Blood & Thunder (6 page)

Sloane had no trouble showing Dex how much he wanted him, or how Dex drove him crazy, in more ways than one. But when it came to showing Dex the guy behind the intimidating Team Leader, nothing short of the Jaws of Life could get the guy to open up, leaving Dex to work things out through a series of elimination and guessing games. He’d swear sometimes it was like he needed Themis—the THIRDS artificial intelligence network—just to figure out what the hell the guy was thinking. Dex reached up, gently took hold of Sloane’s jaw, and turned his face toward him.

“Come on. Talk to me.”

Sloane smiled tenderly and turned his face to place a kiss on Dex’s palm. “It’s nothing. Really. Go back to sleep.” He closed his eyes and pulled Dex in close. That was the end of that. If Dex pressed the matter, Sloane would get up, get dressed, and go home to avoid an argument. The next day, it would be up to Dex to show his partner everything was cool between them. The thought that he had far more invested in them than Sloane had crossed his mind on more than one occasion over the last few weeks, but he always managed to push it aside and focus on the positive of whatever they had.

What did they have? They were exclusive, but they weren’t dating. They’d been sleeping together for months, and although Dex had agreed they would take things as they came, that they would go slow, there were no signs of them moving past the “sex is fun, let’s do that” part. At least not for Sloane. Even so, Dex liked being with him. He enjoyed sneaking off together whenever they could, even if Dex felt a pang of guilt each time, having to hide from his dad and brother, but if they were caught, one of them would be transferred off the team, and neither of them wanted that.

It was too soon for them to have any kind of relationship talk. Dex had the feeling if he broached the subject, Sloane would balk. No point driving himself crazy over it. He’d promised Sloane they could take things slow, and he intended to keep his word.

“Sloane?”

“Hm?”

Sloane tensed slightly under Dex’s touch, and Dex held back a sigh, wishing the guy would just relax. What did he think was going to happen? Knowing Sloane could see him in the dark, which was completely unfair, Dex gave him a grin despite not feeling it. “Mind if we go upstairs? My ass is cold.”

Sloane chuckled, his muscles losing their previous tension. He gave Dex’s ass a playful slap. “We wouldn’t want anything happening to that ass.”

“It is pretty spectacular,” Dex teased, forcing himself to get up. His right arm was sore from sleeping on it awkwardly.

Sloane stepped up close behind him, his breath on the side of Dex’s neck as his hand slipped around to cup Dex’s balls and cock, making him jump. “Mm, that’s pretty spectacular too.”

A shiver went through Dex. “Upstairs. Soft bed.” Before Dex could say another word, Sloane was hoisting him and throwing him over his shoulder. Dex flailed, his heart beating wildly. “Man, how many times do I gotta tell ya? Warn a guy when you’re gonna go all Tarzan on his ass. Jesus.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sloane chuckled, carrying Dex through the darkened living room and up the stairs to the bedroom. He dropped him onto the bed, and Dex scrambled under the covers. His ass really was cold. So were his toes. He hated cold feet. Sloane joined him under the covers and didn’t hesitate, pulling Dex close and kissing him. Dex had no idea what time it was, and he didn’t care. If Sloane wanted to jump his bones, no way in hell he was going to say no.

The sex was hot, hard, and as amazing at it always was, with Sloane making Dex sweat, pant, and beg for it, until he was so thoroughly fucked, all he could do was lie there in a state of pure bliss and exhaustion. Dex drifted off to sleep, but to his frustration, he kept waking up every hour or so. It wasn’t usual for him to have trouble sleeping, especially after an evening of Sloane pounding him into the mattress, or couch cushions. His ass throbbed as if to remind him. Dex felt the steady rise and fall of Sloane’s chest beneath his hand, and he took the opportunity to study his lover’s face. He was asleep, but it was clearly a troubled sleep.

It had been four months since the workshop incident when Isaac Pearce had kidnapped Sloane, chained him up, and tortured him before Dex could get to him. Four months since Sloane had discovered his ex-lover and ex-partner Gabe Pearce had died at the hands of his brother and not by a meet with an informant gone wrong, as everyone had believed. Four months since discovering the explosion that should have ended Isaac Pearce’s life, he emerged as the leader of the Order, followed by the execution of Agent Morelli. And despite all that, Sloane hadn’t spoken a single word of how he felt about it, other than the desire to find the bastard and bring him in, dead or alive—a sentiment they all shared.

Sloane’s brows furrowed in sleep, and Dex brushed his fingers down his partner’s stubbly jaw, smiling when Sloane let out a small huff but leaned into the touch.
It’s only been four months,
Dex reminded himself. He needed to be more patient. Sloane had been through a hell of a lot in the last couple of years, and he’d been upfront with Dex about needing time. It wasn’t fair for Dex to ask any more of him at the moment.

Gingerly, he shifted and leaned over to brush his lips over Sloane’s, smiling at the faint moan he received. Wanting to ease his lover’s unrest, Dex moved stealthily, roaming his hands over Sloane’s body, caressing hard muscle, soft skin, until he got to Sloane’s flaccid cock. With a smile, Dex stroked him, watching Sloane’s face, the way he tilted his head back and moaned.

Moving the duvet, Dex delivered kisses to Sloane’s thigh as he continued to stroke Sloane’s hardening cock, enjoying the feel of his lover in this docile state, his heart squeezing at every tiny murmur or sharp intake of breath.

“Mm…. Gabe.”

What the…?
Dex sat back on his heels and ran a hand over his face. Well, that was certainly one way to kill the mood. He climbed off the bed with care and made his way downstairs, where he turned on the TV, the glow helping him locate his boxer briefs that he slipped back on. Guess he couldn’t be too surprised it had happened. If he were honest with himself, he would admit he’d expected it sooner, especially since things had quieted down. For months, Isaac Pearce’s threats had remained just that, though the THIRDS was using all its resources to track him and the Order down.

They’d managed to get some information from Simon Russell, enough to deduce the whole thing had been meant to draw their attention, with Simon and the rest of the men sacrificed in the process, something they’d willingly agreed to. Well, in Simon’s case, his dad had agreed for him. Dex had been true to his word, and he’d watched with a dopey grin as the brothers were reunited. Matthew shook Dex’s hand, thanking him profusely for getting his little brother away from their dad. Then the two had walked off into the sunset together. Life almost seemed… good, aside from the maniac hiding somewhere in the city, plotting their demise. Dex had a bad feeling. Isaac wasn’t just some brainless thug. He was an experienced, patient, intelligent ex-officer of the law.

Dex dropped down onto the couch, snatched up the TV remote, and clicked past infomercials until he got to one of the late night cartoon channels, the only station with anything remotely decent at this ungodly hour. He tried not to think about Isaac Pearce, but it was hard to shut off his brain. It was better than thinking about Sloane calling him by his former-lover’s name during an intimate moment. God, Sloane had probably been dreaming of him. Great. Dex shifted his attention back to Isaac Pearce.

The THIRDS had confiscated the man’s properties, although the workshop had gone up in flames as part of the guy’s well-executed escape plan. Any remaining evidence was burned to a crisp, leaving only the evidence originally discovered in Isaac’s home confirming he was behind the murders and the makeshift iron weapon he’d constructed to lead them off his trail. Isaac had covered his tracks well. The witnesses who’d lied for him by claiming Isaac had been with them during the times of the murders had been his followers, and they’d all disappeared by the time the THIRDS came knocking on their doors. The THIRDS had tossed out their net of confidential informants, spies, and shadows. Isaac Pearce was a ghost.

Two episodes into some weird but entertaining cartoon about a kid with rabbit ears, his dog, and some pink princess, and Dex was running through a list of excuses to give his partner if he fell asleep down here when he heard Sloane’s sleepy, gravelly voice.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Watching TV. Couldn’t sleep.”

Sloane came around and sat on the robust coffee table across from Dex, but not blocking his view of the TV. Dex could tell Sloane was studying him, and Dex just didn’t have the energy. He was too exhausted, physically and emotionally. In a few hours, he’d have to be at work with a full day of training exercises awaiting him.

“What’s wrong?” Sloane leaned in to take his hand. “Talk to me, Daley.”

Funny how that street didn’t run both ways. Dex thought about it, thought about every time he’d swallowed down a jab to his heart. It was getting more painful each time. He kept telling himself to pull back, not to make the same mistake he always made of falling too hard, too fast. He could see himself getting deep, but unable to get off the path to ruin. “You have any nice dreams lately?”

Sloane’s endearing puzzled look made it worse.

“I was uh, giving you an impromptu hand job, and you called me Gabe.” Dex pulled his hand out of Sloane’s, watching his partner’s brows draw together in confusion before realization dawned on him.

“Shit. Dex. I—”

“I know. You miss him. Your subconscious, your heart, it wants what it wants, right?”

“Don’t, please.” Sloane reached for Dex’s hand again, and Dex allowed it. “What do you want from me, Dex?”

Dex didn’t spend long thinking of his reply. What he wanted was unattainable, at least at the moment. The future was unclear. “I know it’s selfish, but I’d like it if when you were with me, that you were with
me
.” He was asking for too much. It wasn’t as if Sloane could control his subconscious.

“I am. I just need—”

“Time. I know.” Dex hated seeing the crestfallen expression on Sloane’s face, but he couldn’t summon the strength to brush his feelings aside with a joke. Not this time.

“We’ve been apologizing to each other a lot lately,” Sloane said quietly, his thumb stroking the back of Dex’s hand.

“Yeah.”

“Do you… want me to go?”

Dex met Sloane’s eyes, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the unspoken need. “Do you want to?”

After some hesitation, Sloane shook his head, his bottom lip jutted out tragically. “No.”

“Good.” Dex turned off the TV, tugged at Sloane’s hand, and led him upstairs. He climbed into bed and lay on his side, his heart heavy. Sloane wrapped his arms around Dex’s middle, and pulled Dex back against him, the gesture bringing a small smile to Dex’s face. He rolled over to face Sloane, and a pang of guilt hit him for the troubled look he’d placed on his partner’s face. He leaned in for a kiss, relieved when Sloane returned his soft kiss.

Maybe Dex should have gone back to sleep and not said anything. The guy had enough on his plate without Dex acting like some whiny, clingy boyfriend. Especially since he didn’t even qualify for the title.

It wasn’t as if Dex hadn’t been in this situation before. He was always moving too quickly, but he’d never had a problem with it. Now, things felt… different.
He
felt different. Something about the guy had Dex wishing for things he’d never even thought about before. Was it because when he looked into Sloane’s bright amber eyes, all he saw was a world of pain and heartache? Did he really think he could change that? Even if they had a lifetime together, would those eyes ever be filled with something… more? Not liking where his thoughts were heading, he pulled back and ran a thumb over Sloane’s brow, speaking quietly. “Get some sleep.”

“Dex….”

Dex put his finger to Sloane’s lips, giving him as much of a smile as he could muster. “It’s okay. Really. One day at a time, right?”

Sloane nodded, though his uncertainty was clear. Despite that, he closed his eyes as Dex continued to stroke his face, enjoying the feel of Sloane’s stubble, the rugged line of his jaw, the way his hair fell over his eyes. His partner was always letting it grow out until Tony threatened to take a pair of scissors to it. Dex liked when it curled around Sloane’s ears, softening his features. It was a long time before Dex fell asleep, and when he did, it was restless and filled with unpleasant dreams of a madman chasing him and a lover he could never reach.

S
LOANE
WALKED
through the empty, white halls, the too-bright lights almost blinding. There was something familiar about the place. An icy chill ran up his spine, and for a split second, he thought he was back. Had they come for him? Looking down at himself, he was relieved to find he was no longer that frightened child, one of many occupying a room in the numerous wards. He was grown up, far stronger than he had been at the time. His rifle was in his hand, and he was dressed in his uniform. He was here on a mission. Something important. He wished he could remember what that something was.