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

in his spot on the floor. Josiah is careful not to rush himself, to hold back his impatience and sweep what he can of the dilapidated building before he heads towards Zweil in order to make sure he isn’t walking into a trap. After a few moments he’s as satisfied as he’s going to get with the security of the building and he turns and heads in the downed man’s direction.

He peeks around the corner swiftly, eyes taking in the picture Zweil makes on the floor. The younger male is slumped against the wall of what Josiah had correctly guessed to be the remnants of the house’s main living area. His clothes are dirty with ash and debris and his face is wet with sweat and unnaturally pale for someone of his complexion. His right arm is draped loosely across his stomach, fingers clenched in pain.

Taking in Zweil’s prone form, Josiah lowers his weapon slightly as he steps fully around the corner but doesn’t holster it; he’s not willing to ignore his instincts and make himself vulnerable to that degree, not until he gets a chance to assess Zweil further.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d holster that thing since you really don’t need it. I’m not exactly a threat to anyone at the moment, in case you couldn’t tell. Unless of course you come close enough and then I might be able to gnaw on an ankle or two.” Zweil quips, almost cheerful despite how obviously wounded and vulnerable he is.

Josiah feels his lips quirk up into an almost smile, a begrudging sense of admiration taking root in his chest at the other man’s blasé statement. Dark humor is something he’s always found particularly appealing and hard to find in a submissive, so to see it in one like Zweil does nothing but sweeten an already prime deal. He’d like nothing more than to take Zweil home, stretch him out across the length of his bed, lick him open and take him so far down that he forgets everything and everyone but Josiah. Wants to do it over and over again every day from now until the end of their lives, wants to be the only name Zweil calls out in the night, the only hand he submits to.

Another hacking cough breaks him out of the fantasy and reminds him that he’s here for a purpose that doesn’t include claiming the other man as his own. He has a job to do, a submissive to take into custody, and a case to close. Josiah isn’t going to let a pretty face and the sweetest pair of lips he’s seen in years stop him from doing what he’s supposed to do. Zweil needs help that Josiah can’t give him, things that are out of his jurisdiction and his skill set, so he’ll take him back to the crossroads and turn him over to Marcel and the medics and be done with it. He’ll go home tonight and work his frustrations out on his training equipment and put thoughts of claiming, of Bonding, out of his mind.

Josiah shakes his head and holsters his pistol, making sure that the lock is secured before he crouches down beside Zweil. He isn’t worried about an ambush or anything of the like now. Zweil is clearly in no shape to attack him and even if he does Josiah is more than confident in his own skills and abilities in hand to hand. He starts to say something, starts to tell Zweil that he’s got help waiting for him only a handful of miles away, but Zweil’s husky voice interrupts him before he can even start.

“You said your name was Marx, right? What’s your first name?”

“Josiah.” He answers out of curiosity and confusion, unsure why the information is necessary.

“Josiah. That’s a pretty nice name. Well, Josiah, you should call me Rafe since you’re seeing me at what’s admittedly not exactly my finest.”

1Josiah frowns slightly, liking the way Zweil’s tongue curls around his name and wanting to accept the offer but knowing that he shouldn’t, that it’s a step in a direction that he shouldn’t take.

“That would be…inappropriate given the circumstances.”

Something within Zweil seems to dim for a moment, something wounded and vulnerable shining through before he noticeably stuffs it back down, takes a deep breath, and continues talking.

“This used to be my home, you know. I lived here with my father and his Bonded Miguel when I was a child. I remember waking up every morning to laughter and knowing just how much those two loved each other and me. It was glorious. Those days where something I thought would never end, something I thought would be there forever. Then when the war started and my father died in one of the first raids I knew that everything was going to change. I was twelve and terrified. We had to go to my father’s family’s main housing complex and I never saw Miguel again.”

Josiah is confused, almost startled really, at the way Zweil is volunteering all of this unnecessary information while at the same time another part of him is rejoicing in being able to gather more details about him. The almost dazed look on Zweil’s face brings his world sharply back into focus in the next second.

“I just…I wish that I could see him one more time or at least find out what happened to him…before it’s all over with…”

Zweil’s voice fades out and Josiah is once again on high alert as his eyes search the other man for any sign that his injuries have noticeably worsened. That’s when he sees it, sees the way the hand he’d thought was curled closed in pain in now open and loose on Zweil’s other side, fingers barely making contact with an empty glass-vialed syringe.

The pieces fall together with an almost audible