Death's Ink Black Shadow (10 page)

What did it say about
him
though that he’d instantly believed this narrative?

By the time they were lying on the sofa, more one body than two, they’d nicely talked it around to being pretty much Ben’s fault, and Nikolas entirely unable to help himself—the victim, in fact.

Ben allowed the fiction.

Nikolas needed his lies. He’d needed them for eleven years, and Ben supposed he would go on needing them for a while more.

They hadn’t undressed yet, hadn’t made love. They’d been too busy kissing, something they did plenty of normally, but not as much as they did that night.

There was something beyond intimate in the sharing of a mouth, of saliva, of tongues meeting and exploring, circling and tasting.

Pleasure in sex could be faked.

Kissing had to be real. Mouths were too close to the soul to be shared without true passion.

They lost themselves to the smell and taste and feel of each other, lips pushing into warm skin at the neck, mouthing over hair, teeth biting an ear then finding a lip once more to fasten to and nip, until a groan made a mouth open wide and tongues meet again.

Nikolas lay heavy over Ben, their bodies long and lean upon the sofa, fully clothed still, but Ben’s hands were under Nikolas’s shirt, fingers playing upon the smooth muscles of his back, pressing him on harder, scratching and teasing him erotically as they were crushed together.

Nikolas’s palms were on Ben’s face, smoothing a section for kissing, snagging his hair to pin him in place, roaming and seeking endlessly for a new spot to seize and seal the connection between them.

Then one hand snaked down to Ben’s zip. It was familiar and what always happened; thoughts about Ben’s cock stirred in Nikolas’s brain by the kissing. He couldn’t
say
cock, but Ben knew he always wanted it. Ben slid one hand out of its enticing enclosure and held Nikolas’s wrist still. He freed his other hand and cupped a sharp cheekbone. “So, tell me now.”

“After.” Nikolas ground himself on Ben, hardness to hardness, and at the same time they both groaned with pleasure. Nikolas twisted his wrist free. “After, I promise.”

Ben didn’t say anything more. He just held Nikolas’s dark, hungry gaze. Nikolas winced then clenched his jaw and generally ran through his repertoire of Ben-defeating expressions, but Ben was inoculated against them now. He didn’t relent for a second. Finally, Nikolas pushed off and shoved Ben’s legs to the floor so they could sit side by side. He folded his arms, but then propped his chin in his palms instead, his elbows resting on the faded denim of his jeans. “Kristina was murdered because of my past connections—what she knew about me—what she could
prove
. What she could have used in the future when Philipa marries—when things change. They murdered Kate and then they murdered Kristina because I was careless and stupid. If I’d admitted they were the only two people who had documented proof I was General Aleksey Primakov, I might have been able to negotiate their safety—as I did yours.” He smiled, but there was absolutely no humour in his expression.

“We used to call this strategy MAD—mutually assured destruction. Each side knows what weapons the other has and is willing to use, and so the balance of power is maintained. It is how these things are always played in the intelligence world. But I tipped the balance by trying to conceal Kate and Kristina’s knowledge.” He paused, seeming deep in thought. “I knew what would happen. After Kate was killed—I knew they’d go for Kristina next. But I did nothing. Even after, you know…” He rubbed the wrist that had been handcuffed for a moment. “Even when things were clear between us again, I allowed myself to become distracted with other things—Molly, our trip with Emilia to the States…and all the time I knew that Kristina was in danger. And I did nothing. So, Stefan has come here for revenge. There is no other reason for him being here after all this time. He is going to try and kill you—or take you from me in some way. I had to keep you safe, Ben.
I had to
. I’m sorry. I know you will think I’m—”

“Fucking hell, Nik! Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me all this? How did you find out?”

“That is what I was going to say—I know you won’t believe me, but that is why he is here.”

Ben sank back into the sofa, pondering this revelation. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay then. You’re not forgiven, but that changes things. What are we going to do about it? Who are you using for all this info now? Now that Kate is…”

Nikolas lifted his head from its gloomy position and frowned at Ben. “What info?”

Ben mirrored the puzzlement. “How did you find out Kristina was murdered? I was pretty sure she did have cancer. How do you know that Steven’s here to avenge her, hurt you? Kill me? What do you
think
I mean?”

Nikolas’s lips parted, he seemed to hear what he was about to say, didn’t entirely like it, but continued anyway. “No one’s told me anything. I just know.” He looked at Ben as if it was so obvious he shouldn’t have to explain it. “He’s
my
son. What else is there to know?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ben supposed he should have been angry. He should have risen with furious resentment that he’d almost died of grief because Nikolas was so damn stupid. But before he could voice this opinion, he actually heard what Nikolas had said, and it broke his heart another way.

How much did Nikolas have to hate himself and what he was for him to believe that everything he touched, like some kind of reverse Midas-effect, became foul and corrupted?

Ben cupped his hand behind the golden head and pulled Nikolas’s forehead into the crook of his neck. Gradually, by a process of silence and coaxing, he got Nikolas’s side of the story from him.

It was something Ben had not considered before.

When he’d seen Steven at the door, Ben had only thought how much he was like the boy in the photograph—physically.

Nikolas, however, had
felt
his brother’s presence. He was once more looking at his own twin, the one he’d adored, the one who’d betrayed him time and time again with selfish weakness that had played upon Nikolas’s desire to be loved in return. In Steven, Nikolas had seen Nika—the boy and the man he’d sacrificed everything for.

But also the man he had killed.

Ben had never fully believed Nikolas’s story of the scene on the balcony when his twin, Nika, had fallen to his death. He didn’t think Nikolas—Aleksey as he was then—had murdered Nika in cold blood. But how much had been genuine accident and how much had been desire to stop Nika laughing at him, stop him accusing Aleksey of all the things Nika knew only too well Aleksey was, Ben never wanted to know.

Nikolas knew of course.

Nikolas had been there.

So Nikolas told Ben that seeing Stefan—Steven—on the doorstep had been like facing his own judge and jury, admitting his own guilt for the first time, and in doing so he’d seen himself as a vast source of evil in the world, that everything he touched became base and wrong, that he polluted everything, and that Steven was polluted in his turn. Like father, like son.

As these morbid thoughts so closely mirrored the ones Ben had briefly had about Steven being an innocent version of Nikolas, he found it hard to argue against them. Ben could only mutter feebly that if any of that were true, he wouldn’t be with him. Nikolas agreed with a wan smile that Ben was an aberration.

Then Ben said what seemed the most obvious thing either of them had said all night. “Maybe Steven is too.”

Nikolas frowned and began to deny this, but Ben added, “Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt.” This seemed to be such a startling idea to Nikolas that Ben could see he was going to need some space to assimilate it. He had other things he wanted to know, anyway, so he was more than happy not to push Nikolas on this. “Tell me about Jackson.”

Nikolas’s gaze swivelled to Ben then flicked away. “There is nothing to tell. You know this. He confirmed it as well.”

“No, I know that. But I want to know how he ended up naked in my bed with you.”

“Not
with
me. I wasn’t in the bed.”

Ben laughed, and it startled him, because there’d been a time only too recently when he hadn’t thought he’d ever find Jackson being in his bed funny. “Just tell me. I want every single little detail…imagine, oh, I don’t know, imagine I’m your
wife
asking you this. I want
that
level of detail.”

Nikolas considered Ben out the corner of his eye, apparently curious. “What difference does the depth and level of my explanation make that you are a man, not a woman, and not my wife?”

“
All
the difference. We’re men, we…make allowances, because we know what it’s like.”

“What what’s like? I am entirely confounded by your logic.”

“No, you’re not. You’re trying to deflect and distract me. Tell me. I want details.”

Nikolas sighed and leant back in the sofa, slipping his fingers into the back pocket of Ben’s jeans in an unconscious gesture of familiarity and intimacy. “I told him to come over—that we had work to do. We worked for a while and then he…became unwell.”

“You spiked his drink.”

“Yes. I forgot that bit. Thank you. I spiked his drink and
then
he became unwell. I showed him up to the bedroom, he passed out, and you came back. It is all very simple. Now I want—”

“How did you know I would come back? At that exact time?”

“Ack, I knew you would come home on the next sailing. I checked train times and used my head. I am not entirely incapable without Kate, you know.”

“Okay. And the naked thing? You undressed him?”

“Well…” Nikolas screwed up his face, clearly scrabbling to see if he could come up with any possible explanation for why Jackson had been naked other than the obvious one. “Yes. It would not have been credible if I had not—although I did consider it. I didn’t want to strip Jackson Keane, trust me on that, Ben. That is why he was…” He mimed Jackson snorting coke. “I had to distract him.”

Ben smirked. “Were your attractions beyond him?”

“My attractions were cold. I’d been waiting for you for hours.”

“And the car and my bike?”

“Well, I moved them. Obviously I did not want you to ride or drive in—”

“In the state I was in?”

Nikolas blinked slowly. “I made a bad mistake, didn’t I?”

Ben didn’t reply.

Nikolas glanced over. “You tell me you love me, but I still find it hard to believe. I didn’t take fully into account what you would feel. I’m sorry.”

“What would you have felt if you’d found me like that?”

“Ack, you would not do such a thing.”

“I did.” Ben waited until he knew his words had hit home before adding, “Almost.”

Nikolas swallowed deeply in relief. “I told the idiot to prevent any such things occurring. To guard you so closely that you’d find it hard to take a piss on your own let alone…”

“He did…just.”

“I would not have liked that.”

“That’s why I wanted to do it. I wanted to hurt you.” Ben took a small pinch of Nikolas’s shirt and tugged it. “I actually thought I hated you for a while. You made me hate you.”

“But for all that you will not see this my way—that I feel the danger is so real and so present that I was willing to risk you hating me to keep you safe.”

“I think we’ve proved time and time again that your way of seeing the world is deeply flawed.”

Nikolas frowned. “No, we haven’t. I was comfortably coasting along in hiding—who dragged me out and got me shot?”

Ben opened his mouth to refute the suggestion that he did, but Nikolas continued, “Who didn’t take Anna seriously? So who got strung up and tortured?”

That was even more outrageous, and Ben tried to counter it, but Nikolas ploughed on, “But who had the foresight to insist we hide the gold we found in a cave by
cliffs
which we could climb in case of a tsunami? Which sensible precaution consequently saved our lives, I might add. Who said…?”

“Seriously?”

Nikolas smirked. “No, not really. I owe my life to you. But I’m trying to get you to see that I know what I’m talking about.”

“Steven wants to write about you—Aleksey. He told me Nina’s story was only the beginning.”

Nikolas began to pick at the corner of his thumbnail, which, Ben noticed, was already uncharacteristically bloody. He caught Nikolas’s hand and stilled him.

“What am I going to do then? I cannot allow any of this. You
know
that.”

“I think you should tell him.”

Nikolas scowled.

“Tell him the truth. Explain why he can’t.” Ben sighed and added, “Buy him off. Give him something else to write…I don’t know…a book about ANGEL’s projects? Send him around the world first class, filming and writing about all the good things you do, Nik. It would be a brilliant book…the street kids, the tsunami work, the girls in Afghanistan, Amazing Grace…think about it. But tell him the
truth
.”

Nikolas was staring morosely at his bleeding cuticle, frowning deeply. “Will you let me think about it?”

“Can you think and fuck at the same time?”

Nikolas quirked his lips, still considering his nail. “I always do, only I’m thinking about you.”

Ben enjoyed a shiver of undiluted lust running down his spine, and pushed his fingers into Nikolas’s hair, snagging and tugging the strands. “Let’s go upstairs so you can think about me a lot.”

§ § §

Ben wanted to ask if the sheets had been changed since Jackson had lain on them, but he didn’t want to complete his descent from man to the something else he’d resembled lately. He fell on them, regardless, Nikolas lying over him, kissing and biting into his neck, undoing the buttons on his shirt. Ben repaid the favour, yanking Nikolas’s shirt off and throwing it to the floor. Naked from the waist up, they eased apart, Nikolas straddled on his strong body, sitting over Ben’s hard cock.

Ben put a thumb up and brushed over Nikolas’s bruised and swollen cheek, his black eye. It was all the apology Nikolas was going to get, and he seemed to understand this, flicking Ben a knowing smile. He began to rock lightly, which made Ben groan and arch. The sensation was intense, magnified through the material of his jeans. The friction dragged his foreskin along his sensitive shaft, which leaked evidence of his anticipation onto the faded denim. Nikolas scratched at the damp spot with a nail and tremors of desire shot from Ben’s cockhead to his balls. He needed to be fucking. He needed to thrust into Nikolas, take his pleasure in that hard, lean form. But Ben could see the same thought in Nikolas’s expression. This was the difficulty of them both being men.