Page 45 of King of Lies (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #6)

Keaton

The weather staying dry on the journey back meant we made much quicker progress than on the way here. No discussion of our destination had taken place. But then, we’d discussed nothing of importance since leaving the tunnel hideout in Dover and reuniting with August’s bike.

We’d kept up a constant politeness toward each other over the last couple of days that I hated with every fiber of my being.

It wasn’t us. August’s first ‘greeting’ had been a knife to my throat, and a twisted part of me had liked it.

It was rare to meet someone who gave as good as they got, but August did that in spades.

Yet, as much as I hated the new way we shared the same space, I couldn’t break out of it.

So we rode in somewhat companionable silence. We shared food. We killed biters. We lay next to each other in whatever place August deemed safe and went to sleep without touching. Then we got up the next day and did it all over again.

At least we were far enough north now, having circumvented London for the second time, that August could tap into his supply of safe houses.

That’s where we were now. And I couldn’t deny that he did things in style, this place having once been a country estate with all the bedrooms to show for it.

The one August favored held only the second four-poster bed of my life.

This morning I’d woken to find the space beside me empty, my breathing speeding up and my heart pounding until I stepped outside into the overgrown grounds and saw the bike right where we’d left it.

August might decide he’d had enough of me and dump me somewhere, but he wouldn’t leave his bike. Wherever he was, he wasn’t far away.

I settled myself in the middle of the stone steps leading up to the front door. From that raised position, I could watch for biters, and August. Where was he? Why hadn’t he woken me? Because then you would have had to talk, and it would have been awkward.

The morning sun was warm. I tipped my head back to let it touch my face and stayed like that for a long while. A rustle in the undergrowth snapped me back to the real world. I reached for my knife as I peered in the direction of the sound. Biter, wild animal, or August?

The answer came seconds later when they cleared the undergrowth.

Upright on two legs, not four. Strolling, not charging in a frenzy.

Tall, lean, unmistakably pretty, but still rugged with it.

Hair that somehow always looked styled, despite that being impossible.

August’s genes hadn’t just made him immune, they’d given him fantastic hair to boot.

The universe really wasn’t fair sometimes.

I slipped my knife back into my boot before he saw it.

Though given the stilted peace that existed between us, he’d probably pretend not to notice.

He drew close before spotting me on the steps, the slight stiffness that crept into his shoulders giving away the moment he did. Long legs carried him upward until he stopped a few steps below me. “Nice day. Warm.”

“Yeah.”

He held out his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a handful of plump blackberries. I took them eagerly, popping one into my mouth and savoring the sweet tang as it burst on my tongue. A second quickly followed. “What about you?” I asked around a mouthful of blackberry.

August shrugged. “I ate plenty while I was picking them.”

“Thanks for bringing some back for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

So fucking polite. He started up the rest of the steps, clearly intending to go inside and leave me there. And then before I knew it, we’d be back on the bike and another day would have passed.

“Don’t go!” There was a moment when I thought he’d pretend he hadn’t heard and carry on walking. Then he stopped, his turn painfully slow and his expression neutral once he faced me. “Please,” I added.

August nodded and came back down, taking a seat beside me on the same step, elbows resting on his knees. I carefully set the remaining blackberries next to me. I’d eat them later.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“Putting distance between us and Dover.”

I studied his profile, trying not to get distracted by the sharp jawline and long lashes. Either he’d deliberately misunderstand or he truly thought I’d meant that.

‘Not that,” I said. “Us. What are we doing?”

August dropped his gaze to his hands, examining something on his fingernail as if it were fascinating. “I don’t know.” At last he turned his head and looked me in the eye. It felt like the first time he had since Dover. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know either.”

He laughed softly, and we both stared out over the grounds, watching a blackbird peck at the ground hoping to find a worm.

“I let you down,” I said.

He frowned. “How?”

“I let you spend weeks ingratiating yourself with the Seekers, with him, only to balk when it came down to killing him. I told you that’s all I wanted, that I dreamed of it, and then…” My words trailed off.

“People can change their minds,” August said. “You never know how you’ll feel about something until the moment comes.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. You did nothing wrong.”

“I put you in danger.”

August snorted. “Until Bruce pulled a gun, the Seekers were about as dangerous as my grandmother.”

I laughed. “I suspect your grandmother is plenty dangerous given the right trigger.”

“You’re probably right. I should have found a better analogy.”

“So you’re not mad at me for changing my mind?”

“No.”

“Is that a lie?”

“No. I told you I wouldn’t lie to you anymore, and I meant it.”

“That could have been a lie.”

“It wasn’t. I swear on my grandma’s life.”

I nodded. Something stirred in the bushes. Probably the mate of the blackbird still hoping to unearth something tasty. “If you’re not angry, why haven’t you said anything? Why have we been wasting oxygen talking about the weather?”

“Because I thought you needed time. Dover was a lot.”

“It was,” I agreed.

“How are the bees?”

“Quieter. I don’t think they’ll ever fully go away. I’ll always feel guilty I wasn’t there when my family needed me, but now it’s a buzz, not a roar. It’s manageable.”

“Good.”

The clipped tone made me swivel around to face him. “What happens now?”

“You tell me.”

Still clipped. I was missing something here. “I’ll change the question. Where are we going?”

“I’m going back to my grandma’s.”

“And I’m not invited?”

His head snapped toward me so fast I almost reared back. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I told you exactly what I wanted weeks ago, and you said you couldn’t think about it until William Anderson was dealt with. Things might not have played out quite the way you expected, but he’s gone. And since then, you’ve said nothing.”

“So you are mad?”

August’s sigh said he was barely keeping his temper in check. “About that. Not about anything that happened in Dover. I couldn’t have been any clearer about my feelings.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be grinning like a Cheshire cat.”

“A Cheshire what?”

“It’s an old story. Never mind.”

He was right. I was smiling. And as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop. The best I could manage was wrestling it under control for a few seconds before it came back twice as strong.

August rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking weird.”

There was no way to respond to that except to kiss him. When he tried to squirm away, I just kissed harder. Eventually, he gave in, pushing me back on the steps and covering me with his body, his cock swelling against mine.

“Biters might come,” I murmured between kisses that only grew more heated.

“We’d hear them.” Something of my warning seemed to get through to him, though. Enough that he propped himself up on one elbow. “I need a yes or a no from you.”

“Go on.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

A sudden wetness seeped into my awareness. I slid a hand beneath me and pulled it back sticky with crushed blackberries, holding the mess up for him to see. “I was looking forward to eating those.”

“I’ll get you more.” He scrambled to his feet and pulled me up with him. “Come on. I’ll lick you clean.”

We shed our clothes before we even reached the bedroom we’d shared like brothers the night before. There was nothing brotherly about the way we kissed, sucked, and licked today. August kept his word, laving my blackberry-stained thigh with his tongue and pronouncing it delicious.

Our first orgasms came embarrassingly quickly. Sex hadn’t figured much in my thoughts while holed up in the cave, and I doubted August had either the opportunity or the libido in the castle for any solo pleasure. Weeks of abstinence had left us both primed, our bodies reacting accordingly.

It also meant one orgasm wasn’t enough, neither of us going flaccid.

Positioning myself between August’s thighs, I sucked his cock until he returned to full hardness.

When I stopped for a breather, I traced the faded scar on his inner thigh.

“You never did tell me how you got this?” August gave his spit-slick cock a series of lazy strokes while he considered the question. I flicked his thigh. “Don’t lie.”

He chuckled. “So I can’t tell you that someone turned while they were giving me a blowjob.”

“Not unless it’s the truth.”

“The truth is often a lot less interesting.”

“Possibly,” I admitted. “But I’ll still settle for it.”

He gave his cock another lazy stroke. “A biter got hold of me when I was crawling away. That’s just where he bit. I told you it wasn’t very interesting.”

“How old?”

“The biter? I don’t know. He wasn’t up for sharing information about himself. I suggested charades, but I think he was too hungry.”

I gave his thigh another flick. “How old were you?”

“You should be clearer with your questioning.”

“You should—”

August raised an eyebrow. “I should what?”

I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. How old were you?”