out of him, and watch him come. His own spent cock twitched at the picture of Ken completely

submitting to such exquisite torture. He smiled into the kiss, gave Ken's dick a little squeeze. Ken groaned, his hips shifted up, his fingers clutched at Mikko's side. "God, Kenny." Mikko took Ken's hand and wrapped his pliable fingers around Ken's own slowly stiffening shaft. "Can't get enough?" "Sorry—" "Don't be." Mikko moved Ken's hand in a few slow, lazy strokes. "It's flattering how much you want me." Ken bit his lip, glanced away from Mikko to the floor. "I'm greedy." "In a most becoming way, yes." Mikko stood, careful to support Ken until he had his feet under him. He kissed Ken's hair. "This is not greed, Ken. Knowing what you want is a beautiful thing." Ken stood, his gaze forward, his nearly full erection standing out from his body. His eyes darted to Mikko's hands more than once as Mikko buttoned himself back up. "You'll get more. Don't worry. Right now, I'm hungry, but I want you to wait here a minute. I've got something for you." He stopped at the kitchen door and looked back. "Don't let that

cock get out of hand now. You get too hard, I won't be able to give you your reward." He left the kitchen at a quick walk, Ken's shocked gaze following him until he reached the corner and turned out of sight. The feeling was incredibly heady, and he hurried up the stairs, unwilling to be gone from his lover for too long. He returned from the bedroom with a bit of soft, finely tooled leather shaped into a ring. True to his superb will power, Ken was only half erect when Mikko returned, though his shoulders were a little tense, and his breath short and sharp. Mikko smiled indulgently. "What are you thinking about?" Ken's face flushed deep red. His cock bobbed and he set his jaw. "Gonna make me hard just thinking about..." Mikko's eyebrows lifted and he laughed softly. "About?" "Fuck." A soft pout converted Ken's face, moving his expression from belligerent, through stubborn, to needy, and in Mikko's estimation, making him look completely fuckable in every way. "Can't wait forever," he muttered. "Gonna get hard again. You gonna do me, or what?" Even the way he slipped into lazy street talk was delicious. Mikko moved around him, brushing a hand territorially over Ken's ass as he circled him, and watching the shiver that traveled up Ken's spine, shifted his shoulders slightly, and fluttered his eyelashes. "You can't help it, can you?

" "Help what?" "Being so sexy. So desirable." He held up the gift. "What do you think? Lovely, isn't it? Exactly like you." Ken focused on the cock ring lying on Mikko's palm. He even reached out and flipped it up to examine the detailed leatherwork. He nodded, swallowed hard, and a timid smile lifted his serious mouth into the beginnings of a gorgeous smile. "It is. It's for me?" For the second time since he'd returned, Ken lifted his gaze to meet Mikko's. It was all Mikko could do not to grab at Ken's shirt and yank him off his feet into a kiss that would curl his toes. His hand shook slightly with the effort at restraint. "Yes, Ken." "Will you?" Ken reached down and lifted his own cock and balls, indicating he wanted Mikko to put it on him. The simple trust in that little gesture closed up Mikko's throat for a moment, and he could only nod. He was ready to drop to his knees again, when Ken's head jerked up, his nostrils flared, and a split second later, Mikko smelled it, too. Something more than just human, more than mere animal, prowled just outside, between house and sea, and from the panicked fear in Ken's eyes, they both smelt the stench of threat and cunning wafting in the open back door.

"Get away from the door." Mikko gripped Ken's wrist and hauled him from the kitchen, part way down the dimmer hallway. "Wait here." Dank and sweaty, an animal musk filtered into the room through the screen door, and every alarm in Mikko's brain screamed danger. He prayed Ken would stay put, out of sight, out of danger. He turned, headed back toward the kitchen when a completely human knock sounded at the back door.

Chapter Two

A cold, glittering fear spread through Mikko's middle at the sight of the behemoth standing just outside his door. "What are you doing here?" He opened the main door, leaving the screen closed and hooked. His visitor's bulk filled the opening, blocking Mikko's view of the back yard and the sea. Only this brute could block out an entire ocean. The man on the other side of the door peered past Mikko. "What do you think? Open the door." Even in a bad suit, the Ageless shifter who stood in Mikiko's doorway was intimidating. Morning sun glinted off the shades perched on top of his close-shorn head, and eyes too yellow to be completely human glimmered as he tried to peer past Mikko into the house. The urge to slam the door in his face and rush Ken out the front and as far from the intruder as he could seized Mikko. His body trembled as he fought that flight instinct. The air around him shimmered, his empathy gripped him, and he could feel the man's aggression. His own powers sparked in answer. Fight took over. He was not fleeing his home, Ken's home. He finally had what he'd waited years for. No way was he giving it up now. "Not likely, Darian." Ken stopped cold just at the bottom of the stairs; Mikko

heard his padding steps halt, heard him sneak back down the hall toward the kitchen. Acutely aware of his lover's naked vulnerability, and the mistake of letting on he knew the unwanted visitor, Mikko tensed and goose flesh tiptoed up his back. He placed a hand on either side of the door jamb and tried to keep the sound of his voice from conveying he was pissed. "How the fuck did you find me?" That was hardly neutral. "I told you I would contact you, when I was ready," Mikko whispered, his voice harsh; his fingers white in their aching grip on the door frame. Ken's footsteps padded closer. "It's time now," came the equally harsh reply. "We need him now." Mikko felt the charge of aggression on the air, assailing him from both sides; from the behemoth invading his peace and from Ken eavesdropping down the hall. An electric hum stood his arm hairs on end. "You can't have him." "That was the deal." Mikko tensed, blood draining and leaving him lightheaded. "Deals change. You can trot on back to Morgan and tell him it's off." He'd never meant it in the first place. Telling Morgan he'd bring Ken back had only been a way to get out from under the man's thumb. He had never intended to go

back, never mind bring Ken anywhere near where Morgan could get his hands on him. "Yeah, right." One of Darian's big, beefy hands reached, opened the screen door, sending the hook and eye pinging and clanking across the kitchen, and he stepped into the house, one shoulder at a time. "I did not invite you in!" Mikko slammed a hand into the broad chest. Darian stopped cold, shuddered, his eyes growing wide, and his face paling. He groaned and fell back a step. His upper lip curled away from a sharp incisor as he rubbed the spot on his chest. "Now if you could use your skills with any degree of consistency, I'd be worried. That was quite a wallop. But I know you." He leaned closer, more menacing. "One more hit like that and you'll have nothing left." His sneer shifted into an expression closer to predatory. "That's always your trouble, Mikko. You use up your own strength first, when you should be using your gift, drawing your power from all that energy. Feel it." His beefy hand closed into fists, as thought he could physically grab the energy he was talking about. He head came down, too close. Mikko could smell the taint on his breath; the stink of the not-quite-human. "Feel all the energy in the air. Use it. Throw it back at me! You know you want to." His voice softened to almost gentle. "You've always wanted to." "I never wanted to hurt you." Mikko stared him down, "Just leave. Tell Morgan you never found me."

leave. Tell Morgan you never found me." "You know I can't do that." Mikko could feel the energy, all right. There was more to Darian's emotional state than the aggression he projected. That was just the cover for anger, worry, even fear. There was no way to tell where or at whom those other emotions were directed, but they sizzled on the air and Mikko couldn't help draw his power to him, gathering the vibrating energy around him. Whatever else happened, he had to keep this menace from Ken, had to protect him and the sanctity of their home. Everything that meant anything to Ken was wrapped up in this house now, and Mikko would not let it be tainted with anything related to his own sordid past. Darian grinned down on him. "That's it. Pull it all in." "Stop it." "What happens when it gets too much, Mikko?" he leaned close again, but Mikko didn't dare throw another bolt of energy at him. There was no telling how strong it would be. He could hurt Darian. Kill him. Blow the back of the house into the ocean. "Keep going. More." Darian was close enough to touch now, but the barrier of wild power kept him at bay. "Get out of my home."

"Your home." This time, the sneer continued through to a bark of laughter. "You don't have a home. Who wants you? Hunter." He circled around Mikko, nostrils flaring. "Betrayer." "Don't." "Where is he?" Ken scrambled backward. He was so near silent, but Mikko heard and shifted his own weight to cover the sound. "He's not here." "I can smell him." A snort preceded Mikko's next comment. "No doubt. He lives here. I'm sure your bloodhound nose picks that up just fine." "He's here. You wouldn't let him out alone." "He's a big boy," Mikko snarled. The tension of his anger infused the air with a stormy charge, tensed the muscles down his back, and throbbed through his head. "Settle down." Darian's voice, too casual, set Mikko's teeth on edge. "Does he know?" the question was so quiet, Mikko almost missed it. The electric charge crackled through the air. Mikko clenched his fists as though he could hold back the energy by sheer physical force.

"You might want to curb your enthusiasm, there, Stormy. Hell of a way for him to find out—" "Out!" Mikko yanked the door open. It crashed against the counter, the old glass rattling under its force. "Get. Out. He's my concern. I don't need you animals breathing down my neck or sniffing around him. Take your hairy hormones the fuck out of my house!" "If we're the animals, Mikko, what does that make you? Ken doesn't know about you, does he? Doesn't know what you did for Morgan? Does he have any clue what you did to dozens of your own kind?" "Shut. Up." Not that it mattered now. The damage was done. Ken would ask and there was no way Mikko could lie and continue to call himself worthy of the man's service and love. If he told him the truth, would he stay? "Why stop now?" Darian's head tilted to one side, like a curious mutt. "What is it about him? Surely not just that you love him. There has to be more. What can he do?" A slow, nasty grin spread over Darian's face. "Besides spread his legs like a good little slut? Is he a shifter, too? Something even better?" Now Darian was delving toward things Mikko should have told Ken a long time ago, things about the nature of being Ageless most of their kind had to figure out on their own. He should have told him...

"What? Afraid I'll do what you can't if I know? I could just kill you and bring him back myself. Let Morgan figure out what he is. Let someone with experience in the field teach him. Tame him." "If you could kill me, you would have already." This was ground Mikko knew well. Secrets and shifting truth he could manufacture better than Darien could hope to, and his empathy told him as plain as day Darian was lying. Something kept him from snapping Mikko's head off, and it wasn't lack of desire. "Darian, if Morgan doesn't call off the dogs, I will." He drew in a deep breath, released his iron grip on the energy sparking around him and flung a hand toward Darian's chest. Darian stumbled back with a low growl. "Just who the hell do you think you are?" the big man growled, his voice straining and sweat breaking out on his brow. Mikko's hand tensed on the edge of the counter again, knuckles white, arm tense, and his ass pressed up against the edge of granite. Darian forced his way forward against Mikko's battering energy storm until his bulk loomed, a dark, menacing shadow. "You aren't the hero, and he isn't your sidekick. You work for Morgan, and Morgan wants him."

"Morgan can't have him. Neither can you! He's mine!" Mikko renewed his assault, straining, feeling his strength ebb with the effort, knowing he should have taken Darian's advice and used the bigger man's own emotional energy against him. "Ken. Belongs. To. Me!" "You're a delusional little fuck. Morgan owns your ass in ways you don't even understand. Don't make this worse for everyone. Do what you do, bring the guy in." "He's not ready to face you lot of bloodthirsty hounds. I'll bring him to Morgan when I think he's ready to face the bastard." "Morgan can and will eat him alive." "No. Morgan's not getting anywhere near him." "Be reasonable. He can teach the kid a lot faster than you can, and you know it." A little chuckle carried on the charged air as Darian tried to shift gears. It slid down Mikko's spine with a disturbing, far too intimate and tangible touch, riding the wave of his emotion, sliding on the vibrations of Ken's confusion. He could feel the uncertainty behind him, like a siphon, pulling his own energy and concentration away from the man invading their home. "He did wonders for you." That invasion advanced as Darian slid his hands along Mikko's arms, gripped his wrists, and yanked him forward. "Get your hands off!" Mikko's voice didn't ride his own

waves of energy. A slight tremor undermined the command. The force of energy wavered, fell away, and Darian wrenched him close. Mikko grunted. A big hand slid up one arm. "Don't." Too weak, too little strength behind the word, behind his conviction. Too many times he'd let Darian have his way, and he didn't have the strength to back his demands now. He still hadn't learned to harness the emotional charge Darian thrust at him. He'd used too much of his own reserves, just as Darian had said he would, letting the man's emotional turmoil undermine his control. Too many memories flooded him. Past conditioning warned him submission was better, safer. Ken moved. Mikko heard his footsteps through his own agitation. The tension of Ken's uncertainty tugged at Mikko's awareness. The sound of his tentative footsteps stopped sharply just out of sight, and Mikko closed his eyes. If Ken stayed put, out of sight, it would be okay. He could distract Darian easily enough by appealing to the big man's baser instincts to rutt. As long as Ken remained hidden, he'd be safe. Mikko could salvage something from this. Just as long as Darian didn't get past him, it would be okay. Suppressing a slight shiver, Mikko forced the tension out of his own limbs. He pulled in a deep breath, infusing his senses with the musky scent of Darian's animal attraction. His eyelids fluttered, blurring the face before him as the pheromones did their job and his body answered. His mind retreated, though he couldn't escape entirely. He'd never been able to escape entirely.

Darian laughed. "Down, boy." Ken moaned softly as the deep, ebony sound of that voice dug into the thick air. Evidently, Darian's animal attraction was more universal than Mikko had thought. Footsteps thunked, heavy boots sounding like thunder on the bare subfloor as Darian shifted his stance, pinning Mikko against the counter with his weight. The chuckle came again, suggestive and heady and somehow insidious, eliciting a tiny whimper from Mikko. "Just do your job," Darian purred. "You've got two weeks. Get him under control, or we do it for you. I hear he looks good in a collar." The smack of skin and bone against jaw snapped through the house, and for an instant, it was as though Mikko watched from outside his body. Darian's head whipped around. Spittle flew, splashing across the back door window. Then with a rush of energy and light, Mikko was back inside his own head, dark eyes fixing him in place. Darian's leer spilled an inky fear into him. The guy was taller, heavier, far stronger than Mikko. Built like a truck. He swiped a hand across his bull-dog face and grinned. "I broke you, Mikko. I can break him. Piss me off and I'll let you watch." This time, when he moved in, his meaty hand

reached, slid into Mikko's short hair and gripped tight, controlling him so completely Mikko was bent painfully backward over the counter before Darian's hard lips descended across his mouth. "Mnnff!" He squirmed, strained against the pressure and the grip. Darian held tighter, bent him further until he was thrashing, kicking, panicking to get air, and he thought his spine might crack. He'd already conceded. Darian was never happy until his prey was on the edge of reason, helpless, terrified and in pain. The scent of those emotions rode the air, filled the room. They were what the animal in Darian needed to get off. Pain lanced through him, and Mikko whimpered behind the bigger man's lips. The air crackled around them. The sharp bursts of energy from Mikko's pain lashed them both, driving Darian to groping frenzy and Mikko further into the hazy space where he had no control and didn't want to be. Then there was void, as though all the air had been sucked from the room. In the next second, it rushed back, sound, fury, whirling aggression. "Mine!" One word rode the rushing spray of energy, sucked it out the door, taking Darian with it. "Ken!" Mikko watched in horror as Darian's body changed, mid flight, his Ageless genes taking over,

transforming him from man to beast in the blink of an eye. Mikko followed the spitting, snarling fury out the door only to see Ken's pale form sink and disappear under a mass of dark fur and gnashing teeth. "No!" The energy in the air crackled and snapped, but Mikko couldn't hold any of it, couldn't focus through his panic to grab on and certainly couldn't aim well enough to hit Darian and miss Ken. Mikko cursed himself for never learning to control his skills, letting Darian's strength subjugate his own. His hands found their way to his hair, gripping and pulling as he danced closer to the fray, searching for some glimpse of his lover. "God, please. Ken!" A sharp, cold crack of air rushed out from under Darian's fur-transformed body. He yelped, scrambled back, and reared over Ken's prone, naked form. Claws and fangs flashed, Ken flinched, clawed at the earth, and rolled, hand arching over himself, a long spray of loose dirt following, solidifying in a stony arch over him. Darian flung himself, too late to stop, and crashed into the rocky outcrop, impossibly forming from the bits of earth spraying from Ken's fingers. Ken scrambled to his feet, crouched and facing Darian. "You don't belong here," he snarled. "This is mine. Get out!" He launched himself. Mikko howled as Ken's lithe but defenseless frame

collided with Darian's huge, furry, and now fully transformed, body. But it was Darian who yelped again, and Darian who fell back, a long, agonized keen falling with him on the air. He hit the ground hard. Ken, miraculously, was still on his feet. He sprang again, landing on Darian, swinging, and the light caught a new gleam, obsidian blades against the pale morning sky. Ken's fist came down. The back of his hand transformed, claws broken through the skin and already shimmering with Darian's blood. Ken raked those claws across Darian's prone form, drawing another, far weaker whine from the wolf-like creature. Mikko snapped out of his frenzy, rushed forward and pulled Ken back from another strike. "Stop! He's down!" Ken struggled against him, fury giving him incredible strength. Mikko held on despite feeling the sharp slice of those claws on the back of his own arm. "Lemme go!" Ken fought frantically. "My home! Mine! Let me go!" "No." Mikko almost whispered, his mouth close to Ken's ear. "No, Ken. Stop this. He's no longer a threat. Stop."

Still, Ken struggled. Mikko clamped down, closed his eyes and felt outward with his mind for the tendrils of energy ranging off Ken. The best power to control someone was born of their own emotions. He knew this. It was the last thing he wanted to do. It wasn't how he wanted this to go. He caught hold of one strand, then another, weaving them together until he had bonds tight enough to hold Ken, tighter and stronger than his own physical body could. "You will stop your struggles, or I will punish you," Mikko warned. The ropes of energy sizzled and flailed around them. They would burn. Ken would feel the pain if Mikko had to resort to them, be he was not going to be able to hold Ken much longer, and he would not let him kill Darian, no matter how much he wanted the bastard gone himself. "Look at him, Ken. He's no threat. Not anymore." Darian lay on the ground in front of them, changed back to his human form, suit shredded and torn from his transformation, his gut soaked in his own blood. He rolled weakly from side to side, holding his stomach. From out of the nearby shadows, another huge, blackfurred form emerged, sliding through the sparse morning shadows until it was next to Darian. The creature glared at Ken.

Ken snarled back at it, but it didn't approach. It slid its gaze past Ken to meet Mikko's gaze. "Take him," Mikko said, fighting to hold onto Ken. "Hurry. Get him the fuck out of here and don't come back." The creature rose onto its back legs, scooped Darian up with an incredible display of strength and tenderness and loped off down the street with Darian securely slung in one forearm. As if their disappearance was a signal, and probably, it was, Ken collapsed. It was all Mikko could do to support him to the ground without letting him fall. He took hold of Ken's wrist, holding the wicked looking claws out away from where they could do any more harm. "What...." Ken shifted, gripped Mikko's arm and held on for dear life. "What did I do?" "Nothing. Ken, it's okay." Mikko clenched his teeth against the sharp daggers of pain under Ken's fingers as his own blood dripped onto the rocks. "No. no, no, no. Not okay." He lifted his hand, still smeared in Darian's, and now Mikko's blood, and gazed at his knuckles. "What are those?" The plaintive look he lifted set Mikko back on his ass.

He flopped onto the ground, wrapped himself, arms and legs, around Ken and huddled him close with his face buried in Ken's hair. He took the bloodied hand, drawing it against his own chest. "I'll explain it all," he promised. "Now, I need you to relax, Kenny." "Relax?' Ken struggled in his grip. "Relax? What the hell is happening to me?" His voice rose closer to hysterical with every word. "Claws, Mikko! What...that guy. What was he?" He yanked himself away, his strength still far greater in his half transformed state than Mikko could hold. His long claws raked across Mikko's shoulder, making him flinch. The strands of energy whipped in lightning streaks around them, tails nipping at Ken's calves. Ken gasped, hunkered into a crouch a few feet away, and glared at him through fevered eyes. "What am I?" "No one ever told you how this goes." Mikko wasn't really asking. So many young Ageless had no idea what was in store for them. Mikko hadn't. He'd been glad of finding Morgan at first. He had been there to explain it all, the transformations, the hallucinations and fevers, everything that came along with moving past juvenile into a fully adult Ageless form. It hadn't been until Mikko had settled into his powers that he realized Morgan's intentions had never been benign. The ropes of energy still writhed about them, and Ken eyed the crackling lights with suspicion.

Mikko had one chance to get it right. Ken had to calm down, control the changes that were happening, or they would take their own form, as they had in Darian and his mate. "Ken. Calm down." Mikko stood, towering over him. "Get up and come inside with me." He waited a heartbeat, drew the energy into a tight cocoon around them, not quite touching Ken's bare skin. "Now." He could see Ken's adam's apple bobbing, see the confusion in his eyes, the fear. He only hoped the conditioning of the past months was enough; that the control he'd patiently worked for would break through Ken's hysteria, and he would obey. There was no way to control him physically without hurting him and probably destroying any trust he had, if he hadn't managed to gain an emotional foothold already. Slowly, Ken rose, his fists clenched, his shoulders hunched forward. His eyes blazed with the fever of the change he was undergoing. "In the house. Now." Mikko met Ken's glare. "You show off your naked ass to the neighborhood one second longer, I'll paddle it raw. Get inside." Ken snorted, held up his clawed hand. "And you're worried they'll be looking at my ass?" "My ass. Get it in the house."

"You don't—" "Now!" Mikko pointed back toward the house, and Ken started violently. "Your second's up." He took a step forward fiercely concentrating as he let a band of raw energy slide around Ken's wrist. A sweat broke out across his brow as he fought to keep it where Ken could feel the heat and sharp blades of light, making him aware of the damage he could do, if Ken didn't obey. "Don't make me do it this way, Kenny, please." He knew he sounded more desperate than a Dom should. It would do more damage than just physical if he had to resort to this. Ken moved, shuffled his feet, dropped his gaze. "You don't want me like this," Ken whispered. Clamping a hand down on Ken's forearm, Mikko let the energy slide away and led him toward the house. Forcing some control back into his tone, he gave Ken a little jerk forward. "Don't you dare presume to know what I want or don't want. You belong to me, and you'll do as I say. You wanted this. Or do you forget asking for it? Just a short while ago, you begged me to own you." "I don't forget." "Good." Mikko reached for the door handle and shoved Ken inside ahead of him. "Upstairs and get cleaned off." He didn't dare ask Ken if he still wanted the control Mikko exerted over him. He had to keep him under control, at least until after

he learned to control his abilities. At the very least, until those abilities settled into one form. "What about..." Ken held up his hand and this time, when he raised his eyes, the glow, still feverish, was no longer defiant. Just frightened. Mikko placed a hand over Ken's knuckles, feeling the cold ridges of sharp bone under his palm. "Once you've calmed down, the transformation will reverse itself." Mikko cupped Ken's face with his other hand, pulled him close. "You'll learn to control this, Kenny. I'll help you." He laid a tender kiss on Ken's lips. "Now go upstairs and get cleaned up." "You still want me?" In answer, Mikko kissed him again, deeper, and pulled him against his body. "I do." "Ah! Ngh." Ken pressed against him, body rigid and tense. "Hurts!" "I know." Mikko held him, nuzzling his hair, rubbing his back, keeping a tight grip on his wrist as the claws reversed and slowly disappeared. "Give it a minute." In a short time, Ken relaxed, muscles no longer tight, but his entire body shook. He straightened and held his hand up. There was no sign of the claws now. Just his own, shaking, blood smeared hand. "Mikko?"

"There's lots to talk about, Kenny. Go up and shower. I'll make food." "Food? Now?" Mikko nodded. "Give it a few minutes. You'll see." His own stomach growled loudly. "Using these abilities takes it out of you. You'll need to eat more than you're used to, just to keep up your strength. And not protein supplements, either. Real food." Ken's eyes clouded. "That's why you taught me to cook..." "Shower, Ken." Mikko pushed toward control again. "I'm tired of that bastard's stink in our house. It's all over you. Go get it off." "I want answers!" "And you'll get them." It took all of Mikko's self control not to shout. "Over lunch. Go. Shower." They glared at each other a long time before Ken curled a lip, turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs. Not exactly the docile sub Mikko was used to, but not the cowering, fragile creature he had feared would replace all of Ken's hard-won self-confidence, either. Maybe defiance was what he needed to be to get through this, though.

Chapter Three

Lunch was canned stew and sandwiches from the previous night's leftover roast beef. Easy. Fast and filling. Mikko managed to clean himself up and apply a few clumsy bandages to the wounds from Ken's claws. It killed him to wait, but experience told him Ken needed space to process what had happened. He couldn't be rushed or he would bolt, and more than ever, he needed Mikko now. He had to come to that conclusion on his own, though, and Mikko had to wait for it. He waited over half an hour before making up his mind to go up and make sure his lover was okay. He was at the bottom of the stairs when Ken appeared at the top. "Lunch is ready. Come down here and eat." "Yes, sir." Ken trotted down the stairs and sat in his chair at the table. He set his hands palms down beside his plate and waited for Mikko to join him. "Eat." He picked up his own bowl, but Ken scrambled up, took it from him, and filled it. He set it back on the table, filled his own and resumed his seat. "That was not necessary." "I'm sorry," Ken blurted. "For...before."

"For being upset? Confused? I can hardly blame you. Now get some food in you." Ken watched him for a few minutes, his gaze straying to the clean white bandages. "I didn't mean to," he blurted, reaching to touch the tape and cotton. Mikko managed not to flinch away, even finding a small smile. "I know. It's okay. Eat." He suited his own actions to his words, reached for a sandwich and began to shovel stew into his mouth. Finally, Ken picked up his spoon. In seconds, he was ravenously scooping food into his mouth. Once he was well into his lunch, Mikko began. "Being Ageless gives us a lot of perks, Kenny. Long life, health, resistance to most diseases that kill people, we get good reflexes and senses." He lifted his injured arm. "Fast healing." Ken peered up from his meal. "And?" "And. There's a lot we don't know." Mikko sighed. "Like why any of this," he caressed the back of Ken's hand, "happens. Genetics, Morgan thinks. Some fundamental change in our DNA that lets us tap into parts of our brains others can't." "But transform?" "Lots we don't know, Kenny."

"No shit." Mikko sighed again and put down his spoon. "Morgan's convinced we're some sort of earth warriors." "What?" Ken's spoon hung half way to his mouth for a second before he put it down. "What are you talking about?" "When I first went to work for him, he'd come to me. He recruited me. I thought he was just fighting the corporate polluters. Save the whales and all that shit." Ken winced. "Yeah. I remember." Mikko closed his eyes, bit his lip. "I was wrong to leave you alone so much, Ken. I'm sorry." "Doesn't matter now." Ken picked up his spoon again and continued eating, but he didn't look at Mikko. "So what do the whales have to do with this?" Ken held up his hand, back toward Mikko. There was no sign of the earlier transformation, but Mikko detected a slight tremor and felt Ken's agitation vibrating through the air around them. The more he used his empathy, the more attuned to the smallest disturbance he became. It felt like his skin was alive, on fire as every new emotion washed over Ken's face. It wasn't feeling Ken's emotions that bothered him, though. It was his inability to keep his body from converting those negative vibrations to the power that electrified the air and sent energy pinging off the

walls. It took all his concentration to control the bolts and left nothing to care for Ken. He grimaced and forced his attention back to the conversation. "Greenpeace turned out to be a cover, mostly." Mikko took Ken's cue and bit into his sandwich, continuing his explanation between bites. "He was using the group, or what was left of it, to cover his interest in gathering Ageless to him. His timing was perfect. Just when the enclaves like Amsterdam were deciding to close their gates, he started calling us to his cause. Said we were chosen, by our genetic predisposition to long life, to fight for his cause." "You mean save the earth." "That's what he tells people to snare them. It isn't what he's really doing." "So what is he really doing?" "I wish I knew." Mikko focused his attention on Ken. "But he wanted me specifically, because I can feel the—I don't know how to explain it. I can just sense others like us. If I have some idea of who they are before hand, I can track them down. Sniff them out, almost." Like a bloodhound. Revulsion shivered through him and he shifted in his seat, setting his sandwich down, his appetite crushed under memories. "He wanted me to find some very powerful Ageless." The agitated hum on the air increased and Mikko

abandoned his lunch completely to reach for Ken. "That was a long time ago, Kenny. I tracked them down. Well, some of them. But when I realized he was turning them..." "Turning them?" "He told them he would help them control what they could do, but that isn't precisely what he did. He taught them to submit that control to him. Once I realized that, I started to warn the ones he sent me after to run. Hide. Stay away from him." Mikko hung his head. "I just wish I'd figured it out sooner. Darian." He swallowed, took a breath, and ploughed on. "Darian was one of the first I'd found for him. I didn't know then what he was doing. He drove the poor man nearly mad, tormenting him to transform, baiting him, driving him to frenzy, then drugging him until he reversed, but not quite knocking him out. He just kept him sedated enough to feel the reversal, to go through the agony, and then offering to take away the pain." Mikko caressed Ken's hand, running his fingers over the backs of his knuckles. The troubled look in Ken's eyes told him he realized how much a full transformation reversal would hurt. "He conditioned Darian to transform on command. Any time he needed an enforcer. As far as I know, he has dozens of Ageless in the same position. They're completely loyal to him, dependant on him. They don't think they have the ability to reverse what happens to them. They don't have control." "Because he does."

Mikko nodded. "Why did Darian come here?" Ken's penetrating stare gave Mikko no place to hide. "Why did he think you were here to bring me back to Morgan?" "Because it's the only way I could get out from under his thumb in the first place. I had to convince Morgan I was coming to get you and bring you back. Darian and I...well, he found a mate. I convinced Morgan I needed one too, and that it had to be you." He met Ken's gaze head on. "That part is no lie. I do need you. Want you. We belong together, but I am not letting Morgan get his hands on you. I never intended to let him anywhere near you. I won't let him control us like he does Darian and his mate." "But Darian changed here. On his own." He looked down at his own hand. "So did I. Am I...what he is?" "I don't know, Ken. I can't explain why Darian transformed today, or how he reversed it. And...I don't know what you can do. I've never seen anyone manifest two so different abilities, nor have I seen it happen so young. Nothing is set in stone. Not this early in your development." "Early?" "The best way I can think of to explain is to liken it to puberty. You never know exactly how you'll turn out until you get

there, and what you had to start out with might not be a very good indication. And you're young." "I'm ninety-seven." After a second, Ken's head came up and he studied Mikko. "How old are you?" "Older than ninety-seven." Ken tilted his head. "You lose track after a while, don't you?" Mikko poked at the bit of the sandwich on his plate. "I think I was born in the late 1940's, but it was in Los Angeles. The records are long gone." "Along with the city." "Yeah." Mikko had no wish to relive the days of sinking buildings and drowning friends and family. "That makes you almost 150." Mikko's sandwich fell apart under his fingers. "Yes. And I'm still going through it. Darian was supposed to be my keeper. Morgan thought we'd make the perfect team. Me to track his prey down; Darian to bring them in." "So what happened?" "Lots of things. First, Darian found a mate, and then Morgan made the mistake of trying to break her. She's a lot

Morgan made the mistake of trying to break her. She's a lot tougher than most of the others. It was agony on her and torture for him to watch. He stopped believing in what Morgan was doing. I suspect Myra is behind Darian's new control. She's been good for him." "And?" Ken prompted. "You called." "And you came." Mikko looked up, seeking some sort of comfort from the memories in Ken's eyes. "I abandoned Darian. He lost faith in Morgan, and I left him there. And I may have led Morgan right to you." "Why me? Why does he care about me?" Mikko sighed and leaned heavily on the table. "Besides being important to me? You have the strongest aura I've ever felt, Kenny. I don't know what you can do, but I bet Morgan would give a lot to find out. Whatever it is, he needs to get to you before you develop your own control. He'll use any means. He'll use you to control me, me to control you, whatever it takes to get what he wants." "And you don't know..." "No. I have no idea what his ultimate goal is." Mikko let his spoon clatter into his empty bowl. "What I do know is that you

and I have a lot to figure out. Darian was supposed to teach me." Mikko shuddered. Darian had learned his own hard, unsavoury lessons from Morgan. His interaction with Mikko had never been pleasant, and yet Mikko couldn't manage to hate the man the way he should. "I wasn't a very good student." "What he was doing today was not teaching." Ken's tone turned hard, like granite, crushing and unforgiving. "It was—is—all he knows." Ken snarled quietly. "He never touches you again." Mikko looked up. "Now who's being dominant and possessive?" Ken curled his lip. "Mine," he whispered. "Yours, Kenny," Mikko agreed, reaching to lay a hand over his. "Always." "Promises, Pro—" "Yes," Mikko tightened his fingers until Ken grimaced and look up at him. "Promises. Whether you want to hear them, or believe them, or not. I know where I belong. I am yours, Kenny. I will always be here. You can count on that." He didn't expect to see anything other than uncertainty in

Ken's eyes, and so he wasn't disappointed. He would have pressed his point, but Ken's attention turned from him to the back door. "Now what?" Ken rose and stalked to the door, yanking it open, his face a mask of anger. "Get out." "Please..." Mikko recognized the voice immediately. "Myra?" He pulled Ken away from the door and inserted himself between the wolf-woman and his lover. "What are you doing here?" She stood in his door, shaking slightly, her clothing muddied and stained, as though they hadn't seen a washer in weeks. Her short-cropped black hair was unkempt, greasy, and her dark, midnight blue eyes red-rimmed. Her human form was small, diminutive, and she was thinner than Mikko remembered. "Where else could I go?" She shot Ken a dangerously sharp glare. "He needs help. I don't know what to do." Mikko knew the only He in Myra's existence was Darian. He moved to better protect Ken. "What do you want me to do? Fix him up so he can come back here and try again?" "He's dying." The admission drew a sob from her.

"Please, Mikko." "Why should I?" Myra snarled in frustration. "You did this to him!" "Get out." "What will I do?" she stepped forward, her foot landing inside the house, and Ken snarled. The vibrations of her desperation and Ken's aggressiveness made Mikko's head jangle. He glanced back to find Ken once again clawed, this time, both hands clenched into fists to better use the sharp appendages. "Both of you!" He put a hand on Ken's chest, holding him back, though his feet skidded along the sub floor a few inches as Ken pressed forward. "Stop, please." Something in his voice must have alerted Ken, because he backed down immediately, and rested his hand over Mikko's on his chest. The claws withdrew and he grimaced. "Mikko?" Concern laced Ken's voice. "What? What's wrong?" "My head." He touched fingers to his temple. "Please, just calm down." Turning his attention to Myra, he shoved her back. "Just stay outside. This is my home. You don't come in."

"I need your help," she said simply, desperately. "I can't lose him." "What do you want me to do about it? I'm no doctor. I'm sorry he got hurt, Myra, but he should never have come here. What did he think would happen? Even if Darian thought I'd somehow go back to Morgan, he knew I wasn't going back to him. And he tried anyway." "He can't help it." she hung her head. "I know he isn't perfect, but you have to understand. Morgan won't let him go." "Run, Myra. Both of you. Just leave." "We can't. Morgan's taken Jillian." "Who's Jillian?" Ken asked. When Myra looked up, the fear and despair she projected had Mikko holding his head in both hands and staggering back into Ken. Dimly, he felt Ken's arms go around him. "Our daughter. She's a baby. He took her until Darian brought you back, Mikko. We can't run, or we would have when you left us. And now he's hurt, dying, and this is all your fault." "I'm sorry, Myra." Mikko shimmied out of Ken's comforting embrace and gripped the edge of the door, trying to push it closed in her face. "There's nothing I can do for him."

"I know someone who can help." To Mikko's surprise, Ken stepped forward and pulled her into the house. You," he set her, back against the door as he closed it, and pressed her there, "Wait here." Then he took Mikko's arm and led him from the room. Distance gave Mikko some relief from the pain, but he couldn't stop the shaking. Ken guided him down the hall to the spare bedroom and ushered him inside, closing the door behind them. "Tell me what's going on," Ken demanded. "What's wrong?" "Too much energy," Mikko mumbled. "Hurts." Ken pulled him against his chest and wrapped both arms around him. "What do I do?" "Stay calm. Please. It helps when you're calm." He felt Ken nod. "She's powerful." Mikko was finding it easier to catch his breath since he wasn't in the same room as Myra. "She runs on instinct. Everything is so close to the surface with her." He sank into Ken's embrace with a little whimper. "Darian made it easier. He buffered her. She's so raw." "If you'd told me something, anything about this before now, I could help you." He ran a hand up and down Mikko's back, but the frustration was clear in his voice. "Honesty goes both ways, doesn't it? You've been holding back stuff I needed to know."

"Thought I was protecting you," Mikko said, offering that little bit of truth now, though he knew how idiotic it sounded and how wrong he'd been. "I wish—" Ken cut himself off, but not before the frustration jangled through the room, setting Mikko's head throbbing again. "Wish what?" "I wish you would trust me the way you want me to trust you." He pushed Mikko away to look into his eyes. "I'm not weak. Tell me you don't think I'm weak." Mikko shook his head, unable to form words through the pounding of his temples and the fevered sweat making him shake. "Then let me help you. Trust me. Don't treat me like I'm going to break. If you believe in me, it's all I need. If you don't…" The underlying fear that Ken didn't voice made Mikko groan, and Ken pulled him close again, smothering the uncertainty and surrounding Mikko with support."Just hold onto me a minute," Ken told him, lifting a hand to brush over his hair. "Focus on me; how much I love you." "You what?" Just under the surface of Ken's words, Mikko could feel the minute vibration of what he did not say. How much I need you. Though he could feel the need, Mikko was

grateful to Ken for subjugating it right now. He clung a little tighter, breathed in the scent of his lover. It was like a balm to his jangling nerves to feel the calm emanating from Ken. "One thing I know," Ken whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere." He lifted Mikko's face from where he was hiding in the crook of Ken's neck, and looked into his eyes. "I belong to you. I trust you. You'll teach me, protect me, and I'll protect you." He didn't ask permission, but just leaned close and laid a tender kiss on Mikko's lips. Mikko took the offered comfort, opening his lips to Ken's tongue, leaning against him, letting Ken absorb his shaking and steady him. He'd forgotten, in the intervening years and through Ken's fear and uncertainty, what a good, attentive kisser he was, how much tenderness he had to share. It brought back memories of long afternoons in their old apartment, tangled together on their bed in the afternoon sun shining in the window. Ken had been so attentive back then, seeking out precisely what Mikko needed. He'd always taken his time, paid attention. Mikko had never known a more giving lover, and he saw a glimmer of that person now, felt it, deep under the rest, and that, he grasped onto and held on for life. "Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?" Ken's hand sifted through his hair, his arm pulled Mikko tight against him, and his kiss lent Mikko strength he'd forgotten his lover possessed. He was beginning to feel

grounded again when Ken released him. "I waited too long to say it, holding onto something that wasn't mine any more. I do love you. I always have. I'm sorry for holding back. Now." Ken rubbed a thumb over Mikko's lips. "Tell me why we should not help her save her child." Cold flashed through Mikko in the wake of the warmth from Ken's words and the calming energy they created in the little room. "We are not going up against Morgan, Ken. You're untrained. I'm...useless. I can't control my own abilities, and those two..." "Are in trouble because of us." Mikko hung his head. He was right. But the danger of getting anywhere near Morgan was too much, the threat of losing Ken now was something he couldn't even contemplate. Morgan had a way of getting what he wanted. Of making people give him what he wanted, even when it went against their nature. When he looked up to argue Ken's intention, Mikko was met with such determination in Ken's eyes, his words dried up. "You know we have to do this." "You know we stand no chance of getting anywhere near that child. She's bait, Ken. Morgan is holding her, if she even exists, to draw us out."

Ken caressed his face again. "You have a history with Darian and Myra. You don't see what I see when you look at her. You see an old enemy. Someone who tore your lover away from you, who tore him apart and shattered everything you both knew. I see a mother who wants her child back." "Darian and I..." Mikko dropped his gaze again. "It wasn't like that." "You had each other. Whatever he did at Morgan's orders, it was more than just orders for him, and you responded. I'm not blind. He pushed because he had to. You gave to keep him from pushing so hard he broke you both. I'm not saying it was a love match, but it was something." Mikko sighed. "How do you even know any of that?" "Because I know you. I know you can't be that...intimate with anyone and not find the good in them. If he were some evil, irredeemable bastard, he would never have gotten in the door. He would never have been allowed to touch you. And you certainly would not have allowed her to rescue him and just leave." Ken drew in a breath. "Maybe you didn't love him, but you didn't hate him, either. It isn't in you to hate." "And it isn't in you to walk away from danger and insanity," Mikko shot back. He was being unreasonably nasty. He couldn't help it. He'd finally made a home here, got everything he wanted with Ken, and Darian appeared. "I want our life back."

"And you think it will be any kind of life running from them? If Morgan has their kid, they will do anything to get her back, even turn you in. And running means I live with—" Ken stepped back, wrapped his arms around himself. "I didn't set out to hurt him." "No one thinks you did." "But I did hurt him. And I know who will help him. I can't walk away knowing I can help." He unwrapped, bit his lip, reached again for Mikko. "This is mine, Mikko. I have every right to defend what's mine." Mikko wasn't sure what 'this' Ken was talking about. "Where you go, I go. Defend all you want, but please, don't ask me to bring a fight to Morgan we can't win." "This is more than just you. This house, this life we have; it's my home. Maybe the only real home I've ever had, despite what I thought about...him. I built this from what you taught me, and I will not be run off. You reminded me how to be strong, now let me be strong for you. And Darian—that's mine, too. You've taught me to take responsibility for everything I do, and I did that to him. You can't tell me not to help him now." "Fuck." Mikko pursed his lips, but reached and touched Ken's cheek. Was it just last night he'd collapsed into tears over another man? "Why do you have to be right?"

Ken shrugged. "At least let me help Darian." "After that, we'll see," Mikko agreed after a long stretch of silence. Ken nodded. "Thank you." He squared his shoulders and leaned for another kiss. "You should wait here. At least until I have her calmed down." "I'm not letting you go in there alone." "Please." Ken chewed on his lip for a long minute. "I need you..." "Not to fall apart." "If anything happens....if I change like that again, if..." Mikko nodded, wondering if Ken was even aware that he just had partially transformed and reversed again. "I'll be here." Watching his lover, straight backed and sure as he left the room, sent a whole new thrill through Mikko. He'd spent the last months trying to remind Ken who he was, what he was capable of, hoping he'd find his old strength and resolve, so that he had what he needed to deal with his evolution when it happened. He had worried there was something too broken in Ken to heal. He'd been very wrong.

"You don't show me anything, Kenny," he whispered. And it was true. What had changed wasn't Ken's strength, not his ability or his capacity to care, but his willingness to let anyone see it. He'd lost the innocence he'd had. Even after a lifetime of abuse, he'd been able to show his emotions. Then Mikko had left him alone on the cusp of discovering his submissive side, and Ken had closed up. Now, being that open and vulnerable terrified him. Ken came back almost immediately, his eyes wide, one hand rubbing furiously over the back of the other. "She's a wolf." His eyes went dark with confusion. "She's a wolf, and she's asleep in front of the door." Mikko sighed and sank onto a pallet of flooring stacked against the wall, a reminder the home they wanted to protect wasn't even completed. Tentatively, he opened up his senses to feel the energy riding the air. Calm permeated his home. For the first time since he'd met Myra, he didn't sense agitation from her; no anger or fear. She was asleep, and yet, somehow still alert, on guard, but not against them. He didn't remember ever feeling such complete resolution from her. "How did you do that?" "Do what?" Ken peered through the door to the other room, watching their sleeping guest. "Calm her down?"

"I didn't do anything. She was already asleep." Ken closed the door softly and turned back to Mikko. "It's this place. Can't you feel it?" he rolled his shoulders and went to the window to gaze out at the ocean. "It's safe here. Safe like no other place I've ever been." "Maybe." Mikko reached for Ken, and his heart thumped with the thrill of watching Ken come to him and hold out a hand. Mikko pulled him down into his lap. "You're here. That's enough for me." As if the words were a trigger, Ken melted against him with a little, needy moan. "I would make love to you here and now, Kenny, but we have work to do. You said you knew someone who could help." Ken nodded emphatically. "His name's Dean." "How do you know him?" "I—" Ken flushed and scrambled off Mikko's lap. "A bar in town." His voice lowered and he hid behind the words, curving his shoulders, making himself disappear, or trying to. "Tuesday nights. It's...I used to go. Before you came. I went. One night, I'd tipped my bike." He rushed through the rest of the story, his cheeks flaming by the end, and his voice a tiny whisper.

"So he bandaged up a few cuts," Mikko pointed out, ignoring the rest—the background—of why Ken was visiting that particular bar on that particular night. "What makes you think he'd know what to do for Darian?" "Because. Just a sense. The way he cleaned and bandaged. He knew what he was doing. And he's Ageless." "And you think he'll help." Ken nodded. "I can go into town and ask him." All of Mikko's possessive instincts rose to the surface, and he yanked Ken back down. "I don't like this." "You have to trust me, Mikko." "This Dean guy. Have you ever...?" "No." Ken leaned close, kissed Mikko thoroughly. "I've never slept with him, and I will never sleep with anyone but you. He won't hurt me. He had every opportunity to do anything he wanted to me that night. I was a complete mess, but all he did was patch me up, feed me, and send me home to wait for you." "You told him about me?" Ken nodded. "It was hard to wait. To be here by myself. I knew you were coming, but I..."

"It's okay." Mikko pulled Ken closer and gazed up at him. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. Now. We have to fix this. Take the bike and go see if this...Dean person will help. I'll try and figure out where Darian is." "How are you going to ask a sleeping wolf?" Mikko smiled. "I'm not called the greatest Tracker for no reason. I'll find him." "We can leave her here on her own?" "She'll be fine. Don't forget, Kenny. She's a person, not a wolf. She just feels more comfortable in her wild form. She can defend herself better that way, and she's had a lot to defend against with Morgan." "That isn't right." "One crusade at a time, Kenny, please." Ken nodded, made to stand, but then didn't. "You'll..." "I'll be here when you get back. Promise." For once, Ken did not stop him saying the word. He just looked him in the eye and smiled. "I'll hold you to that," he said quietly. Then he did pick himself up and flit out of the room, as though waiting another second would give him too much chance to change his mind.

Chapter Four

Mikko had no trouble finding Darian. He was laid up in the abandoned conference center halfway up the highway toward Signal Hill. His agony carried a long way to Mikko's sensitive abilities. All he had to do was follow the very physical scent Myra had left behind until he felt Darian's vibrations cutting through the atmosphere. The conference center was a mass of rotting concrete and broken glass. It was no fit place for a healthy man, and certainly not one for someone as badly injured as Darian. His groaning echoed through the empty rooms, and Mikko followed the sound deep into the building. Myra must have fought her instincts hard to get him so deep into the concrete maze. Enclosed spaces had never been her thing. "Darian?" Mikko entered the room where she'd left him. One rusted chair frame canted at a broken-legged angle against the far wall and crumbling plastic blinds striped the light jagging across the floor. Darian lay where the sun just grazed him from the knees down. From the doorway, Mikko could see his shivering and the dark patch where his blood had soaked into the moldy carpeting. Most of his clothing was shredded and the skin showing through gleamed too pale and sweaty. As Mikko reached him and knelt next to his prone

body, Darian moaned again and rolled his head over to glare. "Darian." The big man groaned as Mikko gently peeled back the rags of his shirt to see the damage beneath. "Come to finish me off?" He struggled to sit up, but Mikko held him in place. "Myra came to ask our help." Darian snarled. "Where is she?" This time, he did make it to a sitting position, despite Mikko's efforts to keep him still. The exertion cost him, though. His face faded to a decidedly unhealthy shade of grey. "Where. Is. My. Mate?" "Safe,” Mikko assured him. "She's sleeping. She looks like she needs it." "If you hurt her—" "I didn't touch a hair on her body. We have to get you out of here." "To where? A hospital? What are you going to tell those young doctors? Ageless against Ageless is hardly going to win me stellar medical care. They'd like us to pick one another off." "I don't know what they'd like in that respect, but no. Ken has a—friend—who will help. We just have to get you to him."

"Why are you doing this?" Mikko glared for a moment, seeking something he couldn't define in Darian's gaze. The man was in too much pain for there to be much but hurt and suspicion that Mikko didn't blame him for. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Because Ken asked me to. Can you stand?" Darian shook his head. "You shouldn't be at the mercy of your sub." "And you should not have put your family in danger to get me back. No one's perfect. Up." A sharp snort covered the pain evidenced by the further paling of Darian's face as he struggled to get his feet under him. "What makes you think I want you back?" "I'm just that charming," Mikko snarled. "Don't—" Darian gasped and his hand hovered, a tight claw of tense muscles over his abdomen, as though he might clutch at it, but thought better of the move. "Don't fucking make me laugh," he wheezed. Fresh blood seeped from the wounds and Mikko frowned. "You are never going to make it back down the hill." "I'm not going to make it out of this building," Darian corrected as most of his weight settled on Mikko's shoulders.

"Do me a favor." "Shut up and start walking." "Mikko." "One foot in front of the other." "You locked her in, right? Where she's safe? Tell me you chained her up and locked her away." His shuffling footsteps almost drowned out his whispers. "Please." "Don't waste your energy." Mikko felt Darian's worry and distress roiling on the air around them. He gathered the disquiet energy and used it to bolster his own strength and allow him to almost carry the big man back through the maze of the building. It felt vastly different, using Darian's emotional energy to power his strength, than it felt using his own. He wondered what it said about them both that he had actually locked Myra in his house with searing bands of energy woven from his own unstable emotions at the whole situation. If she tried to leave, that energy would cause an excruciating amount of pain to get through, and he doubted she had the strength. "She'll go wild once I'm gone," Darian said sadly. "Not even Morgan will be able to control her." "Then she should learn how to control herself." "Too late. He destroyed her faith in herself when he took

Jillian. She couldn't protect her own cub. That's what finally broke her." "Fuck." Mikko chewed on his lower lip. "What?" "Ken. He has a terrible habit of being right." "Right about what?" Darian gasped and slowed even more. "Can't." "Yes, you can, and you're going to, because we can't get Jillian back without your help, and Myra needs you. Here." He kicked aside a pile of shattered glass and lowered Darian gently onto a window ledge. "Rest." Once he had the other Ageless settled, Mikko rolled his shoulders and walked a little bit away. "What was Ken right about, Mikko?" Mikko stopped and glared once more at this former lover. "About getting your kid back. About going up against Morgan. About the whole fucking thing." He threw his hands up in the air and a bright flare of lightning lit up the length of the hallway they'd just traversed. Bits and flashes of energy bounced off the shards of glass and the angles of broken concrete, continuing to illuminate the space intermittently long after Mikko's arms flopped back to his sides.

"Why would you help me?" Darian asked, not even flinching at the stray bolts of energy dancing about him. "Because..." "Ken asked." "Fucking Ken asked me to," Mikko agreed. "I don't need your help." "Of course not." Mikko wandered off down the hall toward the exit, the residual energy flashes trailing after him like so many puppies. "Mikko!" "I'm going to see if they're here yet. Ken's got an aura a mile wide. He's on his way. Wait there." "Like I'm going anywhere." A small, tight smile lifted Mikko's lips. Between Darian's cold, brittle resentment and Ken's bright, hyper anxiety, he'd have enough energy floating about him to raise the fleet at the bottom of Signal Hill. For a few moments, at least, he could savor the feeling as though he could do anything.

Chapter Five

They managed to get Darian back to the house alive by using Dean's car. His continued existence allowed Myra to settle the frantic pacing through the kitchen and hallway that had started the moment they had returned. Now she nosed at Mikko's palm relentlessly while Dean worked, peering up at him with puppy eyes in her fierce, wolf face. The dichotomy would have made him laugh if the roil of emotions crowding the house wasn't making him nauseous. His biggest fear this morning had been whether that lovely little bit of leather would fit Ken. Now, he was terrified his abilities were so far out of control he'd never be able to put the genie back in the bottle, and if he couldn't, someone could well be seriously hurt. Myra nudged at his leg, this time, shouldering him against the wall and toward the steps. "You want something, change back and fucking talk to me," he snarled. She lifted a lip in response, and he wondered how much she understood.

"Are you human or wolf, Myra?" he asked. "If tell you in a nice, sweet voice to fuck off and leave Ken and I alone, will you snarl at me or wag your ratty little tail?" She plunked herself down, pinning his knees against the wall with her shoulders, and a moment later, a sense of unreality washed over him. Something like distorted image of a very tiny, furry bundle swam in his vision, replaced almost at once with an equally distorted image of Ken, and a feeling of ferocious protectiveness. "Are you doing that?" She thumped her tail once on the floor, and an instant later, he could see Darian, so many versions, man and wolf, ideas of him, more than actual pictures, his strength, his loyalty, his agony over losing Mikko then their daughter. In the flash of a few seconds, she showed him everything he had deliberately forgotten about the man. Everything he had needed to forget in order to leave him there and come after Ken. "That is so not fucking fair, bitch." He shoved her away. "What do you want from me? I did what I had to, and I will do what I have to protect Ken. Morgan cannot have him." He knew as he said it, she was thinking the same thing about Darian, about her child, helpless and still in Morgan's grasp. He knew how he'd felt when he'd thought Ken would be the one to go down in that fight, and he sighed.

"I'll go check, see what's happening. Don't think this makes us okay. I want you out of my house the minute he can hobble through the door." Hauling himself down the hallway to the bedroom where Dean was working, Mikko knocked on the door and waited for Dean to grant him entrance. Even once inside, he said nothing until Dean looked up, effectively giving him permission to speak. "So?" Mikko asked, failing to hide his ire at the amount of intimidation the man held over him. "He's certainly damaged," Dean conceded. His hands were covered in blood, and Mikko's stomach churned at the sight of it all. "How can he still be alive? He's bled so much." "That isn't helping, of course, but he's strong. His abilities are deeply ingrained. That helps him heal more quickly, but it's making it difficult to treat him. He's in a constant state of flux. If he stabilized to one form or the other, I could treat him, stitch him up, bandage the wounds." He shook his head as yet another stitch slipped out of place. "No control," he muttered. Mikko watched the man's face as he worked, and those words seemed to draw a tight expression over his features.

"Only one way he could be this unstable at this point in his life and with such injuries. His condition should force him into one form or the other. Usually, the one he was injured in. Only a sever lack of control would have him stuck between like this."" Mikko said nothing. Dean's gaze lifted momentarily from his task to take in Mikko's lack of response. "Who tortured him?" "Do you really need to ask?" Disgusted with himself for his cowardice, Mikko stepped back. "I sacrificed a lot to give him up to Morgan. I'm not proud of that." "Nor should you be." He turned back to Darian and the patch job he was doing on the shifter's stomach. Mikko seethed. Who the hell was this asshole to judge him? "And I suppose you've never done anything you wish you hadn't" "Who said that?" After a few minutes, he peered up again and his dark gaze sent a shiver through Mikko. "I've done plenty I wish I could take back. I'm a lot older than you. Now," he spread his hands over Darian, "I do my best to make up for the mistakes I made." "Is that some sort of hint?"

"Just a statement of fact. I would never presume to tell you how to live your life." His gaze drifted upward to fix momentarily on the ceiling. "Ken is restless." "Ken is always restless." "You are his anchor. Go anchor him." "Myra—" "I will deal with the she-wolf. You take care of your own." "Or you'll do it for me?" "Someone will if you don't, and from the state of him, a lot of someones have done him a great deal of harm." Dean's gaze fixed on Mikko now. "If I thought my own partner was strong enough, I would take on a second. I'd look after Ken, because he deserves to be looked after. He says you're good to him." Prove it, did not come off Dean's lips, but it blazed from his eyes. As he left the room, Mikko's resentment at being told precisely what to do, even after Dean professed he would mind his own business turned to something darker. Dean was implying Mikko could not take proper care of Ken. Having another Dom in the house, one Ken was obviously attracted to, was fast wearing on Mikko's nerves. He stormed up the first flight of stairs, fists clenched hard

at his sides, thoughts thundering with resentment. Reaching the landing, he glanced out the small portal window Ken had installed to look out over their back yard. The arch of stone still stood where Ken had created it, and the sight slowed Mikko, drawing him to the view. He pressed his fingers against the glass, as though he could touch the creation from here. Earth was that hardest element to manipulate. The rarest ability in the Ageless he'd met. And Ken had thrown up that barrier without a thought. Almost all Ageless had some sort of animal affinity, whether they could shift completely as Darian and his mate, or, like Morgan, simply manage a deeper understanding of them. Most, like Ken had manifested, were somewhere in the middle. It was no wonder Morgan could manipulate Ageless with such abilities as he had. It was like he spoke their language, whether they appeared human or animal. He could twist their desire to be understood into trust and a sick fascination with him. Maybe that was why Mikko had never fully fallen under his spell. Mikko's skills were decidedly elemental in nature, as opposed to more physical, and Morgan's sheer animal draw had not worked on him. Mikko sighed. Still, Morgan had lured him, hadn't he? He was the teacher who could not do, and if Darian and Myra were his star pupils, Mikko had been the hall monitor. No one ever liked the hall monitor. The creak of steps behind him accompanied the heavy,

overwhelming sensation of Ken's aura. Long moments before Ken joined him at the tiny window and his arms came round to clasp in front of Mikko's chest, Mikko could feel his suppressed agitation.

Still trying to be strong for me. Mikko swallowed his guilt and closed his eyes as Ken's arms slipped around him. "I did that." There was a tone of wonder in Ken's voice as he gazed over Mikko's shoulder to the fantastic arch of melded sand and stone. "You did that." Mikko caressed the backs of his lover's hands, letting his fingers linger over the perfect knuckles. "Do they still hurt?" "Not much." Ken had managed to school his voice to neutrality, but the churning emotion beneath was clear to Mikko's extra senses. He circled a finger tip over the center knuckle on Ken's hand, half expecting him to pull away, but he didn't. "Darian's resting," Mikko said. "Dean said he was too unstable to do much for him now, but he's staying to keep an eye on them." "Good. It's nice to feel him in the house." "Perfect." The deep sarcasm of the one word seemed to echo around them, and Mikko flinched from his own display of pique.

"He has a partner, Mikko. He isn't interested in me."

Fat lot you know. "Are you interested in him?" Ken actually had the audacity to turn Mikko around and glare at him. "Are you seriously asking me that?" Mikko shook his head. "No." he touched Ken's cheeks, cupped his face. "Forgive me for wanting to stake my claim." "Stake away." Mikko smiled and turned back to the window view. "I've spent a lot of time whoring and killing," Ken whispered. He wrapped his arms around Mikko's middle, this time, and lay his cheek between Mikko's shoulder blades. One hand flexed into a fist against Mikko's abdomen. "I've never created anything like that." He gave a little jerk of motion in the general direction of the window. "Until now." His hand relaxed under Mikko's stroking fingers. "What can you do?" "Love you." Mikko turned and took Ken into his arms. "That's not what I meant." "Upstairs." A sharp tap on Ken's backside made him yelp. Mikko waited, but Ken only watched him for a second before turning and scooting back up the stairs to disappear into their bedroom. He'd wanted to ask. Mikko had seen the question in

his eyes.

If only I could explain it to you, Love. But he couldn't. How did you tell someone you fed off their energy? It sounded way too much like a horror story than the idyllic life they both wanted. But Ken didn't ask. He just obeyed. Mikko ran a hand over the back of his neck and shuffled up after him. When he entered the bedroom, Ken was already naked and folding his boxers onto the neat pile on the floor by the dresser. He didn't look at Mikko as he entered, but knelt before him, and clasped his hands behind his back. "You're not hard," Mikko observed. Ken only shook his head. "What are you afraid of?" In their recent time together, Mikko had come to realize fear was the only thing Ken could not force his way through. Mikko went behind him and lifted his hands from the small of his back around to behind his head, leaving his long, lean back and curving buttocks free of obstruction. His body was riddled with scars; some tiny, some not so tiny. Mikko had never asked where he got them. He wondered if Ken could even remember. Now, Mikko ran his fingers along the discoloured skin, tracing the tracks of Ken's bad decisions, his struggles, all the things he was slowly leaving behind.

A shiver ran through Ken as Mikko touched long forgotten memories. "I'm afraid of going back to what I was," Ken said at last. "I want to be something new. Something only for you. "Is there anything in the long list of things two men can do together that you haven't already given up to strangers?" Mikko asked, even as his fingers trailed along the long, raised lines on Ken's skin. He recognized the marks left by a whip wielded with too much vigor. Slow steps brought Mikko around in front of his lover and he crouched to look into his bowed face. Ken shook his head, pulling his lip between his teeth and remaining silent. The shame of his admission showed plainly in the gaze he lowered to the floor. "What will you give me, then, that isn't soiled and tainted?" he reached over and lifted Ken's chin. "Look at me and tell me what you have that's worthy." "Just..." Ken's voice trembled, followed immediately by a delicate shivering over his entire body. "I have just my heart." "Held firmly in the grip of another who doesn't even want it." Mikko held his breath, watched Ken's eyes darken. He knew he was pushing into dangerous territory. Ken was so fragile where his former lover was concerned. Defensive and snarly at the best of times, but it was down to trust now. Not just between them, for love, but their lives might depend on absolute faith in one another. Mikko needed to know Ken

would be there when the chips were down. Tension spread through Ken's body, his shoulders stiffened, his toes curled, calf muscles bunching as he swayed back slightly, ready to pounce, even while he still parodied submissiveness. "He had his chance," Ken snarled. "He could have had everything I am. I would have ground myself to dust to please him. I almost did. He refused me and what I had to offer. I wasn't good enough." "Kenny." Mikko's thumb ran in light caresses over his jaw. "You are plenty good enough for any man. It's the men you choose who aren't worthy and don't understand what precious thing is being given into their care. You are not to be blamed because he did not want to care for you." Ken nodded. "I understand that. But..." "But what?" Mikko asked when he hesitated. "I'm scared and broken, freakishly not even a proper Ageless. One set of claws was all I could manage." Mikko didn't mention the second transformation, though he didn't really get how Ken could not know it had happened. "I would much rather watch you move mountains with your abilities than fight." "I had to."

"Had to what?" Mikko tilted his head. "Protect you. You're mine." "You've got it backwards, Kenny." Mikko tipped his head back a little more, his chin pinched between thumb and fingers. "You. Are. Mine." "Yes." Ken's lips moved, but no sound came out. "Say it." Mikko took a step toward him and stared him down. "So I can hear it." "I'm yours." "Good boy." Mikko released him and unbuckled his pants, pushed them down around his thighs to reveal his own cock. "When I imagine all the things I could do with you..." He stroked his hardening cock a few times. "Look what it does to me. Do you know what I imagine?" Ken shook his head. "I wouldn't presume to know what my Master thinks." A crooked smile lifted Mikko's lips to one side. "You know, I would not have thought I would fancy the sound of you calling me that." "Does it displease you?" Worry invaded Ken's hooded eyes.

"No, Kenny." Mikko took a moment to run his fingers through Ken's hair. "Because you say it as though you mean it." "I do. You are my master, my teacher. And my dominant half." He smiled suddenly. "I guess the only thing I have for you that isn't tainted is my trust, because it has to be created new with every relationship." "And do you trust me?" Ken nodded. "Show me. Open your mouth." Over the course of the past few months, Mikko had learned that Ken gave amazing head, but he did so on his own. He didn't like to be held to it or told how. Mikko caressed down the side of Ken's face and touched his thumb to his lips. "Nice and wide." He let the tip of his cock bump lightly against Ken's lips. And Ken opened for him, sweet lips parting, jaw dropping until he was plenty wide enough to receive. "Hands behind your back, again. I want a good grip." As Ken dropped his hands to clasp them behind his back, Mikko laced his fingers into the thick brown locks. I'm going to fuck your mouth, Kenny. Maybe spill seed right down your throat." Ken gazed up at him, a perfect picture of obedience with his lips stretched around Mikko's cock, his hands clasping

each other behind his back. Only a dark bit of uncertainty shadowed his otherwise perfect behavior. Mikko moved slowly, drawing himself out and pushing through the circle of Ken's lips to enter his warm mouth a little deeper each time. "Suck." Ken's cheeks hollowed out on the next pass, and Mikko's eyes crossed a bit at the shock of pleasure. It prompted him to pump faster, a little harder, and definitely deeper, until he bumped hard against the back of Ken's throat. A low, guttural grunt rumbled around Mikko as Ken reacted to the sensation. His eyes widened and tension made his toes curl under him again. He tried to lean back, but Mikko held him steady. "You're doing fine, Ken." He managed to keep the words steady around his growing excitement. He even managed to slow, though it gave him the chance to shove back far, controlling his descent down into Ken's throat. Ken's eyes watered, brown irises swimming in tears. A little whimpering sigh left his lips as Mikko pulled back and he twisted his head a bit, testing Mikko's grip. Mikko held him tighter. With his free hand, he brushed at a trickling tear and brought the wetness to his lips, gently licking

it away with the tip of his tongue. "Beautiful." Ken blinked at him, and leaned forward slightly. Unable to speak, he still left no doubt what he wanted. "I appreciate you wanting to please me, Kenny." Mikko pushed into the wet heat again, stopping short of Ken's gag reflex. "Shake your head from side to side if it's too much." Mikko wanted obedience, but he knew Ken would bend himself into a pretzel to please a Master. Mikko only wanted pleasure for his lover, not fear or pain. Ken just blinked at him again, and Mikko pulled himself out, knelt, though he didn't relinquish his grip. "You must do as I say. If I push too hard, you have to tell me." After a long, searching look, Ken nodded. "I will." "Good." Unable to resist, Mikko leaned close and kissed Ken's lovely, swollen lips. His lover parted for his tongue, moaning from deep in his chest and pressing himself close to Mikko's warmth, even twitching his hips eagerly against Mikko's thigh. For a moment, Mikko let him get away with rubbing his erection against the hairy friction of his thigh before pulling him out of the kiss by his hair. "Not yet, Kenny. You serve me well," he levered himself close to whisper in Ken's ear, "and I'll fuck you good and hard after." His tongue darted out, licked along Ken's ear, and he nipped the lobe with his teeth. His reward was another deep

groan. "Yesss...." Ken swayed into his touch and whimpered when he pulled away. "Yes, please." He licked his lips, completely guileless. "That would be..." he shuddered, "nice." Mikko glanced down to watch a drop of precum slither down the length of Ken's cock. Grinning slyly, he slid his finger through the wetness on Ken's tip and brought that to his tongue to taste, as well. Ken's eyes practically rolled back in his head. "You are so ready," Mikko whispered. Ken nodded and opened his mouth. "Please. Let me suck you. Fuck my mouth. Fuck my hole. Just...please. Anything." Mikko crushed those luscious lips with another heady kiss, trapping the precious, begging words between them. "Too bad your mouth will be too full to beg in a minute," he whispered, as he swung to his feet. Ken opened wide, ready to receive him the moment he was standing, and Mikko took full advantage of the invitation, shoving all the way back into Ken's throat. For a few moments, the room was filled only with wet, sucking sounds, Mikko's panting, and Ken's groans. Mikko's

hips snapped forward over and over into Ken's hot mouth until Mikko could feel the tenseness building, ready to squeeze into his balls and burst. He yanked himself free of Ken's mouth. "Down," he snapped, releasing Ken's hair and shoving him toward the floor. Ken yelped in surprise, but obliged, lowering himself with some grace, even without his hands, which he kept clasped behind his back. "Fuck. Beautiful." Mikko snatched up the lube from the bed as he passed around behind Ken and knelt. He poured the cold liquid onto Ken's ass and watched the shiver run up his spine at the shock. He slicked two fingers through the stuff and shoved them together into Ken's hole. Ken moaned and hissed, pushing back into the penetration. "Hurt?" Mikko asked. "Yess....good." Ken proceeded to fuck himself on Mikko's hand. "More." "Another finger?" Mikko pushed a third in and Ken's movements sped up, his panting and muttering drifting up from where his cheek pressed against the carpet. "Bed," Mikko directed, aware if he let Ken stay where he

was he'd end up with some nasty rug burns. He pulled him up, letting Ken use his grip on his arms to lever himself to kneeling. Mikko didn't remove his fingers, or his grip on Ken's wrists, as Ken shuffled on his knees around to face the bed. He dropped his chest into the mattress. "Better?" "Fuck me, Mikko. Please!" Ken was humping the bed now and frantically pushing himself onto Mikko's inadequate fingers. "I love to hear you beg." Mikko pulled his fingers free. "Noo!" Ken wiggled back, but Mikko slapped his ass then delved his fingers between his cheeks again, this time to play just around the outer rim of his entrance. "Mikko....Mikk..." A tiny sob of frustration parted Ken's lips in a delicious pout. He was rubbing his chest against the blanket, now, and squirming to get a hand free. Mikko tightened his grip. "You want to touch yourself?" "Uh-huh." Ken nodded and strained to look over his shoulder. Mikko thought he saw tears in his eyes again and relented, shoving just one finger into him. When Ken began to complain it wasn't enough, he curled it and raked it over Ken's nerve endings. Ken shuddered and bucked. "Fuck me, Mikko! Please!

Want you..." Enough was enough. Mikko's cock wept in anticipation, and his gut tightened at the pleading in Ken's voice. Everything he'd ever wanted. He positioned them both and guided his cock to Ken's entrance. "Tell me how you want it." "Hard. Want to feel it." Mikko rammed into Ken, a single hard, fast thrust. Ken hissed and cursed through the burn, groaned once Mikko was seated, and rocked his hips for more. "Fuck me," he mumbled, head dropping toward the mattress. Mikko did, his body already shaking with the effort of holding his orgasm back. "Come Kenny. Now." He tightened his grip on Ken's wrists and pulled him back so neither his chest, nor his cock were rubbing against the blankets. "Can you come just like this? Just my grip holding you, my cock in you?" He snapped his hips forward, sliding deep and Ken gasped, the burn of the stretch not quite eased if his garbled curse was anything to go by. Two more thrusts was all it took, and streamers of Ken's cum were shooting out onto the bed and floor in front of him. "Not even a hand on your cock," Mikko whispered, petting his chest and kissing his neck. "You're beautiful." He jerked his hips one more time and let himself fall into his own orgasm, one hand caught between them, still holding Ken's

wrists, and the other clamped tight around Ken's chest. "Oh, fuck, Kenny. Fuck." Is hips jerked in spasms of release, all on their own. His body shook and lips latched onto Ken's neck, though he didn't have even the energy to kiss. Once the last of his release trickled into Ken, Mikko fell back onto his heels, bringing Ken with him to sit in his lap. He continued to bury his face in Ken's neck, though he did free his arms and wrap both of his around Ken's torso. "Love you. So much." Ken nodded, still gulping for air, and pushed all of himself back against Mikko. "Love. Yeah." Mikko chuckled. "Bed. Lie down." He gave Ken's ass a soft tap. "Be right back." Ken crawled up onto the bed and curled onto his side, reaching a hand out to Mikko as he stood. "Want you." "Just getting a cloth, babe." Mikko leaned down to kiss him, and Ken gripped onto him, wrapping an arm around his neck, parting his lips, tonguing his way past Mikko's practicality to drop him to his knees again. "Fuck, Kenny..." Mikko's hands played up and down Ken's arms as Ken's lips traveled over the still heated, sweaty skin of his neck, shoulders and chest.

"Yes," Ken said, between kisses and nips. "Any time. Anywhere." He stopped and looked up, directly into Mikko's eyes. "But only you. Ever." "Only me." Mikko practically breathed the words, melting a little into Ken's words and unspoken promises. "Only me," he repeated, a little more firmly. "Ever." He crawled up and over Ken, who rolled to be facing him again as he settled onto the bed. "You've never played a scene with me in here," Ken said, patting the tiny space of the mattress between them. "Why?" Mikko caressed his face, kissed his forehead. "This is your safe place. I had to be careful." "I'm hard to control," Ken agreed with a little nod and a stiff turning down of his lips at the corners. "No. I don't control you. I love you. Protect you. Care for you. I don't control you." A stray bit of hair had dropped in front of Ken's dark eyes and Mikko tucked it out of the way behind his ear. "The choice has always been yours. Always will be." Ken wiggled closer, flipped so he was ensconced in Mikko's arms, back pressed firmly against Mikko's chest. "You," he said simply. "I chose you." Seconds later, his breathing evened out and he was a heavy, still weight in Mikko's embrace.

Mikko let out a soul-searing sigh. "Me." He kissed Ken's hair and hoped against hope he was enough. Everything he knew about himself didn't seem like adequate protection for the precious, fragile man he held. He knew Ken would insist on helping the wolf couple now sleeping below, and he would not deny the man that request. He owed him, and Darian and Myra that much and more. Then there was Dean and his so-called partner who had yet to materialize. Mikko held Ken tighter. "Mine." The possessiveness of that one word would have sounded foolish, even to himself, if Ken hadn't snuggled closer in his sleep, and if Dean's powerful, commanding presence hadn't already permeated their home. This wasn't over by a long shot, but one thing was certain. Mikko held the best thing that had ever happened to him in his arms, and it would be a cold day in hell before he let Dean take it, or Morgan taint it. For the first time in years, Mikko let himself hope. It was a good feeling to fall asleep with.

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Enjoy the first chapter from…

Spinning by Jaime Samms Chapter One

Ken gazed out the back window of the house to the waves; dark, rolling mounds lifted the horizon and dropped it again into the abyss on a rhythmic schedule. Gulls wheeled and cried over the water, white dots between the grey overcast and the darker ocean. "Newfoundland?" The incredulous accusation jerked Ken's attention back to the phone call, "Seriously?" "What about it?" Ken tossed his soccer ball up and caught it one-handed. Held in his other hand, the cool plastic of his ancient cell warmed against his ear. "Um...it's a rock, for starters." Mikko's indignation echoed thinly across the poor Atlantic connection. "Nothing grows there."

Ken's breath caught and his grip on the phone tightened. "So?" Belligerence, he noticed, had no echo. "You can't regrow a broken heart, anyway." Gardening is for idiots who fall in love. He fixed his gaze on the barren rocks outside the window, taking comfort in their never-changing strength. The waves rose and fell on the same cadence as his breathing. Or maybe it was the other way round. Silence didn't echo either, strung out along the line. He hung up. Sea waves splashed up over the rocks. He gulped in great breaths around the jagged edges. After a moment, the chirping ring tone soothed over his uneven breathing, and he flipped the phone open. "I know it's tough, Kenny." "You don't know fuck all." He snapped the phone closed again. A minute passed. Another. His knuckles ached. If he loosened his grip, he'd throw the damn thing. It wasn't Mikko's fault. Or the phone's. Still, he turned it to vibrate and tossed it onto the coffee table as another minute ticked past. The ring's vibration carried it almost to the floor before he lunged after the phone. His momentum carried him to the window and he leaned his forehead against the glass. The waves rolled in steadily as he opened the phone and held it to his ear. "So where are you staying?" Mikko's voice drifted, soft over the connection. He never stayed properly hung-up on.

"Why does it matter?" Ken turned away from the ocean view and tossed the ball. This time it thumped off the wall, onto a bare table behind the couch, and obediently back into his hand, just like a soccer ball should. Gravity was predictable that way. Not like men. "Because if I know you," came Mikko's reply, "and I do, you searched out some pre-furnished dump of an apartment and are sitting on someone else's lice-ridden mattress bouncing that ball of yours against paper-thin walls. Any moment now, an irate neighbor's going to come screaming down on you, and I should know where to send the cops after your bruised and bloodied self." "It's a room, actually." Ken caught the ball on its second trip and hugged it against his chest. "I'm not sitting." He glanced at the grungy couch and grimaced, turning back to the comfort of the watery view. "No one wants to live this close to the ocean since the Wave hit. It was cheap." "Even better." "Shut it." "So. Where?" "What difference does it make?" You let me go. He smothered the logical, unwelcome follow-up that'd been impossible to stop, and Mikko had never been far, oceans notwithstanding. He always, always, answered his phone.

Maybe he was a bit more like gravity than he was like other men. "Kenny" Mikko's voice caressed his soul, even over the crappy connection. "Talk to me. Tell me what happened." He could be so gentle. Ken's fingers shook as he closed the phone on that sweetness—that gentle caring. Not even a minute passed before the phone amplified his trembling with its vibration. He opened it, brought it to his ear. This time, Mikko did not speak. "Everyone leaves," Ken whispered at last, into the waiting silence. Bits and pieces. Memories more recent that Mikko, more painful, loomed up again. A back turned, a broken admission. "I'm not strong enough. I can't keep you in check." Those words had been the end. If Ken left physically, it was only because there was nothing to stay for. Those memories were the rocks he smashed himself on again and again. "You're the one half a world away from him." Mikko's voice tugged him carefully back. "I don't want to talk about this." "You don't want to tell me where you are. You don't want to

tell me how you got there. Why did you call in the first place?" Ken choked a countering question past the tight constriction in his throat. "Why do you keep calling back?" Because you're you. He knew that answer already, and behind Mikko's sigh came the tap of computer keys. Trust Mikko to still be using a physical keyboard when holo-keys and virtual screens worked so much faster. Trust him to know Ken would use a phone just as old as that computer; a phone only its ancient contemporary could trace. Ken smiled to himself. Trust Mikko to keep that old shit around, on the off chance Ken gave him the opportunity to need it. Swallowing hard, Ken pulled the phone from his ear, and held it where he could stare at it, where he could watch his own hand not closing it. His fingers tightened around the instrument, his arm around the ball, crushing it to his chest. It was time to hang up again. The distant drone of a motor, tires rattling on the gravel road outside the house, caught his attention. He had a bike. Ken gravitated toward the front of the house, but his little room in the back didn't have even a window that showed the street. The sound rumbled by without slowing. Ken's attention drifted back to the phone. Time... His own name, crowed down the line, compelled him to draw it back to his ear in time to hear Mikko let out a little huff. "Gotcha." He closed the phone and set it on the coffee table again. If

he was going to run, it had to be now. He glanced over his shoulder, to the arch in the wall and the alcove beyond. His backpack sat on the bed, packed before he'd first dialed Mikko's number. He'd managed to stay at least one step ahead of his former lover for years, spurred by Mikko's disinterest in him to keep his distance and search for the connection he craved in the arms of anyone who'd treat him with a firm hand. He'd never done well without that guidance. He needed someone to submit to when things inside him got loose. He had never found a way to get the chaos settled, get the pieces back in place without help. By the time Mikko had noticed he was in trouble, he'd already fled. Funny how his lover had no time to worry about him until he was gone, and then he'd spent every waking hour for months trying to track him down. And Mikko was a good Tracker. The best. Ken knew this. He'd learned how to be very elusive prey. Hard experience taught him not to trust in the safety of promises, so he never gave Mikko the chance to make them. He couldn't be hurt by broken ones if Mikko couldn't make them in the first place. Most of all, over the years of avoiding going back to the one place he'd almost felt safe, Ken had learned not to fall in love. Until now. Until him. The last guy had slipped under his guard, needing just as much as Ken had, and for a while, they'd leaned on each other. It would have worked, too, if Ken hadn't lost control and scared them both. In the end, his lover

hadn't been able to help, and all Ken had left was the jagged edges of more broken promises. He'd come so close to feeling safe. Secure. He'd built a home for them, planted a garden, done all the things a man happy and in love does. Then just as he began to let go, to trust, to share what he truly was, he was told no, his truest heart turned away. And Ken did what Ken had always done. He ran. To the most barren place he could find, where there were no pretty houses, just the run down, worn out remnants of the old order. Nothing grew here. Mikko was right about that. It would take a supreme effort to create anything resembling a garden on the rocks outside this house, and Ken liked it that way. No reminders of what he'd almost had. At first, he might have hoped the sea would swallow him up, but it only rocked the horizon, washed the rocks and lulled him into stopping, staying, letting the loneliness drive him almost beyond hope. Now, he wrapped himself up in the knowledge Mikko was coming. He couldn't run another step, except into oblivion. But even Mikko was at the mercy of commercial airlines. Since the crackdown on private jets and giant air busses with their environmentally hideous fuel consumption, crossing the ocean had become prohibitive and time consuming. That gave Ken time to fade back into the world, away from his former lover. All that bound them could remain loose. He'd be alone. But he'd stayed on the line just long enough for Mikko to

find him, and that simple act meant something. Besides, here, he'd found something he'd never encountered in the rest of his travels. He couldn't explain what it was. The Waves that had devastated so many coastlines at the beginning of the century had nearly wiped out this city, and recovery had been slow. Now, he knew, on a bone-deep level, such devastation was not going to happen here again. He didn't understand how he knew. He just knew. That knowledge of safety from nature's wrath slowed his flight impulse, but didn't quite stop it. Without realizing he'd done it, he'd risen, moved toward the bed and his belongings. His fingers closed over the collar of his coat on its hook, but he didn't lift it free. On the couch, the red patches of leather on his soccer ball bounced the light from the bare bulb dully back at him. His phone remained quiet on the black plastic table. Why had he called? Why had he stayed on the line? Simple questions. And an even simpler answer. Everyone left. Even he had run when he'd gotten scared. But not Mikko. Never Mikko. Ken let go of the claw-hold on his coat and slumped back to the couch. Elbows on knees, he leaned forward and touched one finger to the red plastic of the phone. They could be safe here, if he stayed. If he waited. "Hurry, Mikko."