Page 22

Viggo’s face darkened. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” Evander crossed his arms. “You criticise me for not mentioning a former lover who arrived in London this morning, yet you’ve been investigating multiple disappearances for almost two days without a word to me.”

“Perhaps I would have been more forthcoming if I’d been certain I would have your full attention,” Viggo said, his voice dangerously low. “Or is your focus divided nowadays?”

Evander’s magic flared with his anger, sending a chill across the room. “If you’re suggesting I have any interest in rekindling things with Leon?—”

“You seemed quite cozy at dinner.” Viggo stepped closer, looming over him.

“Like I already told you, we were discussing the case!” Evander hissed, refusing to back away despite the intimidating wall of muscle before him. “Besides, I made it abundantly clear to him that I am already in a relationship.”

Something shifted in Viggo’s expression. “You did?”

“Yes, you stubborn ox!” Evander threw up his hands. “I explicitly told him I have a lover I am wholeheartedly committed to.”

Viggo studied his face intently.

“I am not interested in Leon, Viggo,” Evander continued, his voice softening. “What we had ended years ago and not amicably at that.”

Viggo blinked. His face grew stormy. “Don’t tell me that French bastard cheated on you?!”

Evander shook his head. “He didn’t. In a way, it would have been better if he had.

He just…wasn’t there for me when I needed him most.” He reached up and cradled Viggo’s face between his palms, his thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

“My heart is spoken for, Viggo,” he murmured. “Surely you know that by now.”

Viggo’s expression loosened marginally, his large hands coming to rest on Evander’s waist. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“That makes two of us,” Evander admitted. “But Leon’s feelings are irrelevant. What matters is that we have multiple disappearances that appear to be connected to dark magic, including two professors who were researching magical transference.”

Viggo released a heavy breath. “You’re right.” His fingers tightened on Evander’s waist. “But I still don’t appreciate being kept in the dark.”

“Nor do I,” Evander countered. “We’re supposed to be partners in this, Viggo. Not just in bed, but in our work as well.”

Viggo was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes searching Evander’s face. He pulled Evander against his chest without warning and cradled the back of his head with one hand.

“I apologise,” he said gruffly, the words muffled against Evander’s hair. “I should have told you about the disappearances yesterday.”

Evander melted into the Brute’s solid embrace, the tension draining from his body. “And I should have mentioned Leon immediately.” He pulled back slightly and looked up into Viggo’s face, a soft smile curving his lips. “No more secrets between us, agreed?”

Viggo’s eyes darkened. “Agreed.”

He lowered his head and captured Evander’s mouth in a kiss that started gentle but rapidly blazed into something fierce and possessive. Evander gasped against his lips, his body responding instantly to the familiar heat of Viggo’s touch.

Viggo growled low in his throat, his hands sliding down to Evander’s buttocks. He lifted him effortlessly against his chest. Evander wrapped his legs around Viggo’s hips, his fingers tangling in the Brute’s dark hair as the kiss deepened.

“Bed,” Evander gasped when they broke apart for air, his manhood aching where it dug insistently into Viggo’s belly. “Upstairs.”

A wicked gleam entered Viggo’s eyes. He shifted his grip and hoisted Evander over his shoulder like a conquering warrior with his spoils.

“Viggo!” Evander spluttered, half laughing, half outraged at the undignified position. “Put me down this instant!”

“I don’t think so, your Grace,” Viggo rumbled, his large hand firmly planted on Evander’s backside as he exited the study and headed for the staircase. “I believe I’m about to demonstrate exactly how committed I am to our partnership.”

Evander caught a glimpse of Hargrove’s amused face as they passed through the foyer. The maid he’d been talking to gasped, let out a squeal, and blushed.

Evander groaned.

“Is—is his Lordship going to be alright, Mr. Hargrove?!” the maid whispered as Viggo took the stairs two at a time while carrying his burden with effortless strength.

“I’m sure he will be more than alright,” the manservant drawled.

“I’m never going to live this down,” Evander grumbled against Viggo’s back.

The Brute chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll survive.” He squeezed the mage’s backside, causing him to gasp.

By the time they reached Evander’s bedchamber, the mage’s mortified indignation had transformed into molten desire. Viggo kicked the door shut behind them and deposited Evander on the bed with surprising gentleness, his dark eyes smouldering as he loosened his cravat.

“Now,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Evander’s spine and made his cock twitch in anticipation, “I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Evander lifted his chin in a challenging gesture as he began unfastening the buttons of his Viggo’s waistcoat. “Indeed we do,” he murmured. “Though I hope you don’t intend to carry me like a sack of potatoes again.”

Viggo’s lips quirked in a smile that was pure sin as he shrugged out of his jacket. “I can think of far less dignified positions I’d like to see you in, your Grace.”

Heat rushed to Evander’s cheeks as he recalled all the salacious postures he’d adopted and been made to adopt during their love making, including riding the Brute like a wild horse and being bent over his desk and masterfully claimed from behind.

“Is that so?” he asked breathlessly.

“Indeed.” Viggo reached into his pocket and withdrew an object before tossing it onto the bed beside Evander. “How about starting with this delightful gem?”

Evander’s eyes widened when he recognised the enchanted Victorian toy he’d hidden in his bedside drawer. He looked up at Viggo, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I decided to see exactly what it was you were hiding from me yesterday,” Viggo said, his voice rough with desire as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Hargrove was kind enough to explain what this item does. I’d like to see you use it. On yourself. While I watch.”

Evander swallowed hard, the illicit suggestion bringing forth a barrage of torrid images that made all his nerve endings tingle and his hole contract on a rush of pure need.

“I can’t believe you’ve had that in your pocket all evening!”

His pulse raced as Viggo’s shirt fell open, revealing the powerful expanse of his hard chest and the dark ink decorating his skin.

“Have you used this toy since we began sleeping together?”

The question jolted Evander out of his lustful daze.

His hesitation was all the answer Viggo needed.

The Brute swore, crossed the floor, and carried one of the chairs by the window to the end of the bed. He settled into it, propped his elbows on his thighs, and steepled his hands under his chin.

“Now, your Grace. Why don’t you strip and show me how you pleasure yourself with that toy?” Viggo commanded roughly. He arched an arrogant eyebrow.

Evander’s heart slammed a maddening tempo against his ribs. He hesitated before reaching for the lapels of his jacket, his hands trembling.