Hunted – 62

Brice frowned even as he felt his heart leap at Faolán’s words. “What brought that on?”

“My stupidity, mainly. When you asked this morning if I was going to return to the pack, I took it to mean you wanted me out of here, out of your life.”

“No! No, Faolán, that’s the last thing I was trying to say. I just thought… maybe you did want to go and I wanted you to know I wouldn’t stop you if…” Brice’s words faded out when he saw the look of relief in Faolán’s eyes. “I don’t ever want you to leave me,” he said with quiet intensity.

“And I don’t ever plan on it. I’m not like the others, Brice. I’m not going to, trying to, oh hell…”

“To become a kept man?” Brice asked with a soft chuckle.

“Well, yeah. I know that’s what the others were, at least from what you said. I swear I’m not like them.”

Brice squeezed Faolán’s hand. “I never thought you were.” Then without a thought to possible consequences he leaned in, cupped Faolán’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Shocked, but elated, Faolán gave back as good as he got. When they broke apart he whispered, “You know that could make the front pages of the tabloids if anyone was here with a camera.”

Brice grinned. “And? At least this time it would be the truth.” He heard someone cough beside them and looked over to see the waiter standing there with the bottle of wine.

“I hope this meets with your approval,” the waiter said as he opened the bottle and poured a bit into a glass for Faolán to taste. “I know that kiss he gave you met with mine.”

Faolán turned red and tried to hide it by sipping the wine. “It’s perfect,” he sputtered out seconds later.

“It looked like it was,” the waiter said without batting an eye. He poured them each a glass of wine, set the bottle down on the table, and told them he’d be back soon with their meals.

“I feel…”

Brice smiled at him. “Like all eyes are on you at the moment? Welcome to my world, Faolán.”

“Now if I can just get used to it.”

“You will in time. In fact you’re going to have to, because from now on I’m not going anywhere without you. Well,” Brice amended, “except when you’re in school or working.”

Faolán leaned back to look at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“About you going places with me, or about school and work?”

“Both…I guess.”

“You are definitely going to be my arm candy whenever there’s a party, an opening, or whatever. As for school, you’re smart and clever and you’d be wasting your life if you didn’t capitalize on that. So yes, you are going to get into college.”

“I don’t even know what I want to do yet.”

“We’ve got time, we’ll figure it out. The one thing you are not going to do is hang around street corners while I’m at the studio.”

Faolán snorted. “That is not my idea of a way to kill time.” He stopped when the waiter brought their meals, and then continued. “I do want to get a job. As I told you a few days ago, I don’t mind hard labor if that’s all I can find.”

“Another thing we’ll talk about tomorrow. For now let’s enjoy our dinner. Suddenly I’m very hungry.”

“Then eat, because once we get home…” Faolán waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m working off every calorie?”

“Oh yeah, and then some.”

The End

Hunted – 61

“Where’d you vanish to?” Brice asked when Faolán came into his dressing room late that afternoon, when shooting was over for the day.

“I needed to walk, and think,” Faolán told him, as he leaned his butt on the edge of the dressing table to watch Brice while he removed his make-up.

Brice arched an eyebrow but remained quiet until he was finished. “Ready to leave?” he asked when he had.

“Yes, if you are.”

With a nod and a bit of a smile Brice stood. “Dinner at home?”

“No, I’m taking you out to eat.”

“You’re what?” Brice looked at him in surprise.

“You know, food, restaurant, date.”

“Date huh? Sure, why not. We haven’t really done something like that.” He looked at Faolán and suddenly realized he was pretty dressed up, for him, in jeans and a nice button-down shirt. Then he smiled when he realized it was one of his. “This looks good on you,” he told him, fingering the collar.

“Well since I don’t have one of my own… I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not in the least.” Brice put an arm around Faolán’s waist, started towards the door and then paused. “Why?”

“Why what?” Faolán replied, feigning innocence.

“Why a date?”

“I’ll tell you…later.” Faolán kissed him lightly. “For now just go with it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later Brice glanced over the top of his menu to look at Faolán, who seemed deeply engrossed in deciding what he wanted for dinner. He’s leaving and this is his way of letting me down easily. A frown touched his face. But then it was to be expected I guess. With a sigh he went back to reading the menu, although he really wasn’t hungry now.

As if he’d read Brice’s mind, which he hadn’t, Faolán reached across the table to push his menu down so that he could see his lover. “You could at least try to smile,” he said quietly. “This is a date. It’s supposed to be fun, not torture.”

Brice essayed a small smile. “I know. Sorry. I guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”

“We don’t have to do this. We can go home and…order something fancy to be delivered.”

“No. We’re here now, and I think,” he nodded to the approaching waiter, “it’s time to order.”

Which they did. Faolán also asked for a bottle of wine after consulting with the waiter. When the man left Faolán took a deep breath as he reached for Brice’s hand. “I’m not leaving you.”

Hunted – 60

Logan stopped in his tracks, then veered of towards a pocket-park between two buildings. “Sit,” he said when they got to a bench. After Faolán had, Logan asked, “Why do you think he wants you gone?”

Faolán told him the gist of his conversation with Brice. “So you see,” he ended, “he wants me to return to the pack, not stay here.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Faolán, damn. From the sound of it, he was probing to see if that’s what you wanted to do. He’s the kind of man, from what I’ve seen of him at least, who’s afraid to assume that someone might really care about him. He’s probably scared you’re going to up and leave, and has to come up with a reason you’d do so, so that he can justify it to himself. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“That’s stupid. I told him, and showed him, how much I care.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve got a feeling he’s heard that before from other people. Sycophants who want to be around him because…”

“Because he keeps them in the life style they like,” Faolán growled. “Yeah, he told me about that.”

“He did? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, because of that, he might not be ready to trust that you care about him.” Logan held up a hand when Faolán started to protest. “Look at it this way. The two of you have been through a lot together in the past few days, all of it revolving around staying alive. You were thrown together and, to be quite honest, in circumstances like that the need to really connect as a way to override the fear is natural.”

Faolán glared at Logan. “So you’re saying I don’t care for him? That it was just a physical release—a tension release?”

  

“No. Not at all. I’ve seen you two together. I know there’s something between you. But Brice might not be quite as certain as you and I are. And Faolán, he might not even consciously realize he isn’t.”

“Oh boy.” Faolán chewed his bottom lip. “I may have really fucked things up.”

“Then un-fuck them.”

Faolán jumped to his feet. “I’m going to try. Logan, thanks.”

“Hey, no problem.” Logan shook his head with a muttered "Kids", as Faolán vanished from sight, glad that no one was in the immediate vicinity at the moment to see him do that.

Hunted – 59

Silently, Faolán joined Brice in the living room a few minutes later. When Brice asked if he was ready to leave, Faolán nodded and followed him as they headed to the car.

It wasn’t until they were almost to the studio that Brice realized Faolán hadn’t said a word. He glanced at him and saw he was staring out the window, his face devoid of emotion. When he reached across to squeeze his thigh, Faolán flinched but didn’t turn to look at him.

“What’s wrong,” Brice asked with concern.

Faolán shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

By then they were at the studio. Brice drove into the garage, parked and  they got out. He looked over the roof of the car at Faolán. “Do we need to talk?”

“Yeah, I think so, but not now.” Faolán headed swiftly to the entrance to the studio.

Half an hour later Faolán watched half-heartedly as a scene from the show was being taped. It was one of Brice’s and he had to admit that his lover, or maybe soon to be ex lover, was good in it. He ran a hand through his thick hair then took out his cell and punched in the number Logan had given him a couple of days ago. When Logan answered Faolán asked, “Is there any chance you’ll be free for a few minutes. I need to ask you something, in person.” Logan said he would be in about an hour and told him where he was. “I’ll see you there,” Faolán replied then snapped his phone closed.

He went to Brice’s dressing room to leave him a note, saying he’d be back, and then left the building. He debated taking a bus then decided a cab would be better. It took a few minutes but he finally found one in front of a small hotel in the neighborhood.

When he arrived at the house where Logan worked as part of a renovation crew, Faolán sat down on the stoop to wait. Not long after he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Logan standing there.

“I’m heading to get something to eat,” Logan said. “Okay with you if we talk while I do?”

“Of course.”  Faolán stood and fell in beside Logan.

“So. What’s going on?” Logan asked. “Is Brice all right? I mean did his shoulder heal okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Faolán replied tersely.

Logan glanced at him. “You don’t exactly sound ecstatic about that.”

“Oh I’m glad he’s healed, it’s just…”

After a long silence Logan said, “Talk to me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I think he wants me to leave now,” Faolán spat out in a rush.

Hunted – 58

“Fuck,” Brice growled when he looked at the clock on the bedside table and saw what time it was.

“Any time, any place,” Faolán replied with a chuckle, even though he knew that was not what Brice meant.

“I so wish it could be now, but…” Brice swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then suddenly realized that he didn’t hurt. Even his shoulder seemed fine. He looked at Faolán and saw, with great relief, that he had healed as well, even if he was still a mess from the fight. “I guess there are some advantages to being a shifter,” he murmured.

“One of them being that we met, I hope.” Faolán didn’t wait for an answer. He just put his hands on Brice’s shoulders to bring him back down so he could give him a through good-morning kiss. Brice responded the way Faolán had hoped he would, both emotionally and physically. “Do we really have to get up and moving?” Faolán asked rather petulantly moments later when Brice broke the kiss.

“You don’t,” Brice told him, stroking a knuckle along the line of his jaw. “Now that we’re safe you can sleep in until noon if you want.”

“Not without you beside me.” Faolán got up, a lascivious grin on his face as he took Brice’s hand to pull him up. “Shower time, because we both need one to, umm, wash off the blood and dirt. Right?”

Brice snorted in amusement. “I suppose we can do it together.”

“Definitely. It’s faster that way. You wash my back, I’ll wash yours.”

“Somehow I doubt we’ll be saving any time, but”—he steered his un-reluctant lover towards the bathroom—“as you said…”

* * * *

The cooling water finally drove the two lovers out of the shower stall, clean and well sated. As they dried off Faolán asked, “It’s all right if I come with you today isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, if you want to. I’d think you’d find it boring though, just standing around.”

Faolán shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” He wrapped his towel around his waist as he headed back to the bedroom.

Brice followed, toweling his hair dry. As he did, what Faolán had said sank in. “What are you going to do now that Maximus is dead and there’s no need for you to be here? Go back to the pack?”

Faolán looked at him in surprise. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

“It’s safe to go back now. And it’s what you know.”

Rather than answer, because he knew Brice had to get moving if he wasn’t going to be very late, Faolán replied, “We’ll talk about this later,” and left the bedroom to go down to the guest room and get dressed. As he donned his jeans he realized that he’d fled the room not because it was late, but because he didn’t like the way the conversation had been going. Did Brice want him to leave now? Was that why he’d mentioned going back to the pack?

Hunted – 57

As Maximus died, Brice and Faolán shifted and collapsed, their chests heaving as they tried to regain both breath and composure.

Eventually Brice sat up, looked down at Faolán, and growled softly.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t have the energy.”

“I’m thinking we need to get you to a hospital,” Brice replied tersely.

“Says the man who looks like he’s been run through a meat grinder.”

“You both do,” Logan told them as he appeared beside them. “Damn, I missed the party.”

Brice smiled tightly without taking his eyes off of Faolán. “Trust me it was no party.” He gently stroked Faolán’s cheek while he tried to ascertain just how badly his lover had been hurt. There were puncture wounds in his throat, although none had hit the arteries. His shoulder looked mangled, blood still seeping from it, as it was from all the other damaged places.  

“He’ll heal, Brice, you both will. You just need to sleep and your bodies will restore themselves to perfect health,” Logan said.

“I know, but…” Brice seemed unconvinced that it would really happen.

“Did you get lost?” Faolán asked Logan in an attempt to derail Brice’s worries.

“Let’s just say, when I got to Brice’s new house and realized none of you was there, I was stymied for a while. Then it sank into my somewhat slow mind that Brice might have decided to abort the plan and try something else. Once I accepted he was just stupid enough to think the two of you could take on Maximus, I figured he might have come here.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Brice protested. “It worked didn’t it?”

“Yeah it did, through pure, dumb luck I suspect,.” Logan glanced over at the massive body of the dead shifter with a shudder. “He was twice the size of the two of you combined and probably three times older and more experienced. So yeah, dumb luck.”

“Skill,” Faolán retorted as he tried to sit up. Brice’s hand planted firmly on his chest stopped him. “Hey now, if you can, I can,” he protested.

“I’m not as badly wounded.”

“Yeah, you are,” Logan told him. “Less places but that shoulder… If you were human, not dual natured, I’d have taken you to a hospital and you’d be under the knife by now.”

“I’m fine,” Brice protested. “It was just a bite.” Then he looked down at the damage and paled. “Well…maybe somewhat more than that.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Somewhat,” he mimicked as he took hold of Brice’s other arm and then Faolán’s.

Seconds later they were in the living room of the condo. Logan quickly went into Brice’s bedroom, pulled back the bed covers then helped both of his friends to the room and onto the bed. “You’ll need new sheets come tomorrow,” he declared with a small grimace. “For now, sleep.”

Hunted – 56

“Are you out of your frigging mind?” Faolán growled as he and Brice landed.

“Probably. But for all our plans, we still would have been faced with the same problem in the end. Even with him was caged in the panic room, he'd still be alive. What would we do with him then? Keep him there until he starved to death?”

Unable to deny his logic Faolán shifted, as did Brice, and paced the clearing. "Where is he?"

His question was quickly answered when Maximus appeared. The alpha immediately shifted as well, his lips pulled back in a terrifying snarl.

Brice’s primal instinct was to cower in submission, and he started to before his need to end this once and for all took over. His ears stood erect, his fur bristled, and his lips curled up to display his incisors. He stood his ground and snarled back.

Instantly Faolán did the same while he stalked several yards away from Brice, his eyes never leaving Maximus. He was terrified, but knew if he showed even the least bit of fear the alpha would use it against him.

Maximus swung his head slowly from side to side as he watched them. Then he leap. His massive jaws closed on Brice’s shoulder and he shook him as if he were a rag doll. Brice howled when pain worse than he ever remembered feeling flooded him. It took all his self-control, but he managed to steel himself against it before he snapped his jaws in a futile attempt to bite into the alpha’s leg.

From the side Faolán launched himself at Maximus, his claws tearing through the flesh of the alpha’s hindquarters. The sharp scent and the taste of blood emboldened him, but before he could attack again Maximus had released Brice. He whirled, and slammed one huge paw against Faolán’s head. The young shifter flew back, dazed, then instinctively dropped into a submissive posture, his body lowered, tail between his legs.

Maximus stalked to him, growled threateningly while he pinned Faolán to the ground with his forepaws and cinched his jaws around his throat. "Submit to me, Brice, and I will not kill him."

"I submit." Brice’s whole body shook in fear for his lover as he rolled onto his back, his throat and belly fully exposed, and whimpered.

"As well you should." Maximus released Faolán only long enough to grip his shoulder in his jaws and then dragged him to where Brice lay. "Did the two of you really think you could best me?"  He looked between them, at the blood that poured from the wounds he’d inflicted, and howled in triumph. "A good fucking is in order, Brice. I so enjoyed your unwillingness to allow that after the first time.” When Brice didn’t instantly turn to present himself Maximus straddled Faolán, his enormous phallus springing free. "If not you, Brice, then him."

Faolán whined, terrified. He could recall in terrible detail what it felt like when Maximus entered him. The agony, as he was reamed until he passed out from the assault, and the earlier injuries the alpha would inflict to subjugate him. 

"No!" Brice stood slowly, ignoring the pain in his shoulder now, as he faced Maximus. "Enough. I’m over being afraid of you, you bastard." And he was, he discovered to his amazement. Rage at what Maximus threatened overcame all else. He rose up on his hind legs and attacked. His weight, though less than Maximus’s, forced the larger shifter off Faolán. Brice bared his teeth, snarled and lashed out with fangs and claws.

Maximus, shocked that he would be attacked instead of submitted to, took a moment to recover. That was all Brice needed. He clamped his jaws on the alpha’s foreleg—tearing flesh from bone—released his hold and bit deeply into his side. Maximus’s howl of agony tore through the night. Brice reveled in the sound of it.

Faolán joined the fray, his claws ripping through the alpha’s hindquarters. Maximus whirled, jaws snapping as he tried to fight back, but the smaller shifters now used their size to their advantage, darting in to inflict more wounds and then dancing out of reach of his jaws and claws. The aroma of blood filled the small clearing.

Slowly Maximus began to weaken, wounds and blood loss taking their toll. He crouched low as he tried to protect his vulnerable throat and belly, snarling impotently.

Brice swung his head to look at Faolán. "We have to..?" Even in the moment of victory—when he knew Maximus had to die—he was uncertain that he had what it took to kill. He’d been human too long; his wolf had been buried too long.

"We do." Faolán replied firmly. "Can you? If not then I will, gladly, and without remorse."

Without replying, Brice closed in on Maximus. The alpha tried to crawl away. Brice snarled, leapt to land on Maximus and bit deeply into the back of his neck. When Maximus arched his head in pain, Faolán moved in for the kill. Blood poured from the alpha’s torn out throat.

The two lovers threw back their heads and howled in triumph.

Hunted – 55

What was left of the evening was spent with the four friends eating and then watching a movie, all of them trying to maintain some sense of normalcy in spite of what hung over them. When the movie was over, Logan took Skye back home then returned to find Brice and Faolán curled up together on the sofa more than half asleep.

Faolán cocked one eye open. “She all tucked in?”

“Indeed, and dead to the world.” Logan dropped down in the chair across from them with a tired smile.

“To bring us back to reality, which I hate to do, but…” Faolán said, “We should take turns keeping guard. Maximus is no fool. He just might try to come back when he thinks we’re all asleep, to grab one or both of us.”

Brice nodded in agreement. “And since he probably checked the whole place out while he was here, he’d have no problem landing in my room as well as the guest room.”

“We could put a spanner in that plan,” Logan replied thoughtfully.

“How?” the two other shifters asked as one.

“Use my place. It’s small but safe, because he’s never been there.”

Brice cocked an eyebrow. “How small is ‘small’?”

“Umm, about the size of your kitchen?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well you do have a large kitchen.”

Brice glanced at Faolán. “What do you think?”

“I think if we do that, we’re just prolonging the agony. Let him come here if that’s what he has in mind, so we can get this over with.”

“A very wise decision, cub.” The words echoed malevolently through the room as the male who spoke them appeared. “Brice, it has been a while. You are looking good.” The male licked his lips. “Very good.”

Logan backed slowly away from the huge shifter, inching to one side. Maximus glanced at him then back at Faolán and Brice who were now on their feet.

“Are you going to try to fight me?” Maximus asked, his lips curling back.

“No, we were thinking of dancing with you,” Brice sneered, drawing on his character in the show to give him the façade of courage he needed. “But not here. I hate the thought of blood on the furniture.” He grabbed Faolán’s hand and vanished.

Maximus growled, whirling around in search of Logan, who was no longer there. “So be it. We play on your field, Brice,” he roared as he too vanished from the room.

Hunted – 54

“She’s got a point, Brice,” Faolán said in agreement. “Either one of us actually could, because he knows I’m here too and might go after me to get to you, or vise versa.”

Skye looked at the three shifters. “I have a question, because something’s been bothering me. This whole plan hinges on his being able to follow you when you teleport. How?”

“How can he? Easily enough,” Faolán replied. “We have to visualize where we’re going. He can pick that out of our mind when we do. But before you worry that he could have done that already—that he knows what we’re planning. He can only do it if he’s very close by, like within a few yards of us. We’re not mind readers per se. We can mind-speak to each other, and if emotions are running high we can sometimes pick up on what someone else is thinking. But only in very vague terms.”

“Got it. And if he comes after Faolán or Brice, their emotional response—to get away and fast and their picturing the destination—he’ll be able to see too. That makes sense.”

“Exactly. The other thing is, he’s going to have to know where to find them to start with, and here is the most obvious place.”

“Or at the studio,” Brice pointed out. “I’m...we’re there all day.”  

Skye frowned. “What if he decides to try to take you both on at the same time? He sounds like that sort of ass who would think he could, and might savor the idea of making one of you watch while he hurt the other one.”

“He would probably have no trouble in a fight with both of them,” Logan said. “But he’d be hard-pressed to keep one of them restrained while he dealt with the other one-on-one. If he has Brice in his clutches, Faolán could just teleport away, even if Maximus had him bound to something solid.”

“But he wouldn’t,” Skye said positively. “Any more than Brice would desert Faolán in the same situation. Not now.”

Brice wrapped his arms around Faolán protectively as he replied, “Very true.”

“It hadn’t better be,” Logan stated adamantly. “Worst case scenario, and he does capture the two of you before you can get him into the panic room, the other one should come get me.”

“Like we’d know where to find you,” Faolán told him.

Logan scrubbed his hands through his hair then smiled a bit. “Guess I’m moving in here for the duration.”

“But your job…” Skye said.

He shrugged. “When it comes down to it, friends are more important.”

Faolán turned his head to look up at Brice with a grin. “Guess that means I get to stay in your room.”

Everyone broke out laughing. At the same moment, the buzzer sounded to let Brice know someone was downstairs. “Dinner’s here, though I’m afraid not enough for all four of us.” He buzzed the delivery boy in, once he’d ascertained that’s who it really was.

“Easily remedied,” Logan told him before he asked what Skye felt like.

She looked him over, grinned, then told him, “In lieu of you, ribs with all the fixings.”

Logan kissed her quickly and vanished with a muttered, “Your wish is…”

“Is your command,” Skye finished with a chuckle.

Hunted – 53

Faolán was back seconds later. “Well, he’s able to get in here,” he told Brice tersely.

Brice felt a chill run through him and fought his fear as he said, “That was the plan.”

“I know, I know. But somehow planning and having it really happen…It makes the whole thing…real.”

“Really real,” Brice said with a small smile, though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing at the moment. But he didn’t want either of them to panic…yet. “How do you know he was here?”

Faolán handed him a small box and a note. Brice opened the box first and winced, sucking in a deep breath. “Well at least now we know where…”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I knew the minute I saw it. It has to belong to the body we found at your house.”

Brice then read the note. “And apparently he’s planning on adding to his collection.” He frowned and sniffed the air. “Why didn’t we know the moment we came in that he’d been here?”

“Because he’s much older than us and knows how to mask his scent. Especially when he’s in his human form.”

“Oh, that makes me feel really confident. Particularly when the whole idea is to make him chase me from here to the house. He could get to me, to us, with no problem at all if that’s the case.”

“No. If he was here when we were, we’d know it. It’s just the fact he came and left while we weren’t around that made it possible for him to cover his tracks.” Faolán paused momentarily then said, “It might be time to have Logan join us.”

Brice already had his phone open. “I was thinking the same thing.” After a brief conversation with Logan he closed it again. “He’ll be here in ten or less.”

“Less I’d say,” Faolán commented as Logan appeared, Skye by his side.

When Brice cocked an eyebrow, Logan told him, “She was already in jeans and whatever, and wasn’t about to take no for an answer—stubborn woman.”

“No way you all are keeping me out of this. I told you that already. And before you get pissy, I said I was the brains, not the brawn in this outfit.”

“Yes, dear,” Logan said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. Then he looked at the other shifters and grinned. “I take it the two of you have come to some sort of truce.”    

“You could say that, yeah,” Brice admitted. “However…”

Logan nodded. “It won’t do any good if we don’t stop Maximus.”   

Brice said guiltily, “And since he’s announced that he can get in here, which is my fault for not double-checking that there was no where he could see into the place, I guess that means we have to rethink things.”

“Why?” Skye asked. “I mean, okay, maybe he won’t attack you here, or maybe he will, but the basics still hold true. Wherever he tries to get to you, you can still go to the…” she looked around, as if afraid Maximus might be listening, “to where we planned.”

Hunted – 52

By the end of the day Brice was drained. The scenes that they’d shot had been a stress both physically and emotionally, which was the norm. It was the reaction of his coworkers that had gotten to him. Almost universally they were positive, and he’d spent a great deal of his free time between scenes being told he’d done the right thing—which he knew but was happy to have reinforced. Even his co-star had said, albeit in his usual sarcastic way, that he was okay with it. Brice wanted to tell him, 'As if you have a choice', but restrained himself.

“You look like a wrung out dishrag,” Faolán commented with a laugh as they left the studio and headed to the parking garage.

“I feel like one,” Brice admitted. “Do you mind if we go right back to the condo and order supper in?”

“Not at all, why would I?”

“No reason I suppose. It just…it feels right to ask, not just say that’s what’s happening.”

Faolán smiled at him. “I take it you’re not used to sharing decisions. At least not in your personal life.”

Brice unlocked the car as he said, “I think I can safely say this may be the first time I’ve actually had a personal life like this since I came here, sad as that sounds.”

“It sounds very sad, but that’s going to change,” Faolán told him. He got into the car, and, once Brice had too, rested his hand on Brices's thigh. “I’m going to do my best to make certain of that.”

“I hate to say this, because it may be too early, well I don’t hate saying it but… Damn, and I’m supposed to be good with words.” Brice put his hand over Faolán’s to grip it as if it were somehow a lifeline.

“You don’t need words,” Faolán told him quietly. “I feel the same way. It’s sudden, unexpected and yet it’s there.”

Brice whispered, “Yes.” He felt lightheaded with relief that Faolán felt the way he did. Reluctantly he released Faolán’s hand in order to start the car and pull out of the garage onto the street. Then he gripped Faolán’s hand again--not hard. More because he needed the connection.

The drive home was spent mostly in silence, other that a brief discussion of what they wanted to order for supper. Just as they entered the condo Brice’s cell beeped. He answered then listened as Morgan told him that the panic room had been painted to Brice’s specifications. When he said he still didn’t get why Brice wanted the floor painted, as well as the rest, Brice explained, again, that he was just claustrophobic enough that having everything light colored, including the floor, would help him, should he actually have to use the room. He hung up with Morgan’s chuckle ringing in his ear.

“He buys that excuse?” Faolán asked.

“It’s probably more that he thinks I’m totally eccentric, but for the price I’m paying him, he’s willing to overlook that.”

“As long as it got done, that’s what counts. Now, supper?”

“On it.” Brice made the call to order from his favorite Thai restaurant. With that done he headed to the bedroom to change clothes. Faolán followed, going down to the guest room since all his things were there.

Hunted – 51

Brice’s co-star looked over when Brice arrived on the set, with Faolán right behind him. “He follows you like a well trained dog,” he said with a malicious sneer.

Brice stopped, looked at the man, took a deep breath then put one arm around Faolán’s shoulders as he replied, “No, he doesn’t follow me. He’s with me the way a lover should be, just as I’m with him. It’s something I’m sure you’ve never experienced.”

Everyone within hearing distance stopped what they were doing to stare at Brice. He grinned at the looks on their faces. Most of them were shocked at first, then several smiled, and a couple even gave him a thumb’s up.

Faolán leaned close enough to whisper, “When you decide to do something you do it and damn the torpedoes.”

“I guess so. Now to see how fast the torpedoes can sink me.” 

“Mr. Davies, if I may have a word with you, in private,” the director said.

“And this may be the first one,” Brice muttered as he followed the director to his office.

“First,” the director began, after he closed the door, “that was a very courageous move on your part. Secondly, are you ready for any fall-out that may occur because of it?”

“I can handle it if it hits the media.”

“If?”

Brice amended his statement. “Okay, when it hits the media. I’ve lived in fear of being outed for too damned long. Honestly, the moment I said that it felt as if a huge weight was off my shoulders.” He paced to the window then turned back to look at the director. “If it impacts the show’s ratings, which I hope it doesn’t, just kill my character off again and make it permanent.”

The director smiled. “I’ve got the feeling that’s not going to happen. Yes there are assholes out there who’ll raise a stink, but times are getting better.” Suddenly he got a gleam in his eye. When Brice cocked an eyebrow in question the man shook his head. “I need to talk to the writers and the producers before I say anything. For now, go get ready for the first scene.”

As soon as Brice stepped out of the office Faolán was beside him. “Did he read you the riot act, or fire you?” he asked worriedly.

“Not at all. He actually congratulated me, more or less.” He hugged Faolán and kissed him lightly, not at all concerned now if anyone saw it. “I have to get to work.”

“Okay. I’ll be hiding in the shadows watching, like yesterday.”

“You know,” Brice said pensively, “if nothing else, having Maximus after me has made two good things happen. I finally got up the courage to admit what I am, because doing that was, in the long run, both right and easier, now that I know what real fear is like. If that makes any sense at all.”

“It does. And what’s the other thing?”

Brice smiled softly. “I met you.”  

Hunted – 50

The shrill sound of the phone woke Brice with a start. He reached for it then realized something, or rather someone, was between it and him and smiled. His good mood increased incrementally as he leaned across Faolán to answer and got a kiss on the shoulder when he did. Then it plummeted when a rough voice on the phone said without preamble, "I do hope you and the young one had an enjoyable evening. It will be your last." The caller immediately hung up.

Brice shuddered, sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees as he stared blindly at the far wall. He remembered the voice. Fear and panic roiled through him. He shuddered again.

“It was him, wasn’t it,” Faolán said, as he too sat, so he could put his arms around Brice.

“Yes,” Brice whispered. Then he drew in a deep breath to say, with much more firmness and resolve, “It was, and that is the last time I’m going to let him get to me, the bastard!” His eyes landed on the bedside clock and he continued wryly, “My director on the other hand scares the shit out of me so, unfortunately, I have to get up and moving.”

“We have to,” Faolán told him. He released his hold but not before he kissed Brice quite thoroughly. “That should hold us for a little while, anyway,” he said then swatted Brice’s ass. “Move it.”

Brice arched an eyebrow. “Giving orders?”

“Thought it was my turn to,” Faolán replied with a smirk. “Turn about and all that.”

“Boy…” Brice growled. Then he scooted off the bed with a laugh to avoid Faolán’s attempt to swat him again. As he did, he suddenly realized that, despite the trouble hanging over their heads, he hadn’t had this much fun with—or pleasure from—another man in longer than he could remember. He looked at Faolán, his eyes alive with emotion. "This time, maybe I’ve found the one I’ve been looking for."

Faolán smiled. "Perhaps we both have."