With a Kiss Read online

  The door leading into Marcus’ hospital room squeaked as it was pushed open. Liam fell silent. Within the confines of his own mind, Marcus cursed. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed listening to the boy babble, but that was still no excuse for people to keep interrupting him for no good reason.

  “Hello, Liam.” That was the anti-vampire bitch. Marcus added an extra curse to those scrolling through his head. The less time she spent around his pet the better. Untrained humans were far too impressionable. It wouldn’t do for the boy to be picking up those sorts of habits.

  “Hi.” Liam’s voice had moved away from the chair by the side of Marcus’ bed. He was over by the window now. He’d moved away from her. She’d called him by name and he hadn’t done the same. Marcus mentally nodded his approval.

  “Can you pass me the packet from the trolley?”

  Tell her to do her own damn job, Liam! Marcus ordered. It wasn’t really fair to the boy for anyone to blame him for disobeying his master when there was no way he could have heard the command, but Marcus still wished Liam had more sense than to give in to the obvious ploy to bring him across the room and get closer to him.

  “Bloody hell—what happened to your eye?”

  “Nothing…”

  For the first time since she’d come to work at the hospital, Marcus actually wanted that particular nurse to speak. As blind as he had been for two years and more, he needed her to say out loud exactly what was wrong with Liam’s eye.

  “I walked into—”

  “Someone’s fist,” the nurse finished for him.

  “No. I was trying to fix the hinges on one of the cabinets in the kitchen. It swung back and…”

  And Liam was a bloody awful liar. While Marcus lay there helpless, his brain whirled faster and faster. Mugging? Homophobic bastards?

  “It’s nothing,” Liam said.

  “According to who?” the nurse asked.

  “According to me.” Liam was back over by the window now. Marcus could so easily picture him backing away in his mind’s eye. “Can we just drop this?”

  “What’s his name?” the nurse pushed.

  “Who?”

  “In my experience, when a man lets another guy get away with hitting him, it’s more than a one night stand. I’m guessing you know his name.”

  The words punched Marcus in the stomach. Unable to move, there was no way he could defend himself. He just had to take it.

  “I…” Liam whispered.

  “There are places you can go, places you can get help,” the nurse cut in, when it became obvious to her, as well as to Marcus, that Liam wasn’t going to get any further than that one word. “There are shelters specifically for gay men who—”

  “I’m not…” Liam began, but even without being able to see the boy, Marcus knew that Liam had already realized that there was no point denying it.

  “Would you assume I was getting beaten up by my girlfriend if I was straight?” Liam demanded, now as far onto the other side of the room as he could get.

  “Yes. That happens more often than you’d think. You can be straight, gay or into whatever the hell rocks your boat. I’d think the same about anyone who reacted to my questions the way you just did.” The nurse’s tone of voice was matter of fact. “I worked in accident and emergency for years. I’ve seen people go home with partners who they know damn well are going to give them another hammering the moment the front door closes behind them.”

  Marcus would have held his breath as he waited for Liam’s answer, but he couldn’t even do that. His chest continued to rise and fall with the same rhythm as it had maintained ever since his downfall.

  “It’s not like that…”

  “It never is,” the nurse muttered.

  Marcus felt a sharp scrape across the inside of his elbow as another bag of animal blood was hung besides his bed. Pain immediately swept through his veins as the poor substitute for human blood made its way through his body.

  Fighting back a wave of nausea, Marcus kept all his attention on Liam.

  The boy hadn’t said anything about a black eye.

  He’d sat there for all that time babbling on about weddings, worrying about the happiness of a woman he’d never met, telling Marcus a million different things he had no interest in hearing, and it hadn’t occurred to him to mention something Marcus would have actually wanted to know.

  The nurse finally left them alone again. Silence fell over the room. Marcus waited for the other man to speak up, but he didn’t. Marcus sensed Liam cross the room to sit on the chair by the side of the bed, but the other man still didn’t say a single word.

  Marcus desperately tried to open his eyes, to lift an arm to reach out to the boy, to move muscles that hadn’t been his to control for over two years and—

  * * * *

  Bright light blinded Marcus as his lids fluttered open. It took him several panic filled seconds to realize that he was actually able to open his eyes. It had been the God-awful memory of that oh-so-informative visit that had been the nightmare, the memory of waking up and finally being able to reach out to his prey hadn’t been a dream after all.

  He took a deep breath and let the relief sink into his brain, but he refused to give himself any longer than that.

  Blinking his eyes very rapidly in an effort to focus, Marcus extended his arm across the narrow hospital bed wondering how the hell the boy could have managed to move so far away from him without falling off the thin, uncomfortable mattress.

  Marcus turned his head. The rest of the tiny bed was empty. Levering himself awkwardly up onto one elbow, Marcus pushed his hair back from his face with his other hand. He peered over the side of the bed, then into every corner of the room and through the open door into the en-suite.

  He was gone. Liam was gone.

  Marcus tried to sit up, only to collapse back. He looked at the bag of blood on the stand by his bed. It was empty. His veins weren’t much better. He could almost feel his arteries collapsing in on themselves.

  Reaching up to the headboard, for the first time since he arrived in the hospital, Marcus pressed the buzzer and summoned one of the nurses to his side.

  Chapter Four

  Liam carefully unlocked and pushed open the front door to 21 Oak Drive. Straining his hearing, he lurked on the doorstep trying to work out if Ralph was in the house. Even though it felt as if several lifetimes had passed since he ran to the hospital, it was still only New Year’s Day. Ralph wouldn’t be at work. But maybe he could have gone to a friend’s house or, more likely, to a pub?

  Not a sound came from inside the placid looking semi-detached house, but it still seemed like finding Ralph had gone out was too much to hope for. Taking a deep breath, Liam finally stepped inside. Closing the door softly behind him, he crept along the hallway. An old oak floorboard creaked beneath his foot. Liam froze; closing his eyes, waiting for the angry words that he was sure would fill the air. Nothing. Liam began to breathe again.

  Opening his eyes, he moved forward once more, until he was able to peer past the open living room door.

  A fist full of panic caught Liam around the throat, threatening to choke the air out of him. It was a full minute before Liam was able to take in the fact Ralph was asleep. Liam managed to pull a little oxygen into his lungs as panic eased its grip on him.

  Ralph lay sprawled out on the sofa, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light pouring in through the big bay window. His other hand still gripped a bottle of whiskey. There didn’t appear to be much liquor left in it now. Liam studied Ralph’s shirt, just above where the bottle lay against his chest. There was no telltale whiskey stain. It had been silly to hope that most of the content was simply spilt.

  “Asleep,” Liam whispered to himself. Ralph was asleep. He was safe, for now at least. Ralph probably didn’t even know he’d been away all night. There was no reason why he should suspect that Liam had only crept home after dawn.

  Liam’s fingers nervously fiddled with the hem on his T-shirt.
He was wearing exactly the same as he’d been wearing the previous day. The fabric was still damp around the edges, but there was no evidence to suggest that he’d spent the night in borrowed scrubs, that he’d slept in another man’s arms.

  Taking a deep breath, Liam forced his mind back to the present. Whatever insanity had overtaken his little bit of the world last night, it was over now. Marcus was awake. No doubt he had a life to get back to. There would probably be a family waiting for him, maybe even a wife…

  Dropping his gaze, Liam stared at the broken glass scattered across the carpet. He had no reason to think Marcus was actually interested in someone like him. Hell, he probably wasn’t even gay. The only reason he hadn’t beaten the hell out of him for that kiss was because he was grateful for being woken up. Then, he’d just wanted someone who was familiar to hang around for a little while, that was all.

  And, Liam swallowed rapidly—he had his own life to get back to as well. Maybe if he stopped spending so much time focused on some stupid stranger in a hospital bed, he’d be able to keep Ralph happier.

  Liam looked slowly around the room. His boyfriend obviously hadn’t been impressed by the way he’d run out on him the night before. Liam nudged one of the larger shards of glass that had once formed the top of a coffee table. Everything that he’d arranged so neatly on the mantelpiece above the fire was now broken on the carpet to one side of it.

  That was a good thing, Liam told himself. Ralph had let his anger out elsewhere. If it already was out of his system then maybe they could just pretend this had never happened and everything would be okay.

  Liam silently made his way across the room and picked up a photo frame. The glass was cracked, but the simple silver frame was still fine. A picture of him and Ralph stared back at Liam. They were both smiling. They looked so bloody happy together. Liam carefully set it back in its rightful place on the mantelpiece.

  “You really outdid yourself last night.”

  Liam spun around to face the sofa. Ralph stared back at him, his eyes bloodshot, his hair disordered. He was sitting up now, wide awake and already glowering his displeasure with life. And he was between Liam and the door.

  Swallowing down his nerves, Liam struggled to find the right words to calm the other man’s anger. He failed completely. There wasn’t a single syllable inside his head; fear had dissolved them all away. He had no choice but to remain silent.

  Ralph rubbed at his jaw line, scratching the two day’s growth of stubble that created a dark shadow across the lower half of his face. “You should know better than to wind me up that way,” he bit out.

  “I’m sorry,” Liam whispered, staring down at his trainers. He couldn’t help but wonder at what point the mornings after the nights on which Ralph lashed out at him, had become about him apologizing rather than Ralph begging for his forgiveness.

  “Clean this shit up. Place is like a bloody pigsty. If you can’t earn a decent wage, the least you can do is keep the house in order.” Ralph stomped out of the room.

  Unable to make his limbs work, Liam remained exactly where he was, as still as any easy target, until he heard the shower start up in the en-suite directly above him. The pattering of water gave control of Liam’s body back to him.

  Making his way through to the kitchen, he picked up a dustpan and brush and set about sweeping the glass from the living room floor before someone got hurt. Kneeling on the rug carpet at the edge of the debris, he slowly settled into his task. A little of the tension seeped from his muscles.

  He was fine. Ralph was fine—and he’d sobered up overnight, too. There would be no repeat performance this morning. It wouldn’t be the same as things had been with Marcus, but—

  Liam shook his head. Desperately trying to refocus his attention on the task at hand, he pushed away the memory of the previous night as hard as he could, just in case Ralph might have somehow acquired the ability to read his mind while he slept off his latest binge.

  Piece by piece, the living room resumed its usual appearance. The system Liam had developed for repairing the damage from an outburst saw him in good stead. By the time Ralph walked back in and retook his habitual seat on the sofa Liam was on the final repairs.

  His boyfriend made no comment on any of it as he opened his first beer of the day.

  Liam’s mind raced as he carefully reset the time on the mantle clock, trying to work-out if speaking up and asking if the other man had enjoyed the previous night would be counted as snooping, or if not asking would show a lack of interest, trying to calculate which failure would annoy the other man more that day.

  Once the clock was back in its place, the living room was as perfect as it could get until the coffee table was replaced. But Liam continued to fuss and adjust little details, straightening photo frames and ornaments, putting off the moment when he had to turn his attention back to Ralph.

  A sudden loud ringing filled the room. Liam jumped, dropping the cushion he had been shaking into shape, but it was only the phone. The handset rested on the side table right next to where Ralph sat. Liam hurried across to it, desperate to answer it before the ringing pissed off the other man.

  He was only a step away when Ralph finally decided to pick up the handset and put it to his ear.

  Liam heard a woman speaking on the other end of the line. He knew far better than to ask who it was, or to stay within what Ralph might consider to be eavesdropping range.

  Pacing nervously back into the kitchen, Liam crossed to the sink and filled the kettle with water. Setting it to boil, he leaned back against the cabinet and ran his hand over his face.

  As soon as he closed his eyes the image of Marcus raced into the front of his brain, demanding not just that he remember the other man’s appearance, but that his body replay every single sensation that being with him had provided.

  As he stood in the kitchen and listened to the kettle begin in boil, Liam was almost willing to swear that he could feel the other man’s arms wrap around him. He leaned back against the edge of the work surface a little more firmly, as if the other man’s body really was right there within his reach.

  The scent of Marcus, the warmth of his skin, the slow, gentle rhythm of his voice coupled with the steady beat of his heart as Liam rested his head on the other man’s chest. It was all right there, as if he could simply reach out and take it.

  He smiled slightly at the memory, knowing it was more than half false, but willing to cherish it, regardless. A shiver ran down his spine as he blinked open his eyes and stared down at the old wooden floorboards beneath his feet.

  It was nothing like the stark gray hospital flooring. Liam wrapped his arms around his torso. The space around him smelled like spilt beer rather than cleaning agents. There were no beeps and hums from machines nearby, no half audible conversations floating in from the nurses’ station. All he could hear was the distant sound of Ralph chatting to someone on the phone and…

  Liam’s thoughts slowly congealed as he realized that he was wrong. There were no words seeping through from the other room. Frozen in place, he strained his hearing, desperately trying to work out where Ralph was, where he might have moved to while Liam wasn’t paying attention.

  Upstairs to crash out? Through the front door and out for the rest of the day? It was impossible to tell. All Liam knew for sure was that Ralph wasn’t close enough to he heard.

  Then, just when Liam was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a sharp little sound made its way across the room to him—a click of glass against granite.

  It ripped through Liam’s senses like a gunshot.

  He slowly dragged his gaze up the cabinet door directly opposite him. An empty beer bottle rested upon the counter. Fingers were still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Fighting for each inch of progress he made, Liam forced his gaze up the other man’s arm until he finally met Ralph’s eyes.

  “Have a good night last night, Liam?”

  Run!

  The same voice that had screamed inside his head
the previous night screeched through Liam’s brain, demanding that he flee while he still had the chance. Liam took half a step forward, but Ralph was once more between him and the door.

  There was no way he’d be able to dodge him now. Ralph wasn’t drunk enough this time. His reactions would be too quick. But that didn’t really matter, because every one of Liam’s joints had gradually turned to lead as the reality of the situation sank in.

  Unable to move or speak, Liam could barely even focus on the words his boyfriend was saying. Frowning slightly, he peered at the other man’s lips as Ralph moved closer and closer. With his eyes locked on Ralph’s face, Liam could almost believe there were no footsteps being taken. The other man seemed to float, disembodied in front of him.

  “Anything you want to tell me?”

  Liam managed to shake his head.

  “Who were you with last night?” Ralph’s loomed over him, the scents of fresh beer and stale whiskey surrounding him like a thick cloud of smog.

  Liam opened his mouth. He closed it again without saying a word.

  Without warning, the back of Ralph’s hand slammed into Liam’s cheekbone, sending him tumbling toward the kitchen floor. Fingernails clawing against the floorboards, he scrambled up and skirted around the other man, running for the hallway door.

  He was almost there when a painful grip clamped around his wrist and spun him around. Nothing could have been more different than the way Marcus had held him the previous night. Ralph’s fingers bit painfully into the inside of his wrist, threatening to burst the veins beneath the skin as he stepped past him.

  Dragging Liam along in his wake, Ralph headed for the living room. Stumbling, forced to stagger bent forward and off balance by Ralph’s grip on him, Liam caught hold of the doorframe as he was hauled into the room. His fingers clawed at the paintwork, but Ralph was far too strong for him. Liam tumbled, only just missing the metal remains of the coffee table.