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The room was dark. Enda saw the tattered outlines of the torn blind across the window. He whimpered, knowing his dream state had thrown him into a scene he was all too familiar with. He looked to the left. He didn’t want to. He already knew what he would see – the shape of a woman, his mother, tied to a chair, her mouth gagged with a dirty rag, the whites of her eyes the only bright spot in the room.

She wasn’t the only occupant. The man who stood in front of her was carrying what looked like a rifle, but Enda knew it was far more destructive.

“You deceived me.” The man’s words rang through Enda’s brain. “You seek to destroy everything I’ve worked for. You do not deserve to walk this Earth.”

Enda whimpered, trying to get free, trying to do anything to wake up from what he knew would happen.

The image of the man’s cruel face was engraved in his brain - the angular jaw, the jet black hair, the eyes that bored into a person that showed no sign of a soul behind them.

Wriggling, whimpering, Enda was desperate to wake up. Nausea filled his belly as he watched the man raise his weapon. “I told you to get rid of that baggage. I warned you what would happen if you let that life grow. Did you listen? No. You never fucking do. And now you will pay the price of your deceit. You will die by the flame, which is only fitting given the sinful flames you created.”

The trigger was pulled, and just as every time Enda had replayed that dream in his mind, he screamed. He screamed and screamed for as long as the man pulled that trigger. But it wasn’t bullets that flew out of that gun but a stream of fire. “Your deception lives no more.” The man’s laughter rang over Enda’s screams. “Enjoy your eternity in hell, bitch.”

Enda cried out, begging, pleading, “Stop, no, no,” as the form of his mother was reduced to charred ash, a twisted grimace around the burned rag on her face, the only indication she had felt anything at all.

“I love the smell of burned meat for breakfast.” There it was again – that smug look when the man turned off his weapon and looked as if he knew that Enda was watching him. “I’ll be back for your offspring later.”

Sobbing, Enda crawled through the ash and soot, reaching for the chair that his mother had been tied to. But as he reached it and touched the chair leg, the whole thing crumbled, and what was left of his mother’s body fell to the floor.

Enda woke with a gasp as someone was shaking his shoulders.

“Enda. Enda. For fuck’s sake, wake up!”

“Giorgio?” Enda reached up, rubbing his head, before reaching for the mattress and patting it. I’m back. It’s gone. I’m awake.

“I’m here, little bird. What happened? You were screaming loud enough to raise the dead. Are you all right?”

Enda tried to control his breathing, getting himself under control. “Bad dream,” he managed to say. “Don’t ask…I’ve had it before…just…can’t talk about it right now.”

“Then let me hold you. Your whole body is shaking.”

“Yeah.” Enda managed a shaky laugh as he crawled into Giorgio’s arms. His mate’s skin was warm and so very real, allowing the bad dream to recede. “I sometimes think my imagination gets the best of me. Some things seem very real in my head, you know. Er…but I’m fine, it’s all right, I’ll be fine.”

“Did you want to try and sleep again, or I could get you something to eat or drink?” Giorgio reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the bed.

“I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep, and I don’t want to be any trouble. I’m so sorry. I…this hasn’t happened for a while.”

“With all that you’ve been through lately, I’m not surprised. Our brains help us process difficult times in a variety of ways,” Giorgio said softly. “But you’re awake now and you definitely don’t have to talk about it. We can just cuddle for a bit, and I’ll tell you funny stories about my packmates if you’d like to hear them?”

Enda breathed out slowly. His heart was still racing so fast. I’ve just got to keep control. “I’d like to hear something like that, although I don’t know what your packmates might consider funny?”

“Believe me, little bird, there are countless examples.”

He listened with half an ear as Giorgio explained a story about a disagreement between two of his packmates who had been worried about the size of a gift basket for a child one of them was having.

“I thought your mated packmates all had male mates. How did they have children? Did they have a surrogate?”

“No, Blue gave birth to his and Beau’s child, and Cain gave birth to the daughter he had with Ollie,” Giorgio grinned. “Don’t panic. Yes. Male pregnancy is possible. It’s part of us being descended from Lord Hades and, therefore, part of his god line. Mother Nature, when she saw that so many of the gods were finding mates who were the same sex as themselves, allowed for anyone in a same-sex relationship to get pregnant and have children of their own.”

Enda reached behind himself, patting his ass. It still ached from their wonderful claiming. “But we….”

“I did say you didn’t have to worry, little bird.” Giorgio chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t drop something like that on you without talking to you first. Because contraception doesn’t work on shifter types in particular, Mother Nature determined that any same-sex couple had to have sex with the intent of having children to get pregnant. It won’t just happen randomly.”

“Okay, so no thinking about little ones before sexy times. Got it.” Enda had far too many other things he needed to deal with before thinking about children. “Not that I’m likely to. There’s so much about you I don’t know yet, like what your favorite color is, when’s your birthday, or what sort of music you like to listen to. What’s your favorite meal?”

Giorgio chuckled, stroking up Enda’s arm. “I can answer those things now. My favorite color is green because I enjoy seeing the green fields which are so different from the wastelands of the Underworld.

“I can’t really tell you what my favorite music is because I don’t follow any particular artist or genre. Some days, I like head banging music, and other times, I can spend an hour just listening to a piano concerto, but even then, I won’t listen to everything a person has put out just because it has their name on it. Some stuff I like, and some stuff I don’t. I imagine you’re just the same with what you listen to.”

Enda nodded, reminding himself he was safe, touching Giorgio’s hand, feeling his strength underneath those muscles. “I’m much the same. Most people look at me and think that I’m an emo kid, or an anime, or a manga character, but you know, I don’t know much about that stuff at all.

“Between the boat thing and even before that, my grandmother was really strict about the things I could learn about or watch on my computer, there’s so much I don’t know.”

“You said you were studying when you were taken to the boat. Didn’t you go to college or university?”

“I studied online,” Enda said quickly. “What’s your favorite meal? Should we have a meal or a snack, do you think?” Enda looked around. Outside of the light from the lamp, the room was dark. “It’s probably too late to call for room service.”

“It is about three in the morning, babe, but that’s fine. I can zap us up something.”

Enda rubbed his belly. He was still feeling slightly queasy and wasn’t sure what he wanted to eat. He’d only asked so he could change the subject. “You didn’t tell me your favorite meal. What do you like to eat in the middle of the night?”

Leaning closer, Giorgio said, “I’m going to tell you a secret. When I’m on my own, and I’m not trying to impress anybody or anything, I am rather partial to a cup of tea and biscuits.”

“That’s a secret?” Enda looked up at his mate’s amused face.

“It’s in the way this process is done. You see,” Giorgio honestly looked around as though he was worried about being overheard. “When I’m on my own, I dunk my biscuits in my tea.”

“Dunk?” That wasn’t a word Enda had heard before.

“Dunk, submerge, dip. I soak my biscuits in my tea.”

That sounded really strange. “Wouldn’t they get soggy and fall into the tea?”

“They can do sometimes, but that’s what makes this snack so much fun. Over a period of time, you get to learn how much tea a biscuit can handle and still stay in one piece. It’s different for every type of biscuit.

“See, if you put a chocolate biscuit, like a Chocolate Finger, for example…”

“You put a chocolate biscuit in a cup of tea?” Enda had never heard anything like it.

“You’re not letting it swim in there, you’re just dunking it.” Giorgio laughed. “A quick dunk softens the chocolate on the outside, and then you pop it in your mouth. It’s delicious.”

“If you say so.” Enda wasn’t so sure.

“But then if you’ve got something like a Gingernut, for example… a Gingernut biscuit is really hard. So, if you dunk that in the cup of tea, you can dunk it for a little bit longer. That helps soften up the biscuit when you take it out. And all the spices and the ginger in the Gingernut are that much more accentuated because they’ve been heated by the cup of tea.”

“It’s not something I’ve ever done,” Enda said. “My grandmother performed the formal tea ceremony a few times for special visitors when I was very young, but I wasn’t a part of that. We lived in a small apartment complex, so we didn’t have a dedicated space for the ritual that the process entails. Some people in houses have beautiful rooms just for tea ceremonies, but that wasn’t us. You probably think it’s weird, but I’ve never drunk tea. But we could give it a try, and you can show me. I just think you’re going to end up with a lot of crumbs in the bottom of your cup. Isn’t that a bit icky?”

“No, not really. If your biscuit does break and drop into the cup, then you don’t drink to the bottom of the cup.” Giorgio laughed again. “If you want to try it, we can, although I can zap you something else if you like.”

“We’ll try the tea and biscuits.” Enda could sit through soggy biscuits and crumb-filled tea if Giorgio kept smiling the way he was.

That was clearly the right thing to say. “Sit up for a minute, and I’ll get us a tray, including the tea and a range of biscuits. I’m not sure if the hotel here would understand if I asked for something like this, but one day soon I’ll take you to a place I know in London that does the best afternoon tea. You have to try a Devonshire tea.”

Enda didn’t have a clue what Giorgio was talking about, but tea and biscuits were probably the most unusual diversion tactic he’d ever tried after a nightmare.

Seconds later, a large wooden tray appeared on the mattress in front of them. On it was a very ornate china pot, a bowl of sugar cubes, a milk jug, and two cups – all with a matching pattern that looked very pretty. There was also a cake display with three tiers, all stacked with different biscuits.

“How do you like your tea?” Giorgio asked as he reached for the pot.

“As I haven’t drunk it before, I’m not sure. Is it sweet or savory?”

“Lean over and sniff it,” Giorgio suggested. Enda leaned over and sniffed at the pot. It had a strangely earthy smell, not unpleasant, but it wasn’t spicy or and it didn’t have that warm scent like coffee.

“Tea is a bit like coffee, in that you can have it straight, or you can put sugar in it, or if you’re like me, you have both milk and sugar.” Giorgio poured some of the brown liquid into both of the cups. “By the way, if you ever get asked in Britain how do you like your tea, just say first out of the pot. Brits are known to leave the tea bags in the pot so that they stew. If you end up with the last poured cup, it can get really strong. Personally, I am a fan of weak tea, although I keep that to myself.”

“Is this tea strong?” It just looked like a brown liquid to Enda. Nowhere near as dark as black coffee or even hot chocolate, but it was quite a nice golden color and quite translucent.

“Grab a cup and try it. See what you think.”

Enda took a little sip and said, “I’m not really tasting anything.”

“No, I don’t either when I drink it like this. But hang on…”

Enda put his cup back down and Giorgio put in two cubes of sugar and a splash of milk and then stirred it with a spoon. “Try this one.”

Picking it back up and taking another sip, Enda nodded. “It’s definitely sweeter. I can taste the sugar. It’s nice.”

“That’s how I have my tea,” Giorgio said with a chuckle. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth. Now, let’s check out the biscuits. We have shortbread and Jammie Dodgers on the top tier, and Gingernuts in the middle, which are in a class of their own, and then at the bottom we have Custard Creams, pink wafer biscuits, and Chocolate Fingers. What do you want to try first?”

“Just a plain one to start? Not the jam one.”

“Shortbread it is, then. These biscuits are made with a lot of butter, so the moment they get warm, they are going to crumble quicker than some of the others, although the taste is amazing.” Giorgio took one, dipped it in his tea, and then pulled it straight back out again, popping it in his mouth. “Hmm,” he said around a mouthful of crumbs as he reached for another one. “The perfect late night snack. You try.”

Taking the biscuit offered, Enda turned it around in his fingers. It felt very crumbly.

“Just a quick in and out,” Giorgio said. “And remember, only get about half of the biscuit wet as the tea is hot and will burn your fingers.”

Enda tried to do the same thing. He dunked the biscuit in, and as he pulled it out, the half that had gotten wet fell into his tea.

“Clearly, mine had a fault in it,” Enda said, holding up the remains of his biscuit. “Look at that.” He pointed at his cup. “It’s trying to float. I can’t drink that.”

“Hang on a minute.” Giorgio snapped his fingers, and Enda’s cup was refreshed, completely biscuit free. “Let’s try a Gingernut instead.” His laughter was contagious, and Enda found himself joining in. Although, no matter what his mate said, he was not putting a jam or a chocolate biscuit into a cup of tea. That just didn’t sound right.