Page 7 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

Alex knew Gideon wouldn’t approve, but it felt good to bask in his houder’s praise, to feel relaxed and almost happy, even if only for a short time.

He lived on his wits so much, his nerves constantly shredded by his need to stay in control of his emotions and keep his true nature hidden, that this was a welcome respite.

Tonight, he could let go and enjoy himself, as much as was possible in the circumstances anyway.

Chef Richard was a huge man with an equally huge character, a big bear of a Frenchman.

It did cross Alex’s mind that Tyler might be expecting him to sleep with him, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Richard was an entertaining host, talking them through every single morsel on his extensive tasting menu.

Both Alex and Tyler were naturally slim, but tonight they ate with gusto.

Every mouthful was delicious – it was a gastronomic experience that lived up to every bit of the hype Tyler had given it.

Alex could see why Richard had been so successful.

Every time, groaning, he insisted that he couldn’t eat another thing, Richard would laugh and serve up some delicious little amuse-bouche that he couldn’t resist. It was divine.

The wine flowed freely, too, although Alex made sure he didn’t drink too much.

He’d noticed that Tyler was also abstemious with the alcohol.

They drank enough to be pleasantly tipsy but not enough to be rip-roaring drunk.

It had been so long since Alex had taken croc, or been even a little drunk, and he embraced the warm, fuzzy joy of it .

Afterwards, they rolled back to the suite, laughing and exclaiming about all the good food they’d eaten and the great time they’d had.

When he stepped inside, he was surprised to find a dozen candles had been lit all around the room, while the enormous fire was still burning in the grate, casting orange shadows on the walls.

“You know…” Tyler caught Alex’s hand and drew him over to a sheepskin rug in front of the fire. “I think I want to take you right here.”

“This is very romantic,” Alex whispered, feeling Tyler’s lips brushing his hair. He wished he hadn’t drunk anything now. It was hard enough keeping his wits about him when he was stone-cold sober but so much harder when he felt mellow, full of good food, and even… happy?

“I am a romantic,” Tyler declared, and maybe he even believed it.

“With the right person.” Tyler looked deep into Alex’s eyes.

“Are you the right person, Alexander? I want to believe you are.” His voice was suddenly throaty, full of longing.

“I had such passion with your mother. I trusted her. She was the only person, apart from my own mother, who I ever trusted.”

“That sounds lonely,” Alex whispered, resting his hand gently on Tyler’s hip.

Tyler’s eyes flashed with something so sad and wistful that Alex couldn’t help himself.

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Tyler’s lips.

The other man’s response was electric – he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back passionately, his tongue expertly exploring Alex’s mouth.

Then he pressed him down onto the rug and undressed him.

There was something so intense, so purposeful, about the way Tyler looked at him that Alex was mesmerised. Was it the soft rug beneath his bare buttocks, the romance of the candlelit room, the warmth of the fire on his skin, or the fullness in his belly making him light-headed?

Or was it Tyler’s wolfish, dark-eyed gaze as he undressed him, bringing his usual laser-focussed concentration to the task, devouring him with his eyes as he worked?

Alex knew not to interfere or try to take control. He knew to allow Tyler to always be in charge. If he did that, he was guaranteed the most exquisitely sensual sex he’d ever had.

He surrendered, giving himself up to Tyler’s intense caresses and the pleasure of having such an expert lover. Tyler required so little of him. His main enjoyment in sex seemed to be to make his partner dissolve into a puddle of sexual ecstasy, and it was addictive.

Alex lost track of the time in the delicious haze of Tyler’s hands on his body, Tyler’s mouth on his skin, and Tyler’s hard cock sliding into him. It was all too good.

When he awoke, the fire had gone out and the candles had burned down to nothing. It was a grey, dull morning, icy-blue light washing away the warm orange glow from the previous night and illuminating the room with cold precision, sweeping away the illusion of what had passed.

Alex stared at Tyler’s sleeping face beside him and wondered what demon was possessing them both.

The attraction was there, but hatred, distrust, and fear were there, too, on both sides.

No good could come of this, and yet, he was in no position to stop it.

Was he falling in love with this man? Or were they simply connected by too much history to escape?

“You’re awake,” Tyler murmured, jolting him out of his reverie.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” He stretched, then got to his feet and held out his hands.

Alex took them, and let himself be pulled up then bundled into the bed.

Tyler burrowed down beside him beneath the soft duvet, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close, warming them both.

It would be easier if he was a cruel lover, but he wasn’t. In bed, he was superb, utterly committed to making the sex as sublime as possible, for them both.

Stockholm syndrome. Alex found the phrase reverberating around his mind.

Was that what this was? He longed for an easy excuse to explain the pleasure he was taking in Tyler’s embraces.

It wasn’t a help to know that if he wasn’t enjoying it, then he’d have to feign it.

It felt like a betrayal of himself, of Solange, and on some level, bizarrely, even of Gideon.

He’d held out Tyler to be a monster, and yet here he was enjoying the man’s caresses and going eagerly to his bed .

He almost wanted to laugh. Tyler had always claimed that he was the great seducer. But if he was, he’d more than met his match. Maybe that was the root of it. They were well matched, he and Tyler, and he couldn’t see any way this ended other than in their own mutually assured destruction.

“Warmer now?” Tyler kissed the back of his neck and then his hands went lower. “Mmm… how do you feel about a nice morning fuck?”

Alex felt his cock rising in response to the question, and Tyler’s questing hand gave it a little stroke of acknowledgement. “I can feel your answer here,” Tyler whispered in his ear.

He belonged to Tyler. The man had made that clear from the moment he’d bought him, and yet, Tyler wanted his consent at every turn, demanding his pleasure along with his capitulation, and, powerless to resist, he gave it to him.

Tyler had never once taken him without his explicit consent, never once forced him. He’d always waited until he saw the light of desire in his eyes, or felt the desire in his body.

It was hard to feel he’d been raped, and yet he was choosing none of this. It was all so confusing that it was a relief to simply surrender to the undeniable enjoyment of Tyler’s caresses.

They didn’t leave their room for the whole weekend.

Richard sent them exquisite dishes, and they dined and fucked and talked.

Really talked. They loved the same things – ducks, tech, floating cities – and these were safe subjects.

Alex didn’t have to have his wits about him when they talked about them.

They were like teenagers, barely able to take their eyes – and hands – off each other.

“The thing is,” Tyler whispered as they lay on the rug again in front of another roaring fire, “you understand me, and I understand you. We share a connection, you and I.”

“Yes.” Alex caressed his face.

“If only I could believe it was real,” Tyler said, and then he rolled over on top of Alex and pushed into him again.

“It is,” Alex insisted, arching his body and moaning in pleasure as Tyler hit that sweet spot deep within.

Tyler’s eyes were suddenly, unexpectedly, full of tears. Alex wiped them away tenderly, gazing up at him with every ounce of devotion he could muster. It was the first time Tyler had been so open, so vulnerable with him.

“It is,” Alex repeated, moving his head to catch Tyler’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

Everything changed after that. When they returned to Vertex Tower, Alex was installed in Tyler’s bedroom and his clothes were moved into the spare room.

From then on, he went everywhere with his houder – to meetings, dinners, galas, and trips to the theatre. Tyler didn’t hide him anymore. On the contrary, he seemed keen to show him off, as if he was a trophy to be paraded on his arm.

He dressed Alex in the most exquisite outfits, each one perfectly matched to the occasion. Alex had no say in them, but Andrew was kept busy fitting him for new clothes, making sure he looked every inch the perfect accessory for one of the richest and most important men in the country.

It was as if he was Tyler’s partner, and Tyler was proud to show him off.

Alex wondered what the media were making of this.

Were they publishing photos of them together, or did Tyler have enough blackmail material to keep editors and producers quiet?

Or did he want people to know that Alex was his lover now?

He certainly made it clear they were an item, his hand resting on Alex’s arse, or holding his hand, one arm wrapped possessively around his shoulders wherever they went.

Nobody could doubt they were together – the heat between them was obvious.

The sex was frequent – in Tyler’s office, in his duck, in the elevator, and every single room in his suite.

They were hungry for each other, needing to express this passion between them whenever they could.

It was their new language, and whether they were communicating love or hate, or something entirely different, it was a gnawing, necessary need that could never be entirely sated.

Tyler veered, as always, between wanting to believe Alex truly loved and desired him and a dark, hopeless despair that he was being played.

Alex, in return, wanted to believe he was still on track to perform his mission but fretted that he’d lost himself along the way, that in trying so hard to be convincing, he’d become the very thing he was pretending to be.

“If I set you free, would you marry me?” Tyler asked one day as they lay naked in bed.

Alex gazed at him hungrily. Freedom. His stomach somersaulted with a new hope. “Would you?” he whispered.

“Set you free or marry you?” Tyler’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I set you free, and then you show your true colours and reveal that this was a lie, a charade all along.” He wrapped his hand around Alex’s throat.

Alex lay there, completely still.

“Is this a charade?” he whispered, thrusting his hips up against Tyler, his hardness evident.

“I don’t know. Fuck it, I’m tired of not knowing!” He released his hold and rolled out of the bed. “What the hell are we doing, Alexander?” he rasped wearily.

Alex wondered what reply he could possibly make. None of this was of his doing; Tyler called all the shots.

“You want to know if you can trust me, but you can’t know that without actually trusting me,” he said softly.

“And then it might be too late,” Tyler replied bitterly.

Alex reached out and gently stroked Tyler’s back. “I wish I could make you believe me.”

“But you know I never can.”

Tyler left in a fury, and a few hours later, Andrew entered the suite.

“You’re being sent on an assignment,” he said, looking as surprised as Alex felt. Tyler was nothing if not possessive, and there had been no assignments since Walcott. “Although this time you are on strict instructions not to sleep with the man.”

That made more sense. “Who is he, and what does Mr Tyler want me to do for him?”

“It’s an odd request, but it seems you made a big impact on one of Mr Tyler’s guests, so he’s asked if he can borrow you for a bit. ”

“Borrow me?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “If not to have sex, then to do what?”

“Be his muse.” Andrew shrugged. “It’s Elliot Dacre. He wants to make holopics of you, apparently.”

“What?” Alex sat up. This was so unexpected that it was hard to wrap his head around, although some space from the torturous tightrope he walked daily with Tyler would be welcome.

“I know. Bonkers,” Andrew laughed. “Come on, then, let’s get you ready for your close-up, shall we?”