Sailing Deep (3 page)

              The man shook his head but said lovingly, “You’re an idiot.”

              That, at least, wasn’t a complete lie. He was an idiot for having got himself into this situation. Despite the fact that some of the circumstances were out of his control.

              The man stepped back and took one of Dylan’s hands in his, tugging him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you to my room.” Dylan silently stood and followed the man, stepping out into the hallway where he paused. He turned to Clark, who watched the two of them with an expression of amusement. “Sorry about all this, Clark, but thanks for finding him.”

              Clark nodded, “It’s my job.” Then he turned to Dylan, smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry about the mix-up. Shoulda just said you were Blake’s mate.”

              Dylan’s eyes opened wide, and he felt his jaw go slack. He didn’t know what to say. He turned to gape at the man holding his hand. Blake grinned and shrugged, “Okay, so I might have told everyone. Sorry about that.” He sent Clark a sideways glance and lowered his voice, “It’s still kind of a new thing, and he’s still a little shy about it.”

              Clark grinned and nodded, “Gotcha.”

              “See you later, Clark!” Blake said, raising a hand as he turned on his heel and started down the corridor, dragging Dylan behind him. Dylan followed him without much resistance. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t seem to have much of a choice either. He might as well go along with it until Blake decided to explain.

              Blake intertwined their fingers and tugged Dylan through the hallways. Dylan did his best to remember the twists and turns and memorize the layout of the compound. It could come in handy later, whether it was to report to his superiors or for his own escape.

              The hallway with the holding cells was long, and several other corridors branched off of it. Although he remembered a lot of stairs, Blake led him to an elevator. He pressed the button and waited. Dylan glanced around. He hadn’t seen anyone else down here except for Clark. Not a lot of prisoners in the holding cells? Or did they not feel the need to guard them? And if these were just temporary holding cells, was there actually a place to keep real prisoners? He couldn’t imagine that they’d leave him in a comfortable room like that if they found out who he really was and why he was there.

              The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Blake walked inside, and Dylan automatically followed. He was glancing around as the door shut. It wasn’t anything special. He watched as Blake hit the ground floor button. There were three basement levels and a ground floor.

              He was busy wondering what could be on the other levels when he was suddenly shoved against the wall. Blake pushed his knee between Dylan’s thighs, pressing their hips firmly together. Dylan wasn’t sure if he actually felt Blake’s excitement, or if that was just his imagination. The man put his hands on Dylan’s hips, fingers inching up under his hoodie and his shirt to feel the skin beneath. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants. Any protests were cut off, as he was once again kissed. The kiss was rough and eager. Dylan’s hands automatically went to the man’s arms, bracing to push him off.

              “There’s a camera,” Blake whispered against Dylan’s lips, “Above the control panel, to your right. Behind me.” He tilted his head so Dylan could glance to the camera lens in question. He looked back to Blake. The man was close. Their noses were touching. He realized Blake was taller than him by several inches. His hair fell down to brush against both their foreheads. He was smiling. His eyes, framed by long, light lashes, danced with amusement. “At least pretend you want to kiss me. Do it for the camera.” He said, subtly nodding his head toward the control panel.

              Dylan frowned, “Who are you?” He demanded in a whisper.

              “I’ll tell you later. For now, kiss me.”

              He hadn’t thought that Blake could get any closer. He was wrong. Blake’s body seemed to melt against his, relaxing so that every curve, every line, every inch, was pressed together. He could feel it through the layers of clothing. When Blake kissed him this time, it was strangely slow. He captured Dylan’s lips and held them with a firm tenderness that made Dylan’s head spin. It had been so long since Dylan had kissed anyone. It had been so long since he had been this close to anyone. He had forgotten what it felt like.

              Something inside him stirred as his body responded to Blake’s gentle touches. The man’s hands crept up his sides before moving back down to his hips, stroking his skin, fingers exploring. The waistband of his sweatpants was loose enough that it would take no effort at all to pull it aside or push it down. He was aware of this, and Blake was aware of this. Every time Blake’s hands moved down, his fingers dipped past his waistline, testing the resistance before retreating. Dylan’s fingers curled into Blake’s arms. He meant it as a warning, but the man didn’t even flinch. Dylan was mildly surprised as he had a firm grip.

              Before he could pull himself together to properly kiss him back, Blake was moving away. His lips trailed down his jawline and pressed a kiss to the hollow beneath before moving down his neck. Blake gasped and jumped as Dylan’s teeth suddenly bit down where his neck met shoulder.

              Then the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Before he could protest, Blake had moved away from him and was once again tugging him along by the hand. Dylan didn’t miss the satisfied smirk on Blake’s lips when he had pulled away.

              They emerged on a floor that was richly decorated. The floors were covered in intricate rugs and paintings and tapestries covered the walls. Blake briefly paused as they exited the elevator and looked around. Dylan couldn’t see much besides the hallway they were in, but he could see where the hallway branched into other passages and where it turned at the end. Blake cocked his head to the side, unmistakably listening. Dylan could hear voices. There was a mix of age, gender, and proximity that all blended together into the general sound of people, but he saw no one.

              “This way,” Blake said before tugging him to the side. They ducked into a side hallway, smaller and less decorated than the last. Occasionally, Blake would slow his pace and listen before speeding up again. They weaved through hallways and up small stone staircases. They had climbed three flights of stairs before Blake led them down a wide corridor. There were doors periodically on either side, and it looked more like a hotel hallway than a castle. Blake stopped at a door with the number 34b in silver plates screwed to the well-polished wood.

              “Here we are, home sweet home.” He said, digging his keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and pulled Dylan inside. He didn’t let go of his hand until the door was once again shut and locked.

              “Okay, who the hell-” Dylan’s words were stopped as Blake put a finger to his lips. He was so startled at the sudden and familiar touch that it worked. Blake removed his hand and pressed his finger to his own lips, indicating silence. Dylan’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. Blake merely smirked and walked past him, casually patting his cheek as he passed. Dylan jerked back from the touch but followed Blake through the small entryway and into the room.

              The room itself was rather large. A large, four post bed made of richly carved wood stood against the opposite wall, between two floor-to-ceiling windows. The windows had thick velvet curtains and thin, translucent curtains hung from the posts of the bed. The bed itself had a thick looking duvet and a near mountain of pillows. Two wardrobes stood against one wall, and a wide, intricate desk on another. A desktop computer with dual monitors sat snugly on the desk, and a wide TV was mounted on the wall opposite the bed. Clothes were draped everywhere: bed, floor, chair. The wardrobes were open and clothes spilled out. The bed was unmade, and the desk was covered in papers, trash, used dishes, and who knew what else.

              Quite frankly, the room had all the potential to be a rich, well decorated and comfortable room, but it was a complete mess.

              He stood near the entryway, taking in his surroundings with a growing feeling of disgust and horror as Blake moved about the room. He paused as he passed his desk, making a show of straightening some papers before reaching for his keyboard. With a few deft strokes, Blake pulled up a program and began typing in a line of code too fast for Dylan to see. Then he clicked enter and the program was gone. Curiously, Dylan watched as Blake moved about the room. He wasn’t cleaning up, not really. Blake was more shifting his mess around in a half-assed attempt to seem neat, but Dylan noticed the way his eyes darted around. The way he checked places where it would be obvious for a camera to be. Dylan knew enough about surveillance to notice it.

              The computer suddenly dinged, startling Dylan. He saw a notification pop up in the center of one of the monitors although he couldn’t read it from where he stood. Blake was looking at it too. He suddenly smirked and dropped the handful of clothes he had been carrying to the floor.

              “Well, that’s a relief,” Blake said as he casually strode across the room and collapsed on the small couch against one wall. He sighed as he lifted his feet and crossed them on top of the coffee table in front of the couch. It, too, was covered in junk. “Have a seat.” He said, gesturing to the couch.

              “What was that?” Dylan asked, nodding toward the computer.

              Blake glanced at the screen where the notification had faded. All that remained was a blank desktop. He shrugged. “Just a security program. I designed it myself.”

              Dylan eyed him, one eyebrow raised. He was suspicious of this man. This man who claimed to know him, who touched him so casually, so easily violated his personal space, and who had somehow managed to rescue him from the holding cell without suspicion or contention. “What does it do?”

              Blake idly waved a hand in the air. “It checks to make sure there aren’t any broadcasting electronics within my room. Except my own, of course. Just a safety precaution. I check every time I come back, but it’s mostly out of habit. I’ve never actually found anything.” He was inspecting his fingernails. He was talking about checking for cameras and listening devices, yet he spoke like he was discussing the weather.

              “So we’re not being monitored?”

              “Not in here, no.”

              “Good.” Dylan stepped further into the room. He grabbed the desk chair, dragged it to the opposite side of the coffee table, and swiveled it around to face the couch. “Now,” Dylan sat down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle between them. He made solid eye contact with Blake, not allowing him look away, and narrowed his own. “Tell me who you are and what exactly you’ve been doing.”

              The corner of Blake’s lips twitched, noticeably trying to keep his grin in check. “My name is Blake, and I believe what I did was save your ass.”

              Dylan groaned internally but kept his serious expression in check. He wouldn’t rise to the bait. Dylan wouldn’t let this man keep him from getting answers. Though he could already tell, it was going to be a challenge. He changed the question. “How do you know who I am?”

              “You don’t remember me? Babe. I’m offended. We’re mates.”

              “We are not mates.”

              He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “For both our sakes, I recommend you change that attitude. If you want to enjoy some amount of freedom until we can get you out of here, that is, and since I’ve now attached my name to yours, I would highly appreciate it if you played along. No need to blow both our covers.” He raised one eyebrow, looking at Dylan like he was waiting for something.

              Dylan let that sink in. It hit him all at once, and he blinked, surprised. Dylan was ashamed and surprised that he hadn’t realized it sooner. Granted, he did have a rather eventful morning and a fog filled last night. Dylan was still trying to regain his bearing. Still, he hated that he hadn’t figured it out. He normally wasn’t this slow. “You’re the mole.”

              Blake grinned, clapping one hand against the arm of the couch. “There it is! Give the man a prize!” He tilted his head to the side. “Though I gotta say, I’m a little upset you didn’t recognize me.”

              “I’ve never met you.”

              “Haven’t you?”

              “No.” Dylan looked the man over once more. No, he was certain he had never seen the man before. “Your identity was kept secret. We never got a picture or a name.”

              He sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s for the best.” He rested his cheek against a raised hand, leaning against the arm of the couch. His eyes searched Dylan’s face. “You’re not the best actor, but at least, you picked it up relatively quickly and you followed direction.” His smile was creeping back onto his lips. “Your body, at least, was enthusiastic .”

              Dylan’s eyes widened a fraction. “It was not.” He felt the heat rising to his face, and he was fairly sure it was anger.

              “I assure you, it was.” His eyes moved up and down Dylan’s body in a way that made him feel exposed.

              Dylan cleared his throat, intertwining his fingers as he leveled a glare at the other man. He was trying to get across just how serious this conversation needed to be. So far, Blake had a way of derailing him from the business at hand. “I think it's time for a debriefing.”