Page 26 of King of Lies (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #6)

August

The bike had gotten us to Oxford where I’d left it in the hands of a grizzled man with a dark beard and a ruddy complexion, who’d assured me there wasn’t an old-world engine he couldn’t fine-tune.

Faced with my obvious skepticism, he’d led me to the yard at the back of his house.

In which, there wasn’t one bike, but five, all in varying states of being stripped down.

It had been enough to reassure me he had at least some rudimentary knowledge.

Keaton stayed quiet, seeming to find the entire conversation amusing for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

From there, we’d sought a meeting with Thaddeus Archer, the elected leader of the community.

What should have been a quick conversation had stretched far longer, Thaddeus asking us question after question about Osvaldo Conway, and not happy to let us leave until we’d drawn him an extensive map of the area and told him absolutely everything we knew.

Before the end of the meeting, he’d organized a team of men to comb the woods and sniff out Oz’s traps the following day.

The interrogation left me desperately needing a drink, Keaton not arguing when I dragged him to the closest bar and got stuck into a bottle of whiskey.

It didn’t escape my attention that he drank far less of it than I did, one glass to my every two. More for me.

“This feeling,” I said, clapping a hand to my chest just above my heart. “It’s not something I’m familiar with.”

Keaton paused with the glass pressed to his lips. “Feeling?”

I tapped my fingers against my chest, Keaton following the motion. “Nothing to do with you, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

Keaton raised his eyebrows skyward. “One kiss and you think I’m obsessed with you.”

“One kiss and a hand job,” I corrected. “Possibly in the wrong order.”

“The handjob doesn’t count.”

I cocked my head to one side and regarded him quizzically. “How do you figure that?”

“I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“But you remember it?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t really me. You wouldn’t understand.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Keaton got in first. “And studying people doesn’t count. You might have the words to be convincing, but words aren’t feelings. Words are just…”

“Words,” I offered when he seemed to struggle.

“Yeah.”

“I was talking about what we just did with Thaddeus.”

Keaton snorted. “You’re talking about thinking of others, doing something out of the goodness of your heart for absolutely no payment just because it’s the right thing to do. I imagine it feels odd when you’re more used to fleecing people.”

I drank the rest of the whiskey in my glass and poured another. Keaton covered his glass with his hand so I couldn’t sneak any more in. “Is that what it is? It’s most disconcerting.” I took a sip from the refreshed glass while I contemplated it. “And it leaves your pockets empty.”

“Is it something you could get used to?”

I took an inordinate amount of time to ponder that question. “I’m not sure I know who I am without the stories and the lies.”

“Maybe you should find out.”

I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why does it matter? You’re planning on self-destructing in the name of vengeance, anyway.”

Keaton shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe there’s life after vengeance. And maybe…”

His gaze dropped, and he left the sentence unfinished.

I knew what he’d been going to say. He’d been going to suggest there might be a future for us.

Which was… Well, it was nowhere near as strange as it should have been when I’d only known him three days.

But what a three days it had been. Jam-packed with deception, a battle of wills, capture, truths, and escape.

Someone saved me from having to respond when they pulled a chair up to our table. The retort on my tongue died a death when I saw who it was. “Are you following me?”

Ellswood smiled a toothy smile. “I am not. It’s just a happy coincidence we keep finding ourselves in the same place.” His gaze strayed to Keaton, his expression curious.

“Not a mark,” I explained. “A friend. So you can call me August in front of him.”

“A friend!” Ellswood didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “I didn’t think you bothered with those, which must make Keaton very special indeed.”

“More like a splinter,” I said, before Keaton could offer any thoughts on the subject. “You know, something that gets stuck under your skin and, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get rid of it.”

Keaton snorted. “A splinter. That’s a good one.” He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “I love you too.”

The words being said in jest didn’t stop them from burrowing their way under my skin. Once there, they generated heat that threatened to spread if I didn’t get a grip on it. Clearing my throat, I concentrated on Ellswood.

He jerked his head toward the window. “Are you waiting for the rain?”

“No,” Keaton said, “he isn’t.” When I stayed silent, his gaze homed in on me. “Are you?”

I shrugged. “Apparently not.” I didn’t bother pointing out that a lack of injectors rendered the practicalities of such a thing impossible even if it had crossed my mind to run a scam here.

Ellswood looked between us. “Well, isn’t that interesting?”

Keaton got up, and I followed him with my eyes as he wandered off to do whatever he was doing.

Most likely to step outside and take a piss.

I studied him while he had his back to me, taking in the solid frame, the muscular thighs, and the peachy arse that could win a competition if such a thing existed.

Ellswood’s chuckle had me reluctantly dragging my gaze away from Keaton and back to him. “And it just keeps getting more interesting.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He scratched his chin, stubble rasping beneath his fingernails.

“I bet you don’t. Of course, I told you this would happen one day.

I just didn’t think that day would come so soon.

” Despite having spent only a couple of minutes at the table, he got up.

“Enjoy it. In a world like this, you need to cling onto whatever joy you can find.”

“I don’t… I haven’t…”

But he’d already gone.

“One room,” I said when Keaton pushed the door open and gave a mocking bow.

It was standard fare: a bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe, and the world’s tiniest bathroom, which only included running water between certain hours.

Those hours had long since passed. Instead, a couple of buckets had been provided.

One with soapy water, one without. A large sponge floated on top of the soapy one.

It was a toss-up what happened first—Keaton shrugging off the fireman’s jacket and letting it fall to the floor, or the door closing.

A millisecond after that and he already had his T-shirt halfway over his head, his response coming from within its folds.

“I need to keep an eye on you.” The T-shirt joined the jacket on the floor, and he started on the fastening of his jeans.

“Oh, you do, do you?” It was the first time I’d seen him without his shirt, the angry scar on his shoulder snagging my attention. “Is that where you got bitten?”

He followed my gaze. “Yeah.”

I stepped forward and, when he didn’t protest, touched it, the skin raised beneath my fingertips. “I’m sorry it ended your career in the army.”

He shrugged. “I’m over it.”

He wasn’t, but I didn’t think it wise to point that out.

His boots came next. Once he’d pulled those off, he removed his socks and stepped out of his jeans, leaving him naked.

The barely there smile on his lips said he knew he was being scrutinized.

Picking up the wet sponge, he dragged it over his chest, making bulky muscles glisten. “Have you ever been bitten?”

I took a seat on the end of the bed to watch the show. “How would I know I was immune if I had never been bitten?”

“The rain.”

“I suppose.”

Keaton slid the sponge lower, down over ridged abdominals and then between his legs to soap his balls. His cock got the soapy treatment next, and then his thighs. And what magnificent thighs they were. He glanced up. “Are you enjoying the show?”

“Very much so.”

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

“What question?” It was hard to concentrate when my eyes were busy feasting.

He let out a sigh. “Have you ever been bitten?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“My thigh.”

“Show me.”

Though I laughed at the thinly veiled attempt to get me out of my clothes, I obediently stood and unbuttoned my jeans, tugging them down just enough to reveal the circular scar on my inner thigh.

Keaton’s movements stilled. “What were you doing? Trying to get a blow job from one? How the hell did it get you there?”

“It’s a long story. Want to hear it now?”

Keaton’s expression showed his inner conflict. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it over my head.

Three days on the road without washing had left me none too fresh.

Keaton returned the favor in letting his gaze rove all over me as I shed the rest of my clothes.

They lingered on my semi-hard cock, my smile unseen because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from my crotch.

“Come here,” he said once I was naked, his voice hoarse.

“I need to wash.”

“I’ll do it.”

Intrigued by the offer, I stepped forward. “Is this an army thing? After a long day spent soldiering, did you guys used to rub each other down? I might have joined if I knew that sort of thing went on.”

Turning me around, he pulled me back against him, the heated length of his rapidly swelling erection pressing against my arse. I wriggled a bit, the movement doing what I’d intended and forcing a gasp from Keaton’s lips. “Stay still.”

“Or what?”

“Or there’ll be trouble.”

“What sort of trouble? I happen to like trouble. It keeps things interesting.”