Page 106 of Crocodile Tears

“No, it isn’t.” He released Alexander’s wrist, shoved him away, and got up. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

“It’s what both my previous houders wanted from me,” Alexander replied, with a shrug.

“Let’s get one thing straight: you’re not here to provide me with sex. I would never, ever have sex with an IS.”

Alexander dropped his gaze. “Very well, sir.”

“The idea is repellent. It disgusts me,” Josiah added, viciously.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Alexander whispered, his head hanging down.

“I think you should go to bed. It’s late.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He moved towards the living room door, looking dejected.

“One more thing,” Josiah said quietly.

Alexander paused in the doorway.

“You should know that I’m a light sleeper, and I always go to bed with a weapon close to hand. I was once a soldier – I wake up fighting if disturbed.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Are you ordering me not to kill you in your sleep, sir?”

Josiah gave a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it. I wouldn’t dare.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I remember reading about what you did at Rosengarten.”

That comment caught Josiah off guard.Rosengarten.It seemed that everyone knew what had happened there. But Alexander disappeared upstairs before he could think of a reply.

He tidied up, feeling unsettled, pausing as he threw away their takeaway boxes in the kitchen bin. His hachée carton from the previous evening was clearly visible from where Alexander had been standing earlier when he’d said that he loved hachée. Yet he’d barely touched his meal. Had he been lying, in an attempt to please his new houder?

Everything about Alexander was confusing. Dacre used to slap him regularly and had given him to other people for sex. How was itpossible that Alexander hadn’t resented him for that? Had that resentment simmered until it had finally given way to murder? He’d been so certain that Alexander was innocent, but maybe Reed was right.

“Do you blame the poor bastard? What a fucking awful life he was leading,”Peter’s voice murmured in his ear.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “It’s all your fault he’s here. I’ll do my best for him if he’s innocent, but I can’t help him if he murdered someone. You know my rules.”

“You do know I’m not actually here, love, right?”Peter asked softly.

Josiah could almost feel his fingers ruffling his hair, teasing him gently. “Yes, I know. I know that all too bloody well. I’m the one who’s had to live without you for all these years because that big, stupid heart of yours finally got you killed.”

A tidal wave of grief hit him so hard that he had to hold on to the chair, shaking, until it passed. Then he snapped off the light and strode from the room.

Peter’s scent, and the sound of his voice, lingered in the air behind him.

Chapter Eighteen

OCTOBER 2087

Alex

George Tyler lived on an impressive private island near Lewes in East Sussex. Alex drove his duck nervously across a narrow lost zone to reach it, wondering what to expect from his appointment with his father’s old enemy.

He exited the water onto a wide, tree-lined drive that led to the huge house where Tyler lived. Suddenly, he was aware that George Tyler was a richer man, by far, than his father.

The Lighthouse was a modern, tasteful blend of vast windows and white walls, expensive and majestic, so unlike the faded Pre-R charms of The Orchard.

When he drew up, an IS appeared immediately to open the door of his duck. It was raining, and another IS materialised, as if by magic, to hold an umbrella over his head and escort him inside.

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