Page 37 of Close Quarter
"You weren't awake."
There was no more hazelnut coffee. Rhys chose mocha and shoved it into the machine.
"You're a piss-poor storyteller for someone who didn't want any questions."
Rhys didn't dare turn around during the cold stillness that followed.
"You're more than welcome to leave."
Rhys could have made iced coffee from that sentence. "Not yet." He enunciated each word clearly. Once his coffee had brewed, he took it and returned to the couch. "Continue."
The bruising on Silas's nose had gone from greenish yellow to a pale yellow. His expression was unreadable. Or perhaps not. Silas had looked like that moments before going down on him-- defiance mixed with audacity and control.
Rhys felt his cock stir.
"Stop that!" Silas shifted in his chair.
Shuddered once. "Gods, whatever am I going to do with you?"
"Anything you'd like." The answer slipped out without thought.
"This isn't a game!" Silas rose, retreated to the dresser. "Whenever we speak, when we touch, we form a connection--a bond, if you will. The stronger the emotion, the greater the link."
So thoughts of sex made Silas slip up. Broke his concentration. Rhys almost smiled. Would have, had Silas's gaze not been so severe.
"I heard you call my name," Silas said.
Last night. "And you came to save me."
"Did I?" Silas spoke low. "Or did I come merely to keep you for myself?"
Rhys met Silas's cold stare. "You are not like them. You're no monster."
"How do you know?" Silas stalked forward, a blush blotting his face. "You know nothing of me." His voice rose. "You know nothing of what I feel, what I want, what I need." He reached the table and gripped the chair back.
"But I do know."
"Get out." This time those words were laced with malice, not fear.
"Silas--"
"Get out!" The shout seemed to echo about the room.
Rhys shook, his anger rising to match Silas's.
Then he felt a trickle of something--like a breeze through sun-dappled leaves in the summer--flow into him.
Silas swayed.
So the connection worked in both directions.
Did Silas know? Did he even think beyond the tip of that now-healed nose? Rhys tempered his anger.
Stood. "I'll leave." He marched back to the closet.
Earlier he had spied Silas's key card on the dresser by the closet. He took the card and held it up for Silas to see. "But I'm coming back."
Silas said nothing, just leaned on the chair.
