LT #23: Ascension

Chapter 14—NC-17

“Mmmmm…that feels nice,” Sey murmured, still half-asleep. Stretched out full-length on his stomach, bed linens barely covering his muscular back and thighs, he smiled without opening his eyes. His lover was massaging the space at the base of his spine with his wet, warm tongue and—

Sey’s eyes flew open with a start. Wait a minute! Something was wrong with this picture. Declan’s tongue wasn’t *that* long. No one’s tongue was *that* long. Except maybe—

Sey sat up and shouted, “Ahhhhhhhhh!”

Declan dropped the razor he was using to shave into the sink and ran into the bedroom, dripping water and shaving cream all over the rug. “Sey! Baby, what is it?”

“That! That thing was—ugh! Licking me!”

Declan’s gaze followed the direction in which Sey’s fingers pointed. Suddenly Declan burst out laughing. When he could finally speak, he sputtered out, “Well, he *is* your dog!”

“That *thing* is not my dog!”

Declan contemplated the oversized puppy. “Obviously an escapee from Dav’s,” he commented. “But her father must have been Zero. She looks just like him.”

Sey gritted his teeth and counted to ten. “*She* is a *he*, Dec, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Declan started to laugh again. “I won’t even ask why you’re so sure of that, baby.”

Sey glared at his lover. “He was licking me, Dec, not—arghhh!” With that, Sey buried his head under his pillow, the rest of him remaining uncovered. As hiding places went, this one had its shortcomings.

All at once Declan bent his head to hover over Sey’s back. Sey’s muscles rippled, reacting to the touch of Declan’s long red hair. He smiled and pressed a kiss to the same place that the puppy licked so enthusiastically. “Hey, tell that animal to go away!” Sey said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

When Declan rubbed his cheek against Sey’s thigh, however, Sey jumped, sending the pillow to the floor. “What is *that*?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Declan chuckled, gesturing at his still unshaven face. “Shaving cream, Sey.”

Sey leaned on his elbow, managing to completely ignore the fact that he was naked. “Y’know, one kiss isn’t going to cut it, Dec. You owe me some *major* sucking up.”

A strange glint entered Declan’s pale grey eyes, turning them to molten silver. “That…can be arranged.”

***

When they pulled up in front of the bookstore an hour later, Sey was still muttering about being woken up by a *dog*, of all things, when he fitted the key into the lock of the door.

Turning to face Declan, he said, “Don’t forget. It’s Saturday. I’m closing early today. Try not to be too long at the U, okay? Love you.” He raised his face to Declan’s for a goodbye kiss.

But Declan pulled him closer, aligning their bodies so tightly together that Sey could feel every bit of Declan’s arousal. Their mouths met and merged, and that was the very term to describe their coming together, for that was what it was, a merging, a union of two halves of the same whole. It was a restoration of the very best that they could be—together.

Brushing Sey’s nose with his lips, Declan reluctantly pulled away again, whispering, “I love you, too.”

As they parted, Declan vowed that he would be back as soon as possible. “Don’t work too hard, baby.”

“Same to you. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to wear out anything I might need later on,” he quipped with a whimsical smile.

***

When Declan returned to the bookstore, it was a mere three hours later. He had called in a favor or two, claiming that he didn’t feel well, and he made it back to the Arcadia well before closing time.

Greeting his lover with a look of longing and a heartfelt kiss, Declan asked if there were anything he could do to help. Glancing quickly at the remaining customer, who waited patiently at the other end of the store, Sey replied, “Could you make sure that the back door is locked? After I take care of this customer, I just have to run the receipts and then we can go home.”

Declan nodded, eager to do whatever he could to get his lover in bed that much sooner. Once the customer was gone, Declan pondered what else he could do to expedite things. Sey pushed a button on the cash register and it began to add up the totals for the day. His mind wandering, he didn’t really notice that another customer had entered until it was too late to claim that the bookstore was officially closed.

Resisting the desire to gnash his teeth and curse, Sey politely inquired, “Is there something that I can help you with, ma’am?”

“I’m looking for a book for my son. He’s—uh—about your age, I think.”

“What kind of book? What kinds of things does he like?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. He’s crazy about motorcycles.”

“I see. How about this one?” He held up the newly released “Guide to Harley-Davidson and other Road Warrior Stories” for her perusal, trying not to sigh audibly as he mentally catalogued how many minutes it would take her to make up her mind.

That was when he felt it. A tug on his jeans leg. He refused to look down. He could sense Declan down there, hidden under the counter where no one could see. Drifting off on a wave of fatigue, Sey covered his mouth as he yawned, a movement suddenly cut off sharply by the sensation of Declan’s long slender fingers moving up the inside of his thigh.

“Jeez!”

The woman studying the book glanced at Sey curiously. “Did you say something?”

Sey wrenched himself under control with a visible effort. “Um, no. No, I—no.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. A few moments later, Sey uttered another strangled cry as Declan unzipped his jeans and quietly eased his already-swollen member free of its former confines. The woman blinked. “You look rather flushed. Perhaps you’re running a fever,” she offered.

“I-I do feel kinda h-hot,” Sey admitted. I’m going to Hell. I’m going to Hell for sure, but Dec’s gonna be right behind me, if I have anything to say about it.

When Declan took Sey in his mouth, however, Sey almost slammed the cash register drawer shut on his fingers. “I-I’m sorry. Have you decided whether or not you want the book?”

The woman shook her head. “Could I have a few more minutes?”

Sey looked like a man going under for the third time. “Sorry, but we’re all out of time,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he would have liked. Leaning forward, he said conspiratorially to the woman, “Truth is, I have a date. You understand how it is.”

Yow! He certainly did. My, what sharp teeth Declan had. “Not-not a date, actually. An appointment.”

“An appointment?”

“Someplace I *have* to be,” he said emphatically, rewarded immediately by the warm, silken feel of Declan’s tongue on his skin.

The woman smiled. As if she understood. As if. She didn’t have a deranged man sliding his deliciously wet tongue into—oh, my God!

“I’ll take it.”

“Me, too,” Sey said dreamily.

The woman coughed. “I mean, I’ll just ring that up for you.”

There was a tense silence for the few minutes it took Sey’s trembling hands to calculate the amount due and accept the woman’s payment. “Thank you,” he said as he handed her the package.

The moment that the woman left, Sey whirled around, almost dislodging Declan from his place at Sey’s feet. “What are you *doing*?”

“Sucking up?” Declan asked cheerfully.

Heat suffused Sey’s face, his dark eyes glittering. “No,” he said, pulling on Declan’s shoulders until he rose.

Sey wrapped his arms around Declan, twining both hands through his magnificent red hair. With one tug, he had Declan right where he wanted him. Flush against his aroused body. Bracing himself against the counter, he spread his legs, feeling the cloth of Declan’s jeans abrade his most tender skin.

He dove at Declan’s mouth, kissing him again and again until they were both breathless. When they finally broke apart, Declan caught his breath at the look in Sey’s eyes. “Think I should lock the door?”

Sey held the look as long as he could, then buried his face against Declan’s neck. “God, I love you.”

Declan rested his chin on the top of his lover’s head and closed his eyes. “Maybe we could just stay like this.”

“Sometimes you get me so hot,” Sey whispered, his breath ruffling the curling tendrils of Declan’s hair. “And then, suddenly, it’s not about sex at all anymore. How do you do that?”

Declan slid his hands under Sey’s shirt, effectively pulling it out of his jeans. Running his hands over his partner’s chest, he leaned close and kissed him. “I don’t do it alone, acushla. We do it *together*.”

“Always, Dec?”

“And forever.”

Chapter 15—NC-17

“This isn’t so bad.”

Jazz cocked his head attentively at Adam, giving him a crooked smile. “It’s not?” he asked, gesturing at the small group of five-year olds playing on the Samuelle back lawn.

Adam shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t suck.”

Jazz chuckled. “So the great and all-powerful Adam doesn’t mind taking a turn at babysitting the brats, huh?”

Adam pretended to be outraged. “Hey, watch who you’re calling brats! Some of them are related to me!”

“And you, of course, are the worst brat of all, man,” Jazz said with a laugh.

The two teenagers sat on the back lawn, a comfortable distance apart, their hands outstretched towards one another. Every now and then, Adam would reach out and graze the back of Jazz’ hand with his fingertips, and Jazz would sigh. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. But it would have to do for now.

Adam shielded his eyes and looked over the children. Now squabbling vociferously, Luc and Jago were evidently at odds with each other today. Wondering if he needed to intervene, Adam was just beginning to stand up when he felt the gentle tug on his sleeve. “What?”

“Let them settle it themselves.”

“But they look like they’re going to kill each other. Trust me, my life would be seriously over if anything happened to Luc.” Adam’s tone was blithe, but he meant every word. If something happened to Luc that Adam could have prevented, he would never survive the guilt.

“They haven’t killed each other yet, man. They’re just testing.”

Adam frowned. “Testing what?”

“The bounds of friendship. Love.” Pause. “*Us*.” That last word came out so huskily that Adam almost thought he misheard it.

Adam’s head snapped around, his breath catching in his throat at the depth of feeling captured in Jazz’ expressive green eyes. “Why us?” he whispered back, sitting down again.

“Why not us?” Jazz countered. All at once Adam wasn’t sure they were still talking about the kids.

Adam’s gaze fell to Jazz’ mouth, a familiar ache settling into his heart and his groin at the same moment. With what seemed to be a seamless series of movements, Adam managed to move closer and brush his mouth against Jazz’ lips. Sparing only a quick glance for the kids, Adam wrapped his arms around Jazz, hugging him as hard as he could.

“Hey!” Jazz protested, albeit weakly. Any time that Adam actually permitted himself to touch him, he was grateful for.

“Sorry,” Adam murmured. But he wasn’t. He loved touching Jazz. His skin was smooth, but well-muscled, a curious mixture of beauty and strength.

“Don’t be,” Jazz replied shyly. “I liked it.”

Adam groaned and pulled the younger adolescent into another hug. He nuzzled the side of Jazz’ face, kissing the stud that decorated his earlobe. “Oh, God, Nicky,” he whispered, unable to put into words what he wanted to say.

Jazz melted. To hear his real name on Adam’s lips brought him right to the brink. Breathing raggedly, he struggled to remain in control. Adam’s mouth in such close proximity wasn’t helping. “Um…oops! Hormone city, man. Better let me go.”

Adam drew back, seeing for himself what his most casual of caresses had wrought. Jazz’ face was flushed, his mouth parted expectantly. Shaking his head, he combed his fingers through Jazz’ long golden brown hair. “Maybe we could—“

Jazz could have wept at the irony. For once, Adam was weakening. Now it was Jazz’ turn to be strong. God, that hurt.

“No, we couldn’t,” he said, his bright green eyes apologetic.

Adam began to shift away, as if stung, but Jazz held him fast. “I want you, Adam. Hell, I’d be all over you in a heartbeat, if you’d let me. But—you’d hate yourself for giving in, and then—you’d hate me.” Jazz bit his lip. “And I just couldn’t stand that, man.”

Adam closed his eyes. “I understand.”

“Do you? I hope you do. Cause I really—um—want to be with you. More than anything. But I kinda made this promise to Pete.”

“Pete?”

“You know, Smoke. I owe him a lot, man. If he hadn’t gotten me off the streets when he did... I guess what I’m trying to say is—he gave me a home and—I owe him my life, man. “

“I don’t want to disappoint Dad either,” Adam said softly.

Jazz sighed. “It’s still hard, though.”

A tiny smile quirked at the corners of Adam’s mouth. “You have no idea.”

His arm slipping about the younger teenager’s neck, Adam drew him close and kissed him almost reverently. His face buried in Jazz’ hair, he whispered, “I love you, Nicky.”

At Jazz’ unexpected gasp, Adam pulled back just enough to look intently into his eyes. “What? You didn’t know?”

How could he explain that he knew and yet he didn’t, *couldn’t* know? His worth as a human being was inextricably tied to what other people thought of him. For someone to actually *love* him was…what finding the Holy Grail would be to a crusading knight.

Shaken, all Jazz could do was look helplessly at Adam.

***

Nikita picked that moment to come by, ostensibly to check on the younger children, but Adam had to wonder if she was really checking up on him and Jazz. “Hi, guys. Everything okay over here?”

Adam dropped the hand that clung to the back of Jazz’ neck, surprised that he felt as though he’d been caught in the act of doing something wrong. “Sure. Why do you ask?”

Nikita considered that for a moment before continuing. “Things just looked a little…intense…that’s all. Are you two okay?”

Feeling a strange compulsion to tell Nikita anything and everything, Adam blurted out, “I kissed him, okay? More than once.”

Nikita smiled kindly at the young man she claimed as yet another son. “So…did you like it?”

Adam blinked. Wasn’t there anything that honestly surprised Nikita?

“Guess you did, then. If you did it more than once,” she echoed Adam’s last words.

As if in a daze, Adam said, “Might even do it again.”

Nikita nodded. “As long as it doesn’t go any further,” she said firmly. Ah, Adam thought, so there is a line drawn somewhere. He didn’t know why, but he found that vaguely reassuring.

“I wouldn’t. Promised Dad.”

She looked pleased. As if Adam’s wanting to abide by his father’s wishes somehow took on new significance.

Changing the subject, she asked, “How are the kids?”

Jazz smiled brightly and chirped, “Oh, you know, the usual. Trying to kill each other one minute, best friends the next.”

“Yeah.” She brushed back her long pale hair with one hand. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“You guys be good,” she said, drifting off to talk to Luc.

***

Adam idly traced the fading bruise on Jazz’ cheek. “Looks like this is finally getting better.”

Jazz grasped Adam’s hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the palm. “I—“

Suddenly Adam moved in to kiss Jazz’ bruised cheek. “We’d better gather the kids together for dinner.”

Jazz gave Adam a slightly pained look. “Can you handle them alone? I need to go home.”

Adam looked taken aback. “I thought you were staying for dinner. Is something wrong?”

“I am. I just need to—“

“Need to what?” Adam was starting to fear the worst. He knew that Jazz loved him. He needed no further convincing of that. And yet, the younger teen looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Need to change my clothes,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

“What?”

“I—you—unhhh….” Jazz abruptly stood up and Adam followed him, solicitously touching him until Jazz brushed his hands away. “Please—“

Wishing there was a nice big hole to crawl into, Jazz stammered out, without looking once at Adam, “When you kissed me—and-and—told me you loved me—I-uh—“

Adam looked incredulous for all of five seconds, then resisted the urge to cheer. On the pretense of hugging him, Adam surreptitiously kissed Jazz’ ear and neck, pushing his hair out of the way. “You came on the strength of a kiss?” he whispered into his ear.

“Not just the kiss,” Jazz said hoarsely. “That you—I mean—“

“That I love you? Oh, God, Nicky, I do. I swear.”

Sighing, he reluctantly released the younger adolescent. “Don’t be gone too long.”

Jazz waved over his shoulder as he walked away.

Life was starting to look up in a big way.

Chapter 16—NC-17

Miranda strode through the door like a woman on a mission. It briefly occurred to Nikita to ask her what was on her mind, but the older woman was clearly otherwise preoccupied. So, aside from a puzzled look as Miranda passed by, Nikita never gave her a second thought.

Luc tugged urgently on his mother’s T-shirt. “Mommm…is Gran’ma coming to dinner?”

Nikita looked thoughtful. “I don’t think so, honey. She’s got something else cooking.”

***

Yes, she did.

Her libido was spinning wildly out of control, thanks to Maddy and Neil. Oh, they could think they were fooling everyone, but she knew better. She could read between the lines. Hell, she could still hear them!

All that thudding up against the door. Neil’s breathless voice over the intercom. Maddy’s impassioned groan, cut short by someone’s (undoubtedly Neil’s) hand over her mouth.

Oh, my God.

Miranda found it hard to imagine Madeline behaving so impulsively or so passionately, but the proof lay in Miranda’s own reaction to what she inadvertently overheard. Her chest heaving, her face flushed, Miranda was unbearably aroused.

Pushing open the bedroom door, she discovered Walter in a state of partial undress. Thinking he was alone, Walter failed to tie his white terrycloth robe, opting instead to rub his thinning gray hair with a nubby cotton towel. His face hidden in the towel, Walter didn’t hear her come in. Or her fervid exclamation at the sight of his lean, still well-muscled body in all its glory.

Her breath coming hard and fast, she pulled the towel off Walter’s head, leaving him standing there, more or less perplexed. But not embarrassed. If there was one thing Walter was not, it was shy.

“Honey! You’re home early! What’s up?”

“*You’d* better be!” she cried, unsnapping the buttons on her white uniform top.

“Whoa, babe! To *what* do I owe *this* honor?”

“It’s your lucky day, my love!”

With that, she proceeded to step out of her shoes. Sensible shoes. Miranda would have nothing else. Soft, comfortable, good on your feet shoes. Walter wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He simply walked over to the picture window that overlooked the back lawn, glanced outside and closed the curtains. All with an unbelievable air of calm that was deceptive.

Because his body had definitely noticed Miranda’s. He could feel the heat coming off her in waves.

He liked it.

He moved the handmade rocker, turning it so that now it faced his wife instead of the back lawn. Sitting carefully, he lifted his terrycloth robe as though he wore a tuxedo with tails. Spreading his legs, he smoothed the edges of the terrycloth over his thighs, not making any real effort to hide what Miranda was looking for. With a slight grin, he intoned huskily, “Perform for me.”

Miranda started to remove her skirt, but Walter held up his hand. “Leave it on. Just—you know…”

She nodded without saying a word. But she had no intention of letting her husband run things. This was her show from beginning to finish.

She leaned forward, just out of his range, but he managed to snag her front-clasp bra with one fingertip. A second later, her breasts spilled forth into his waiting hands. She was excruciatingly sensitive right now, and it was as if he knew just how to touch her. But she needed no encouragement. Her nipples already hard and standing at attention, she sighed as he caressed her very gently.

Abruptly turning her back on him, she skimmed her fingers down the sides of her uniform top, which was now hanging wide open. For some reason, Walter found her state of disarray erotic. He had no need to touch himself. He was instantly hard.

Bending over slowly, she began running her hands up her legs, lightly brushing the white see-through nylon stockings with her fingers. Hiking her skirt up, she revealed that she was wearing garters. Unhooking her garters one at a time, she looked back over her shoulder to see Walter mesmerized by her every movement. Her hazel eyes dropping to his lap, she could easily see the effect that her striptease was having on him.

Rolling her stockings down, inch by inch by inch, Miranda closed her eyes halfway, concentrating on the task at hand. Kicking off her stockings, she turned back to face her husband. Her skirt pushed up over her hips, only her sheer lace panties remained below the waist.

With a slight tug, she removed the final obstacle to passion. Walter beckoned with one finger. “C’mere, Honey.”

Balancing herself skillfully, she eased herself into Walter’s lap. She leaned forward, and he kissed her, insinuating his tongue into her mouth. When he broke away, it was with great reluctance and considerable curiosity. “What brought all this on, sweetheart?”

So she whispered in his ear. Told of enigmatic noises in the internist’s office. Inexplicable breathing. Sensual moans and groans.

All the while she rubbed herself between the legs, making herself ready for their union. But it was unnecessary. She was unbelievably hot…and incredibly wet.

“And that turned you on?” he asked, his blue eyes darkening.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, licking her lips. Staring intently into those heated eyes, she felt as though she would catch fire from his glance.

He smiled, not unlike a wolf contemplating a sheep. “You *are* a delicious little morsel, Honey. Maybe I’ll just have to taste you.”

“Please,” she cried helplessly, opening herself to him.

He lifted her up, both hands on her hips. He had to admit, the sight of her like this, so debauched, so far gone, barely half-dressed, aroused him like nothing else. Momentarily using his other hand to position himself at her entrance, he began to lower her slowly.

She sank down on his lap again, his erection throbbing deep inside her, and she caught her breath at the feel of him, thick and hard. His hands moved to her neck, pulling her hair up and away. Rocking forward, he kissed the side of her neck. Rocking backward, he pulled out just enough to tantalize both of them. When he rocked forward again, he slammed into her, deeper and harder. His hands slid down her body to her breasts.

He licked her nipples almost delicately, a fierce contrast to the impassioned thrusting taking place just below. They swayed together, their bodies moving as one entity, back and forth, to and fro, every movement slow and calculated to last as long as humanly possible.

“Y’know,” he rasped, the vibrations of his smoke-and-whiskey voice washing over and through her. “There’s something to be said for being…older.”

She couldn’t help but smile. No one half their age could last this long. There was an art to lovemaking this good. He sucked on his finger until it was well and truly wet, and then…

The crest of desire took them over the edge. Walter pumped furiously even as his hands clenched together over her lower back, his seed spilling inside her until it overflowed, pooling on his groin. Her spasms and gentle aftershocks continued to milk him, long after the actual moment of orgasm had passed, and he held her, enjoying the cascading series of sensations even as they faded away.

He bit at her mouth, his hand now winding itself through her medium-length blonde hair to anchor her in place. When he released her finally, she looked well and truly…kissed.

“Oh, Honey, what you do to me.”

“Oh, no, Walter. It’s what I’m *going* to do to you.”

“You’re not done yet?”

She shook her head, trailing a wet fingertip over his chest. “We got all sticky. Now you’ll just have to take another shower.”

“Honey, we’ll never get clean at this rate.”

A mysterious glint entered her eyes.

Chapter 17—NC-17

“Did Jago say anything to you, Cassidy?”

At the sound of her former nickname, Derry almost smiled.

Davenport interlaced his fingers with his wife’s and swung her hand back and forth between them. When her husband came home from the academy, Derry seemed to be preoccupied about something, but as usual, she wasn’t talking. He sighed. Sometimes he thought that she might never be as forthcoming about her emotions as he would like. But there was always hope.

“Come on, darlin’. You can tell me,” he prompted, giving her hand a squeeze. The moment he noticed her mood, Davenport suggested a walk might put her spirits right, but though she readily agreed, she was hardly enthusiastic.

Suddenly she stopped, biting her lip. She worried her lower lip until Davenport wanted to scream, but he knew that it was merely a matter of waiting.

“He had a fight with Luc,” she said softly.

“I know. But did he tell you what it was about?”

“Nothing.” She raised pain-filled silver-grey eyes to his. “What has a five-year old got to be upset about? And why wouldn’t he tell me, Jake? Maybe I’m—“

“Maybe you’re what, darlin’?”

“Maybe I’m not a very good mother,” she blurted out, her face flaming. She couldn’t bear it if Davenport turned away from her now.

“Oh, Cassidy.” He stroked her cheek, noting the fine tremors starting just beneath the surface of the skin. “It’s got nothing to do with you. You’re a wonderful mother.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re prejudiced,” she retorted, her Irish accent growing thicker.

“I’m saying that cause it’s *true*, darlin’.” He kissed her tenderly, wishing there were some way to convince her that he was right.

“Then why--?”

“Sweetie, he’s a boy. He doesn’t need a good reason. Boys don’t tell their mothers everything, y’know.”

“They don’t? Oh, Jake, are you sure?”

“Hey, I was one, remember?” He grinned and held up three fingers in a salute that looked vaguely familiar. “Scout’s honor.”

Derry pondered. “He’s such a quiet child. Maybe too quiet, Jake.”

“What? You think he’s going to grow up to be a mad bomber or something?” At Derry’s look of consternation, Davenport quickly realized his error. Given the circumstances of their lives, that wasn’t such a leap.

But he knew how easy it was to overreact and create more of a problem than there really was. “Okay, okay, that’s not what I meant, Derry.” He wrapped his arms around the only woman he had ever loved with all his heart and what was left of his soul after Section got through with it.

“He’s very lucky to have you as his mother, darlin’. But don’t think that cause he’s not telling you all his secrets that he even *has* any.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Sometimes things really are what they seem?”

“Yeah.”

***

They kept walking, drifting slowly towards the kennels. “Wow.” Davenport whistled. “Smoke’s really cleaned this place up.”

Derry folded her arms over her chest and nodded. “Aye, there’s no smell like there was before. And it’s the weirdest thing, Jake, but the barking doesn’t wake me up anymore. How do you s’pose he does *that*? We tried everything.”

Davenport shook his head. “Smoke’s got a real way with animals, if you ask me. He should think about making a career of it.”

“Become a vet, you mean?”

“Yeah. Don’t you think he would be good at it?”

“Aye. But what would James think of that?”

“You mean, would he support him? Darlin’, no one’s been able to fit so much as a crowbar between those two since they got back together.”

“James wants nothing more than to make Smoke happy.”

“Yeah. It’s sorta nice to see that kind of thing, y’know?”

“Aye, I know. I know something else, too. I haven’t done my part to make *you* happy today.” She traced a finger over his lips, and he kissed it.

“Make it up me, darlin’. Anytime.”

***

No dogs in sight. No kids to be found. Nothing but sheer tranquility and the silence that came with it.

Davenport liked those times when his wife took a more aggressive role in their lovemaking. So he was not unpleasantly surprised when she moved closer and bit his lip.

“Ow.”

“That didn’t hurt, Jake,” she said with laughter in her voice.

“No, it didn’t,” he agreed, pulling her closer to whisper, “Hurt me somewhere else, baby. I can take it.”

Moving as one into the enclosed kennel area, they found an empty medium-sized stall with fresh blankets on the overhanging shelves. They kissed repeatedly, their lips never leaving each other’s, as Davenport felt above his head for the blankets. Pulling the blankets down with his free arm, Davenport then proceeded to create a makeshift bed.

Derry pushed her husband down onto the blankets, unbuttoning his shirt on the way. When his chest was bare, she glanced at him, smiling at the eager look in his dark eyes. Still dressed, she began to lave his nipples, one at a time. She felt his hand pressing into her lower back and she shivered with anticipation.

After unfastening his belt, she pulled his pants open, exposing his naked flesh to the unseasonably warm spring air. “No shorts? Were you hoping to get lucky then, boyo?”

Davenport grinned and arched up to grasp her face between two large hands. Holding her fast, he licked her mouth, his tongue demonstrating just what it expected from her.

Breaking away with a wet sound, he whispered, eyes gleaming, “Take something off. I want to touch you so bad, darlin’.”

She pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing that he was not the only one who had foregone underwear. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her breasts. No matter how many times they made love, he never got over the fact that she chose him. She *loved* him.

“Kiss me, Jake. All over,” she commanded in an equally fervent whisper.

“Oh, yeah.”

She leaned over him, pushing her breasts into his face, and he fastened his mouth to a nipple. He wasn’t gentle. He claimed her as possessively as a warrior chieftain taking the spoils of war.

His hands slid up and down her naked back, and she relaxed against him even as she felt him tense. “Please, not yet,” he pleaded, seemingly to himself.

She heard his entreaty and looked down at him affectionately. “Are you close then, Jake?”

“Oh, God, you know I am,” he choked out.

Pulling away from him so suddenly that her nipple came out of his mouth with an audible pop, she heard the low sound of loss he made deep in his throat. “No…”

“Yesss…” she hissed between even white teeth. Slipping down his body with the practiced ease of experience, she captured his hardened length with one hand, pressing it to her open mouth. He cried out once, and the resulting pulses splashed her face and lips.

His hands carded her thick chestnut hair, and she lay her cheek down on his still-heaving groin. “I love you, Jake.”

“Not half as much as I love you, Cassidy,” he said sleepily, the words intense and indistinct at the same time.

Chapter 18

“We’re going to the chateau? Yayyyyy!”

The resulting shriek pierced Nikita’s eardrums. Nevertheless, she shrugged happily and continued to pack. Luc’s enthusiasm was contagious. They had been away from the chateau for too long. It was time to go back.

She hefted another empty suitcase up onto the bed. Luc peered up at his mother. “Can I help?”

“Sweetie, you *are* helping me. By staying right over there. Out of Mommy’s way.”

Luc looked crestfallen, but only for a moment. His grey-green eyes aglow, he asked, “Is Kiarra coming wit’ us?”

“Yep.” Nikita smiled as that simple word earned her another ear-splitting roar from her youngest son.

“Does she know? Can I go tell her? Huh, Mom? Huh? Please???”

“I really don’t want you walking all the way down the road by yourself, Luc. And Daddy’s busy. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here,” she said kindly, knowing it was bound to provoke a reaction. Luc had trouble seeing why he couldn’t have what he wanted—now. She and Michael were working on it, but she imagined that it was a phase, not unlike the phases each of the older children went through, and that this too would be cured by the passage of time.

She was saved from the resounding shout that was inevitable by the arrival of Adam. Nikita breathed a sigh of relief, wondering if she was doing the right thing by imposing on him this way, but the scowl on Luc’s face made the decision for her. “Adam! Hi!”

Luc blinked and cut short the wail of distress on his lips. “Hey, Adam!” he chirped, beaming at the sixteen-year old.

“Hey, munchkin!” Adam couldn’t resist ruffling the young boy’s hair. If there was one thing he discovered, it was how much he enjoyed being part of a family again, in particular, this family.

“You always call me that!” Luc laughed. “Someday I won’t be so little!”

Adam nodded. “Nope. Someday you might be bigger than me!”

That made Luc giggle helplessly. From Luc’s perspective, Adam looked almost as tall as his father.

Adam had to confess that being the focus of Luc’s hero worship was more than flattering. It did astonishing things to his self-esteem, though probably not for the same reasons that Luc idolized him.

“Sometimes…” Luc put his hand into Adam’s much larger grasp. “…you remind me of Daddy.”

Being compared to Michael, in such a positive way, filled Adam’s head and heart to overflowing. It was yet another confirmation of the bond between father and son…and now brother and brother.

Adam looked over Luc’s head at his step-mother. Her light blue eyes the color and texture of watered-down silk, Nikita seemed to be holding back tears. Suddenly feeling his own eyes well up, Adam quickly looked away.

“Hey,” he said, addressing his half-brother. “It’s not nice to make us big guys cry. Bad for the image, y’know.”

Luc chuckled, and Adam smiled, taking a chance in glancing back at Nikita. “You okay?” he asked quietly, sounding like his father.

“Just fine,” she replied, knowing it was true now. Things were going to work out. A person just had to have a little faith.

***

Faith flung a pebble as far as the eye could see. A grim smile taking over her beautiful young face, she hopped up onto the low stone wall that separated the Samuelle property from the Hunter property. “Music lessons! Ha!” she shouted at no one in particular.

Inside the house, Connor played dutifully for his mother. After he had his lessons, it wasn’t enough that she made him practice for hours. No, she had to listen to him for at least an hour, ostensibly to make sure that he was practicing his lessons *correctly*.

Shit, he thought to himself, if he didn’t love music so much, there wouldn’t be enough money in the world to get him to do this. Thank God, they were going to the chateau with the rest of the family. He needed a respite. He needed a little stroking. He needed…Faith.

His fingers missed a key, and he fumbled briefly to find his place. “Concentrate.”

Connor held back a sigh. His mother needed to get lost. Again. She was nice for days after his Dad won that argument with her. Connor wasn’t sure exactly what they argued about, but he knew his father wore a triumphant grin afterward, and his mother didn’t seem to mind at all.

In fact, they seemed closer lately. As if they were suddenly back on the same wavelength.

Huh! Grown-ups! Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t live without ‘em.

***

He slammed the cover down over the keyboard. “I’m done! Can I go see Faith now, Mom?”

“Connor, you’re going to see her for the next three months. Don’t you ever wish you could make some…I don’t know…new friends?”

Connor looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Faith is so…” Madeline seemed at a loss for words, something that amused Connor no end, though he would never be foolish enough to admit such a thing.

“She’s *my* friend, Mom, and *I* like her enough for both of us, okay?”

Madeline looked at her son as if he had suddenly sprouted horns from his head. “Connor? Did you just answer me back?”

His dark blue eyes slid away from hers. This was new to him. This standing up for himself thing. He’d never tried it before because—well, because he was chicken. He didn’t see any reason to risk life and limb simply because his mother provided him with all the opinions he would *ever* need.

But this…. This was the first time he felt something with this kind of intensity. This wasn’t a feeling that was going to go away either.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Madeline said, her voice distinctly chilly.

Connor looked up, a bright smile pasted on his face. “Yes, sir?”

Whack!

Connor was stunned. He’d never seen his mother hit *anything* before. But she totally destroyed the spacecraft sitting atop the piano. Damn, that was a collector’s edition model of the original Millennium Falcon from Star Wars. Chris put it together himself and gave it to Connor for Christmas a few years back. Now she would never fly again, Connor thought.

“Connor?”

He expected her to say, “Go to your room.” He wouldn’t even be surprised if she said, “And stay there for the rest of the week.”

But instead she said, “Go find Faith.”

Connor didn’t hesitate. He left without delay. But once he was outside, and it was safe to slow down, he pondered, Now how did she mean that? Did she mean “Go find Faith”? Or “Go find faith”?

A single letter made such a vital difference.

Of course, if she’d asked *him*, he could have told her that they were the same thing.

Chapter 19

In the end, Nikita and Michael decided to forego the pleasure of their own small caravan on pilgrimage. Nikita booked a flight for the two of them, feeling vaguely guilty, but it wasn’t until she was safely in her husband’s arms, several thousand feet above the ground, that she began to realize that she and Michael had switched roles.

For once, her guilt exceeded his. It was not a comfortable feeling.

“You think the kids will be okay?” she fretted.

Michael wrapped his arms around her, settling her head against his chest. He could hear her sigh of relief. “They’ll be fine.”

“But maybe they won’t understand—“ she whispered, obviously unable to let the matter rest.

“The older ones will. The younger ones don’t have to.”

Twisting around to face him, she was the picture of dismay. She looked so youthful, he was convinced that she hadn’t aged a day since they left Section One.

“But Michael, taking time for ourselves like this is so—“

“Self-indulgent? Doucette, it’s a two hour flight, not forever. Don’t you think we deserve two hours?” He looked intently into her sapphire blue eyes, his right hand unconsciously rubbing the wedding ring he had placed on her finger years ago.

His grey eyes warmed themselves on her face. All that affection, all that love, for him. He, who had once felt so undeserving, now admitted that he needed that. He wore her love like a cloak, throwing it over his shoulders to keep him safe from the outside elements.

He kissed her. With all the fervor of the passionate man he had been. With all the tenderness of the caring man he now was. With all the promise of the days they had yet to share.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes. “You’re my life.”

She buried her guilt and her concern, seeing only the man who had sacrificed everything to be with her. She snuggled closer, weaving her fingers into the long hair that curled at the back of his neck. There. Now they were inseparable.

When the flight attendant came by, she smiled and kept on going up the aisle. They must be newlyweds, she mused, noting how tightly they held each other, even in sleep.

***

Declan stood by the door of the Jeep and counted. “We’re taking Sasha, Skye, Chris and Emmy with us.”

Sey frowned. “Do we have enough room?”

“For the eleventh time since we woke up at the crack of dawn, yes.”

“Someone didn’t get up on the right side of the bed, did they?” Sey commented dryly.

“Someone volunteered us to play Michael and Nikita this morning. Gee, I wonder who that was,” Declan countered. But the lilt in his voice told Sey that he was teasing.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Sey whispered, brushing his lips lightly against Declan’s.

“You’d damn well better, boyo. I’m a dangerous man when crossed.” Declan smiled, knowing that he held the most important thing in his life in his arms right now. Nothing would ever change that.

***

They were nearly ready to leave. Neil zipped up Madeline’s jacket for her, and she gazed into his eyes as if they were alone. “Maybe we should stay home,” she suggested provocatively.

“We haven’t gone in a long time, Maddy. Besides, the kids love the chateau.”

She gave in to the inevitable. “So who are we taking?”

“We’ve got room for Connor, Faith, and Kady.”

“Does Faith have to—“

“Ssh, Maddy, Conn will hear you.”

Madeline sighed. “He already knows what I think.”

Neil kissed her ear, his tongue darting out to capture her earlobe. “You’re just saying that cause Faith reminds you of Nikita.”

“I *love* Nikita, Neil,” she protested, wrenching herself away from him.

He merely pulled her back into his embrace. “I know you do, Maddy. But you still find her the most exasperating woman you know.”

She smiled against her will. “You’re reading my mind again, Neil.”

***

Davenport closed the door to the brand-new Durango he had bought. Now that he had a certain level of job security, not to mention a future, he finally unbent enough to invest in something substantial for transportation. His children were too precious to him to have it any other way.

“Cassidy! How many have we got?”

Organized as usual, Derry consulted her checklist before answering. “Jago, Kiarra, and Luc.”

“What about James and Smoke? How are they getting there?”

“James has a car now, remember?”

“That old Volvo? It’s got more mileage on it than Walter!”

Walter crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the former Section operative coolly. “That’s it, take pot shots at the old guy.”

“Aw, Walter, you know I love you,” Davenport said with a chuckle.

“Does your wife know?” Walter quipped.

“You taking the bike?” Davenport asked, disregarding Walter’s jibe.

“Of course! Anywhere you can take that *thing*, I can certainly drive the Harley.”

“Are you staying this time? You and Miranda usually make a flying trip, then split for parts unknown.”

“Well, now that there’s a bit less risk involved in leaving the house unoccupied, I thought we might actually stick around for a while, yeah. Maybe get to know my kids.”

Miranda smiled as she adjusted her helmet. “He doesn’t just mean Nikita anymore, Dav. He’s looking forward to spending some time alone with Birkoff and Sasha.”

Davenport pondered for a moment. “Okay, we’re missing somebody!”

“Two somebodies, actually.”

***

“Are you sure this is all right? Your parents didn’t, like, forbid you to do this, right?”

“Relax, Nicky. Would I let something happen to you?”

The fourteen-year old shrugged. “I’m not worried ‘bout your driving a motorcycle, man. I’m worried ‘bout you getting on the wrong side of Michael Samuelle.”

Adam gave Jazz an insouciant grin. It made him look years younger than his sixteen, and it made him look far too dangerous, even for the likes of a streetwise teenager like Jazz.

“He said I could drive.”

“He said you could *learn* to drive, Adam. You’re pushing it, man.”

Adam shook his head, his dark eyes growing heated. Pulling Jazz into his arms, he wound his fingers through his hair and kissed him thoroughly, leaving the younger adolescent breathless.

“*This* is pushing it.”

Chapter 20

“That’s the last time I let you take me anywhere, man! I swear!”

Adam wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief before resuming the arduous task he’d set himself. His father would be less than happy to know that his oldest son was pushing his year-old motorcycle down a deserted highway in the middle of nowhere. But Adam was convinced that it was preferable to leaving it on the side of the road, where it would undoubtedly be stolen.

“But Nicky!”

“Don’t call me that! I’m pissed at you!” Jazz’ vivid green eyes flashed like emerald fire. Stabbing the air with his index finger, he continued, “I can’t even believe you pulled the old “we ran out of gas” thing on me, man. That is, like, so lame.”

“But Jazz! We did! Would I be pushing this great hulking beast if I didn’t have to?”

“I dunno.” Jazz looked unconvinced. “Maybe you’re just trying to prove something.”

Adam gave an exasperated cry. “Yeah, and maybe I’m afraid of Dad using me for target practice if his motorcycle went missing!”

Jazz abruptly stopped walking and spun around so quickly, his booted feet threw dust into the air. “You should have thought of that before.”

“I did,” Adam admitted quietly. “But the advantages kinda outweighed the disadvantages, y’know?”

Jazz approached the older teenager cautiously, his anger at bay for the moment. “There were advantages?”

“Hell, yeah. I mean, it was a given that Dad was going to find out that I took the damn motorcycle, but I thought—“

Looking away from the younger adolescent, Adam whispered, “I knew it would be like that. So nice. Having your arms around me—“

Adam stopped breathing when Jazz reached out a finger to trace his mouth. “There’s nobody here to stop us, Adam. We could just—“

Adam closed his eyes, concentrating on willing his suddenly interested libido under control. A low groan escaped him at the same moment that Jazz kissed him. “Please?” he whispered huskily.

A little voice inside him, unrecognizable at first, kept repeating, You’re better than that, Adam. If you take what you want now, maybe it won’t be there when you *need* it. All at once Adam realized that it was not his father’s or even his late mother’s, but his own voice that he heard. Damn, that was the problem with giving yourself good advice. You would look three kinds of fool if you didn’t take it.

“Nicky…” He had no idea where he found the strength, but he pushed Jazz back, his hands caressing rather than gripping his shoulders. “I love you—“

Jazz shrugged off his hands, the sulky look that appeared doing nothing to alter his beauty in Adam’s eyes. “But--?”

Adam sighed. “But this isn’t the time or the place.” Adam allowed himself to sway dangerously closer to Jazz, his body aching and more than ready to take what was being offered. His lips grazing Jazz’ ear, he whispered, “Our first time should be special.”

Jazz made a soft noise, his fingers instinctively carding Adam’s hair. “But you won’t be 18 for another two years, Adam, and I—I’ll be 15 this year, but that means it’ll be three years before we can…what if you get tired of waiting? What if—“

Adam lightly brushed Jazz’ ear with his mouth. “I won’t find someone else, Nicky.”

“Pr-promise?”

Jazz quivered in his arms as Adam kissed his eyelids shut, one at a time. “Promise.”

***

“Want to help me push this thing?”

“I got a better question, man. How come we haven’t passed a single gas station yet?”

“I dunno. You have any idea where we are?”

Jazz grinned. “Well, we’re still in France.”

“Funny.”

“It’s starting to get late, Adam.”

“What is that, a newsflash?” Adam snapped. He was hot and sweaty and tired beyond belief. His muscles ached in places he didn’t even know he had. Who knew that pushing a motorcycle could be such hard work?

“Just a thought. Either we find gas soon or we’ll be out here overnight.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. I hope your Dad has a really big insurance policy out on you.”

Adam frowned. “Why?”

“Cause you are gonna be *so* dead.”

Chapter 21

“This is your idea of a romantic adventure?”

“Y’know, for two cents, I’d hit you. Only thing is, I’m too freaking exhausted to move one…more…step…”

“Oh, like I’m not?”

It was nearly dark. The sunset had been beautiful to behold, but the two teenagers never noticed. They ached with bone-deep fatigue and the utter certainty that if they were lucky enough to be found, it would undoubtedly be after death.

Suddenly the roar of a Harley-Davidson at full throttle echoed throughout the quiet countryside. Adam jumped back just in time to see Walter pull abreast of them, ever so slowly. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself!” Walter turned off the ignition and sat back, his posture completely relaxed. “So what have you been up to? Besides stealing your father’s bike?”

“I wasn’t exactly stealing it,” Adam more or less mumbled, his shaggy hair falling forward to cover his face as he bent his head.

Walter cupped his ear with one hand. “What’s that? Couldn’t be. It sounded like you said you didn’t steal the bike. Hmm…that’s interesting. Then how do you s’pose it got here?”

Jazz smiled pertly and said, “It followed us here?”

Walter growled at Jazz, “You are cruising for a bruising, my friend. It just so happens that James and Smoke are looking for you, and when they find you, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be *your* ass.”

Jazz decided that the better part of valor lay in remaining silent.

Adam, protective to a fault, used what little energy he had left to defend Jazz. “Hey, don’t blame him! It was me! All of it! I dunno what came over me. Honest.”

Walter rolled his eyes. “Well, I know what came over you. Lust. Love. Hormones. Pick one or all of the above.”

Adam shuffled his feet, uncharacteristically unnerved by Walter’s perception. “I screwed up.”

“Yeah, but at least the two of you are still alive to tell the tale. Now if you’d been stuck out here overnight—“

Adam squeezed his eyes shut. He swayed on his feet, the exertion and the heat and the lack of food finally taking their toll. Walter’s eye was immediately drawn to the adolescent’s sudden pallor, but before he could get off his own motorcycle, he heard Jazz yell.

“Walter! He’s losing his grip on the bike!”

As tragic as damaging Michael’s motorcycle might be, a little scraped paint was nothing compared to Adam returning in less than mint condition. Walter had no difficulty making that choice at all. “Forget the bike! Grab Adam!”

Jazz wrapped his arms around Adam’s chest, catching him just as he passed out. Suddenly frightened, Jazz realized that no matter how many times he had dreamed of holding Adam, it was never like this. The motorcycle was heavy, but effectively trapped between the two young men.

Walter slowly dismounted, fwapping his leather gloves against one palm. Jazz shivered. The look in Walter’s eyes was decidedly ominous. “Oh, please, hurry. I don’t know how long I can hold onto him *and* the bike.”

With Walter’s help, Jazz lay Adam on the grass and settled the motorcycle safely on its kickstand. “Now what?”

“I’ve got some water in my field bag in the back. I’ll get it.”

By the time they managed to get some of the water between Adam’s parched lips, he was conscious—and totally embarrassed. “I couldn’t have fainted. I’ve never fainted in my whole life. Girls faint, not—“

All at once Adam’s dark brown eyes met Jazz’ stricken green ones. “Okay, okay, I was just out for a little while. Right? I’m okay. I swear.” Adam longed to reassure Jazz by touching him, but Walter’s presence made that impossible.

Walter saw the exchange and smiled kindly at Jazz. “Lucky for you two, the chateau isn’t far.”

“It isn’t?” Jazz asked hopefully. The thought of a warm meal and a soft bed was tantalizing. Providing the lecture that preceded them wasn’t too stinging.

“Nah. You almost made it. It’s about two more miles up this road.”

“Two? Oh…” Jazz looked as though he wanted to cry.

“Hey, cheer up. There’s plenty of room at the inn. Now help me get Adam on his feet again, Jazz.”

Soon Adam was standing, albeit unsteadily, between the two. “You’re coming with me, son,” Walter directed Adam.

“But wait, what about me? You can’t leave me out here in the dark,” Jazz protested weakly, thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, he deserved such treatment for taking leave of his senses today.

“I don’t intend to. Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

Jazz flushed. “I’m not old enough to drive, Walter. You know that.”

“I didn’t ask you that. I asked if you know how to ride this motorcycle.”

“Are you saying--?”

“Hell, boy, I’m going to have my hands full keeping Adam on the back of this thing. So I need you to drive that one back to the chateau. You can follow me. Can you do that?”

Jazz squeaked, “But it’s out of gas! That’s why we were pushing it!”

“You hold Adam. And no funny stuff, okay?” Jazz would have laughed, but he was too excited to make a sound.

Walter siphoned a small amount of gas from his tank to Michael’s tank. Obviously expert at this, he didn’t spill so much as a drop. “That should do it.”

Jazz helped Adam onto the back of Walter’s Harley, and the older man nodded at Jazz. “I expect you to follow me closely. You hear?”

Jazz looked solemn as he approached the motorcycle. “What’s Michael going to say when he sees me? Or Pete? He’ll have my head for sure.”

“I told you, Jazz. You’re already in deep trouble, kid, and it ain’t your *head* that he’s interested in, if you catch my drift.”

“But won’t this just make things worse?”

Walter put a finger to his lips. “Ssh. If we’re lucky, no one’ll see us come in. Then we can put whatever spin on it we need to.”

Jazz chuckled weakly. “Are you telling us to lie, Walter?”

“Like a rug,” Walter replied. He nodded approvingly as Jazz hoisted himself onto the leather seat of the motorcycle.

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you, kid.”

Adam wrapped his arms around his adoptive grandfather’s waist. “Boy, you set a terrible example, Gran’pa.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” Walter answered in an amused tone. He winked over his shoulder at Adam. “Don’t tell your Dad. But Sugar’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is,” Adam agreed, laying his cheek against the smooth cool leather of Walter’s jacket.

“You both are,” he added sleepily, missing Walter’s delighted grin of acknowledgement.

*POS stands for Probability of Success, or something akin to that.

Chapter 22

So much for sneaking in past the madding crowd. Everyone they knew was gathered in front of the chateau. Everyone. Right down to the littlest Samuelle.

“Oh, shit,” Adam said, hiding his face against his grandfather’s black leather jacket. “Maybe you could drive around a little bit more? Wait till it gets really dark?”

Walter eased down the throttle and chuckled. “Son, I don’t think there *is* enough darkness in the world to cover the two of you right now.”

Jazz parked Michael’s motorcycle swiftly, hopping off with a determined jauntiness calculated to conceal any misgivings he had about their incipient reception. Patting Adam on the back, he said, “Come on, man, time to face the folks.”

“You go first. If you’re still alive and kicking five minutes from now, I’ll give it a shot.”

“Funny. But we’re in this together, man. I am *not* going anywhere without you.”

Something about Jazz’ tone of voice made Adam take notice. Sincerity, yes, but something else, too. He *meant* it in the broader sense. That little piece of Jazz, revealed only to him, tugged at Adam’s heartstrings, forcing him into an unexpected smile.

Adam slowly got off the back of the motorcycle, seemingly watching Walter, but his attention quickly turned to Jazz. “Hey,” he said, so softly only Jazz could hear. “Come ‘ere.”

Jazz took a step closer, and before he could say, this might not be a good idea, Adam kissed him, his fingers unconsciously tightening in Jazz’ hair. “I love you,” he whispered against Jazz’ mouth.

When he released Jazz, the younger boy blinked wide-eyed at Adam. “Wow, you must think we’re going to get creamed for sure.”

Adam shrugged. Such public declarations were not his style, but then again, since he had met Jazz, nothing felt quite the same.

***

Not everyone was outside the chateau. Much to Adam’s initial relief, neither Michael nor Nikita was there. Similarly, Jazz could not believe his luck when James and Smoke were clearly not in evidence.

But that didn’t mean they could make their escape unscathed. Not quite.

***

When she heard the motorcycles, Nikita looked out the third-floor window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Adam. Reassured that he was no worse for wear, given whatever adventure had taken him, Nikita heaved a gentle sigh, grateful that Michael was not around.

That’s when she felt him. Pressing himself against the length of her body, Michael kissed the back of her neck before peering over her shoulder at the window. “What are you looking at, doucette?”

“Looking at? Uhhh—nothing!” She twisted in his arms, effectively blocking his view of the window with her not-inconsiderable charms.

Frowning, Michael said, “I thought I heard motorcycles.”

“You did!” she replied brightly, wincing at the sound of her own voice. “It’s just Dad. That’s all.”

Well, that wasn’t a total lie. That was more in the nature of an obfuscation.

Michael regarded his wife with something akin to amusement. “Kita, I heard more than one motorcycle.”

“No, there’s only one,” she lied blithely, wondering when she had lost her taste for lying.

“Then what’s that other noise I heard?”

“Thunder?”

Michael laughed helplessly. “Thunder?”

“The beating of my heart?” she offered, winding her arms around his neck. As a distraction tactic, this had a POS of close to 100.

Michael wrapped his arms that much tighter around Nikita’s waist, lowering his head to nibble at her ear. “You’re not a very good liar anymore, love.”

Thank God. “Maybe your hearing is going? You *are* getting older, y’know,” she teased.

That did it. He swung her into a passionate dip, ending with his mouth poised expectantly over hers. “You want to see just what your *old* man can still do?”

“Oh, yes.”

She slid a knee between his legs, astonished at the degree of arousal she found there. “Oh, Michael, after that long, *hard* flight, I didn’t think you had anything left.”

He knew he was being seduced, and by his own wife, too. But he didn’t care. It was sparks like these that kept them in each other’s arms long after everyone else had given up on them ever being together.

His hand slid under her T-shirt to cover one breast. “No bra?” His hand froze where it was. “Dare I hope that you’re not wearing any—“

She kissed him. “That’s for me to know and you to…find out.”

***

“You lucked out, son,” Walter said to Jazz. “Your folks stopped for a bite to eat on the way here.”

Jazz gave Walter an owlish look. “’Scuse me? We didn’t pass any place to—ow!”

Adam’s elbow digging into his ribs grabbed Jazz’ attention. “What the hell was that for?”

Adam smiled enigmatically before he leaned over to whisper into Jazz’ ear, “That was for being so deliciously dumb sometimes, Nicky.”

“Oh.”

Chapter 23

Michael sat on the carpet, his back to the very window Nikita was so ardently protecting, while his wife remained settled quite comfortably on his lap. He kissed the tip of her nose and nuzzled her lips. “Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?”

Nikita pursed her lips prettily and made a moue of disappointment at being found out. “I know something you don’t know?”

Michael chuckled, his entire chest vibrating with laughter this time. “Oh, you do, eh?”

“Yes,” she said quite firmly.

He buried his face in her long pale hair, enjoying the feel of the silken strands caressing his skin. “What makes you think I don’t know?”

“Cause I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure you don’t. That’s why.”

She sounded so triumphant, it was really a shame that he had to wipe the smile off her face with his next sentence. “And your sacrifice was *deeply* appreciated,” he murmured against her mouth before he kissed her.

“What sacrifice?” she blurted out without thinking.

His renewed laughter filled the gap in her knowledge immediately. “Ohhh…” Her face suddenly flaming bright red, she felt like a teenager caught in a compromising position by Mom. Except that in Nikita’s world, she was never an average teenager, and Mom was long gone, another victim lost to alcohol and drugs.

“What are you going to do?” she asked huskily, referring to Adam.

He cocked his head at her, his demeanor completely free of anger. “What do *you* think I should do?”

Nikita shook her head, muttering, “It’s your decision, Michael, he’s not—“

“He *is*. In every way that matters, he is our son. And he lives with *us*, which makes you at least partly responsible for him.”

“Wow.”

“You sound like Fee.” Michael reached out and grasped a fine strand of Nikita’s hair, winding it lightly around his fingers.

“He should be punished?” She sounded so hesitant.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“He *should* be punished,” she repeated, this time with grim determination.

“I agree,” he said softly. “But how?”

“Well, obviously, he can’t have access to your motorcycle until he gets his driver’s license.”

“Maybe not then either.”

Nikita looked startled for a second. “You don’t want him to drive?”

“I don’t want him to kill himself. I think there’s a difference.”

“So do I. I’m just not sure motorcycle riding is the most dangerous thing he could find to do.”

Michael acknowledged the wisdom of that statement with the smallest of gestures. “I’m just—relieved that he didn’t end up hurting himself or Jazz this time.”

Nikita smiled and hid her face. Michael bent his head when she ducked away, following her until he could see her expression. “What? What is it, Kita?”

She looked up, all bright blue eyes shining, and Michael almost gasped. When she looked like that, he could see the world with such utter clarity that he wanted to cry out loud.

“There’s so much of you in him, Michael. I see it more and more, every time I look at him, in fact. Don’t you?”

His grey eyes danced almost gleefully, the expression so fleeting that for a moment, Nikita thought she had imagined it. “You love him already.”

“I can’t help it. He reminds me of someone I love,” she said, her blue eyes glinting mischievously back at him.

“So what should we do with him?”

“Ground him. I think it would be cruel to make him stay in his room, but—maybe he shouldn’t be allowed off the grounds.”

“Kita, the grounds of the chateau stretch as far as the eye can see. That’s hardly being grounded.”

“Two weeks. Inside the chateau then.”

Michael nodded. “And what else?”

“What else?”

“You’re forgetting a very important piece of this. Taking away something he doesn’t want to be without.”

“Oh, Michael, no. That’s so mean.”

“He needs limits.”

“Ohhh, all riiight.”

“Just so we’re both clear on what’s going to happen, what did we just agree on?”

“Two weeks, inside the chateau. And no Jazz.”

“He’ll understand.”

Oh, no, he won’t, Nikita mused, abruptly recognizing a part of herself in the boy/man that was Adam Samuelle.

“He’ll thank us later.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’d—uh—like—“ Michael played with her hair again, seemingly so preoccupied that he was at a loss for words.

“I know how you feel, y’know.”

“You don’t, Kita.”

“I do. You want him to like you. After all these years apart, you want him to love you, but you also want him to be *around* for you to love for a long, long time.”

“You figured that out, huh?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, brushing her mouth against his.

“Must be getting less mysterious in my old age,” he deadpanned.

She bit her lip. “Oh, no, no man who still moves like you could be old.”

“But you said—“

“I was wrong. You’re just right the way you are.”

Chapter 24

Adam took the news well. He expected to be punished severely. He was disappointed. His father was too relieved that he was safe and intact to be unreasonable. But there was unreasonable and there was *unreasonable*.

Two weeks without being able to see Jazz was like a prison sentence. But Adam didn’t even think to protest because he knew, in his heart of hearts, that his father was right.

The only thing that bothered him was that he wouldn’t be able to see Jazz, to find out what punishment *his* folks were doling out, to reassure him that they *would* be together again.

Then again, that was undoubtedly part of his punishment.

***

“But James! I haven’t even explained yet!”

“There *is* no explanation that I would accept, Jazz. You’re lucky you’re only grounded for two weeks.”

“Lucky? You’re making me stay in my room? Like a little kid? And I’m *lucky*?”

Underneath his relatively calm exterior, James was furious. He had high hopes for Jazz, and with the arrival of Adam, he wasn’t sure that those hopes weren’t being undermined, even if it was in a very subtle way. Leaning close to the fourteen-year old, James ground out, “You’re damn lucky that we weren’t here to worry over your sorry ass. When Pete finds out—“

The man in question came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy white terrycloth robe. Rubbing at his long black hair with an equally fluffy towel, he queried, “When Pete finds out what?”

“Tell him, Jazz.” It was said quietly, but it was a command nevertheless.

Jazz took one look at his adoptive father’s face and his heart sank. Disappointing James was bad enough, but disappointing Pete? Aw, man…. He was heartsick.

“Adam took his Dad’s motorcycle and—“

“Stole? Stole his motorcycle?”

“No, Pete, Adam wouldn’t do that. He’s not a thief.”

“Did he ask his permission? Does he have a driver’s license? Does he even know how to drive?”

Jazz shook inside, tears of dismay springing to his eyes. “N-no, but—“

“Then it’s stealing. Isn’t it?” Smoke strode over to where the fourteen-year old stood and loomed over him like a shadow cast over the sun. “If he steals, he’s a thief. Is this why I took you in? To become a thief?”

“I’m not a thief, Pete. I swear.” Jazz could see that Smoke was genuinely upset, and for some reason, the more upset he became, the more desperate Jazz became to explain.

“We were almost here when we r-ran out of g-gas. That’s why we were so late getting here. If it hadn’t been for Walter—“

“Am I supposed to believe that? You went with him so you could be alone wit’ ‘im, didn’t you?” Smoke’s accent, normally unnoticeable, suddenly intensified. “Did you do ‘im? Is dat why you were late?”

“Nooo!” Jazz gazed at his erstwhile savior with real trepidation. “It’s not like that! We love each other!”

“And that makes it all right? You’re not even fifteen yet! What do you know?”

“I didn’t screw him! I swear, Pete! We just k-kissed, that’s all.” Jazz sank to his knees, angrier with himself than he’d ever been before. He’d been given a second chance at life. Thanks to Pete. But now things were hopelessly fucked up.

It was not in his nature to give up. It was not in his nature to reveal his feelings so blatantly. But Jazz was overwhelmed and seemingly out of options. “It’s my fault. At first, I tried to talk Adam out of it. But I *did* want to be with him, Pete. You’re right. And if I could have worn him down, I would have.”

Smoke blinked curiously. “He turned you down?”

Jazz closed his eyes, his cheeks stained bright red with shame at having his innermost thoughts and feelings exposed. “Yeah,” he admitted with a sniffle.

“He’s smarter than I gave ‘im credit for.”

Jazz lowered his head, wishing he had the privacy to lick his wounds. “Yeah. Guess I’m not as irresistible as I think, huh?” he whispered.

A sole tear trickled down Jazz’ cheek. “I know you what you think, Pete. But I really, really love him.”

Smoke crouched down on his son’s level and wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I can see you do.”

James watched the scene with a conflicted heart. Jazz deserved some kind of punishment for what he and Adam did. It wouldn’t be fair to let feelings sway his decision. And yet…he could see just how desperately Jazz was suffering, even before the grounding became official.

“We’re not trying to hurt you, Jazz. We want to guide you and protect you.”

“And let me make my own mistakes?” Jazz asked, lifting up his face.

Smoke sighed heavily. “I think you’ve already done that. But yes….”

“I didn’t do this to piss you guys off, man. It was just a case of me wanting something I can’t have.”

“Maybe someday you will.”

“Maybe. So…you’re not going to throw me out of the family, are you?”

Jazz looked so fearful, it was obvious what he expected the consequences to be. “No. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“It’s just that—before—when I lived with Mama, she—well, she didn’t like it if I—made mistakes.”

Smoke nodded. “I know, Jazz. But sometimes, it’s the only way we can really learn.”

“So we’re—uh—okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay,” said James. Smoke followed a moment later with, “We might get angry at something you do, Jazz, but your home is with us now. For as long as you want it to be.”

“Thanks, Pete.” Jazz forgave himself for finally losing control, and he allowed Smoke to hold him tight, as if he were little.

Sometimes being protected felt really good.

Chapter 25

Jazz lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, for what seemed like hours. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even appreciate the relatively luxurious surroundings of his room. So many thoughts and feelings cascaded through his muddled mind that it was difficult to sort them out. He wished he could put off thinking about *anything*, but what else did he have to do?

James and Smoke were good to him. Better than he had any right to expect. They had given him a home, a place in their lives. They were understandably upset at what happened. But he was still here.

That dumbfounded him. His mother would have kicked him out in a heartbeat. That was her way. At the first sign of trouble, she was gone.

But not James and Smoke. They were disappointed. They were angry. But in the end, they held him and reaffirmed their love for him.

He was truly lucky.

So why didn’t he feel lucky right now?

He missed Adam. No, it was more than that. He was afraid of losing him. He, who never showed the slightest interest in commitment, wanted one. With a vengeance.

But self-doubt clouded his mind even further. What if Adam didn’t want him anymore? Loving someone like Jazz was an awful lot of trouble. Just ask his mother.

Jazz rolled over onto his side, clutching the pillow as if it were a person. “Adam,” he whispered into the dark, finally giving in to the need to cry.

***

James was sitting up in bed when Smoke entered their bedroom. Smoke gave his lover a desolate look before shrugging off his robe and hanging it in the closet.

“What? Did you check on him, Pete?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly, brushing his long straight hair away from his face.

“You’re upset.”

“Yeah,” Smoke said, even more softly.

“Come here, Pete.” James held out his arms expectantly and Smoke hesitated for only a few more seconds before joining him in bed.

James wrapped the covers around his lover, as if keeping him physically warm would help assuage the ache in his heart. “You did the right thing, Pete. We both did.”

“I know.” Smoke snuggled against James’ chest, one hand reaching up to pull on the back of his neck, bringing his face close enough to kiss. He nuzzled James’ lips tenderly, as if anything more intense would be too much for him to handle right now. “Just hold me, Jamie.”

“I will.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Smoke’s head and let his lips linger there. “I love you, Pete.”

“I love you, too, Jamie.”

He bent his head further, burying his mouth in the silky black strands of his partner’s hair. “And you know there is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you, right, Pete?”

Smoke’s only response was to rub his cheek against James’ chest and hold onto him that much tighter.

***

“Hey, Adam!”

Adam rubbed his eyes and stared at the clock in disbelief. He must have been tired. It was almost 10 am. Throwing back the covers, he called, “Sasha? Is there any chance of getting something to eat?”

Sasha tried the door, but found it locked. “Can you open the door, man?”

Adam ran a hand through his disheveled hair and yawned. After unlocking the door, Sasha practically burst into the room, followed by Faith and Chris. “How come the door was locked?” “What did you do, man?” “Boy, is everyone talking about you guys!”

With all of them talking at once, it was a little hard to keep things straight, but eventually Adam understood. “Hey, I’ll answer all of your questions later. Right now I have to put some clothes on.”

He gave Faith a pointed look, but she merely laughed. “It’s okay, Adam. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, looking so uncannily like Michael that Faith shivered. “I sincerely hope you don’t mean that.”

“Well, gee, Adam, I *am* 13 now,” Faith said petulantly.

Chris smiled and shook his head. “So am I, but I don’t want to see what he looks like without his clothes.”

“That’s cause *you’re* a boy.”

Sasha cleared his throat and formed his hands into the letter T. “Timeout, kids. Just cause we’re old enough doesn’t mean we have to go there. Okay?”

Faith stuck out her tongue. Sasha gave her his most imperious Declan-esque look. “Now *that* was mature.”

“Oh, come on. You guys never let me have any fun!” she wailed.

Chris looked at his twin sister and intoned with complete seriousness, “And we never will, Fee. Cause we’re family.”

Chapter 26

Adam kept looking over his shoulder, half-expecting his father or someone else in authority to take exception to him leaving his room. Sasha eyed him curiously. “So what happened?”

“Can I get some breakfast first?” Adam groaned.

“No. Answer the question, man. I’m holding your toast hostage till you do.”

When Adam hesitated, Sasha held the freshly buttered triangle under his nose. “Mmm, mmm, good. Talk or I’m taking first bite.”

“That’s cruel and unusual even for you, Sasha,” quipped Faith.

“You still here, brat?” Sasha said loftily.

“What? You think cause you hang with the older boys now, you’re such hot stuff?”

“No,” Sasha said, “I’ve always been hot stuff.”

Chris looked askance at the barely-older adolescent. “Okay, I’ve got two things to say. One, you’ve *never* been hot stuff. Two, this is my sister you’re talking to. She can’t appreciate how hot you are. The two of you are practically related.”

“It was a joke, Chris. I hope your Dad gives you a nice big inheritance. Maybe you can buy a sense of humor,” Sasha snapped.

“Guys, lighten up,” inserted the Voice of Reason cleverly disguised as Adam. “Now that *I’m* here, I’m obviously the heir apparent, so Chris doesn’t need to worry about catching the clue bus. I’ll float him a loan for his own limo.”

The look on Sasha’s face was comical. “*That* was a joke, right? You’re not really doing Chris out of his inheritance, are you?”

The impassive look that Chris gave Adam was no joke. It was impossible to tell what Chris really thought about the possibility of being usurped by studying his face. But if Faith had to guess, she would have to say that her brother was not happy.

Adam seemed frozen by Chris’ glacial blue gaze for several seconds. “I haven’t discussed this with Dad, Chris. I swear.”

Though Adam was the oldest of the group, he was suddenly uncertain that he was the most mature. He had a feeling that Chris tied with Sasha for that honor, and he had no intention of testing that theory.

“Take pity on a guy who hasn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours, okay?”

Chris brushed past Adam without another word, and Sasha grabbed Adam by the shoulder when it seemed as if he would follow. “Don’t. He’ll be fine.”

Faith shifted from foot to foot uneasily, finally stammering out an apology of sorts for leaving so abruptly. “I have to check on him. It’s a twin thing.”

Adam stared after her, watching as she rapidly caught up with her brother. “And then there were none? Don’t you want to go with them?”

Sasha grinned unrepentantly. “Nope. I’m too curious to know what happened.”

Adam sat down with a heavy sigh, finally sparing a moment to take in his surroundings. “Jeez, this kitchen is bigger than our whole apartment in—“ He cut himself off with a shiver, realizing that he was on the verge of remembering his old life with his mother. His late mother. There was no sense in revisiting the past.

Sasha saw the confused array of feelings flickering across Adam’s face and recognized once more how much they had in common. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What’s okay?” Adam asked with a frown.

“Remembering. Your Mom wouldn’t want you to forget her, but she wouldn’t want you to be unhappy either. So just go with whatever comes, man. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Sometimes I feel like—“

“Like what?”

Adam completely forgot about eating breakfast. His appetite had deserted him, and even the smell of the butter melting enticingly on toast couldn’t tempt him now. “Like I’m being disloyal to her,” he said quietly.

“By liking your new life?”

Adam felt the familiar wetness in his eyes and swiped a shaky hand over them. “My new life? Feels better than the old one. But that’s not right. It’s like I’m making myself happy at her expense.”

“She wouldn’t want you to feel like that, Adam,” Sasha said firmly.

“Maybe not, but I do.” Adam closed his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful that I’m getting to know Dad, and I really like Nikita, but—“

“But?”

“I don’t—“ When Adam opened his eyes again, the dark brown orbs gleamed wetly. “I don’t deserve any of this,” he whispered, his eyes darting anxiously around the room.

“Who says you’re entitled to it all?” Sasha waved his arms to encompass everything he could see. “This place…belongs to all of us now, I think.”

Sasha jumped to his feet, unable to sit still another moment. “But *Chris* more than anyone. It’s like it’s in his blood or something. Chris thinks the chateau will be *his* someday.”

“Oh, my God, then he must think I convinced Dad to give it to *me*.” Adam was horrified. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Adam didn’t know what life held in store for him, but he didn’t feel the connection with the chateau and its lands that Chris did.

“I didn’t—I wouldn’t,” Adam protested, feeling even more miserable than he had.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sasha reassured the older boy. “Now have a piece of toast, it’ll make you feel better.”

Adam smiled despite his mood. “Is that the cure?”

“No, but talking is. You still haven’t told me what went down when we got here.”

Adam bit into his toast with an audible crunch. “I’m grounded.”

Sasha rolled his eyes comically. “No shit, Sherlock. I figured out that part. But what did you do?”

“Stole Dad’s motorcycle,” Adam reluctantly admitted. “Then Jazz and I ran out of gas on the way here, and we were walking for hours and hours—“

Sasha brightened, his dark eyes dancing mischievously. “You two were out there alone for hours and hours? Woohoo! So what else aren’t you telling me?”

Adam gave him a puzzled look. “Nothing.”

“There’s nothing else to tell?” Sasha sounded positively disappointed.

“No. Why?”

Heaving a huge sigh, Sasha crumpled into a nearby chair. “Damn. I thought maybe you and Jazz finally—“

“No!” Adam denied hotly, feeling his cheeks flush. It wasn’t for lack of wanting, though, he mused. In fact, just the thought of Jazz’ invitation, followed by that hungry kiss, was enough to bring him to the brink of climax.

“He’s too young.”

Sasha chuckled. “He’s almost as old as you, Adam. Jazz will be fifteen this summer.”

“Then we’re both too young,” Adam snapped impatiently.

“Man, you have got it real bad,” Sasha said, this time with more compassion than amusement.

“You don’t know the half of it. He doesn’t know how much I—“ Adam raked both hands through his dark brown hair, the tousled result making him look even more vulnerable. “We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye,” Adam whispered. “And now I can’t see him for two weeks.”

“Wow.”

Sasha sat up, unconsciously adopting the role of ameliorator. “Would you like me to give him a message?”

To Sasha’s surprise, Adam’s face flamed. “There’s only one thing I want to tell him,” he whispered, “and you can’t say it for me.”

That sounded suspiciously like a dare to Sasha. He smiled enigmatically.

Chapter 27

Sasha pulled Adam reluctantly behind him. “I told you, we’re not supposed to see each other for two weeks!” Adam protested, knowing full well if he wanted to, he could easily break Sasha’s grip on his wrist. “What are you doing?”

All at once Sasha stopped, causing Adam to bump into the younger boy. “You’re not going to *see* him, okay?” he said in an exasperated tone. “But you need to *talk* to him. And believe me, *he* needs to hear your voice.”

Now Sasha had Adam’s complete attention. “You saw him, right? How is he? Is he upset? Angry?” Pissed off and never wants to see me again? Adam’s mind continued to race.

“You’ll see.”

“Sasha!!!”

Sasha grimaced. “Okay, okay, poor choice of words. God, you and Chris are more alike than you think. All that honor and—“ Sasha broke off at the agitated look that appeared on Adam’s face.

“This could be a big mistake,” Adam hissed.

“You’re worried about getting into trouble? You’re already in trouble, man. What else could they do to you?”

“It’s not that. It’s—I feel like I’m deliberately disobeying my father.”

“But I told you—“

“I know. But you’re just splitting hairs, Sasha, and you know it. I’m supposed to stay in the house. Jazz is supposed to stay in his room. There’s no possible way we can—“ Adam searched anxiously for words. “—have contact. Talking to him is just—getting around what Dad meant.”

Sasha almost hung his head. Unfortunately, he understood exactly what Adam was getting at. He would feel the same way if it were him. It would break his heart to be forcibly separated from Skye, but if it were Da’s will, he would have no choice. Until he was older.

“Okay, but do me a favor?”

Adam nodded.

“Tell Jazz that you’re all right.”

“But—“

“I’m serious. He won’t believe me. And Adam? I think he was crying.” Sasha swallowed hard, remembering the abject picture that Jazz made earlier that morning. “And it takes a lot to make Jazz cry.”

Torn between love and duty, what else could he do? He was his father’s son. He would find a way to do both.

***

Nikita closed the oven. Though she still could not claim to be much of a cook, she enjoyed making cookies, and with a tiny bit of help from Declan, she could give her children fresh, homemade chocolate chip cookies.

The smell of chocolate soon wafted through the air, and as if drawn to the scent, her children began trickling into the kitchen, one by one. “Mmm, cookies!” exclaimed Faith. “Can I have one?”

“When they’re done, sweetie. How’s your day so far? Staying out of trouble?”

Faith gave her mother an incredulous look. “Mom, that was the old Faith. I’m the new, improved Faith. I don’t get into trouble anymore.”

“Uh huh. So what kind of non-trouble are you not getting into this afternoon?” Nikita formed her features into a sweetly smiling, non-threatening expression and waited.

“I was thinking—“

“Oh, dear.”

“Funny, Mom.” Faith peered at the oven as if that might make the cookies bake faster, and Nikita gazed at her oldest daughter affectionately. “I was thinking of going horseback riding,” she said blandly.

“Is Chris going with you? You know I won’t let you go out alone, Faith. The woods *and* the mountains are equally dangerous.”

“I ride pretty well now, Mom.”

“I know you do, sweetie. I’d like to keep it that way for many years to come,” Nikita said placidly, never betraying that her heart had kicked itself into high gear. Just the thought of one of her children being hurt, or worse, her imagination supplied, frightened her.

Faith walked her fingers along the counter, seemingly unaware of her mother’s inner turmoil. Her long auburn hair was pulled back and braided into one long plait. Her eyes were most definitely green today. She was radiant. Energy, beauty, intellect poured through those vibrant eyes and arrested Nikita’s scrutiny.

“Chris is busy. But—I could ask Connor,” she said quickly, the words apparently in a rush to leave her mouth.

Oh, honey. You are growing up. But miracle of miracles, you’re also coming back to your roots. To your first love. Nikita basked in the glow of her daughter’s obvious good mood for a few more moments before replying to Faith’s implicit query.

“Connor hasn’t had much chance to ride lately, though. Maybe you should, um, keep a special eye on him, Fee.”

Faith broke into a broad smile that was as bright as it was unexpected. “I could do that, Mom.” I could definitely do that.

Nikita pulled out the cookie sheet, congratulating herself on still being able to influence her daughter. Though she was in no hurry to see Faith or any of the children grow up, she pondered the possibilities, smiling at the thought of becoming Connor’s mother-in-law. Michael would undoubtedly object, albeit unobtrusively, but only because there could never be anyone good enough for his daughter.

That was as it should be. Sometimes it scared her to think of how close they had come to living a very different life. Then she thanked God for allowing her to realize the most important dream of all, to love Michael the way he was meant to be loved. Everything else was just icing on the cake.

She grabbed a cookie, so hot the chocolate was melting, and popped it into her mouth, licking the sweetness from her fingertips. The smear of chocolate across her mouth made her look like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Faith rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sometimes her Mom acted younger than she did. But that was okay. For a grown-up, she was almost cool.

Chapter 28

Nikita sipped her tea, her blue eyes thoughtful. Before Faith left, Chris came in, followed by Sasha. Adam was conspicuously absent. But then again, he was grounded. He was probably feeling slightly under the weather, no matter how well he appeared to take word of his punishment last night.

“Have you boys seen Adam?”

She quickly caught the exasperated look that crossed Chris’ handsome young face and followed up her initial question with another. “Are you getting along with Adam, Chris?”

“Of course,” he snapped, completely unlike himself. His jaw looked tight enough to break if he clenched it any harder. She could hardly believe her eyes. Chris was almost choking on his anger.

“Something’s wrong. Talk to me, Chris.”

“Nothing to talk about, Mom.” Chris closed himself off the same way that his father did. Nothing short of pliers would get his mouth open now.

She gave her son a sidelong glance. “I’m a really good listener.”

“I know,” he replied sullenly.

Her hands crumpling the napkin she was holding, Nikita looked at Sasha, a question in her eyes. “Do you know anything about this?”

Sasha’s dark eyes darted immediately to Chris before coming back to Nikita. Chris merely stared at him, as if willing him to keep his mouth shut. Flushing guiltily, Sasha mumbled something inaudible.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“No!” Sasha shouted, a bit too loudly. He flushed again. The whole situation made him uncomfortable, and he disliked feeling like he was in the middle.

Nikita felt like grabbing the cookie out of Sasha’s hand and putting him over her knee for a good spanking. She knew he was holding back something, and he was a good deal easier to crack than her son.

“Maybe you should give us a few minutes *alone*,” she suggested to Sasha, waving a hand towards the doorway behind him.

“Sure,” Sasha agreed, only too happy to be out of there.

***

“If you can’t tell me, maybe you could talk to your father?” Nikita asked gently, completely unprepared for Chris’ reaction.

“No! I can’t!” Chris yelled. Immediately afterwards, he stunned Nikita by burying his face in his arms, which were carefully folded in front of him on the kitchen table.

“Chris?” Nikita looked closer. She could see his shoulders moving up and down, though he made no sound. Nevertheless, she was certain that he was crying. “Oh, honey, what is it?”

When he refused to answer, she pulled him, resisting, into her embrace. He was a teenager now, with all of the usual issues that meant facing, but for some reason, she sensed that he needed reassurance more than anything else. As she pressed his face into her chest, she could feel the wetness saturating her T-shirt. Stroking his hair, as she often did when he was so much younger, she finally felt him settle gratefully within her arms.

With a sigh, he said, “I’m getting too big to do this, Mom.”

“Oh, honey, you’re never going to be too big for me to hold you, don’t you know that? You’ll always be my number one son.” With that, she kissed the top of his head.

“Am I?” he asked brokenly.

“Are you what, honey?”

“Your number one son,” he whispered, trying desperately not to start crying again.

“Always and forever, Chris. I love you.”

The teenager sniffled. “I love you, too, Mom.”

“Would you like to talk now, honey?” she asked kindly.

He shook his head. “Maybe later,” he said more equably. He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Can I just stay here for another minute or so?”

“You can stay as long as you like, Chris. I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he murmured.

“When you’re feeling a little better, why don’t you go see if Emmy needs any help moving her stuff?”

After watching her oldest son smile for the first time that day, she concluded that she must have a flair for matchmaking. Of course, it wasn’t hard when you considered that the parties involved were attracted to each other to begin with. But the course of true love rarely ran smooth. She ought to know.

Chapter 29/End

Secret passages. All Adam needed was the right one.

After making a brief appearance at dinner, where he announced that he was too tired to eat anything, Adam shuffled off in the general direction of his room. Once he hit the third floor landing, however, he used what little information he managed to pry out of a reluctant Sasha.

“There should be a wall mechanism right about…here.” Adam pressed a discolored spot on the wallpaper, but nothing happened.

“Great,” he mumbled to himself. “Just my luck to find the one that doesn’t work anymore.”

Suddenly there was a loud whoosh of air, as if a seal had been broken, and there, in place of the wall, was a space. About the size of a door. Adam cautiously crossed the threshold, feeling the temperature drop markedly once he was within the passageway. Before he could change his mind, the door snicked back into place against the wall, leaving him quite literally in the dark.

With a shudder, he mentally thanked Sasha for reminding him to take a flashlight. Lighting the way before him, he gasped at the magnitude of the spiderweb before him. “Holy shit!”

He nearly dropped the flashlight. The only thing that prevented him from dropping it, actually, was the fact that it would leave him alone in the dark with countless spiders who could see better than he could.

There was only one way to go: through it. Grimacing distastefully, Adam promised to be kind to insects in the future and pushed his way through the web, praying fervently that none of the creatures that he dislodged sought retribution.

“Only for you, Nicky,” he chanted under his breath. “You’d better appreciate this.”

***

By the time he made his way through the maze-like corridors to Jazz’ room, he was covered in dust and bits of spiderweb. “They ought to bring Boy Scouts through here to earn a merit badge in exploring,” he said to himself as he approached the room that held Jazz.

Tapping on the wall with his knuckles, he searched for the right spot to trigger the door mechanism. “Shit, this might work in the movies, but it’s hard work in real life.”

Locating a slight bump in the wall, he pressed. Nothing happened. He pressed again. Still nothing.

He sighed. Nothing seemed to be going right since they arrived. “Jazz? Are you there?”

***

Inside the room, Jazz was half-asleep. Smoke had brought him dinner on a tray, but he didn’t feel much like eating. Over and over, he relived Smoke’s obvious disappointment. It made his heart feel heavy.

Then there was the fact that he missed Adam. He didn’t even know what state Adam was in, although Sasha had tried repeatedly to tell him.

“Jazz! Are you there?”

And now, he was apparently hallucinating. “Go away! I don’t believe in you!” he shouted at the offending voice.

Adam drew back, nonplussed for the moment. But he quickly found his voice. “What do you mean, go away? After what I went through to get here?”

Jazz almost fell off the bed. “Adam? Is that you?”

“Who the hell else would it be? Gee, it feels great to be missed!” he said through the wall, his voice strangely muffled by the intervening layers between them.

Jazz crawled along the floor on his hands and knees until he was flush with the wall. “Where are you?”

“In the wall. Where do you think?”

Jazz blinked. “I must have fallen asleep. This must be a dream.”

Adam was growing exasperated. “It’s not a freaking dream, Nicky! Now open the damn door!”

“How?”

“There’s a little switch, probably buried under the wallpaper, that activates the door.”

“Where does it go to?”

“Secret passageway.”

“Wow. Like a real castle.” Jazz sounded like he was in awe. He clearly envied the older adolescent.

Adam despaired of getting through to Jazz. If he couldn’t, and his batteries ran out, he could be out here all night long. With the spiders and their chittering noises.

“Nicky!”

Like a switch had been pulled, the younger teenager came to his senses with a startled look. “Adam! Are you okay?”

“I will be, once you get this door open!”

Jazz listened to Adam’s terse instructions and searched desperately for the mechanism. When he found it, it was almost anti-climactic. There was a soft click, and then a whoosh, like before, and suddenly there was Adam. Standing on the other side of the threshold. “Quick, get something to prop it open!”

“Why don’t you come inside?”

Adam shook his head vehemently. “I can’t. I gave my father my word that I would abide by the rules he laid down.”

“Isn’t this violating them?” Jazz asked incredulously.

“Not really. I’m not in direct contact with you, if I stay on my side of the door.”

“But I can’t touch you!” Jazz wailed.

“I know.”

Adam turned off the flashlight and slowly sat down on the floor. Jazz reluctantly followed suit. It was something. But not enough.

“Talk to me,” Jazz directed, his voice roughened by unspoken emotion.

Adam leaned his head against the doorframe and looked longingly at Jazz. “I miss you.”

Jazz grabbed the comforter from the bed and handed it to Adam. Adam ignored his outstretched hand. “Take it. You’ll get cold in there.”

“Drop it first.”

Jazz did as he asked, and Adam picked up the comforter, smoothing it out into a makeshift bed. Jazz took another blanket, lay it on the floor, and soon, they were staring into each other’s eyes.

Eventually the events of the day before caught up with Jazz. He lay down, intending to rest, but sleep beckoned. He closed his eyes and fell into a light slumber, lulled by the sound of Adam’s voice.

“Adam…” came the breathy murmur.

Adam stopped speaking, gazing affectionately at his friend. It wouldn’t do to be found here, come morning, but for now, what was the harm in watching him sleep?

“Bon nuit, cher ami. Je t’aime,” he whispered across the mere inches that separated them now.

Someday they would be closer than this. Someday they would belong together, body and soul.

Someday….

End