an effort to stop her body from shaking. Behind the man, her father nodded approvingly. He thought she was playing the game perfectly.
“Brania, sweetheart,” she remembered her father saying to her, “this man is giving us the deed to this land so we can own this piece of earth forever. In return, he asks so little to secure the deal.”
“I’m not sure that I feel comfortable doing this.”
Pulled from the past, it took Brania a few seconds to address the comment. “We’re both adults, Vaughan. There’s no reason why we can’t find comfort in one another.”
Rebuttoning his shirt, Vaughan continued, “But he isn’t, that kid downstairs with my driver. It just doesn’t feel right.”
Why are men so close-minded when it comes to everyone else’s desires except their own? “Seriously, Vaughan, you need to get over this problem you have with boys who like boys.”
Searching for his shoes, which he kicked off moments before, Vaughan protested, “No, it isn’t that! Though personally I have to admit I don’t understand that tendency. What bothers me is the age difference.” One shoe found, where’s the other? “Nakano’s just a kid and Jean-Paul, I’m sure you’ve noticed, isn’t.”
Grabbing the shoe out of his hand, Brania flung it over her shoulder. “Do you have any idea how much older I am than you?” This man was wasting her precious time. She had work to do.
“Brania, angel,” David had cooed, “Vaughan’s factory is a godsend to us. I would prefer that he continue to help us willingly and not seek out a new partnership elsewhere. He is getting rather chummy with Edwige. So do what you do best and make your father happy.”
Ripping Vaughan’s shirt open, she was thankful that men today at least waxed their chests. Unable to resist her force or her kisses, Vaughan succumbed. Brania pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. She leaned over, her long, luxuriant hair falling around her face, concealing the dead look in her eyes. Not that Vaughan would have noticed; he wasn’t looking at her face.
She bit his earlobe, the sharp pressure of her teeth making Vaughan writhe underneath her, simultaneously lost in his own thoughts and physically connected to her. He thought he would feel her fangs pierce the fragile flesh of his neck, take some of his blood, but instead she needed to plant a seed. “Don’t underestimate the next generation,” she whispered. “You should reach out to your son.”
Looking up, Brania saw her father in the corner of the room, his mouth, once again, in the shape of a satisfied smile. He nodded his approval and then disappeared so his daughter could complete her task.
chapter 5
With each step, the earth crunched under Ronan’s feet. Dirt underneath grass hidden by snow covered by ice, each element bowed when it felt the presence of the young man. Nature understood power. And, in turn, Ronan understood the power of nature.
The rain that fell was more like hail, some particles large, some quite small, bouncing off of Ronan’s body, hardly painful, quite refreshing actually, as he walked steadfastly across campus to his dorm, to Michael. Moving in long, purposeful strides, he felt like a king returning home after a long journey to meet his prince. He heard his own voice mock him, sometimes Ronan you really do let those books you read decorate your thoughts. Rubbish, what’s the harm in a little embellishment, he thought, when his real world was just as fantastic as any piece of fiction.
“Where the hell have you been?!” Michael yelled before Ronan could even close the door behind him.
So much for romanticizing his reality. “Just running an errand,” Ronan replied calmly, rivulets of icy rain traveling down the sides of his face.
“What kind of errand could possibly take all day?” Michael asked. “And you do know that you’re getting water all over the place, right?”
“Yes, Michael, I do know that. I’m the one who just came in from the rain.”
Yanking a towel off of a hook that hung behind the bathroom door, Michael started to blot up the mess, mumbling something about Ronan being inconsiderate while furiously rubbing the floor until it was bone dry. What was going on here, Ronan questioned, a minute ago he felt like the king of his own castle and now he was being treated like a guest who had long overstayed his welcome.
“Michael, what’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” Michael snapped. “So this is my fault?”
Ronan knew that Michael liked things tidy, but he couldn’t possibly be this upset just because he got the floor a little wet. “I’m sorry if I tracked some ice in here. I’ll clean it up.”
Ronan tried to take the towel from Michael, but angrily he brushed his hand away. Well, more like swiped. Were those tears in his eyes? Ronan wasn’t sure, but he knew that something was definitely wrong. And somehow, unwittingly, Ronan was the cause.
“I woke up from our nap and again you weren’t here!” Michael cried. “I looked all over for you. . . . It was dark . . . and I was alone!” He hurled the towel at Ronan and spat, “Why do you keep leaving me?!”
Ronan felt short of breath. He was right, he was the cause. He had done it again, made the person he loved feel afraid, abandoned. It was a terrible thing to do. He knew how it felt and he didn’t think he could be so cruel, so thoughtless, but he had. “No, no, I’d never leave you.” Ronan tried to embrace Michael, hold him close, but Michael was too angry for that. He didn’t want to be held, he only wanted to be told the truth. “I went out to get you this.”
Ronan reached inside his jacket pocket and took out a brown paper bag, stained by a few drops of rain, and pulled out a book. “I wanted to get to the bookstore before it closed,” Ronan said sheepishly. At the time it felt like a romantic thing to do, a sweet gesture, to sneak out while Michael was still asleep and then present him with a gift when he woke up. “It’s a collection of Oscar Wilde short stories that I thought you’d like to read instead of another dull textbook.”
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Michael took the book from Ronan. On the cover was a drawing of a handsome young man. Could have been Dorian Gray, could’ve been another character the writer created. Michael didn’t know his work that well so he couldn’t be sure, but he knew why Ronan chose this anthology. “He reminded me of you,” Ronan said quietly. “Forever beautiful . . .”
“Forever mine,” Michael said, finishing their phrase. It was a thoughtful thing to do, Michael acknowledged. And how did I respond? By attacking him, thinking the worst of him. Is this what it’s like to be in a relationship? One minute the world couldn’t be more perfect, and the next it’s on the verge of complete ruin?
Ronan and Michael spoke at the same time. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Michael protested, holding the book close to his chest. “It’s me, I overreacted. Lately I guess I’ve been . . .” What exactly was the word? What exactly was the feeling? Michael really didn’t know. All he knew was that he was confused and more than a little embarrassed. Shaking his head, he continued, “No, Ronan, you have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes, I do.” Taking his boyfriend’s hand, Ronan led him to their bed so they could sit and talk truthfully. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a boyfriend.”
Great, let’s start the heart-to-heart conversation with a lie. “Nakano wasn’t really that long ago,” Michael corrected.
“He wasn’t a boyfriend, not in the real sense of the word.” Softly, Ronan traced the lines of Michael’s palm with his finger, so many different etchings, intertwined, overlapping, just like the two of them, at least just like how the two of them should be. “I guess I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in a relationship, to be linked to someone and have to consider their feelings and not just my own. I now have someone I need to answer to.”
Michael pulled his hand away. “Look, the last thing I want is for you to feel obligated to me.”
“But I am,” Ronan replied. “In the most wonderful way you can imagine.” He had to make Michael understand. “My people believe we are not complete until we are partnered, and not just with anyone but with our soul mate. I know that sounds like tommyrot. What do you Americans call it? Malarkey? But it’s the truth. You are my soul mate, Michael.” Ronan wrapped his leg behind Michael and pulled him closer so they could embrace, so their bodies could intertwine just like their souls were doing at this very moment within the depths of The Well. “But . . .” Ronan hesitated.
