Love in the Land of Fire by Brochu, Rebecca (spanish books to read .txt) 📕

bites at Josiah and only the knowledge that he was no good to the other man if he was exhausted and starving had kept him from refusing to leave at all.

He can’t bite down the savage curse that rips itself out of his throat when his oricula chimes an alert on the channel that he’s left open but muted between himself and Marcel and her voice informs him sweetly that Rafe is waking up. He’d wanted to be there, had wanted to be the first face the submissive saw when he woke up in some misguided sense of possessiveness. Scowling he throws on his clothes and rushes out of his apartment and down to his transport. He’s on the way to the facility after only a few minutes.

When he arrives he doesn’t bother to check in, doesn’t even pause his long strides when the nurses try to waylay him. He has one set destination and he refuses to be distracted or knocked off course. He practically tears the door to Rafe’s private room out of its track when it doesn’t open fast enough for his taste.

“Really, Josiah, you’d think you’d have learned some manners and decorum after all these years.”

Josiah ignores her, knows that she doesn’t actually expect a response or acknowledgement. She knows better, knows that all of his attention will be focused where it should be, on the submissive he intends to claim as his own one way or another. Josiah’s practically devouring Rafe with his eyes the second his gaze lands on the other man even as he makes his way swiftly across the space that separates them until he’s standing at his bedside.

Rafe looks back at him silently, eyes impossibly wide in a face still too pale for Josiah’s liking. Josiah raises a hand to touch him and feels his heart crack down the center when Rafe flinches back, arms rising in an attempt to protect his face from the expected blow. It’s a telling sign, one more black mark in a case that already has its fair share. Josiah drops his hand slowly and when he speaks he’s careful to keep his voice low and even, keeping an iron grip on his temper in an effort to keep it from leaking through.

“I want you to know that when this is over. Frisch will never touch you again. No one will ever touch you again unless you want them to. I give you my word.”

He’s telling the truth because as much as he wants Rafe, as much as he wants to spread him out and work him over with his teeth and his tongue he won’t if the submissive doesn’t want it as well. No matter how much he aches to dominate, conquer and own the younger male he won’t lay a single finger on him in that manner unless Rafe’s willing and eager. He’ll make him beg for it first. Josiah’s never been the type to force his attentions on someone, never been the type to abide by that behavior in others either.

If this all works out, he’ll have plenty of time to teach Rafe the joys of pain, how a little bit can make the pleasure sweeter, can intensify the feeling until he aches with it. He’ll have years to break him in just right, to coax and soothe him until he trusts Josiah enough to give himself unflinchingly to any punishment that he might earn. Plenty of time to teach him that sometimes punishment can be its own reward. And if it doesn’t, 2then Josiah will make sure that Rafe never has to worry about anything ever again. He’ll make sure that he has a life that doesn’t involve the pleasure houses or another disastrous attempt at matching him with someone not of his choosing.

If he has to rip Zweil House down with his bare hands he’ll make sure of it.

The wounded submissive is studying him, arms slowly lowering back down until they’re resting at his sides even as his eyes continue to take in every detail of Josiah they can find. He hopes absently that Rafe finds him as pleasing as he finds Rafe. Neither of them bothers to acknowledge Marcel and Isaac when they quietly step out of the room to wait in the hall, closing the door softly behind them. They’re both entirely too occupied with observing each other.

“You’re real.”

Josiah stiffens slightly in surprise at the quiet and steady statement. It’s the last thing he’s expecting Rafe to say so all he can do is answer with the obvious truth.

“Yes, I am.”

“I thought…I thought I dreamt you, made you up so that I wouldn’t have to be alone when I…at the end.”

He understands what Rafe’s saying, understands that the other man’s talking about when he tried to kill himself, and while he hates to even think about it he’s almost pleased by the fact that Rafe thinks he is worthy of being a fantasy of any sort. Even if it technically took place during a rather morbid and depressing situation, it still counted for something.

“No, I was and am as real as you are. I was assigned to your retrieval and I tracked you to the Charred District. After everything that happened I stayed with you there until the medical unit arrived.”

He doesn’t mention the week spent hovering at his bedside, intent on not disturbing the submissive or making him uncomfortable with possibly unwanted attention.

“Madam Marcel said that you stayed with me the entire time, that today’s the first time you’ve left my side this entire week. Is that true?”

Josiah doesn’t sigh but he doesn’t rebel against the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in amused frustration at Marcel’s ability to ruin his plans without even trying. Still he refuses to lie to Rafe, will not start off what he hopes will be a relationship between them with