Caleb Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 7] (15 page)

And then McBride turned the page. His mouth dropped open. There, in rough detail, was an image of him and Caleb entwined in bed. It wasn’t finished, but it was clear Caleb had drawn it as if he knew McBride would come and look through the book a second time.

When he compared the drawing to the bed, he realized the picture was drawn with the new bedding he’d just put on today. It was a way for Caleb to reassure McBride he was coming back. And when he did, they would do exactly what he’d depicted. Unlike his other drawings, this one was almost unbearably sweet. They weren’t roughly fucking one another but holding each other in loving embraces. Caleb seemed to be whispering something into McBride’s ravaged ear.

After propping the book up on the dresser, McBride undressed and got into bed. Even though Caleb had changed the sheets, he could still smell him, and found that familiar essence comforting. He fell asleep as the candle slowly melted down and the image of himself holding Caleb filled his heart with peace.

Morning came with cloudy skies and the threat of rain. The gray clouds and gusty winds matched his sullen mood. McBride dressed, but he didn’t put the book away. He wanted to work with the image of them twined together in his mind.

He joined his men for breakfast, but it seemed everyone was in the same mood as he was. There was little talk beyond what chores would be done for the day, and everyone cast concerned glances at Caleb’s painfully empty chair. The only bright spot that McBride could see was that his idea to sit with their mates had caught on. Rather than sitting across from each other as custom dictated, they were now side by side. It made conversation easier and gave the table a cozy feeling. Well, except for McBride sitting all alone at the head of the table. He knew more than one worried glance had been tossed his way. They were aware enough to look away when he looked over, but he felt their concern nonetheless.

“How long do we wait?” Renner was near to McBride, and though he posed the question quietly, everyone still heard him. Silence descended after he asked.

“We wait until he comes home.”

“And if he never does?”

“He will.” McBride found himself imagining the picture Caleb had left. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Caleb will be back as soon as he can.”

“Will it be soon enough for you not to suffer from your denied bloodbond?”

“I don’t know. But remember that I won’t be in pain alone. Caleb is going to hurt, too. And as everyone knows, Caleb is not well versed in self-denial.” McBride discovered that what little appetite for food he had was gone. “Can I feed from you?”

Renner bared his neck, and Quintus watched McBride feed from his mate. There was no jealousy there. Since Quintus was a gentryman, he needed more blood than what Renner alone could provide. McBride only selected him because he was closest. He drank enough to take the edge off then went outside and threw himself into a series of chores that kept his hands occupied until sundown. He came in, ate supper, drank from another brother, then went back out to Caleb’s to sleep.

McBride repeated this cycle three times over. By the end of the third day his whole body ached, and though the brothers had dutifully let him feed, he found his blood hunger was insatiable. It wasn’t the frantic need to feed that had sparked the blood madness, but McBride now understood just how strong his tie to Caleb was. Without his blood, he was going to go mad from hunger. It was unlike any pain he’d ever felt. Nothing soothed the ache, and everything seemed to spark the need.

“Is there anything I can do?” Timon was sitting close to McBride on the couch in the parlor. He liked to be held and comforted. McBride didn’t mind. He took comfort in having another body close to his. Timon was no substitute for the massive Caleb, but he was better than empty arms.

“No. But thank you.” McBride kissed the top of his head.

“I think we need to face the fact that something is wrong.” Jonas was at the bar, dispensing drinks to those who wanted them. “I know Caleb doesn’t like me, and I’m not all that fond of him, but he is one of our own. We need to go and get him.”

“We’re thirteen—fourteen men against almost one hundred slammers or more.” McBride remembered to include Timon in his head count.

“They didn’t have a hundred men with them.”

“Right. But I doubt Gage brought all his men with him when he came out here. He brought enough to show he had good numbers, but he wouldn’t display his full strength.” McBride didn’t know the man personally, but if he was able to get the slammers to work together and leave an alluring thrall untouched, then he was no dummy. “We need to wait and trust Caleb.”

Jonas and Ollie exchanged a quick glance that McBride couldn’t puzzle out. He was in too much pain to even try to read subtle signals.

“If you have something to say, Jonas, then spit it out.”

“You’re getting sicker by the hour.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“If you go down…” And there Jonas trailed off. He covered by taking a sip of whatever he was drinking, but then he didn’t finish the thought.

“We need another leader.” McBride was pretty certain that was the issue. “Are you angling for the job?”

Jonas shook his head. “You couldn’t pay me enough. But it seems wise to have something set up.”

“I agree.” Ollie didn’t look thrilled with the conversation but seemed to know they needed to have it.

“Of course you agree with your mate.” Jared’s tone was cutting. “I don’t like where this is going. It’s like we’re already planning out Caleb’s absence and McBride’s descent into madness.”

That comment reminded McBride that he hadn’t suffered a single headache since the communication unit was removed. He wished Caleb was here so he could tell him he was right. That thought got McBride to wondering if maybe the blood madness wasn’t somehow connected to the units. It would explain how the disease erupted in multiple places simultaneously. It would also explain how only gentrymen were affected. However, given the state of the world, they may never have exact answers about what had happened.

“Having a plan isn’t a bad idea,” Gannon said. “It’s smart.”

“Do you want the job?” Jared asked Gannon.

“No.” Gannon pulled Alden close. “I’d be a lousy leader.”

“Does anyone want to fill my shoes?” McBride was greeted with a silence so vast it filled the entire house. “Well. I guess I better not die then.”

“I think we have to go and get Caleb.” Ollie’s voice was quiet but carried well enough.

“He asked me to trust him. And I do.”

“But if he’s in trouble…” Easton shrugged rather than finish his thought.

“I don’t think he is.” McBride couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t feel distress. He was itchy and edgy because he missed his bloodbonded mate, but he actually took that as a good sign. “If he were dead, I wouldn’t feel this way.”

“That’s true.” Quintus nodded. “My understanding is that as soon as one pair in the bond dies, the other knows it instantly.”

“All that means is Caleb isn’t dead. They could be doing all kinds of horrible things to him.” Jared seemed determined to make the situation dire.

“Like what?” Devon asked.

“Bleeding him.”

“They have enough slammers that they don’t need Caleb for that.”

“Fucking him.”

“Seriously? By nature slammers like thralls. Caleb is so far away from a thrall it’s not even funny.”

Back and forth the speculation ranged. McBride stayed on the couch, his arm around Timon. When Timon leaned closer, resting his head against McBride’s chest, he settled back and closed his eyes. For a brief moment, he felt a strange connection to Caleb. It was like a spark in the night. It was over so fast he simply couldn’t be certain he’d really seen it at all. Caleb was sitting like McBride. His head was back, and his eyes were closed. He was thinking of McBride just as McBride was thinking of him. Concentrating hard on the image of Caleb gave him another flash, but then it was gone. When McBride opened his eyes and looked down at the top of Timon’s blond head, he swore he was his son.

As strange as the idea was, it wouldn’t leave his mind. Timon was absolutely not his child. Intellectually, he knew that for a fact. Gentrymen were cloned. The genetic strains used to make thralls were completely different from those used to make gentrymen. And then McBride realized he wasn’t seeing Timon as his son but seeing the
possibility
of a son.

Closing his eyes, he tried again to reach out to Caleb to confirm that was what Caleb had been trying to tell him. But the connection never reestablished, if in fact it had been there at all. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking on his part. He’d told Caleb how sad he was when he thought they could never have a child together. Now that he was gone, maybe his mind was just grasping at the straws of what might have been.

Eventually, everyone went off to bed with the issue of a replacement leader unresolved. McBride took Timon up to his room and tucked him into bed. He was clearly old enough to take care of himself, but he seemed to like the attention as much as McBride enjoyed giving it. When everyone was snuggled in, McBride went out to Caleb’s. He undressed and climbed into bed but found he couldn’t sleep. Who could lead if something happened to him? All the brothers were strong, but none of them seemed particularly happy at the idea of being in charge. Caleb was the only man who seemed to naturally gravitate toward the role. Moreover, he was good at it.

But more pressing than that issue was deciding if and when he would go into town looking for Caleb. Their connection to one another was strong, but that didn’t mean McBride would be able to locate him. It wasn’t like a homing device. Perhaps the lair of the slammers would be obvious. That many men living together would surely show. If the utilities in town were out, he’d be able to track them by smoke. They would need fire to cook if there was no power. However, given how the utilities were run, they might still be going. They’d set them up to be idiot-proof.

McBride tossed and turned most of the night. He woke hoping that today would be the day Caleb returned, but he was disappointed. Waiting became ever more difficult. Wondering became his constant companion. When the valet rang the bell, indicating an issue, McBride frantically searched for the butler. Unable to find him, McBride ran up four flights of stairs then practically jumped up the ladder into the cupola.

“What?”

“There’s a lone man coming up the long drive.”

“Is it Caleb?”

“I can’t tell yet, sir. He’s all the way back near where the drive joins the state road.”

Considering that the junction was over ten miles away, it would be a while before the valet could see any details. McBride waited a grand total of ten seconds then retraced his steps. He went outside and started up the long drive. He didn’t run, but he walked as quickly as he could. Anticipation made him hold his breath until the demands of his body compelled him to gulp in great gasps of air. He tried to feel if it was Caleb, but his longing made any subtle signals from his body impossible to read.

He increased his pace, but he still couldn’t even see a figure yet. When he saw the first glimpse of what appeared to be a man with wide shoulders, he swore it was Caleb but feared it was just his desire showing him what he so desperately wanted to see. By the time he got close enough to see the man more clearly, he didn’t trust his eyes that it was Caleb. But then he waved, and McBride swore his heart was going to explode right out of his chest.

“Caleb!” He wanted to say a million things all at once, but that seemed to be all that he was able to say. When he got closer, he found Caleb was calling out his name, too.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually he was near enough that he could see Caleb’s face. He was still dressed in the same clothing he’d left in, and he looked well fed, but his face—that practically glowed. McBride couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Caleb smile. Even when McBride had told Caleb exactly how he felt and he’d smiled he hadn’t looked as ecstatic as he did now.

At the same moment, they started running toward each other. McBride was laughing because he was overjoyed, but he’d also seen such a moment depicted in films and books. He’d always thought it was silly, but now that a man he loved beyond reason was so close to being back in his arms, he well understood the urge to run. He wanted Caleb plastered against his body, and the idea of waiting another second longer than he had to seemed ridiculous.

And suddenly, they were near enough that he could reach out, clasp him in his arms, and hug him so hard he crushed the breath right out of him. Caleb did the same, but neither of them seemed to care. McBride was kissing him and reveling in simply being close enough that he could smell that wicked scent of him.

“I missed you. I can’t even tell you how much.”

“Probably as much as I missed you.” Caleb pulled back and then teased his finger along McBride’s ear. “I’ve missed that sound.”

McBride touched his scar on Caleb’s neck and was rewarded with the same hungry yet submissive growl. Before he realized what was happening, they’d locked themselves to one another’s necks and fed in greedy swallows. All the tension in McBride’s body dissipated. He felt strong and secure. When they were done, they licked the wounds closed and pulled away.

“Damn. I was saving that.” Caleb stroked his finger very gently over the fresh scar he’d made on McBride’s neck.