Page 39 of Xerxes Ascendant
Kyle didn’t protest. He wasn’t in the mood for watching Tyrone put his hands all over Akira again, and besides, as his employer had reminded him on multiple occasions, Kyle wasn’t responsible for the House’s finances.
He’d leave this one to the boss.
And it seemed Master Epsilon neither warranted nor would tolerate anything as uncouth as brute force, for their exit from Club Luxe was by way of a civil escort in which none of the security laid a hand on them. Ejected out into the grimy alley behind the building with nothing less than a bow from one of their escorts, Kyle huffed out an amused breath. He was fairly certain that if Akira hadn’t interjected in his own forcible removal, security would have entreated him to a few solid kicks before leaving him on the filthy ground as a reminder to play nice.
There were many perks to being in his Master’s company, the lack of bruises only the latest and one of the lesser. Ranked among the other privileges was the way Kyle could lose himself in those rich brown eyes whenever Akira looked at him, which he did after briefly checking his runepad.
A rare display of emotion twisted in those haunting depths but was quickly smoothed over. “I hope you intend to explain why I have half a dozen sorrowful messages from my staff,” drawled Akira, raising one accusatory eyebrow. “Casey, in particular, seems unusually worried for my welfare…or more accurately, the future of his employment at House Epsilon.”
That’d be right.
“You’re not going to like it,” Kyle began reluctantly, hoping the half-hearted warning might be enough to dissuade him from further enquiries but also knowing the man far too well to believe it would.
The ghost of a smile tipped Akira’s mouth. Thumbs hooked in his pockets, elegant fingers straight and placed along the lineof his hips, he looked every inch a refined gentleman despite their fetid surroundings. The shimmery silk waistcoat reflected the vivid light of Club Luxe’s neon signage above their heads.
“Try me, Kyle.”
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CHAPTER 12
Akira
Akira felt a chill settle over him as Kyle finished explaining the macabre message Benedict Mackenroth had sent to the House. He knew he should feel some sympathy for the fucker who had been cut up in his place, but in truth, Akira’s concern was reserved for his men. Hopefully the mayor’s murderous attentions remained solely on Akira such that his staff weren’t in any real danger other than the psychological mind-fuckery of such a sick practical joke, but he wouldn’t put it past the bastard to target House Epsilon’s employees to make up for his ongoing failure to kill their Master. Benedict had gone after Kyle to get at Akira before, with his idiot brother’s easily-damaged feelings a mere smokescreen for the mayor’s true motivations.
Kyle was now glaring at the battered back door to Club Luxe, which had been shut firmly behind them. He’d worn a similar countenance when he’d spotted Akira with Tyrone: raw, visceral misery that Akira longed to ease.
“Tyrone’s just…hewasjust a client,” he said quickly, for the same reason he’d pulled himself from the club owner’s arms earlier. Kyle was unhappy and therefore Akira had to fix that. Whatever the cost.
Seeing the beautiful, heartfelt blonde standing among the crowd looking so lost and wretched, knowing he was searching forhim,had caused Akira’s dried-up heart to start beating again.
