CHAPTER 9

SIRE WOKE to the soft brush of fingers sweeping his hair back. His eyes stayed closed-it felt good. He snuggled deeper into the pillow he'd been holding all night, until he realized this "pillow" was too firm.

He breathed in. Sweet. It smelled like Joaquin.

His eyes flew open at the sound of a quiet, warm laugh. He lifted his head, and Joaquin's face was right there, smiling softly.

Joaquin?

As in the Spaniard?!

He bolted upright, heart hammering- this wasn't his room, wasn't his bed. He'd been holding Joaquin all night?! Heat flooded his face. God, how embarrassing.

"Good morning, babe," Joaquin said easily, leaning back against the headboard. It truly was a perfect morning- waking up beside the person he'd fallen for.

Sire looked away quickly, nodding stiffly, and pulled his arms back from Joaquin's abdomen. So embarrassing.

"You look so cute sleeping." Joaquin said, showing his phone.

Sire froze completely. On the screen was a photo of him-curled close, arms wrapped around Joaquin's waist while he slept soundly. He swallowed hard, face burning bright red. He needs to delete it.

He lunged for the phone, but the Spaniard held it behind his back, grinning. "Give it!"

"Nah-ah. It's mine."

Sire scrambled closer, climbing right onto Joaquin's lap, hands reaching-he needed that photo gone. "Give me the phone!" he growled, pulling Joaquin toward him. Their faces were inches apart. He saw Joaquin's throat bob, his gaze dropping straight to his lips.

Wrong move.

Sire scrambled back, flustered, realizing exactly where he was sitting. He looked away, heart racing.

Joaquin sighed, then handed over the phone. "Here. Delete it if you want." He stepped out of the room. He had plenty of copies saved anyway.

Sire stared at the screen. The lock screen was another photo-him sleeping peacefully. He shook his head, smiling despite himself. He opened it. He doesn't even put a passcode. The photo Joaquin had shown him was set as wallpaper. He scrolled through the gallery-stopping at a candid shot of Joaquin playing guitar. He looked so handsome.

Then something else caught his eye-a portrait of a woman with pale white hair, lashes, and brows, lips as vivid as ripe apples. Her eyes were striking and looked unreal. And she was breathtaking-more beautiful than any model he'd ever seen. He stared, captivated.

He snapped back and clicked his photo but he couldn't bring himself to delete it. His finger wouldn't move. The Spaniard looked disappointed earlier.

He left the room and found Joaquin in the living room, watching the news. "I didn't delete it," he said, handing back the phone.

Joaquin frowned. "But you wanted to."

"I changed my mind."

Sire grabbed his own phone, opened the camera. "Look here." Joaquin looked over, confused. "Smile."

Joaquin did, and Sire snapped the photo. He showed it to him, and Joaquin's smile widened that added to his handsome. He was mesmerized for a moment.

He cleared his throat. "We're even now," he said, switching to front camera. "Now both of us." He stood up, but Joaquin pulled him gently back down.

Arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

Joaquin rested his chin on Sire's shoulder. Sire's breath caught. His heart was racing again."Like this?" Joaquin murmured. "You said both of us?"

Sire lifted the phone, hands trembling. Joaquin was smiling-bright, warm, eyes sparkling. He looked so happy. Sire pressed the shutter, and for a moment he just stared at the screen. It's the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen.

"Babe?" Joaquin waved a hand before his eyes. Sire didn't blink nor move.

Demter walked in, raising an eyebrow. What now?

"Did I do something wrong?" Joaquin asked softly.

Sire lifted a hand, brushing his thumb over Joaquin's lip. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Joaquin's.

Soft, warm-Joaquin froze, then kissed him back with aching tenderness. Sire tangled his fingers in Joaquin's hair as Joaquin deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping slowly, claiming him. Sire shivered, melting into it.

They didn't hear Demter until she spoke.

"Get a room."

They pulled apart, breathless. Sire shoved Joaquin away-too hard. Joaquin stumbled back, losing his balance and falling.

Sire grabbed his bag and fled. W-why did he kiss Joaquin? He really has no idea. After the photo it was as if he was bewitched. He just found himself kissing the Spaniard. He needed to see a doctor. He needed to know if he was losing his mind!

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*

"IS HE MAD?" Joaquin asked as he watched the empty doorway. Did he go too far? Though Sire had started it. What did he do wrong? He was happy that Sire insisted on taking a photo together.

Demter sank into a chair and set her things down on the table. Everything she'd just seen told her clearly. Sire hadn't looked angry-not even a little. Instead, he looked lost, confused and shocked. "He's not mad. He's confused."

"Confused about what?"

"Himself. His feelings." She tapped her phone. "That means you're close to your dream. Just a little more and he will be yours."

Joaquin swallowed hard, heart hammering in his chest, barely daring to breathe as he asked- "Do I really have a chance?" he asked hopefully.

Dem rolled her eyes. "Should I slap you with the fact that you already kiss? Not just a peck- a french. And he was the one who initiated it. Does that sound like no chance to you?"

She was right' Joaquin thought and a smile appeared on his face. It was Sire who kissed him first. Have I succeeded in bending him?

"Lovesick idiot," Dem teased, throwing a pillow at Joaquin. "Want me to book you a bed at the asylum?"

"Shame on you."

"Signor Moskovitz is outside. Condition: critical."

The two immediately rushed out. Cain was slumped against the gate-bruised, bleeding, lips stitched shut, pale and barely conscious. He'd made it somehow to the safe place he knew.

They carried him inside. Cain was barely clinging to consciousness, every breath ragged with agony—his entire body throbbed, burning with relentless pain.

Demter pushed open her room and they stepped inside. Her jaw tightened-she was livid. They moved Cain quickly and  carefully.

“Argm…” Cain groaned, the sound torn from him, raw and ragged, as agony wracked his body.

Joaquin cursed inwardly, over and over again. Whoever the hell had done this—whoever had hurt him like this—they would pay! He swore it! They would regret ever laying a hand on him.

Demter placed her right palm flat against the wall. It slid open instantly, and they stepped through—then sealed shut behind them. The elevator began its descent toward the ground floor.

When the doors opened, the three of them stepped out at once, hurrying straight to the operating room. They laid Cain gently onto the hospital bed.

"Leave him to me," Dem said, injecting a sedative. Joaquin nodded, stepping out- his mind already turning to answers.

Creed met Joaquin outside and instantly panicked seeing his friend covered with blood. "What happened? Whose blood is that?" he asked, voice thick with alarm.

"Cain's."

Worry etched deep into Creed’s face, his eyes dark with concern. "Who did this?"

"I'm finding out."

Joaquin went straight to the command center. "Pull Cain's contacts and locations from the last week."

The screens flared to life. Then Leo's voice: "Four vehicles approaching-three kilometers out."

"Identify them."

Faces appeared- four men and every detail/ file pulled up beside them. They are known enforcers. Mafia affiliates.

"Are they part of the Org?"

"No."

Good. There won't be a problem then. "Leo, pinpoint their base."

"Ten kilometers east."

"Hydra, alert the team. Scorpion, neutralize the vehicles."

Hydra obeyed immediately. One by one, the faces of his friends appeared on the screen. At the same time, Scorpio launched a missile, and the cars exploded in a fiery blast.

"Quin? What's up?" Lakrod's voice cut through, alert instantly.

"Cain came home. He's been tortured. His mouth was sewn shut."

Every face on the screens darkened, grim and furious. Curses broke out—sharp, angry, loud.

“Who the hell did this?!” Callisto demanded, livid, rage burning in every word.

“How is he?” Luther asked sharply, fully alert now.

“Dem’s treating him currently. ” Joaquin said. “I’m sending all the data now.” His voice turned cold and deadly. “Twenty minutes. Then we stormed those bastards’ headquarters.”

"Pisces, raise the pub’s security to level four.”

"Raising the security level to four." - Pisces.

Demter stepped out of the operating room. She had saved Cain. He's safe from danger now. She also asked one of her people to take care of him while they were gone.

“Let’s go.”