3. Zeke—Age 29

Chapter 3

Zeke—Age 29

Present Day

Cyrus moans, shoving his head under the pillow as I step out of the shower. “Bro, get some fucking therapy for your sleeping habits. Getting up before the sun rises is fucked up.”

I slap Cyrus’s naked ass. “Keep flapping your mouth, and I’ll wake you up by shoving my cock down your throat.”

“You promise?” Cyrus wags his eyebrows.

My gaze roams his muscular frame covered in vicious burn marks. They trail in intricate swirls from his left arm across his chest and up the left side of his face. Bending, I trace my tongue along the indented flesh of his thigh until I get to his hard cock, pointing straight to the ceiling.

Cyrus fists his hand in my wet hair as he pulls me closer to the tip of his dick. “You know if you wake me up like this, my ass will become a morning person too.”

I open my lips wide and take his girth into my mouth, pushing my head down until he hits the back of my throat. My tongue glides around his smooth shaft as I gag from the upward motion of his hips, causing his cock to move deeper.

Cyrus and I move in rhythm until his body goes still. He holds my head down firmly, and I gag again as he fills my mouth with his cum. I close my eye and swallow the load he’s given me, and his hands loosen around my head.

“Guess you won’t be needing that protein shake now.” Cyrus wipes a drop of cum from the side of my mouth with his index finger before sucking it clean.

I smirk as I drop my towel and rummage for jogging pants and a t-shirt.

“Whoa, what’s the rush? Thought we’d hit up rounds two and three.”

I turn to witness Cyrus pointing to his dick, which is raring to go again. My lips curve at his ostentatious nature, and I shake my head. Usually, I’d be on him, flipping him over as I sink my teeth into his flesh and fuck him raw, but the marks on his body from last night need to heal. Guilt hits me as I glance at the teeth marks and fresh bruises on his flesh, some on his unmarked skin, while others are prominent on his scars.

I could bottom for him, but I have all this nervous energy that won’t allow it. I want to stalk, chase, and capture my prey, not submit to him. “You still gotta heal from last night. I was pretty rough on you.”

Cyrus spits on his hand and smiles as he glides it over his shaft, pumping it slowly. “Fuck, yes, you were, but that Epsom salts bath with jasmine helped.

“Gotta thank Azadeh when she finally decides to come home,” I say as I pull the black cotton t-shirt over my head.

“If she ever comes home,” Cyrus whispers, staring wistfully at the ceiling.

The clown is somber as he realizes he misses her. We all miss her. She hasn’t been back in months. Her absence has done things to our psyche we can’t explain, each of us coping in our fucked-up way. Some coping mechanisms are healthy, some questionable, and others downright destructive. I’m not sure why Azadeh has stayed away this long, but the ache in my heart won’t quit. I want to track her down, bring her back against her will if I have to.

I’ve learned over the years that Cy needs space when he’s solemn. Solitude helps to center him in ways I can’t. At first, I found it odd since he played the jester. But over the years, we’ve created a solid bond that allows him to express his wants and needs. A bond I hope Lev will also be a part of.

I kiss Cyrus’s head before leaving him in the room to wallow in misery.

Downstairs, I find a pot of coffee already started. Lev must’ve had an early start. I pour the hot liquid into a plain black mug and stare out the window.

There’s always a vacancy when Azadeh isn’t here. The three of us continue our lives and even find joy in our activities, but something is always lacking.

Jaheh shoma Kahliheh.

Over the years, Azadeh and her family have taught me Farsi. At first, I learned the language to communicate with her since she was learning English. But over time, I appreciated the poetic nature of the tongue and how everything was an emotive arrow straight to the truth of things. In Persian, you don’t simply say, “I miss you.” You say, “Jaheh shoma Kahliheh,” which means your place is empty. Azadeh not being here has left a void that nothing and no one can ever fill.

I walk out to the front of the house and sit under the pretty little gazebo built for Azadeh—a gazebo she’s never sat in. She told Lev it would look beautiful facing the willow trees.

Mornings bring solace. Sipping a cup of coffee and puffing on a smoke in the butt fuck hours of dawn brings a sense of peace and solitude. If I could capture the mist before the sun comes up and live in its essence forever, I would.

I used to despise this hour of the day. When I was younger, there was a forced obedience to it. Mornings were a time for prayer. Cleanliness in order to communicate with the big man upstairs and thank him for my abusive dad and robot mom. The irony of forcing a little boy to praise the lord for providing a sperm donor who gave him a black eye and fractured ribs.

I close and open my eye, trying to force the images of my past to dissipate like the smoke from my cigarette. I’ve been good at shoving my childhood trauma in a box and ensuring the lid stays on tight, but occasionally that shit sneaks up and bites me in the ass. But living with that man taught me how to mask my fucked-up desires. People would never assume I’m capable of the most horrendous acts known to man.

I take in the vast landscape before me, the manicured lawns and enormous trees with cascading branches lining a long driveway that ends at a majestic iron gate.

We didn’t want to live here originally. It was meant to be a pit stop before Lev, Cyrus, and I figured out our shit. But as they say, life happens when you’re busy making other plans. One thing led to another, and the manor became a refuge of sorts. A prison of our own making to complement the prison where we met.

Of the three of us, I figured it would be Lev who wouldn’t want any part of this place—a stark reminder of hell and insanity. I realized how fucked up Lev was the day he gutted his parent’s room and moved into it. The same room where he bashed his mother’s head in with a Victorian bust. I suppose we all deal with our parental drama in different ways.

I take a haul of my smoke before sipping from the ceramic mug, relishing the burn of the scalding coffee coating my throat. My eyesnarrow as a black two-door sports car stops at the gate. The door to the sleek black machine opens, and I instinctively reach for my eye patch. Losing my eye was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

Stepping out of the vehicle is the girl who cost me my eye but gave me a family. Azadeh Baran.

The patio chair shifts, and black coffee spills on the table as I rush to my feet and sprint to the gate like a dog excited to see its owner after a long day. This is how it’s always been with Azadeh and me. She goes off to discover new things, and I wait to welcome her home.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons the three of us kept this house. We made excuses that it was convenient or the layout of the manor and the land around it were so massive that it could shelter us from our seedy activities. But we all knew why we stayed frozen in time. It was so a pretty girl with long black hair always had a place to call home.

Azadeh gets back in the car as the gates swing open, granting access to the sleek black Maserati. I’m uncertain if I should keep running toward her or have some dignity and let her drive to me. Logically, the cool thing to do is to act aloof and wait. But when it comes to Azadeh, I’ve never had any chill. There’s something magnetic about her. A wild rose you want to encase in glass so you can gaze at its wonder for all eternity.

My decision is made when the car comes to a halt beside me. The engine’s roar is silenced, and Azadeh storms out of the car.

Before she can say anything, I’ve wrapped my arms around her in a bear hug as I twirl her in the air. Azadeh Baran. My girl looks good. Better than good. She nuzzles her head in the crook of my neck, and my cock instantly hardens. She’s the only girl who’s ever been able to pull that voodoo. My skin lights on fire when she brushes her lips against my flesh.

Fuck, I missed her. I knew my relationship with her would never be more than fleeting moments because of her ambition, but she stayed away far too long this time.

“Look what the cat dragged in. About time you stopped by during your world tour, Princess. I know everyone needs saving, but your three men have missed you desperately.”

“I’ve missed you too, Zeke. So damn much, but this is going to have to wait.” Azadeh pulls away from me, and I notice her tired, red-rimmed eyes. She glances at the manor and clenches her teeth. “Where’s Lev?”

I place her down and look her over. Her arms hang by her sides, her hands clenching and unclenching, her stance rigid as if she’s hankering for a fight. Lev and Azadeh have always managed to get under each other’s skin, pushing buttons left and right until one explodes in anger. But never in all these years have I witnessed her wanting to rip his head off his torso and place it on a spike. Until now.

“Did he do something?”

There’s no way Lev would hurt her. He loves her.

Azadeh pushes past me and runs to the front door. Like the dutiful puppy who senses his owner is upset, I chase after her, coming to a halt before Azadeh opens the front door and busts into the foyer.

“Get your ass out here, Lev!”

“Hello, Az,” Lev says, emerging from his office. He’s wearing his typical three-piece suit, all prim and proper, giving the illusion of a refined businessman. Yet the ink peeking from his crisp cotton shirt collar and the words “fuck” and “life” tattooed on his knuckles tell a different story. Lev tugs at the lapels of his light gray suit jacket as if he’s been inconvenienced by the help before settling his gaze on Azadeh. “Welcome home.”

Azadeh doesn’t say anything. She looks at Lev as if she wants to rip his flesh from his bones and stomp on his discarded remains. In the years I’ve known Azadeh, I’ve never seen her glare at one of us with such disdain and venom. When her claws are out, it’s usually because she’s digging them into our backs and begging to be fucked harder.

Before I can stop her, she bulldozes toward Lev, and a loud slap reverberates in the hallway, echoing off the cathedral ceilings.

“How could you?” she shrieks. “I thought you gave a fuck about me. You were working on your shit, Lev. Zeke was helping you. I believed that no matter how insane you behaved, you would always have my back. How could you?”

“Whoa, what the fuck is going on?” I demand.

Azadeh knows not to touch Lev unless he initiates it. We all know that. Lev’s jaw ticks as he rubs the red mark marring his skin. I’m not sure if I’m more worried about Azadeh or Lev. Either could blow.

Azadeh turns to me, voice shaking from the tears I know she’s trying to hold at bay. She’s always been worried about appearing weak. Crying gives her enemies the upper hand and exposes her wounds. “Were you in on it?”

Azadeh is substantially more unhinged than Lev at the moment. I raise my hands, palms open wide. “I don’t even know what’s up. Whatever you’re mad at him for, it has nothing to do with me. I swear it on my good eye.”

Azadeh squints as she stares me directly in that good eye, assessing me, deciding if I’m being honest or pulling her leg.

“Az, I fuckin’ sacrificed an eye for you. You think I’d ever do anything to hurt you?”

She tilts her head and glares at me with her rich brown eyes. Fuck, I love those eyes. They’re so damn expressive, always telling on her even before her mouth opens. Those eyes made me jump to her rescue all those years ago. I still remember the first time I saw her, a scared little mouse hurled into a new world where she didn’t know anyone or understand anything.

Her eyes are still fixed on me as if she’s deciding whether to believe me. “I’m sorry, Zeke. I’m scared.”

My heart thumps with annoyance. “Fuck, Azadeh, this is me. You think I’d do something to piss you off like this?”

Azadeh nods and walks toward Lev. My shoulders relax. Maybe all this will blow over. Azadeh and Lev have always had a fucked-up love-hate relationship. They have a lot of love for each other but can’t seem to express it in a healthy way. It makes sense as neither had peaceful early years.

“Where is she, Lev?” Azadeh’s voice is cold. It’s the crazy calm tone that tells me I might find Lev’s head rolling by my feet if she doesn’t get what she wants.

Lev glares down at her. “You ready to meet my demands?”

“No, Lev, I’m not. After this, you’ll never see me again. I’m taking my sister and getting as far away from your psychotic ass as I can.”

Lev nods. “It’s unfortunate we couldn’t reach an agreement, and neither of us will get what we want.”

Azadeh’s hand moves to her belt, and she unsheathes a sharp knife. Before she does something she’ll regret, I grab her waist and haul her toward me. I’m confident she won’t stab me with it. Well, I hope she won’t. My chances look a whole lot better than Lev’s.

Her scream is shrill, and she kicks out, narrowly missing my dick.

I sink my teeth into her shoulder to calm her the fuck down. “You know that’s a valuable appendage, right? I can live with one eye, but if you fuck my dick up, I’m not sure I’ll survive.”

Azadeh ignores my joke as she thrashes in my arms, pushing and shoving to wiggle free. “I’m gonna kill you, Lev. I’m going to stand over your body and laugh as I fucking slice and dice each of your organs until all that’s left is gutted flesh and bones.”

Fuck. She’s seething. I’ve never seen her like this. Azadeh leans forward, and the next thing I know, a wad of spit hits the corner of Lev’s mouth.

Lev’s gaze moves from me to Azadeh. Without a word, he lifts his index finger to the spit and slides it into his mouth. “You shouldn’t have stayed away this long.”

“Anyone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” I demand.

Azadeh turns her head, eyes bloodshot and wild. “Why don’t you ask him?”