Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

KILLIAN

I understand the concept of sex. The biological function. But these feelings confuse me. This overwhelming need to have him.

Beau starts to move, and I tighten my grip on his hair. His face is flushed a beautiful red, and he huffs out a breath. "Really, cher? You're giving me mixed signals."

"Take a picture. Please. It's imperative I figure out who I am and why I'm here. If it wasn't immediate…if we had more time, I would be agreeable to giving my body what it wants."

"What it wants?" The way his eyes sparkle, I think he knows. But I respond, just to be sure.

"My penis wants to be in your mouth."

He sucks in a breath. As his hands tighten on my hips, his eyes find mine. Excitement. Need. His voice is low and husky. "My mouth is totally on board. Just in case you were wondering."

"For fuck's sake, Beau, I don't have all goddamn day," his mother yells from the living room. "Stop jerking each other off and get in here."

Beau releases me and takes pictures from several different angles. With him right there, my body becomes insistent. I ignore it. He curses and shakes his head. But he's still only inches away.

He jumps to his feet. "What's the hurry? And I'm not talking about my mom. You said immediate. What does that mean?"

"Immediate means right now?—"

He thumbs his brow. "I know the definition, Killian. But why? You can't remember anything. Unless you're not being honest." He frowns.

Does Beau really think I'm lying? I ignore the slight pain in my chest. "It's difficult to explain. My body remembers. Even if I can't."

"Like a trauma response. The memory is submerged in your subconscious, but your body remembers?"

I consider his words. It's not exactly right, but close. I open my mouth—his eyes watch my every move. Need surges through me. His lips on mine. On my body. I push my desires away and focus on his question. The spoken one, not the one in his eyes. "It's not trauma—although that doesn't feel completely inaccurate. It's like when a deer knows there's danger."

"Your Spidey sense is tingling? Why didn't you say so?"

"I have no idea what that means. Spiders?—"

"Never mind." He wraps his arms around his head as he considers my answer. Then he rubs his eyes. "Okay, I'm going to finish examining you. Try not to be so hot."

"I'm not?—"

"And literal."

I snap my mouth shut, and he continues. His touch feels more clinical as he finishes my legs. He touches behind my knee, and my legs feel weak even as other places get hard. He examines my feet, even the bottoms, and I hold on to him so I don't fall. He's right within reach, and my body gets the wrong idea. But I ignore my physical response. I need to get through this.

He examines my cock, but unlike the rest of my body, his hands stay by his side.

"You can touch it." I sound breathless.

He groans. "Killian, seriously."

His eyes burn through me, consuming me.

"It will be more effective if you examine me thoroughly."

He nods once, and I stare at his bookshelves to distract myself from his touch. Why does he have all these bones? I focus on identifying each one: alligator skull, raccoon fibula, a partial rat skeleton.

His fingers touch my shaft and I grow harder than the rocks on his shelf. But he's thorough in his examination.

"Not sure this is necessary," he says, clearing his throat. "People aren't usually identified by their genitals." He laughs. "I can just imagine going into the DMV. Beauregard Tremere, please whip out your dick so we can verify it's you."

He's rambling. Is he nervous? I want to reassure him. More than that, I want to touch him. Examine him .

Holding still is difficult. His fingers explore from the bottom of my shaft to the top, where I'm leaking. His finger swipes over the spot, and he sucks it off. I can't—I tug on his hair, needing him to stand. His mother is in the next room. And she has a gun.

"Sorry," he says with a blush and a grin. "But hell, this would make a great porno. Alien top meets horny bottom." As I try to process his words and not make a mess on his floor, he twirls his hand. "Turn around."

I turn. This is the first time he's seen me from the back.

"Holy hell, Killian."

"What?" I turn to see what he's looking at, but from this angle, it's impossible.

"Stop. You're like a dog chasing his tail."

He grabs my shoulders and turns me toward the light coming from the window. Then he's doing something I can't see. I try not to move.

"I'm taking a picture of it. Let me finish and I'll show you."

He hurries through the rest of it. The back of my neck, his fingers trailing through the hair on my nape. Down my back. Over my buttocks, his breath on my skin as he pulls my cheeks apart.

"You said to be thorough," he says.

Is he worried I'll complain? The truth is I never want him to stop.

But he doesn't linger. Once he finishes, he jumps to his feet, grabs my clothes, and stuffs them in my hands. He walks over to the window, fanning his face as I quickly dress.

"I'm ready."

He pulls out his phone and shows me the pictures.

Desire vanishes from my body replaced with a cold dread. On my inner thigh is a mark with no color. But it's easily read. A9.

"Did someone brand you?"

I can't think about that because on my lower back is a dark mark. Like an explosion fanning out with a hole in the center. I swallow the bile in my throat.

"Killian?" His voice sounds far away. "Want to share with the rest of the class?"

I shake off the fear gripping me. It won't help. "I recognize this mark."

"You remember?"

"No. Not really. Just enough to know we're in danger."

"What kind of danger?"

There's a wariness in his eyes, and I want to go back. Back to earlier. When things weren't so complicated.

"Beau, I'm giving you five minutes, and then I'm dragging you and your fuck buddy out of this house!"

His mom knows something. I'm sure of it. But her yelling saves me from answering his questions. Not that I have an answer.

"Jesus, she's unhinged. Let's get this over with." He shifts, and I'm not sure if he's about to run or ask me to leave. Wouldn't that be the best thing? "Maybe she'll know what to do."

I grab his arm to stop him, and I'm somehow still startled by the spark that surges through me. It's a normal biological reaction, but that doesn't make it easier to ignore, especially when his sharp intake of breath is like adding dry kindling to a fire.

"Beau," I say, pinning him with my gaze so he gets it. "We can't tell your mom."

"Why not? That's the reason we're doing this, right?"

My gaze doesn't waver. "The marks…change everything. I can't put you or your mom in danger."

It's not the only reason, but there are some things I can't say. The dark images. The rush of…something. I'm still not sure what's true and what isn't.

"How much danger are we talking?"

I turn away, not wanting him to see the answer in my eyes. My body feels weighed down, drained of energy. I need to do this without Beau. But leaving him feels wrong. There's something about him I crave.

His light.

His warmth.

His submission.

I shake my head, but it doesn't discharge the images.

Hunting him.

Claiming him.

Dominating him.

"Are you sure? What the hell?" His mother's words are clear, and I glance at Beau. "Where did they find it?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, tilting his head and catching my gaze. Is it possible he didn't hear her?

"Yes. Fine."

He smiles and leads the way back to his living room. His mother is outside, still on the phone. The door is open, but she is turned away. Again, the words are clear, as if she's shouting instead of whispering. "Lafitte's? On Bourbon Street? Okay, check for any other sightings. I want to know who this guy is and what he's doing with my son."

The other person responds—this isn't Wilson from before. It's the other officer. The woman. " Do you think that guy has anything to do with…the body? Doesn't Beau work at The Dungeon ?"

"Mom?"

She jerks around. "I'll call you back."

Beau takes the lead. He knows his mother and how to navigate her questions. Except there aren't any. Not even when he tells her we found nothing. His eyes narrow, confirming my suspicion. She doesn't just give up. Is it because her focus is now elsewhere?

"What about you? Did you find anything?" Beau asks, his eyes never leaving her face.

She shakes her head. "No missing person reports on anyone fitting his description."

"A white male?" He crosses his arms. "That seems unlikely."

"If anything comes in, I'll let you know. There was some weird shit going on last night, but I doubt it's related to your boy here."

"What weird shit?"

She shrugs. But she's definitely hiding something. "Reports of the ground shaking. Animals getting out of their cages at the zoo. Trampled grass and knocked over trees at the wildlife refuge. And nothing there is big enough to do that. Sasquatch sightings." She shakes her head. "Mars is in retro. Go figure."

Beau exchanges a look with me that clearly says he's not buying it. Any of it.

Her phone beeps and she checks the screen. "I need to get back." She fixes Beau with a stare. "Stay out of trouble."

After she leaves, Beau's shoulders relax, but lines crease his forehead. "She's lying."

"Yes."

"You could tell?"

I hesitate. How much should I tell him? "She didn't question when you lied to her."

"She did not." He throws himself on the couch and leans his head back. "What the hell is going on, Killian?"

I'm not sure if his question is rhetorical, so I don't respond. After a moment, he peers up at me. There are so many questions in his eyes. Questions I can't answer.

"I don't know," I say, keeping my voice calm.

"I don't believe that. Something changed. What is that on your thigh? Your back? Why are you here? At my house?"

I keep my eyes on him and my voice steady. "I don't know. But your mother is right. This is something I need to figure out on my own. Thank you for helping me."

"Uh, no."

"Beau—"

"Hell no." He jumps to his feet. "First of all, my mother is never right. And you can't show up on my doorstep, naked and sexy, and then just fuck off. Wearing my clothes."

His clothes. Right. The T-shirt has a light pink stain on the end. I rub my fingers over it and then pull the ends up so I can take it off. He jerks the shirt down and grabs my hands. I could easily get out of his grasp, but I don't.

His face is flushed red. His eyes are furious and…hurt? "I don't care about the damn clothes. I want to help you figure this out."

"Why?" My body still feels heavy as if I'm wading through the swamp. "You don't know anything about me."

"You first. Why do you suddenly want to leave?"

The determination on his face reminds me of his mother. Would admitting my fears exacerbate the situation?

But what other choice do I have? I need to keep him safe.

"I told you my…Spidey sense is telling me something is wrong." He nods, but he doesn't let go of my hands. "But it's more than that. I don't know who I am. Or why I'm here. The one thing I do know is that someone or something is after me."

"Okay."

I catch his gaze. "And it's getting closer."