Heart's Redemption (MxM)

Chapter 19 ~ Ian

Dinner is surprisingly normal: homemade potpies. I'm pretty sure they aren't chicken, but they're delicious and filling. We eat in the dining room of the main lodge, along with Jack, Elliot, and Maria. With no other guests at the moment, we have the entire place to ourselves.

The room is spacious yet cozy—handmade wood tables and benches, dark floors and paneled walls, soft, fire-toned lighting, and of course the ever-present reminders that at least some of the food on the table had roamed free in the nearby woods and meadows not long before arriving on the plate.

Over the meal, Maria tells us more about the Walker Clan, how they'd come to run a lodge for hunters, and also more about the events leading up to Inez's disappearance.

"The first death was Todd Oldman," Maria says. "Reclusive bastard. Lived up along the north valley, but came down like clockwork to buy liquor once a month. When he missed his usual visit, someone went up to check on him. Found him hung from a rafter, chair kicked out from under his feet, and a note in his own hand on the table. His style, too. Just the one word—'Sorry.'"

"Next was Heidi French," Jack continues. "Nice, middle-aged lady. No immediate family, a little on the crazy side when it came to some things, but never hurt a fly in her life. Slit her own throat in her bathtub. At least, that's how it was ruled."

"A week later, Ivan Dimitriev had an argument with a shotgun and lost," Elliot adds. "No note, but nothing indicated anyone else had been near his cabin in weeks. State troopers investigated, but..." he shrugs, "it was no secret Ivan wasn't the most stable individual. He'd tried once before, which counted against him I guess." He shrugs, lifting broad shoulders beneath his dark denim jacket.

We've finished eating and gathered around the fireplace in the main hall: me, Carlos, and Sam on a plaid sofa, and the others in comfortable chairs. Maria offers us some whiskey, and Carlos and I accept. Sam does as well, but I stop Maria's hand before she can pour him a glass.

"He's not legal. To drink, that is" I add, only to feel my face grow warm.

Sam has been provoking me the last few days, and more than once I've found my resistance hanging by a thread. I don't want to think about what might happen if it snaps.

For one thing, I'd like to fuck him 'til he cries.

At least in his demon form, he seems capable of giving as good as he gets: I don't feel like a threat to him when I'm pretty sure he could tear out my spleen with his teeth.

In his human form, though, he seems more vulnerable—fragile, even—and he reminds me of another lover I once had; a beautiful man with violet eyes, whom I should have cherished, but ended up hurting instead.

Just the thought of hurting Sam makes me feel sick, but every day I want him more, and eventually, something's got to give.

"I'm practically twenty-one!" Sam protests. "Besides, who's checking ID around here? Not that I have one," he huffs.

Maria looks at me, and I sigh. "I'm not his father," I say, hoping I don't look old enough for anyone to think I might be.

She pours him a small glass and hands it over.

When we've all got our glasses in hand, a little measure of amber liquid in each, Maria sits back down and continues the grim history.

"The last death was two weeks ago," she says with a sigh. "A young man—barely more than a boy—found in a little pond with his pockets full of stones. It seems hard to discount as suicide—if he'd gotten scared and changed his mind, he might have saved himself. On the other hand, if he'd been unconscious before he drowned..."