Savage Satisfaction Read online

  “Thanks,” he said, tipping his head to rest his cheek on her hair.

  They stayed that way until the door opened.

  William gritted his jaw in an effort to keep his face neutral as he opened the door. He deliberately focused his gaze on Mirela’s cage, only to find it empty. He had a moment’s panic before she rushed out of the bathroom.

  She looked him up and down, glared and turned her back on him.

  That was unexpected.

  He looked to Christoffer, who was seated on his cot, head in his hands, staring at the floor. Gone was the smiling boy who jumped up at his entrance, always ready with a joke or inappropriate comment.

  Guilt hit him hard and fast.

  He’d spent the afternoon not thinking about what he’d done. He read The Independent and The Times, only to have to put them down when the sports section reminded him of Christoffer. He watched some TV, disgusted when all he could find was reruns of Neighbors.

  He both wanted to come to the pen and dreaded it. He both needed to see Christoffer and wished he never had.

  He was an undeniably straight man—he was a Peer of the Realm, for God’s sake.

  Yet he’d had oral sex with another man—and it had been amazing. What they’d done together—the forest, the run, the sex, was all rolled up into a set of sensations that made William feel more alive than he had in years. The moment he’d closed himself off from Christoffer and seen the light of pleasure die from the younger man’s eyes he’d felt as though he’d aged twenty years.

  Was he ashamed of what he’d done? Undeniably. But he wanted to do it again.

  As he walked from the house, dinner in a bag over his shoulder, William couldn’t help but wonder if he was gay. Nothing and no one until Christoffer had made him question that he was straight.

  He didn’t find other men attractive, didn’t look at them with any sexual interest. Some late-night BBC docudramas had taught him that he didn’t find gay pornography appealing.

  But with Christoffer it was different. He didn’t have any answers when he reached the pen.

  “I have dinner.” He slid the bag from his shoulder. The words hung in the air, awkward and too loud.

  “You hurt him,” Mirela said, stepping up to the bars of her cage. Her hair was back over her shoulders, her body on full display. William couldn’t help but look at her breasts, the curls over her sex, and his cock leapt.

  What was wrong with him?

  “Mirela, don’t,” Christoffer said without looking up. “It’s not worth it.”

  “It is. He should not have done that,” she said, looking at William.

  “You told her?” William felt a blush rise to his cheeks, followed by anger. He didn’t want Christoffer to undermine his relationship with Mirela by telling him what went on between them. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of her, and that’s what being gay would make him, weak.

  “She dug it out of me,” Christoffer said.

  “You should apologize,” Mirela said. “You’ve hurt him.”

  “What I do with Christoffer is none of your concern” he said, trying to stare her down.

  “Leave it,” Christoffer told her. “You have your own problems with him. Don’t get involved in this mess.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she asked, turning to address Christoffer. She jerked her head at William. “He will never let me out again, and will forever hate me. You’re usually angry with me for saying something stupid, but you’re nicer to me than he is. I want someone to like me and be my friend. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in this cage with no one to talk to.”

  Her voice warbled on the last sentence but she didn’t cry. She did pull her hair forward to cover her breasts.

  “Ahh, Mirela,” Christoffer said, standing. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I won’t. I know it will make you angry and then you’ll be mean to me.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Christoffer said. There were lines etched in his face that weren’t there when he was smiling.

  Christoffer went into the bathroom and emerged into Mirela’s cage. William jerked in surprise. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. He’d designed the bathroom so that a series of chains and pulleys kept the doors from being opened simultaneously. Clearly that hadn’t worked.

  “Out of her cage,” he ordered Christoffer. They ignored him.

  The plan was falling apart again. He needed to separate them. He’d thought this camaraderie between them gone after the attack, but clearly what had happened today rekindled it.

  They could not form an alliance. It was only the bars that kept them in line, and together they were too powerful for him.

  “Christoffer,” he ordered, “return to your cage.”

  Christoffer’s head jerked up. His gritted teeth showed between lips that were pulled back in a snarl. He released Mirela and headed for the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” the falcon demanded. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “I have to,” the wolf growled. “He’s my Alpha.” Christoffer disappeared into the bathroom only to reappear in his cell.

  “What does that mean?” Mirela asked, pressing herself against the bars separating them.

  “A wolf’s Alpha is… He is like a general. On a run or in a fight, all the pack will follow the Alpha without question. He’s like a king, in that his word is law. But he is a guardian too. When a pack member is in trouble it is up to the Alpha to get them out of it. The Alpha will protect his pack at all costs in exchange for their obedience and loyalty. A strong Alpha is safety and happiness.

  “Obedience to the Alpha is second nature to me. I’ve heard that wolves who are raised without pack have to learn it, but for me it is like breathing. I will be obedient to my Alpha.” He looked at William. “Always.”

  “Just a moment,” William said. “Are you insinuating that you only did…what you did, because I asked you to?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m telling you that I did it because you wanted me to and I obeyed you.”

  William’s blood ran cold. “I-I thought you wanted it. I thought…” He put his hands over his face. Dear God, had he just raped the poor boy without realizing it?

  “I did.” Christoffer’s voice was soft.

  William looked up to see he was now standing at the bars.

  “I did want it.”

  “If you hadn’t…”

  Christoffer shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never had an Alpha ask something of me that I truly didn’t want to do.”

  The knot of self-loathing in William’s belly loosened. “I didn’t understand what being your Alpha meant.”

  “Why didn’t you?” The question came not from Christoffer but from Mirela. The words were confrontational but the tone was not. She seemed genuinely confused. “Has your family not always had one wolf and one falcon?”

  Should he tell them? No, he didn’t trust them enough for that.

  “That is of no consequence,” he said, tone stiff, daring her to argue.

  She was ready to accept that dare—her lips parted with another comment, but Christoffer stopped her.

  “Leave it alone,” he said.

  Mirela bowed her head.

  An idea glimmered to life in William’s mind. Would it work?

  “Excuse me,” he said and walked away, leaving them gaping at him.

  William locked the door to the pen and strode across the grass. He headed not for the house but for the stables. Andy, Edward’s young nephew, came out at the sound of his footsteps, earbuds dangling around his neck.

  “My lord?” the boy said nervously.

  “Saddle my horse.”

  The boy looked at the fading light, and there was a split second of hesitation. It was growing dim to be out riding and the boy was right to be concerned. Nonetheless Andy headed into the stable, pulling the gelding away from its dinner.

  In just over five minutes William was mounted on a disgruntled horse. Aware of approaching d
usk, William kept to the manicured grass. He rode the horse at a sedate canter so he could muse on his new idea.

  His carefully diagrammed plans were not working. William was man enough and shrewd enough to accept that. Those plans had been based on animal training and domestication techniques and William’s own experiences.

  Either he hadn’t done enough to control them—he touched his bandaged face at the thought—or he had done too little of the right thing.

  The run this afternoon had been Christoffer’s idea. Ignoring what had happened at the end, the event had been a success. He had no doubt that the wolf would obey him and return if called. More importantly, the wolf had taken him through the woods, letting him experience something no other mortal would.

  William needed to remember that this was not all about duty and being the Lord of Eahrington. He, William, was entitled to find some enjoyment, even pleasure, in this. That thought led to ones about Christoffer, and how it had felt to have Christoffer on his knees…

  Right.

  Sucking his cock.

  Delicious.

  He shook away the thought and turned the horse toward the stables. The relationship between the Lord of Eahrington and the wolf was set. The wolf’s mindset toward his Alpha sped up a process William had expected to take much longer.

  The relationship between William and Christoffer, however, was another matter.

  But if William’s plan was to work, it would mean more trust in the wolf, and a chance for them to work together…to tame the falcon.

  *

  “Christoffer, will you come with me?”

  Mirela shrieked in surprise when William spoke. He was there in the doorway, though she hadn’t seen him come in. She was seated cross-legged on Christoffer’s cot, the canvas bag draped over her lap to preserve her modesty.

  Christoffer had shucked his jeans and used them as a lasso to snag the dinner bag after William left. They’d eaten together, chatting as they shared the food and water. Mirela had asked Christoffer a few questions about being “bi” and he’d responded without condescension. This led him to talk about the “gay scene” in most of the cities of Europe.

  The locations were places she knew only from photos, though she’d traveled most of Europe with her family. But the culture he talked about was beyond her understanding.

  “What about straight people? What do they do? Do they have clubs?”

  So then he’d told her about the general nightlife scene. He talked about Amsterdam and its ridiculous excess, France’s out-of-date discothèques and the horror that was drunk British teenagers.

  She could hear her father’s voice in her head, warning her of the vices and lies of outsiders, about their promiscuous ways and how they disgraced their families.

  But it did all sound rather exciting.

  Christoffer had been reciting the recipe for a martini—one of the only drinks she could name and that was only from having snuck in and watched her uncle’s collection of Bond movies—when William appeared.

  She looked at Christoffer, who turned attentively to William. Something must have passed between the two men, because Christoffer rose too.

  Fear curled in her belly as if it were a snake. William’s chin was up, his gaze direct. He was again the sword-wearing man she’d first seen standing before the house. This was the Lord of Eahrington, her master.

  Mirela bowed her head. She would be obedient, whatever he said, whatever he asked.

  “Christoffer,” William said, opening the cage door. “Join me.”

  Christoffer stepped out without hesitation. He was no longer laughing with remembered amusement or devilment from telling her naughty things. His face was calm and waiting, that of a warrior. Mirela remembered stories of knights, how they would ride out on quests for their king. If William were the king, then Christoffer was his loyal knight.

  What did that make her?

  William motioned Christoffer to the exterior door, which was closed but not locked. Before he followed Christoffer out, William looked at Mirela, one of the few times he’d done so since she’d hurt him.

  His eyes seemed to measure her. What was he looking for?

  She rose, bag clutched over the apex of her thighs.

  The corner of his eyes crinkled and the smile slowly worked its way down to his mouth. His lips curled up and he nodded slightly.

  Then he was gone.

  All alone, Mirela sank to the cot. She worried for Christoffer. What was William going to do to him? Christoffer was her only hope at companionship since the lord hated her, and she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

  But Lord William had smiled at her. What did that smile mean?

  Feeling terribly alone, she curled up on Christoffer’s cot, smelling earth and moss. She let those scents lull her to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  William led Christoffer back to the house. The boy was subdued as they entered through the side door. Had it been only a week ago that Christoffer had been laughing and joking, snapping at Mirela and leaping about?

  It was a different man who entered now.

  William knew he’d hurt the wolf’s feelings with his behavior toward him after their…interlude. He couldn’t bring himself to apologize for that, as it would necessitate acknowledging that it had happened.

  Hopefully Christoffer would understand that what he was about to say was a measure of William’s regard for him.

  He motioned the boy into the hall and, as Christoffer passed, William caught a distinct and unpleasant aroma.

  “Follow me,” he said, changing his mind at the last moment. He took Christoffer to a suite of guest rooms. Several years ago he’d remodeled it, turning three rooms into two with a shared sitting room and bath.

  He led Christoffer into the bathroom, which was spacious with a tub and separate shower stall.

  “I thought you might like a shower,” he told the younger man.

  “Smell finally got to you?” Christoffer asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

  “Actually you smell good,” William said, startling himself. He clamped his teeth shut, wishing he’d bitten out his tongue. Christoffer’s head was now cocked and he was looking at William in a knowing way.

  “Are you planning to shower with me?”

  “No. I am not,” William clipped out.

  Christoffer laughed rather than take offense and William was glad. Why did he find it so hard to talk to this boy?

  Christoffer pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. His slid his hand down his belly to the top of his pants. “You should join me.”

  William watched his hand, nearly helpless with a desire he couldn’t acknowledge. “I’m straight.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “I’ve never done that.” William cleared his throat. “What we did before. I’d never done it.”

  Christoffer laughed. “I’ve heard that one. Closeted old guys are so cute when they’re in denial.”

  Old guys? Was that how Christoffer saw him? That was slightly disturbing.

  “I’m neither closeted nor in denial.”

  “Sure.” Christoffer undid the snap of his jeans, slid the zipper down. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband.

  “I’m going to get you some clothes,” William said, starting to turn away.

  “Run, run from the wolf,” Christoffer chanted.

  Something inside William snapped.

  He stepped up to Christoffer, yanked his jeans and underwear down to midthigh and grabbed the boy’s soft cock. It started to harden in his hand.

  “If and when I want this,” he tugged, “I will tell you. Don’t think me the fool, or that you can dominate me.”

  “No, Lord William. I didn’t think that.” Christoffer lowered his head.

  “Good. The teasing I enjoy.” He released Christoffer, who staggered back a step, nearly stumbling with his pants around his knees. “Just don’t take it too far.” He left, closing the bathroom door beh
ind him.

  Rubbing his hand against his thigh, William grinned. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he stopped. He seemed more…alive. It wasn’t just the grin, because when he wiped that from his face, admonishing himself that it was not becoming of the Lord of Eahrington, the spark of life remained.

  He had other things to worry about now; later he would make time to examine the changes he felt in himself. For now he had to get the boy some clothes, then work on a new plan.

  *

  William took Christoffer to his study. At some point it had been a drawing room, but in his grandfather’s time the purpose had changed. His grandfather had chosen to keep the library with its ceiling-high shelves as it was and sacrifice the drawing room. It was a decision with which William heartily agreed.

  His heavy desk was graced with a beautiful all-glass lamp and a few stacks of papers. Sitting behind it, William could put his feet up as he took a break from running his empire.

  Though he hardly had an empire to run. He owned land, and through hell or high water, land ownership was a moneymaker. He leased land to farmers who grew coppice, occasionally sold off pieces to the government for road works, owned buildings—including two smaller manor houses that were now B&Bs. He delegated the property management to professionals and, much to the praise of avid English countryside lovers everywhere, left huge stretches of land untouched, allowing the hardwood and meadow plants to thrive.

  All this took distressingly little of his time.

  Planning for the arrival of his Hunting Pair was a task for which he’d been preparing for years. He’d installed the bars in the pen himself, not wanting to have to explain why he wanted a building completely lined with heavy prison-like bars.

  After all this it was ludicrous how poorly prepared he really was. He realized he’d been prepping for his father’s falcon and wolf, not his own. If he’d been to a therapist, which was entirely unnecessary as he saw no reason to burden a stranger with his problems, they might have told him that he’d never dealt with what had occurred in his childhood and was trying as an adult to fix what had happened.

  What had been done could never be undone, and his family had never been the same.