Silver Crown | Book 1

Chapter Nine

"What's going on, Bren?" Dallon asked once they were all seated around the room, the door having been secured with a lock and a chair.

"I don't really know," Brendon replied.

Ryan stared out the window, wishing he could disappear.

"Well, start with Ryan. He comes in saying you told him to hide. Why?"

"Someone attacked him in the hallway."

"Another one?"

"What do you mean, Dal?"

"He didn't tell you we'd already dealt with one?"

"No."

They both looked over at Ryan.

"I didn't have time," Ryan muttered, loud enough for the other two to hear. "You left and suddenly this guy was on me. I don't know where he came from, guess it doesn't matter. But he had his arm around my neck, strangling me. The next thing I knew I was gasping for breath on the floor and he was dead."

"So who killed them?" Dallon wondered.

"There was no one down there except Ryan. No external wounds or anything like it," Brendon answered. "Ryan, was there anything you felt when this happened?"

"Besides fear? No. I don't think so. There was this ringing in my ears though. It kept getting louder. What does it mean?" He added as he saw the glance Dallon and Brendon exchanged.

"We don't know," Dallon replied. He stood up and wandered towards a fourth door on the other side of the room that Ryan hadn't seen before.

"Careful, Dal," Brendon warned.

Dallon nodded. "Keep him here tonight. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Ryan watched Dallon disappear through the door before looking over to Brendon. "Where's he going?"

"Library," Brendon said.

Ryan snorted at that.

"What?"

"Only Dallon would have a secret door that leads to the library. Only Dallon would go to the library right now."

Brendon laughed, releasing the tension that was hanging around the room. Ryan just smiled at him.

Once Brendon had calmed down he set about searching the room for something. Several articles of clothing hit Ryan on the side of the head—he'd returned to looking out the window—causing him to less than gracefully fall off the window seat and hit the floor with a thud.

Brendon looked like he wanted to laugh, but instead he helped Ryan to his feet and pointed him towards the bathroom to change and shower if he wanted to.

So Ryan did, spending more time than he usually would in an attempt to wash off not only the party but the feeling of his attacker's arm. No one bothered him, no one told him to hurry up, it was the first time he didn't feel rushed.

The pants were probably Dallon's judging by the fact that Ryan had to roll them up a few times. That didn't bother Ryan; however, as soon as he pulled the shirt off he flung it off not liking the way it hung off his body. He had always liked clothing that fit to his body, and that was one of the thing about him that hadn't changed since he arrived.

Picking the shirt up, Ryan stuck his head out the door, looking for someone. Neither Dallon nor Brendon was in the room, so Ryan timidly stepped inside and began scouring for a better shirt.

The ache in his arm, the one he'd fallen on, was finally fading away, enabling him to use it more than normal.

Shirt after shirt ended up in a pile on the floor as Ryan riffled through both Dallon and Brendon's clothes. Nothing fit him perfectly; he was half tempted to sleep shirtless, but the twinge in his arm when he lifted it too high reminded him that he couldn't. Dallon had thought he was attractive, and Ryan wanted that attention again. His burn wouldn't get him that.

"Hey, Ry. . . ." Dallon trailed off as he spotted the shirts, Ryan's bare torso, and the ugly contractures on his arm and shoulder.

Wide eyed, Ryan pulled on the first shirt he could in an attempt to cover what Dallon had already seen. "Sorry," he mumbled, and attempted to walk around Dallon.

Gently, Dallon's arm wrapped around Ryan's waist, pulling him close. It was just like that party, but the feeling of burning lust and desire wasn't strongly present. It could've been recreated if the two so desired, but Dallon seemed more content to staring into Ryan's eyes, searching for something.

The door to the main hallway opened up and Brendon came in with a handful of snacks. He looked at the two curiously, Ryan making more of an effort to wiggle his way out of Dallon's arms.

Begrudgingly, Dallon let him go. "Did you know about his arm?"

Ryan wished he hadn't said anything.

"What're you talking about, Dal?" Brendon asked. He set the snacks aside, crossing his arms over his chest. "What about his arm?"

Because Ryan was stubborn he ended up on the bed with Brendon all but tearing off his shirt in the least sexual way possible. With all the movement, the arm in question was becoming more stiff and painful. Something Dallon noticed.

"Easy, babe."

"What did they do to you?" Brendon asked as he shifted his weight so he wasn't pressing too hard into Ryan's waist.

"Kitchen accident. I was a waiter before this, and, uh, some outdated appliances practically exploded," Ryan explained. "My arm got the worst of it. Never had enough money for any special healing."

"Oh, Ry."

Slowly, Brendon leaned down and pressed a soft, barely there kiss to tip of Ryan's shoulder. And then he placed a second one right blow it. And then a third kiss followed. A fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth. Dozens of little kisses danced along his entire arm, moving from his fingers to the base of his neck, following the pattern of destruction. And then kiss by kiss they started moving higher.

Lips weaved across his jaw, over his ear, along his cheeks and nose, down his throat, back up to his forehead, across his eyes, his collar bone.

And then his lips.