20. Matthias

20

MATTHIAS

E arlier, when I climbed over the boulders, the last thing I expected to see was Ciaran dancing around the fire. He moved like a ballet dancer, his motions fluid and mesmerizing, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I found enjoyment, if you could call it that, sipping from my cup and watching the way others reacted around Ciaran.

New as he was, he would be a commodity for a group that enjoyed meeting new people, and a handsome young man like Ciaran would be in hot demand.

At first I wasn't aware that my swim captain, Jason Strickland, was staring at Ciaran. Jason, at twenty-two, had a look in his eye, the kind that indicted he saw someone he wanted.

And he had his sights on Ciaran.

I tried not to frown.

What business was it of mine? While Jason was older, I'd never known him to be a complete asshole, and even though we'd traded a few hand jobs in the showers last year, I didn't care who Jason messed with.

As long as it wasn't Ciaran.

But then again, Ciaran seemed to need someone to take his mind off Drew.

It wasn't my job to monitor the love lives of others.

I had to forcefully remind myself that I wasn't Ciaran's responsibility when Jason began grinding behind Ciaran. That didn't stop me from wanting to stomp over and pull them apart. But I kept my cool. It was a Herculean effort. Filipe was talking about an upcoming street race. Joan was flitting around the group, dancing and flirting.

The fire was too hot, the wind too brisk, the alcohol too strong. My skin itched beneath my clothes.

I was so sure Ciaran would tell Jason to fuck off. But he didn't and I had a front row seat when Jason's hand snaked into the front of Ciaran's jeans. Squeezing my cup to shreds, I moved, and it took Filipe to hold me back.

"Let the boy be, my man," Filipe said, his voice calm. "Ciaran appears to be where he wants to be and he could do worse than Jason."

I all but growled, and saw red when Ciaran spun around and immediately kissed Jason on the lips. No holds barred. The way Ciaran kissed was so hungry I could feel it deep in my gut.

In what seemed like slow motion, I watched as Ciaran's tongue dipped into Jason's mouth.

I don't know precisely when things went sideways, but one second I was at Filipe's side and the next I was yanking Jason away from Ciaran.

Filipe was yelling at me in an uncharacteristic fashion, and I was attempting to defend my actions, so my guard was down.

I didn't expect Ciaran's reaction to be so physical .

When he punched me, I went down fast. My jaw rattled, and a sharp pain shot down through my neck and shoulders.

I blinked back stars to peer up at Ciaran's taut, vibrating figure. My dick plumped up when he towered over me like a gladiator.

Blood trickled down my lower gum line and a thin, warm line dripped from the corner of my mouth. I touched a finger to it, and it came away bloody.

He'd split my lip, not that I didn't deserve it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Matthias?" Ciaran shouted, cradling his bruised knuckles. "You're determined to ruin my fun, aren't you?"

"It was for your own good, Ciaran," I said as Filipe pulled me to my feet.

The party around us had resumed. Beachside scuffles were a dime a dozen.

In most cases, there would have been no excuse for my actions, but after Filipe chastised me, all I had to do was point at the empty red cup in Ciaran's hand.

Filipe nodded and murmured, "Ah."

For unexperienced Cove drinkers, the red fire oblivion mixture could make you amorous one second and then frenzied the next. Ciaran could have gone from kissing Jason to biting off his tongue or lip without even knowing what he was doing. It made the drinker want to get closer to someone, and even when you were side-by-side, touching, just like Ciaran and Jason were, it didn't feel like it was close enough.

Red fire oblivion gave you the sensation of needing to crawl into their body just to get closer. The way Ciaran was kissing Jason with wild abandon, my instinct told me Ciaran was minutes away from tearing Jason's flesh off his face.

Ciaran was passionate, something I'd seen after stealing his phone—but he wasn't that kind of passionate. Or, at least I didn't think so.

In addition to that—because I couldn't lie to myself—I didn't want to admit that watching Ciaran kissing and rubbing up against someone else unlocked the possessive brute lurking deep within me.

I had no right to be possessive.

First off, I didn't even like Ciaran.

At the moment, the feeling was mutual. In fact, given the tirade of expletives Ciaran continued to throw my way, he hated my guts. If we were lucky, he wouldn't remember any of this after sleeping off the red fire oblivion.

Secondly, Ciaran was my stepbrother.

Granted, we didn't grow up together, but he was off-limits. Completely and strictly off-limits.

"Which fucker gave the new kid red fire?" Joan hollered, staring down everyone. As petite as she was, she was as compact as a grenade. People literally feared her.

There was a smattering of murmurs, but not surprisingly, no one owned up to it.

"It could have been Jason himself," I suggested. I searched for Jason's dark hair, but didn't see him anywhere.

"Take the kid home, Matty," Filipe said. Thankfully, I hadn't consumed more than a few sips, so I'd be able to drive without issue. "Don't forget about the statue in the back," Filipe added.

I nodded. Earlier, after Filipe, Joan, and I looked over the artifact in the back of the SUV, Joan agreed to reach out to a few of her contacts to see how quickly we could get it off our hands. The longer we had the contraband, the easier it would be to trace it back to us.

"Joan, do you think you can assist Ciaran to the car?" I asked. Ciaran's ice-chip eyes were throwing daggers at me. "He likes you and he's sure as hell not going to accept my help climbing the boulders."

"Good point," Joan said, taking control. She approached Ciaran, rubbing his lower back. "Can I take you back, cutie?"

"Will I have to look at his ugly face?" Ciaran pointed at me.

"Only for a little while longer, honey. Once you're back in your bedroom, you can lock the door and forget all about Matty's stupid face."

"Hey," I protested.

"You want my help or not?" Joan retorted. I merely looked heavenward. To Ciaran, she said, "Ready?"

Ciaran grumbled his consent.

It took some effort, but we navigated over the boulders and successfully buckled him into the SUV's front passenger seat.

"I've got it from here," I told Joan. Ciaran was out of it by this point. He was twirling Joan's necklace in his fingers.

"So sparkly," Ciaran said to no one.

She studied Ciaran's face for a brief second and fixed his hair. "He's such a cutie."

From the driver's seat, I growled out, "Ciaran is off-limits."

"Relax, Matty," she replied. Closing the passenger door, she walked to my side. She placed a gentle kiss on the non-split side of my mouth. "Call me crazy, but after witnessing tonight's events, I have a feeling I'm not his type."

Her eyes found mine and I sensed a deeper question there. I could tell she wanted to ask about my actions, but as my friend, she refrained. There'd been a lot of change in my life this week. Joan would give me a few days' reprieve.

It wasn't a long drive back to the estate. I parked on the top deck, near the main entrance, with the intention of parking in the garage once I got Ciaran into the guesthouse.

"All right, Ciaran," I said as I unbuckled his seatbelt. It was like talking to a toddler. "Ready to go to bed?"

"Mmhm," he mumbled.

"Lovely."

I assisted Ciaran as best I could, but he stumbled almost from the first step, dragging me down with him. At this rate we'd be old men by the time we got upstairs.

It was clear I was going to have to carry the damn fool.

At least he was a quiet drunk. The last thing I needed was Ciaran becoming a crooner at two in the morning.

Lifting Ciaran in my arms took some doing. It wasn't every day I carried a fully grown human in my arms. But powerlifting was part of my dryland training, so the main thing I needed to be careful about was doors, walls, or things that could trip me going up the stairs.

When I hoisted him up, Ciaran's arms came around my shoulders and I felt the sharp sting there.

Right…I had to be careful of my shoulder.

Thank God the guesthouse door wasn't locked because I was not prepared to put Ciaran down, dig out my keys, and then pick him back up again. I would have just left him on the ground.

The stairs were tricky. Ciaran was humming a tune while his hands were fiddling with the strings of my hoodie.

Once upstairs, my shoulder was screaming by the time I kicked open his door and deposited him on his bed. He nestled on his side while I took off his shoes and grabbed the opposite side of the blanket to drape it over his figure.

I turned off the bedroom light and went in search of a bucket Ciaran could use to puke in, if it came to that. I grabbed a bottle of water, opened it, and, once back upstairs, I placed it by his bedside.

The lights were still off, but slants of moonlight fell on his face.

Ciaran's eyes were open.

"Ciaran?" I thought he was about to throw up.

"I'm glad you came." His voice was soft, vulnerable, as if he was someone else completely, and not the idiot who'd consumed his first cup of red fire oblivion on his eighteenth birthday.

He tore off the blanket.

"Ciaran," I said, leaning down to feel his forehead, "you're drunk. Go to sleep."

"I've dreamt of this." His hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb smoothing along my stubble.

My stomach flipped. That was new.

"We can talk about it in the morning. You're in no position for this."

"We'll see about that," was all he said before he pulled my face down to his, his warm lips capturing mine.

It was a brief touch, like the wings of a butterfly, but it scorched every cell in my body.

Ciaran protested when I leaned back.

"Ciaran, think through this," I advised. "This is not a good idea."

His arms snaked out, wound around my shoulders, and tugged me down atop him. His legs spread and my body fit perfectly in his embrace.

"Jesus," I hissed when he deepened the kiss and his tongue touched mine. His kisses, which were wet and sloppy, were enthusiastic but spoke of inexperience. I'd take enthusiasm any day of the week.

Instinctively, my hips thrust forward, and he made an approving sound in the back of his throat. My blood pumped hot through my veins.

It felt best to let Ciaran take the lead. It was sweet. It was hot. It was…sensual.

I'd been holding back.

I should retreat.

I should get up and walk out the door.

But having the full length of him beneath me would be my undoing.

His legs wrapped around my waist and his hard length pressed against mine. The way his strong fingers groped at the edge of my sweater spoke of his urgency, and I was powerless to resist the way his mouth slanted over mine, how his tongue slipped inside my mouth.

It was no wonder I was slowly losing all vestiges of control.

"Kiss me back, dammit," Ciaran ordered, biting my lip.

Like a dam breaking, it activated a beast within me.

I growled into Ciaran's mouth, claiming it for my own, and thrust hard against him. He came alive beneath me. Panting and moaning. The noises he made sent zingers through my body.

His mouth was hot; his tongue felt amazing against my own. My split lip stung, but hell if I cared. If he wanted to punch me and then kiss it to make it better, I was game. When he licked my neck, I shivered all over, and became powerless to deny him anything.

My cock was rock hard beneath my jeans, demanding to be released, and I could feel the shape of him beneath me. God, what I'd do to see him in the flesh…my lips ached to taste all of him. I wanted to wrap my hand around him, to stroke and bring him to climax, to witness his ascension to oblivion.

His hands scraped beneath my shirt, scratching my skin, digging into my flesh savagely.

Fuck, I loved it, but that was going to leave a mark. I needed more and would die if I didn't taste him soon.

He pulled off my hoodie and T-shirt, and I was pulling his off when he said, "You're more beautiful than I ever imagined. I've been waiting for this for so long, Drew."

I froze.

It was like I'd been dunked in an ice bath.

Ciaran thought I was Drew.

Drunk Ciaran thought I was Drew.

Fuck. What had I been about to do?

I was such an asshole.

The kid was fucking drunk and I let it go too far.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I sat up and scrambled to the end of the bed, out of reach.

"This can't happen tonight Ciaran." I put my shirt on while my heart pounded in my chest.

"Don't leave me, Drew." His voice was frantic. "I promise I'll be good. We can go all the way. I won't tell. Please believe me."

Who the fuck was Drew and why did he have such a hold on Ciaran?

I had a decision to make: pretend to be Drew to deescalate the situation or convince Ciaran I wasn't Drew.

The first option appeared to be my best choice. "I know you'll be good, Ciaran. But right now, I need you to listen to me." Ciaran seemed to wait to hear the next set of instructions. "Right now, go to sleep, so I can go do something. Then I'll be right back. Can you do that for me?"

"You'll come back?"

"I won't go far and I'll come back."

"Right back?"

Did Ciaran have a fear of people leaving him?

"Yes, right back."

"Okay," Ciaran said in a calmer manner.

Then, without warning, he leaned over and started retching. I moved the bucket just in time. After a few cycles, and giving him the water bottle, Ciaran turned on his side and started snoring.

I left the bucket in its spot in case he had another upset.

After wiping down his mouth and making sure he was tucked in under the covers, I moved the SUV down into the basement garage.

Back upstairs, I stored the statue in the safe, took a shower, and attempted to go to sleep.

But it took a very long time to reconcile my body's reaction to Ciaran.