Jared Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (9 page)

“I don’t mind overseeing it if you’ve had enough.”

“I just honestly don’t think I can take another show of eternal devotion right now.”

“I do understand.” And from the earnest expression on Jonas’s face, he truly did. Jonas was far more intuitive and compassionate than McBride had thought he was. If only McBride could get Caleb to see that, they might all be able to live in peace and harmony.

“I’m also going to need at least one outfit for Jared to give to Easton. He can wear the same collar, but he’ll need clothes.” Once a slammer claimed his thrall, he was dressed for the first time in his life. His collar was usually changed to a decorative one, but given how things were, that wasn’t going to happen unless Jared made him one.

“I’ll take care of that, too. Please don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll also call Gannon over for you.”

“I can do that on my own.”

“I know you can, but I’m afraid that you won’t.”

When McBride looked at Jonas, he realized he wasn’t being bossy or taking his role as pretend companion too far. He was genuinely worried about McBride’s state of mind. Given what had happened to his father, a slow mental decline that Jonas had a ringside seat to, McBride thought he should give a bit more weight to Jonas’s observations and concerns.

“I really am okay.”

“I know. But humor me.”

“Fine.” McBride shooed Jonas down the ladder and then followed him down and out. “I’m going to go feed. Will you have the butler finish cleaning? I’d like to post the valet up there for lookout until I decide if I want the men to take turns, or if I trust him to be on duty twenty-four-seven.”

“You think we might be attacked?”

“No. But I think we’d be wise to keep a watch. From up there, we can see everything for miles.”

“Good thinking.” Jonas nodded.

“Your cuffs are dirty.” That wasn’t like Jonas at all.

“I was working in the garden.” Rather than looking cross or put out by his shift from idle dandy to farm laborer, Jonas looked proud. “I think I’ll have developed my first callus by the end of the week.”

McBride remembered when Jonas said he wanted to be Ollie’s thrall and that he was willing to work the fields to be with him. Lifting their hands and turning them over, McBride had pointed out that while Ollie’s hand was rough from work, Jonas’s was so soft it was practically useless. Looking at his hands now made McBride realize that Jonas was going to be far more help around the farm than he ever thought.

“I’m sorry for what I said about your hands that day in Ollie’s house. I’ve misjudged you terribly.”

“You were right. I’d never done a day of work in my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to change.”

“You really want to be here.”

“I do. And it’s more than just being with Ollie. It’s this land.” Jonas sighed, his joy despite the harsh circumstances clear. “I don’t know why, but even when I was here with your father, I felt this sense of belonging. The day I stepped my foot on the black, dusty soil I just felt that I’d finally found my home.”

“I never really did think of this place as my home.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. So much of my father’s real life was obscure, and I found out only terrible things about him and what he did. But now, with this upheaval, I feel this place is becoming my home. More so each day.” McBride also thought the responsibility of that might have prompted him to indulge in a liquid escape.

“I’m glad you feel a part of things now.”

“It is your home for as long as you want to be here, Jonas. No matter what happens, you’re welcome on my land.”

“Thank you.” Jonas turned as if to go but turned back. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you feel that you want to stay here? Having it feel like home is one thing, but wanting to run it and be a part of it is another.”

McBride thought about it, but his head ached and his body felt like he needed a week of sleep. “I don’t know. I think I can make a life here. I’ve always thought that I could be happy here, but it’s never felt like I really
must
be here to be happy.” McBride sighed. “I always thought if I had a mate in my bed that would be the ticket, but that won’t happen now.”

“Never say never. You of all people should know that.” Jonas sighed. “Do you want me and Ollie to hold off on telling the brothers?”

“No. Tell them. Just be prepared for some hurt and anger.”

As McBride left the big house and walked across the yard to Gannon’s, he considered what Jonas had said.
Never say never
was a trite saying, but maybe there was hope. Not with Caleb. McBride had slammed that door, locked it, then braced it with steel bars for good measure. But Caleb wasn’t the only man in the world. There were lots of men. Surely, there was one out there for McBride. As soon as he found all his slammers mates, he would get to work finding a man of his own. He would need one who wouldn’t mind that he’d taken false vows with another landed gentryman. And one who was willing to accept that, though McBride might come to love him in a way, a part of his heart would always belong to Caleb.

As if summoned, Caleb stepped out of his house. All he wore was the tight shorts that left most of his body exposed so he could drink up sunshine like it was some kind of body enhancer. It must be because Caleb seemed to put on more muscle every day. Damn that the man always looked like walking sex. In his hungover and crotchety mood, McBride was somehow angry at Caleb when his body reacted to the sight of him by hardening his dick.

McBride stared at him, waiting for Caleb to say something rude or snarky, but he didn’t even glance at him. Caleb left his house and cut across the road in the direction of the equipment shed. McBride could have stopped him and asked what he was doing. It was still his land after all, but he knew if he did he was only trying to push Caleb into some small act of defiance. Jonas had suggested that McBride should toss Caleb in the stocks and fuck him until the twisted lust that ate at his soul was utterly spent, but McBride simply couldn’t do that.

He wanted to fuck Caleb all right, but he wanted to do it while they were alone. He wanted to kiss him for hours and explore all of those bronzed muscles of his. He wanted to bring him to the brink of orgasm and then hold release tauntingly out of reach. McBride wanted to do a million and one things with Caleb, and none of them involved any kind of pain, shame, or degradation. He wanted to praise him, worship him, command him, and just plain be with him.

“But that is not going to happen.” McBride tried to shut the thoughts off, but when he was unsuccessful, he instead pushed them to the back of his mind. About the only good thing thinking of Caleb had done for him was extend his canines. Usually, just the thought of blood did that, but McBride had no real hunger lately. The only time he wanted food, blood, or sex was when he thought of Caleb.

He stepped up onto Gannon’s porch and knocked at the door. After a moment, Gannon answered, greeted him warmly, and ushered him inside.

“Wow.”

“I know.” Gannon grinned. “Alden is a real stickler for keeping things clean.”

Gannon’s house used to look like a giant had picked it up and shook it, distributing all his possessions randomly inside, but now it was perfectly organized and remarkably homey. There was even a sweet scent of some kind of treat lingering in the air.

“It really looks great.” McBride pointed to the corner of the living room. “What has he done to your gamer?”

“Well, we found some old parts in the shed and added another interface so Alden can play with me.”

“And he enjoys that?”

“He does. Not as much as I love it, but I read with him, which he really loves. It’s more about enjoying doing things together than enjoying exactly what we’re doing.”

“It sounds like you two have made a real go of things.” McBride was pleased. Matchmaking was never easy, especially when all he’d done was let fate direct which slammer got which thrall. He wondered if Jared and Easton were working out. Perhaps after he fed from Gannon he would go over there and see for himself.

“But I imagine it’s the same for you and Jonas.”

McBride almost corrected him but nodded instead. “I know it’s early in the day, but do you mind if I feed?”

“No, not at all.” Gannon moved over to the kitchen table. He sat down, bared his neck, and waited for McBride to drink his fill.

“Where’s Alden?” McBride got behind Gannon and fiddled with his shirt collar. It wasn’t in the way, but he wasn’t really thirsty anymore. His canines had retracted to only half.

“He’s helping Ferris organize Bailey’s house.”

“Bailey’s pretty clean.”

“Cleaned and organized are two different things, according to my mate.” Gannon said
mate
with such pride that McBride found himself envious. Was everyone destined for happiness but him? Reaching out, he traced his finger over the scar on Gannon’s neck, enjoying the power he had to make Gannon shiver.

“Did you enjoy it when Jonas fed from you?” McBride had no idea why he’d asked such a thing. It didn’t matter to him in the least, but he suddenly felt like he was competing with Jonas for his own slammers when technically, given that they were companions, the Morgan brothers were their slammers now.

“I guess.” Gannon sat still for a moment then turned his head to look back at McBride. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Deliberately, McBride pushed his head to the side, lowered his mouth, and drank. He tasted the blood, and it was good, but he was indifferent. His ear ached and burned, but he didn’t want to fiddle with it now. He finished drinking, licked the wound closed, and then left without a word.

As he crossed the yard, he felt jittery and out of sorts. He wasn’t himself, and it seemed that everyone on the farm knew it. What was wrong with him? He knew he didn’t have whatever had ailed Larsden, because he didn’t have an insatiable urge to drink. Instead, he wanted to hole up in his room and eschew everyone’s company. He wanted to be alone and drink alcohol and then sleep so he could rest without dreams.

That stopped him in his tracks.

The dreams.

That was why he’d guzzled the booze last night. He knew from past experience that alcohol blotted out his dreams. He slept poorly, woke unrested, but he also didn’t experience any dreams, which was why he wanted to consume more brandy. It wasn’t the feeling the booze gave him, but the side effect that it had. Dreamless sleep was what he craved because when the dreams came they tormented him.

His gaze went to the equipment shed. Inside was darkness, but as he watched, his eyes grew accustomed. Into the swath of light that poured through the door stepped Caleb. Strong sunlight turned his black body hair a glowing reddish brown that made him seem as if he were shining from within. Convinced it was a trick of his bleary eyes, McBride lifted his hands and rubbed his fingertips over his closed eyelids. After blinking several times, he looked again, and Caleb was still there, glowing with that odd ethereal beauty.

A hunger for blood hit him so hard and fast he almost dropped down to his knees in the dirt. It wasn’t Larsden’s sickness at all. He was craving blood, but he was craving the blood of one man. McBride hungered for Caleb. He didn’t want gobs of blood from every slammer he owned. McBride wanted blood from only one man. He wanted Caleb’s blood. But he couldn’t indulge himself. He was too sick and too woozy to fight. One time of Caleb getting the upper hand would destroy McBride’s authority in Caleb’s eyes and possibly with his brothers. No. He was safer to walk away and find something else to soothe his sudden, shocking hunger.

Into his mind popped the bottle of brandy in the cupola. He could sit up there, drink, and tell everyone he was playing lookout. It was pathetic, but it would get him the privacy he so desperately needed. McBride realized he could always retire to his room and sleep the day away claiming illness, but that would make him look weak. He couldn’t be seen lounging while everyone else worked.

He was on the verge of entering the big house and hiding himself away in the uppermost room when Jared’s voice called to him.

“McBride?”

He wanted to keep on going as if he hadn’t heard him. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was play witness to another pair of men binding their bodies, souls, and blood. Jonas had said he’d do it, but Jared might feel more comfortable with McBride there. He didn’t think he could control himself. Worse, he feared it would set up a gnawing hunger that could only be soothed if he went to Caleb’s door afterward. What shocked him was that more than drilling his teeth into Caleb’s neck or his cock into his ass, he wanted to ask what he did at night as he hunched over the dining room table. What made Caleb tic? What was it that he did while in prison, waiting for his youngest brother to be old enough to be sold?

“McBride?”

Again, Jared called. This time there was something about the pitch of his voice that concerned McBride. Something was wrong, and Jared sounded terrified. Even though he wanted to put himself and his needs first, McBride turned on his heel and strode over to Jared’s house.

“I know you’re busy, but I’m afraid I hurt him.” Jared held the door open, but once McBride was inside, he closed it and then stood in his living room, bouncing from foot to foot like a child in dire need of the restroom.