Page 54 of No Man's Land

Alex’s eyebrows rose. “I see you’re an acolyte of Messrs Marx and Engels.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Josef added with a sarcastic smile, “Maybe you should read them. Then you’ll know what’s coming.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Alex spun from the window, heading for his drinks cabinet. “Meanwhile, while we await the proletarian revolution, I still have the pressing issue of a nest of flesh-eating ghouls somewhere in London.” He set out two glasses and reached for a bottle of brandy. “Drink?”

On principle, Josef felt like he should refuse. Some socialist he was, drinking with Lord Beaumont in his fancy flat. Even so, it felt churlish to refuse—and after the day he’d had, he could really do with a drink. And Alex had a point about the ghoul. “What do you mean ‘somewhere in London?’ Don’t you know where they are?”

“If I knew where they were, I’d have dealt with them by now.” He poured two generous glasses and held one out for Josef. “What else did you think I’d been doing for the last few weeks? Following you around for fun?”

“It crossed my mind,” Josef said, accepting the drink.

To his astonishment, a flush coloured Alex’s refined features. He said, crisply, “I’m looking for the nest.”

Which was a terrifying thought. “Are you saying they could be anywhere in London?”

“Pretty much. Anywhere dark and dank, with a ready supply of fresh corpses.”

With a snort, Josef said, “Have you tried the House of Lords?”

Alex choked on his brandy, resulting in an extremely inelegant coughing fit which set Josef giggling—fucking giggling!—as he tried ineffectually to thump Alex on the back. He didn’t even know why he was laughing; nothing in his life was remotely funny. But maybe that was the point. Maybe you couldn’t be afraid and angry all the time. Maybe sometimes those worming dark emotions escaped. And better to laugh than to cry.

Seemed like Alex agreed, because his coughing and laughter were all mixed up as he doubled over, hands on his thighs, and wheezed, “God, but that’s so true!” before collapsing again into laughter.

Eventually, the squall passed, and Josef got himself under control, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Alex leaned against the drinks cabinet, catching his breath, watching Josef. And Josef watched him back, taking in the elegant suit with the splash of blood on one cuff, the brick dust in his hair and streaking his face.

Out of nowhere, reality landed a stealthy right hook.

Josef had nearly died today. Twice. By rights, he should be in the mortuary right now. Cold and dead, or worse.

But he wasn’t dead; by some miracle he was warm and breathing and very muchalive. Blood rushed in his ears, his heart thumped in his chest, and his body sang with sudden, physical presence as if every nerve was fighting for a taste of life.

“Fuck,” he said in a voice that shook as hard as his hand. He set his drink down before he spilled it. “Fucking hell. If we’d been a hundred yards closer to that bomb...”

Alex straightened, eyes locked with Josef’s, a bolt of heat flashing between them. “We were lucky.”

“Bloody lucky.” Josef took a step closer, too close to be misconstrued. “How about we do something with that luck?”

Alex’s eyebrows rose. “What did you have in mind?”

“I think you know.”

“But you…” He faltered, looking uncertain for a moment, before scrambling on a wry expression. “It’s not against your principles, then, to fuck an aristocrat?”

Josef smiled, grinning when he saw the same expression kindling in Alex’s eyes. “Fucking the aristocracy is my mission in life, mylord.”

“Is that so?” Alex lifted his hand to run a light, intentional finger along the line of Josef’s jaw. “I suppose you’d like to see us on our knees.”

“Fuck, yes,” Josef said, rather more breathily that he’d hoped. “I’d bloodylovethat.”

Alex drew his bottom lips between his teeth, biting gently, a gesture at once so knowing and vulnerable that Josef groaned.Fuck. Was he really going to risk this? Again?

Apparently, he was.

“Jesus,” Alex hissed, one hand landing on Josef’s hip and pulling them together. He was hard; so was Josef. It felt wonderful. “I didn’t think you’d want—”

“Shut up,” Josef growled, and silenced both their doubts with a fierce kiss, driving his fingers into Alex’s silken hair and holding him just where he wanted him.

Groaning softly, Alex met the kiss with the eagerness of a famished man. Josef knew how he felt; they were kissing as if the bombs were about to fall, and perhaps they were.

---