Blind Hearts and Silenced Passion (8 page)

As the words tumbled out of his mouth, something inside Baqir
cracked and he found himself gripping Remy's shoulders and pulling the smaller
werewolf into his arms. For a few moments, Remy went rigid, but then, he
relaxed against Baqir's chest. "It's okay. We're okay. Everything is going
to be all right."

Baqir really wished he could believe that, and when he held
his mate like this, he could almost do it. But when Remy pulled away, the chill
from before invaded his heart, flooding him with apprehension.

Remy cupped his cheek gently and offered him a smile full of
a warmth and affection. "I'm sorry too, Qiri. None of this has been easy,
and I'm not blameless either. I lost my temper. Please forgive me."

Baqir's breath caught. He'd forgotten the last time when
anyone had truly worried about his feelings or bothered to apologize to him.
Indeed, he was widely believed to be emotionless, especially after he'd
disfigured his own brother.

No one had ever realized how hard it had been for Baqir to
keep his hand steady, to avoid Erdi's eye and make the scar only cosmetic. No
one ever realized that he even had a heart. Remy did, even if they'd only known
each other for a day, even if the time they'd spent together had been so short.

He'd have liked to say more, so much more, but time and
circumstances were not on his side. The sound of a cleared throat interrupted
their reunion. Baqir released Remy from his embrace, although he still kept his
arm wrapped around Remy's shoulders. "What?" he barked out, unable to
contain his hostility.

"Did you figure out what the seal is?" Remy asked,
a little breathless.

"Actually, no," Dread replied. "The metal is
unlike anything I've ever seen. My reaction is entirely different from
Blanchefleur's, which makes no sense."

Baqir felt out of the loop. Clearly, there had been some sort
of development since he'd left Remy. Well, stranger things had happened, and
Baqir could attest to the fact that it didn't take long for an
investigation—or, indeed, a life—to change.

"You have new intel?" he asked.

"Of a sort," Remy replied, his voice thick with
discomfort. "I suppose you should see it too. Perhaps you have some
input."

Baqir would have liked that very much, but the moment he set
eyes on the peculiar item, he knew he'd be next to useless. He took it in his
hand regardless and gasped as a wave of intense arousal swept over him.
Shocked, Baqir dropped the seal. It hit the floor with the dull thud.

Silence fell over the warehouse in the wake of the strange
episode. "Well," Dread finally said, "that was interesting...
and awkward."

"Why?" Baqir scowled fiercely. "What do the
rest of you feel?"

"I'm immune to it. Blanchefleur feels burnt, and to
Dread it seems... icy?" Remy sounded shaky, uncertain, but then, they were
all werewolves and none of them could have missed Baqir's reaction.

"Where exactly did you find this?"

"On one of Florent's silencer friends, many years
ago," Remy answered. "When I was blinded."

Baqir shot Blanchefleur a look but she shook her head.
"I don't know anything about it. Florent had a lot of secrets, and I
wasn't exactly included in his innermost circle."

That, Baqir believed. He doubted many things about
Blanchefleur, but not the fact that she had indeed lost her mate to her
brother's machinations. Even if this was the first time they'd actually met, he
sensed there was just something about her that screamed of emptiness and loss.
Baqir could easily imagine himself in her place... too easily, in fact.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind since it
clearly wasn't helping him. "Why do you think this is relevant to the
killings?" he inquired. "Remy's had it in his possession for a long
time now."

"It's a clue to what I witnessed back then," Remy
answered. "I really have no idea what was going on that day, when I was
blinded, and clearly, that's why I'm still alive. But if we can all agree on
something, it's that this is in no way a recent development."

Remy was right. The humans had a great deal of influence in
the paranormal world, far more than any of them had expected. That was clear
enough from the fact that they'd manipulated the guilds for so long, but also
due to the way Baqir's people were being killed.

He thought about that particular tidbit, then considered the
seal Remy had shown him. "Could this be magic?" he asked.

"Magic?" Dread repeated in disbelief. "Are you
serious?"

Baqir would have taken offense at the reaction—it was
completely unreasonable for Dread to be so shocked at the possibility—but Remy
stepped in before anyone could say anything else. "Actually, that does
make sense. Why wouldn't the humans be involved with someone who has magic?
They wouldn't have dared to take on the Sidhe otherwise, would they?"

That was a point no one could argue against. The fact that
the humans had not shied away from making the Sidhe queen an enemy was
something that had befuddled all of them. It was clear now that they needed a
specialist, someone who knew more about magic than the rest of them did.

As if guessing his thoughts, Blanchefleur hummed
thoughtfully. "I think I know who can help us and clarify things, but...
It will be risky. She prefers keeping a low profile, and bringing in silencers
won't earn me any good faith. And yet, we might not have a choice."

Baqir arched a brow. "You have a contact in the magical
world?"

Blanchefleur smiled tightly, and her eyes gained that dark,
lost look Baqir had pinpointed earlier. "I've had to move around a lot
these past few decades. I took refuge in some unlikely places."

'Unlikely places' was in no way enough of a description to
smooth out the tension already building inside Baqir. "If we're going to
meet with this contact, I'll need more details."

Despite the fact that he'd told himself to stay professional
about this, he couldn't help but pull Remy close once again. He wasn't taking
any chances with his mate's safety. If anyone—including Blanchefleur—did
something to put Remy in harm's way, Baqir would show them the error of their
ways—slowly and painfully.

Dread smirked at his display of possessiveness, but
Blanchefleur seemed to get the message. "There's a club," she
explained slowly, voice thick with reluctance. "I know what you're thinking,
Remy, but the owner is not part of the underground. She simply helps people who
are in trouble—human or otherwise. She helped me a lot when I first lost
Sylvain. She lives in the United States."

Baqir shared a look with his mate and saw the same awareness
in Remy's eyes. There was nothing for it. They didn't have much choice. The
seal needed to be investigated, and their other options were limited at best.

"The States it is then," he said. "I'll start
making arrangements at once. But, Blanchefleur... This had better work."

"Let's hope it will," she replied, undaunted.
"I'm all out of ideas, and we're running out of time."

For a brief moment, Baqir wondered if she knew something he
didn't, or if she was just making an educated guess. Either way, in this, he
couldn't really disagree. His men were already being killed off one by one and
they weren't any closer to discovering who'd done it, or who'd been behind the
assassination of the former Alpha of the Maximoff pack.

And so, Baqir resigned himself to once more journeying into
the unknown—but made an oath to himself. No matter what he had to do, nothing
and no one would ever hurt his beloved mate.

Chapter Six

By werewolf standards, Remy was not old, but neither was he
particularly young. He'd traveled quite a lot in his lifetime, especially since
his eyesight had started to return. This particular trip was different. They
were forced to travel in secrecy, but that didn't translate in private jets and
relaxation like Remy had been used to before. On the contrary, Baqir insisted
that sometimes, the best way to hide was to remain in plain sight.

This created an odd and awkward situation during which he and
Baqir were traveling as a couple, and Blanchefleur and Dread as another.
Supposedly, they were vacationing in the States. Remy had to admit that it was
a little befuddling to see Baqir's demeanor change and twist depending on who
he had to charm. Somehow, despite Baqir's obviously Arab descent, they managed
to avoid all suspicion.

The more time Remy spent in the company of his mate and their
companions, the less convinced he became that he truly fit in here. Whatever he
might have thought, he didn't have the qualifications, or even perhaps the
mental strength to become a silencer.

And then, Baqir took his hand and threaded their fingers
together. This time, when Baqir smiled, it was very obviously honest and held
so much affection that Remy couldn't hold onto his apprehension.

"It's okay," Baqir whispered. "I'm here with
you."

And why did that mean so much? Why did it reassure Remy to
this extent, soothing his heart? He prided himself on his independence, on the
fact that he could and had weathered everything that life had thrown at him and
come out the victor. Why was it that only now he could truly feel strong and
protected?

It was beyond puzzling, especially since Remy couldn't bring
himself to resent it. It had always bothered him when his brother had tried to
protect him, but with Baqir, he didn't have the same problem. Perhaps it was
part of the magic of finding a mate, and perhaps it meant he and Baqir were on
their way to actually understanding one another.

Of course, there was a huge issue with being a werewolf
traveling on plane filled with humans—and Remy realized it as soon as they
entered the aircraft. There were so many conflicting scents, sounds and
presences. The low voices of the flight attendants mingled with those of the
passengers. With a mental sigh, Remy found his seat, thankful that at least he
was next to the window and his mate was positioned between him and everyone
else.

Of course, he did not anticipate the hardest thing being
actually sitting so close to Baqir, without having the ability to do much more.
With Baqir's scent invading his nostrils, it was so easy to remember the night
they'd shared and forget all about the problems that had brought them on an
airplane headed to the United States.

Given their werewolf nature, it was only natural that Baqir
noticed. Minutes after they were in the air, they were both incredibly tense.
Remy yearned to reach for his mate, but he suspected that if he did so, he
wouldn't be able to keep himself from doing more. He wanted to bury his nose in
his mate's neck and just breathe, to take in Baqir's scent and reassure himself
his lover was truly there beside him.

They had so many problems, so many concerns, so many things
they needed to discuss. There simply had been no time to approach everything
they'd said—and everything they'd kept silent. They couldn't fix that now, and
their enforced proximity made Remy hyper-aware of this frustrating fact.

He'd have probably done better if not for their current
location. Werewolves didn't really react well to being stuck on airplanes with
so many humans. Having lived in a big city all of his life, Remy was used to large
crowds, but his wolf was restless whenever he couldn't move—as was the case
today.

He didn't last very long until he got up and wiggled his way
past his mate. There was an indrawn breath from Baqir—since Remy had in a way
shoved his ass within his mate's line of sight—but the other werewolf remained
in his seat.

Remy made a beeline for the bathroom, and was gratified to
see that miracles did happen and it was free. He didn't actually get to enter
the small room, because a strong hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him in his
tracks. He was forcibly shoved inside and pinned against the door of the tiny
area—and it shouldn't have been hot or arousing, but it was, because the
culprit, Remy's captor, was his own mate.

"You know," Remy murmured as he faced Baqir.
"This isn't the sexiest place for a fun romp, no matter what the mile high
club might say."

"I think the mile high club would agree with me on not
giving a shit."

Remy snorted. "Not your best turn of phrase, given our
current location, wouldn't you—"

His mate shut him up before he could finish the phrase, in
the best possible way, by crashing their lips together.

The kiss was everything Remy had been hoping for, and more.
Baqir practically devoured his mouth, his tongue claiming, tasting, exploring,
taking no prisoners. Perhaps it should have sated Remy's hunger and quenched
his thirst, but things really didn't work that way when it came to him and
Baqir. Everything went topsy-turvy, and the desire that had been bubbling
underneath Remy's skin flared even brighter, making every inch of him alive
with need.

Deep inside him, his wolf howled, a desperate demand to fix
his unbearable situation. As a beast and as a man, Remy knew the true crux of
the matter. Baqir hadn't claimed him, and as long as that was the case, Remy
would always feel uncertain. The safety Baqir's presence provided would never
fully process. This was an inescapable truth, one that haunted Remy far more
than his nightmares of his dark years ever had.

And it might be the worst possible place to make such
demands, but Remy couldn't help himself. When his mate broke their
kiss—presumably to give him a moment to breathe—Remy blurted out what was on
his mind, "Claim me!"

He was wickedly proud of the fact that he managed to surprise
his lover to the point where Baqir reeled back with a shocked gasp. It wasn't
easy to shock a silencer, and Remy wanted to give Baqir that—to make his mate's
life exciting, but in a good way. Baqir seemed so genuinely befuddled by his
demand that he hit the sink of the small bathroom. By some miracle, he managed
not to destroy the item, but the porcelain did make an alarming sound that made
Remy suspect it would need urgent repairs once the plane landed.

"Careful now," he said. "Is the idea of mating
me so horrifying that you're willing to tear the plane down just to escape
it?"

He was only half-teasing, since no matter what a
light-hearted approach he might try to take to his request, the fact remained
that it meant a lot to him. So far, Baqir's response hadn't been positive, so
as much as he tried, Remy couldn't fully keep the hurt from his voice.

His mate must have noticed—although it was quite likely
pretty easy to spot. "It's not that," he said quickly. "You must
know I want you. It's just… You deserve so much better."

Had Remy's teasing comment about the mile high club made his
mate so apprehensive? Remy cursed himself for a fool. "And you must
realize that I don't actually care where we are, as long as we're
together."

Baqir smiled, but it was a tiny twist of lips that held more
self-loathing and sadness than genuine amusement or hope. "I didn't
necessary mean better than this, although that's certainly the case. I
meant…"

He trailed off, as if unable to finish the phrase. He didn't
have to continue speaking, though, because Remy heard the rest of what he'd
intended to say in the ensuing silence, saw it in Baqir's eyes. His mate had
meant 'better than me'.

"Back in Paris… You said you wanted to be with me, to
fix things, to spend time together and get to know one another. Is that no
longer the case?"

"Of course it is," Baqir answered, clenching his
fists.

"Well, then…That settles that. I have what I want and
what I deserve."

To make his point clear, Remy grabbed Baqir's arm and pulled
the other wolf close, even closer than before. This time, when their mouths
met, the kiss was gentle, almost chaste, and filled with the certainty that,
despite everything, despite the fact that they were in the least romantic
location imaginable, this was and would always be right.

They didn't have the space to touch everywhere they would
have wanted, but they made do. Even as they kissed, Remy snaked his hand
between their bodies and reached for the buttons of his mate's jeans. Baqir
groaned against his mouth as Remy slid his fist inside and gripped Baqir's
shaft. There were definite advantages to the fact that Baqir seemed to avoid
underwear at all costs. And oh, it felt so good to touch Baqir like this, so
intimately, to feel his heat and the desire pulsing through him, feeding Remy's
own lust.

Baqir bit his lower lip, and the lazy build-up between them
shattered into something obscenely visceral, carnal, passionate, insane. The
drive to take and give became too powerful to contain, and Remy moved his hand
up and down Baqir's erection, just as desperate for his mate's pleasure as he
was for his own.

Baqir's larger bulk pinned him against the door, and Remy had
some trouble with his self-appointed task. The natural conclusion was very easy
to reach, and it didn't take much thought for Remy to tear away from the kiss
and drop to his knees.

Yes, breaking their lip-lock was a sacrifice—no kiss had ever
felt as good as Baqir's—but it was worth it in the end, oh so worth it. Remy
took his lover's dick into his mouth and moaned as Baqir's flavor exploded on
his taste buds. Above him, Baqir gasped his name, and hearing those two
syllables in the raspy tone of Baqir's voice went to Remy's head more than any
aphrodisiac that had ever been created.

Baqir gave him some time to explore, and Remy used every
single second to his—and Baqir's—satisfaction, licking and teasing, sucking and
caressing, while also fondling Baqir's balls. Baqir's control over his own body
seemed absolute, but Remy planned on undoing it, and every twitch and grunt was
a reward, made him feel powerful and desired. It all reached a point of sheer
perfection when Remy managed to take Baqir's dick all the way into his throat
and swallowed. It was what finally shattered Baqir's composure.

Suddenly, Remy found himself immobilized, Baqir's strong
hands holding him in place. He breathed through his nose, groaning at the
pleasure coursing through him at the feel of being so absolutely overpowered.
And then, Baqir started to move—and it was Remy's turn to succumb, to lose all
sense of who and where he was in the glide, the taste, the heat and the
strength.

Had he thought it had felt good before? Well, Remy supposed
he'd been correct—but this was so much better. Moon be blessed, he could easily
become addicted to this, to the feel of his mate's cock heavy on his tongue,
fucking his throat. Now that he had let go, Baqir was completely ruthless,
claiming Remy just like he had asked.

Unable to stop himself, Remy reached for the buttons of his
own jeans and freed his aching cock. He was already impossibly close to coming
even if he hadn't touched himself at all. A few strokes would be enough, he
knew.

He never got the chance to go through with what he had in
mind. All of a sudden, Baqir pulled his dick out of Remy's mouth. Robbed of his
prize, Remy abandoned his original plan in favor of trying to reach for Baqir
again. His mate had other ideas.

Moving faster than should have been possible even for a
werewolf, Baqir picked Remy up from the floor. For one horrible instant, Remy
thought that he would be rejected, but no such thing happened. Instead, Baqir
became a whirlwind of action and determination, getting rid of Remy's shoes and
jeans in record time. He didn't bother with the rest of Remy's garments. Once
he had access to Remy's nether regions, he lifted Remy in his arms and
supported him against the wall.

Remy instinctively wrapped his legs around his mate's waist,
all the while holding onto Baqir's shoulders. Baqir's eyes were so dark they
pinned him in place with their almost feral intensity, and Remy knew exactly
what was going to happen.

He still gasped when Baqir positioned his cock at his
entrance and pushed. The invasion hurt, since Baqir hadn't actually stretched
Remy and the only thing he had to slick up the way was saliva. Remy loved every
beautifully torturous moment of it. In fact, he'd have probably impaled himself
on Baqir's dick if his mate hadn't been in complete control—this time of Remy,
if not of himself. Baqir kept the pace slow, giving Remy time to adjust. The
end result was that layers and layers of sensation piled on top of each other,
both giving him what he wanted and cruelly teasing him. And then, Baqir's dick
finally brushed Remy's prostate, and Remy just barely had the presence of mind
to cover his mouth with one hand and suppress the scream that rushed out of
him.

It wasn't necessarily that the pleasure surprised him. In a
way, he had expected it—how could he not? But at the same time, the memory of
what they'd shared before seemed foggy and pale when compared to what they were
experiencing now. There was something insanely decadent about having sex in an
airplane filled with passengers, and the voices of the people passing the door
that supported Remy's half-naked body made the entire moment more intimate. He
wondered if anyone knew, if they had seen. Then again, they didn't have to,
since he so obviously belonged to Baqir that actually witnessing it was
unnecessary.

Baqir brushed his lips against Remy's own in a ghost of a
kiss that was strikingly gentle given what they were doing. But then, Baqir was
a person of contrasts, so maybe, it was suitable. Either way, Remy couldn't
think about it for too long—and soon, he couldn't think at all. He could only
feel, and feel he did, embracing the burn, the heat, the passion, the strength
and the overall rightness of Baqir's touch.