Becomes the Rose Read Free

Boyce’s name, and for a second or two, he was unsure whether he was awake or still dreaming as it seemed he could see Anton’s face at the window. He covered his face with shaking hands as he tried to calm his ragged breathing and racing heart.
    “Are you alright, Tarin?”
    Boyce crouched at his side, prising Tarin’s hands from his face. The older man wore nothing other than black, satin pyjama pants, and Tarin’s throat went dry at the expanse of smooth, pale skin of the older man’s chest bared to his sight.
    “Anton was at the window,” Tarin said. For a second he felt foolish, then he was swept into strong hands, and he buried his face into the junction of Boyce’s neck and shoulder. Before he did, he caught a glimpse of two men; one the red-blond behemoth, Flynn, totally naked, the other a petit brunet in pyjama pants. He had not known there were others in Boyce’s home.
    “Anton,” Boyce said curtly. “At the window, according to Tarin. Check we are secure, Flynn.”
    “I always do,” the blond growled. “But I will go ‘round again. Eric, go back to bed,” he added more softly to the younger man at his side.
    “I’d rather stay with you. You might need me,” the brunet added with a smile, his hand slipping into the blond’s huge paw.
    “Imp,” Flynn rumbled, but did not try to dissuade the smaller man. “We’ll start downstairs.”
     
     
    Watching the two men go, Boyce hesitated a moment and then strode decisively into his own bedroom. He laid his precious bundle carefully down and intended to sit in his chair, but Tarin clutched desperately at him.
    “Don’t leave me, please. Don’t leave me.”
    “I won’t leave you,” Boyce promised. He gathered Tarin into his arms, pulling the trembling form tightly to his so that Tarin’s back was against his chest. He spooned up, curling protectively around the young man. “I have you, Tarin. It’s safe to sleep now,” he added. He licked behind Tarin’s ear, savouring the taste of the warm skin.
    He knew the house was secure, but would feel better knowing Flynn and Eric were checking. He had seen Monique and Jorge emerge from their rooms as swiftly as Flynn and Eric, but indicated their presence was not needed. He felt sure he would know if danger still existed.
    Anton would not touch this innocent. Not while Boyce could prevent it.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Blinking, Tarin slowly opened his eyes. He had fragmented memories of the night’s events; a really bad nightmare, Anton’s face at the window, a large, naked man, and being held by Boyce. He looked around, rubbing at one eye and then the other. The bedroom was immaculate. Beyond simply neat and tidy; it looked barely used. Thinking back, Boyce’s living room possessed the same quality.
    Easing from the bed, he could see his bags had been brought into the room along with the clothes that had been in his own bedroom. He dressed hurriedly. He wanted to find Boyce and speak to him.
    Checking the living room first, Tarin began to turn and almost bumped into the brunet he had seen the previous night.
    “I was looking for Boyce,” Tarin said.
    “He’s working. My name’s Eric. Would you like something to eat? I can do a really good scrambled eggs.”
    “Sure. Eggs are fine.”
    Looking around the kitchen, Tarin could see nothing out of place and not a spot of dust or dirt anywhere. Things looked as if they had been cleaned and cleaned again.
    “Martha cleans here,” Eric said as if reading Tarin’s mind. “She can’t bear the least little thing out of place or a speck of dirt. She’s a marvel. We don’t have milk, I’m afraid,” he added as he served the eggs and set a cup of back coffee in front of Tarin. “The Mast… er… Boyce has a dairy intolerance, and we’ve just learned to live with it and do without, too.”
    “Black is good,” Tarin said, wondering whether Eric was also going to have called Boyce ‘Master’ as Martha had done. The eggs were good, and he was