Wicked Gentlemen (25 page)

With rough desperation, Harper pulled Belimai's loose clothes off. He ran his hands across the naked expanse of pale skin, savoring each hollow and curve. Belimai's hands slid under Harper's shirt and skimmed across his nipples. Then, with agonizing care, Belimai stroked the line of Harper s belt.

He kissed Harper again. Their tongues thrust and twined. Harper's entire body tensed. He kissed Belimai's throat, chest, and hips. His teeth grazed Belimai's arching flesh. Harper lifted his head and kissed Belimai's mouth, passing the taste of his own skin back to him.

Belimai pulled Harper's pants open. His hands curled around Harper. As if kneeling in prayer, Belimai bowed down and took Harper into the soft heat of his mouth. Harper's breath came in fast gasps. Harper's hips rocked with rushes of pleasure. He forced the sharp thrusts back into gentle motions. His muscles ached from restraint and driving desire.

Slowly, Harper turned and shifted around Belimai to reciprocate. Belimai moved with him, never lifting his head. They curled around each other, mirroring thrusts, sucking, and arching against each other in a driving rhythm. Shocks of pleasure jolted through Harper's body as Belimai swallowed him deeply.

Harper drew Belimai's hips closer. Ravenous, Harper sucked at Belimai, exulting in the mounting speed of Belimai's response. Harper's own body already raged beyond his control. Belimai's thrusts quickened, and Harper matched him. They moved together, their bodies locked in desperate motion and exquisite pleasure.

Ecstasy burst through Harper's body. It washed through his bones, blood, and muscles. It engulfed him in a thoughtless purity far deeper than even sleep. Harper lost himself—every fear, rage, hope, and desire—in a flood of physical joy.

Then the moment passed. Harper felt utterly exhausted. He managed to turn around and drape one arm over Belimai's spent body. He could hardly keep his eyes open as he pressed a kiss against Belimai's lips. Belimai shifted against him and pulled the blankets over them both.

"All right," Belimai whispered so softly that Harper hardly heard him, "I do find you charming."

 
Chapter Eleven

'Liar

When Harper awoke, he was alone in the bed. The dull light of a few streetlamps poured in through the broken windows. Twilight winds tumbled through the torn curtains, carrying fat droplets of rain inside. Harper looked around the room and caught the outline of Belimai's thin body. Belimai moved cautiously. He held his shoes in his hands as he pulled on a coat. Then he crept toward the door, stepping expertly past the floorboards that might have groaned or creaked.

"Where are you going?" Harper asked.

Belimai spun back on him.

"Out for a walk," Belimai said.

"It's raining." Harper sat up. A chill hung through the room.

"I need to stretch my legs a little." Belimai took another step toward the door.

"I'll go with you."

Belimai's secretiveness worried Harper. It seemed utterly at odds with the way he had behaved only a few hours ago. Harper grabbed his scattered clothes from the floor. He pulled on his pants. The cloth was unpleasantly cold and still damp from the morning rain.

"Harper, don't," Belimai said. "Don't come with me."

"Why shouldn't I?" Harper already had his suspicion.

"You need to get more sleep."

"I'm already up." Harper forced a smile. "Try again."

"I would just rather do some things by myself." Belimai's voice was oddly soft.

"Are you going to look for ophorium?" Harper quickly crossed the space between them. He should have guessed that Belimai would be tempted to feed his addiction once he returned to the capital.

Belimai turned to Harper and looked directly at him. Up close, Harper could see the strange expression on Belimai's face. His eyes were wide and oddly shiny. He pressed his lips closed, drawing quick breaths in through his flared nostrils. Belimai had worn the same expression after Mr. Scott-Beck had nearly gutted him. Seeing it again, now, alarmed Harper.

"Most men are tempted to go back to it." Harper tried to draw the accusation out of his previous words. "It's a hard thing to give up. Normally, people slip a few times before they can make a clean break."

Belimai said nothing, just stared at him. It wasn't like Belimai to be so quiet or to look so fragile after a mere remark. There was something more to this, Harper knew. But he didn't know what.

"Look, Belimai. I know how hard this has to—"

"Be quiet." Belimai held up his hand. "I'm not going out searching for a fix." Slowly, he drew back from Harper. "I'm going to the Inquisition."

"What?" Harper could hardly put breath behind his voice.

"I have to turn myself over to them. We both know it," Belimai said.

Harper thought that someone might have shoved a steel blade into his guts. A shocking, hard pain wrenched through him. He stared at Belimai in stunned horror for a moment. His sister must have told Belimai about Sariel. There couldn't be any other reason that Belimai would turn himself in.

"You can't do that." Harper grabbed Belimai, knocking the shoes from his hands. "Why can't you just forget about him? All he's ever done is ruin your life!"

"What are you talking about?" Belimai stared at him.

"You and Sariel." Harper knew his voice was rising with rage, but he couldn't seem to stop it. "Do you think I'm just going to let it happen all over again?"

"Harper, have you gone mad?" Belimai asked.

"You aren't going to turn yourself in for Sariel," Harper stated flatly.

"I was never going to, you idiot," Belimai snapped. "I'm doing this for you."

"What?" Harper's anger and pain dropped into an abyss of confusion.

"I ought to jab you in the eye for making me have to say it out loud," Belimai growled.

"You can jab me anywhere you like; just explain what you're talking about."

Belimai glared at him, but Harper found the expression almost reassuring after that strange, wide-eyed look Belimai had given him earlier.

"You did say you were turning yourself in to the Inquisition. .." Harper spoke with slow deliberation, watching Belimai's face with each word.

"I didn't say anything about Sariel. Why did you bring him up?"

"Why else would you want to turn yourself in?" Harper brushed past Belimai's question.

"Sariel's not even—" Belimai cut himself off as a realization came to him. "He's been arrested, hasn't he?"

"Joan didn't tell you?" Harper asked.

"No."

"Then why were you going to the Inquisition?"

"You're an idiot, aren't you?" Belimai demanded.

"Yes, I am. So, tell me why you were going to the Inquisition."

"Because of you, you moron," Belimai said. "Look at what I've already done to you. You're tired and filthy. You can't go home. The Inquisition is hunting for you. You're a mess from trying to protect me."

"So, you were going to turn yourself in for my sake?" The idea was touching, but also terrible. Harper knew he couldn't have lived with himself if he had been the reason Belimai turned himself over to the Inquisition.

"I wouldn't be doing it for my own sake. Of course it would be for you." Belimai scowled.

"Don't even think about it, Belimai." Harper shook his head. "Do you think I could stand it if—"

 
"If what? If you finally got rid of a pathetic junkie? That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

"No. You know that isn't how I think of you."

"Weren't you just accusing me of going out to find a fix? Wasn't that you, Captain Harper?" Belimai forced his mouth into a smile, trying to look as if he took pleasure in proving his point. "You know, you're not fooling anyone but yourself. You know I'm trash. You wouldn't have a use for me any other way, would you? You need some crust of Prodigal shit to rescue so you can feel like a savior. So you can sacrifice yourself. Who knows, if you could get yourself killed, someone might even decide to make you a saint."

Harper opened his mouth to tell Belimai that he was wrong, but Belimai went on in a rush.

"Well, fuck you!" Tiny rivulets of blood seeped from Belimai's eyes. "I don't want to be saved. I don't want you to be my personal martyr. I'm going to turn myself in and save you."

"You can't." Harper's words came out in a tight whisper. He swallowed and felt as if he were drinking shattered glass.

"Like hell I can't." Belimai snatched up one of his shoes and looked around to find the other. "We'll see how you like being the reason a man loses everything, you perfect bastard. Where is my goddamn shoe?"

"It won't do me any good if you turn yourself over," Harper said quietly. "The Inquisition isn't after you anymore. They never were. You just fit the description of the Prodigal they needed. They found someone else."

Belimai stood there, caught in a paralyzed flux of rage and uncertainty. At last he hurled his shoe at Harper. The heel smacked across the corner of Harper's shoulder. He hardly registered the blow.

"I'm sorry, Belimai." Harper sat back down on the edge of the bed. "They arrested Sariel when they couldn't find you."

"They took Sariel?" Belimai asked quietly.

"There are only a few of you in the entire city who can fly, and the Inquisition only has records of you and Sariel. It was bound to be one or the other of you."

 
"So once they had Sariel, I no longer mattered. You aren't in trouble for hiding me?" Belimai asked.

"That first night was dangerous, but after that, no." Harper wanted to say something more, but all that came out were cold statements of fact. He sounded like he was giving a court testimony.

"Why were those two captains looking for you?" Belimai crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you found a new lost cause? Your sister, your brother-in-law, some bad dog?"

Harper leaned down to where his wet coat lay in a heap. He dug through the pockets and pulled out the papers he had stolen. He handed them to Belimai.

"I'm not the good Inquisitor that you like to imagine me to be, Belimai."

"No?" Belimai glanced between the papers and Harper. "Aren't you the man who wants to redeem every living Prodigal?"

"No." The slicing pain in Harper's throat cut his voice to a thin breath. "I've never wanted to redeem you. I wanted to join you."

Belimai's brow wrinkled. Harper knew Belimai couldn't understand how he could want such a thing. For Belimai, Prodigal blood was nothing but a curse. Belimai looked down at the papers as if he could find an explanation there. He read intently. Harper watched Belimai's frown deepen into a scowl. At last, Belimai folded the confessions and handed them back to Harper.

"Have you done any of these things?" Belimai asked.

"No. I've broken my vows and I've lied, but I didn't murder Lord Cedric's niece or her maid. The Brighton abbot drummed up these charges to protect a friend of his from investigation. He had the one witness to the crime killed. Now I'm the only thing left in the way of a smooth prosecution."

"Sariel's prosecution?" Belimai clarified.

"Yes."

"I suppose you refused to get out of the way. What am I saying? Of course you refused." Belimai shook his head. "You really are a damn saint, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. I'm not even close. I've done mindless, stupid things." Harper closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry I accused you of going back to ophorium. I should have known you never would."

"I've always kept myself so clean before." Belimai smirked. "I probably would have lost my nerve halfway to Brighton, in any case."

"No," Harper said softly, almost to himself. He knew Belimai wouldn't have. He hadn't lost his nerve when Scott-Beck had sliced him open. It had taken trained Confessors months just to get a single name from him.

"And you have the audacity to accuse me of being a martyr," Harper said.

"I shouldn't have said that." Belimai bowed his head.

"It would have come out sooner or later." Harper shrugged.

"No." Belimai reached out and touched Harper's shoulder. "I only said it to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel as bad as I did." Belimai smiled. "It's my own little way of sharing what I have with you. Aren't you lucky?"

"I think I am." Harper almost winced at his own words. He sounded like a stumbling fool. "If you had gone to the Inquisition, Belimai...I don't know what I would have done."

Harper felt suddenly horrified at how close he had just come to losing Belimai. If he hadn't woken up when he did, Belimai would have simply slipped out the door and never have come back. The thought of such a loss tore deep into Harper's chest, like a physical pain. He wanted to tell Belimai how much it hurt him. He wanted to find the words that would convey just how desperately he yearned to keep Belimai's company. All that came to his mind were the fumbled first attempts of his youth, just a string of jumbled sounds whispered into his pillow. In the intervening two decades he had taught himself to say even less. The practice of silence and evasion was no longer an effort; it was his nature. He had spent too many years distancing himself from direct honesty, and now that he wanted to find the words to make his confession, he couldn't.