No Place That Far (19 page)

Timur held his gaze. Marcus wasn't sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said. Or how to explain to Timur—with or without the language barrier—that he hadn't looked at a guy like this in a long, long time, and that it scared the hell out of him.

Or, he realized as he trailed his fingers along Timur's sharp jaw, the fact that it
hadn't
been that long since he'd looked at someone like this. Last night. The night before. The night before that. Somewhere along the line, Timur had stopped being a casual piece of ass, one half of an agreement to fuck with no strings attached before the time came to go their separate ways, and he'd turned into…this. Someone Marcus couldn't look at without his breath catching. Even while he was fucking another man, one look from Timur could throw Marcus's world completely off its axis.

Timur's brow furrowed slightly. “You're really all right? You seem…”

Marcus smiled. “I'm fine.” He drew Timur down and, just before their lips met, murmured, “Is good.”

Is terrifying. Is confusing.

But somehow…

Is good.

Chapter Seventeen

Chris and Julien were tireless. So was Timur. Though Marcus had several years on all of them, he didn't struggle to keep up with them, but when it was all over, he was exhausted. Driving home? Not a chance.

As he and Timur settled into bed in the guest room, his body ached, but his mind wasn't quite ready to drift off yet.

Neither, apparently, was Timur's.

“Will be strange soon.” He ran his fingers up and down Marcus's arm. “Going back.”

Marcus watched him for a moment. “What makes a man join the Legion, anyway?”

Timur cocked his head. “Makes a man…?”

“I mean…” Marcus searched for the words, “…why did you join the Legion?”

“Opportunity.” Timur shrugged. “Thought there'd be more money and adventure than in Ukraine. Found one.”

“Adventure, I assume?”

Timur nodded. “Some adventure, much boredom, a little money.”

“Sounds like a winning arrangement.”

Timur laughed quietly but didn't say anything.

“What else…” Marcus hesitated, again struggling to find the words. “When you're out of the Legion, what will you do?”

Timur thought for a moment, then shrugged again and watched his hand trail up and down Marcus's forearm. “No family left. Some dead, some…” He bristled. “What is left of family, I do not belong.”

Marcus winced. “You don't get along with them?”

“Those who still live?” Timur shook his head, his stubble brushing the pillow. “No. Rest are dead. And at the end of the Legion…” he paused, “…don't know where I'll go. Who I might be with.” He met Marcus's eyes. “Can't do this”—he gestured at Marcus, and then himself—“in Legion. Is dangerous.”

“But you and Julien…”

Timur smiled fondly. “Da. But no one knew. Was risk.” He held Marcus's gaze, something in his green eyes seeming to intensify. “Don't know future. Only five years left in Legion.”

“Sounds lonely.”

Another shrug, this one subtle, kind of sad. “Is Legion life.”

“And you still enjoy it?”

Timur seemed to consider the question for a long moment. “Is good life. Is my life.”

Whatever was out there—or wasn't, since he seemed to be a lone wolf of sorts, even if it was by circumstance and not by choice—he appeared to be at peace with it. Not even resigned. His life was what it was, and in very little time, he would go back to that life. For five years. Maybe longer.

Marcus's heart sank. “I won't see you again, will I?”

Timur sighed. “There is leave. But…”

But.

Five years of being deployed to remote, dangerous places. Places where communication with the rest of the world was still shaky at best, and places where Timur would be too busy not getting killed to send a Facebook message.

“Christmas.” Timur said it like it answered everything. One word that somehow etched a future visit in stone, and made up for the months in between.

Marcus sighed. “Christmas.”

Timur kissed his forehead. “There is time. Tomorrow night. The future…” he shrugged, “…will work out. Is good.”

Marcus laughed softly. “Yeah. Is good. We'll figure it out somehow.”

With that as settled as it was going to get tonight, they pulled the sheet up and shifted around to get comfortable and go to sleep. Marcus turned on his side, and Timur molded himself to him. They clasped their hands together against Marcus's chest as Timur's breath warmed the back of his neck.

Timur kissed beneath Marcus's ear and whispered something. Marcus was pretty sure it was French. He couldn't have repeated it to save his life, didn't know what the exact words were, but somehow…he knew what it meant.

His throat tightened. He brought Timur's fingers up to his lips and kissed them gently.

“I love you too, Timur.”

The smell of coffee brought Marcus back into the real world.

He squinted against the daylight and rubbed his eyes, cursing at Chris for not covering every window in this house with blackout curtains. What the hell kind of bartender was he, anyway?

As his eyes adjusted, Marcus rolled over. Timur was gone. Marcus had expected that—a single whiff of coffee could rouse Timur from a deep coma and pull him out of the room before first light—but he couldn't help the disappointment sinking into his gut. He'd gotten used to seeing Timur next to him, sleeping soundly, and when they were in this bed, usually with his arm wrapped around a dozing cat.

But there was no cat and no Timur, and Marcus wasn't about to stay in bed all day when it was Timur's last day in town. He found a clean pair of jeans he'd left one of the other nights he and Timur had stayed here, and didn't bother with a shirt.

When he walked into the kitchen, Julien and Timur were already there. Julien sat on the counter, cradling a cup of coffee between his hands. Timur leaned against the dishwasher, sipping a cup of his own.

“Wow.” Julien made an animated gesture of looking at his watch. “A Wilde's bartender awake before sunset.”

“Hey, fuck you. I'd have been up earlier, but you all kept me up past my bedtime.”

Julien chuckled. “And I didn't hear you complaining, did I?” He winked. “Heard you doing a lot of things, but complaining wasn't one of them.”

“No, definitely not. Just saying it's your fault I slept so late.” He craned his neck toward the coffeepot. “Please tell me there's some left.”

“Are you kidding?” Julien reached for the cabinet behind his head and pulled down a mug. “I know better than to have an empty coffeepot after Chris has worked a late shift. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Marcus poured himself a cup. Then he stood beside Timur, against the counter and, after he'd taken a life-giving sip, asked, “So what's the plan for today?”

“Don't know.” Julien turned to Timur, eyebrows up.

Timur shifted slightly, and for the first time, Marcus noticed a note of tension in the air. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, just that distinct sense that something was…off.

He glanced at Timur, but Timur was looking into his coffee cup. Then he shook himself and seemed to snap out of whatever had been occupying his mind. He swallowed some coffee, set the mug on the counter and wrapped his arm loosely around Marcus's waist.

“I must pack today. Isn't much.” He turned to Marcus. A hesitant but playful smile pulled at his lips. “Will you make bouillabaisse again?”

Marcus smiled back. “If that's what you want, of course I will.”

“Well, that takes care of dinner,” Julien said. “We could always go downtown. Maybe wander around the waterfront.”

“Good idea.” Marcus sipped his coffee again. “If I'm going to cook a fish stew, I'd like to swing into Pike Place Market.” He glanced at Timur. “I want to make sure it's perfect.”

“Works for me.” Julien hoisted himself off the counter. “I should go make sure Chris is awake. We'll need to go pretty soon if we're going to Pike Place too.”

Marcus grimaced. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Julien muttered, and disappeared out of the kitchen.

Marcus turned to Timur again. “You all right?”

“Hmm?” Timur's eyebrows flicked up. “Yes. Why?”

“I'm…”
You tell me.
“I don't know. You seemed a little tense when I came down here.”

“Oh.” Timur waved a hand, but even that gesture carried more tension than it usually would have. “Thinking. About…Legion.”

Marcus resisted the urge to groan with frustration. Fuck the Legion for being so damned far away. “Having second thoughts?”

Timur shook his head. “Just thoughts. Is five years. Long time.”

“Yeah, it is,” Marcus whispered into his coffee cup. “It's a really long time.”

Timur fell silent for a moment. Marcus was about to ask if anything else was bothering him, but Timur shook himself again and drained his coffee. “We should dress. Julien will want to leave soon.”

He didn't wait for a response and headed upstairs, leaving Marcus standing there in the kitchen like an idiot. Wow. Timur hadn't seemed upset over leaving, but suddenly…

Marcus sighed. He finished his coffee too and followed Timur. No one ever said this would be easy. But he fully intended to make sure Timur enjoyed his last day—and night—in Seattle. A day out with the three of them, a good meal, the best sex Marcus could give him, and hopefully he'd be on his way with nothing but pleasant memories.

There wasn't much more he could do.

When dinner was over, Chris and Julien insisted on cleaning up and shooed Marcus and Timur out of the kitchen.

“You two just chill for a few,” Chris said, herding them into the living room. “Then we can all have a glass of wine and watch a movie or something before you guys head out.”

That sounded damn good to Marcus, so he didn't protest. He took a seat on Chris and Julien's couch, and Timur sat beside him.

Usually, after a long day and a good meal, Timur was as languid and relaxed as one of the cats. Tonight, though, he was tense. More so than he'd been this morning. He'd seemed fine all day, but now, he sat straight, his knee bobbing slightly as he tapped his heel on the floor.

Marcus took his hand. “Hey. What's up?”

Timur looked down at their hands. He swallowed hard, and Marcus's chest tightened.

“Timur?”

Without facing Marcus, Timur took in a deep breath. “I like it here. Seattle.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Being close to my comrade again. And…” he slowly turned his head toward Marcus, “…and you.”

“I like having you here. I'm definitely going to miss you.”
More than I should.

Timur chewed his lip. “I could stay.”

Marcus's heart flipped. “What?”

“Stay. In America. With you.”

Oh no. No, no, no…
As much as Marcus had been dreading tomorrow, the thought of Timur actually
staying
—about this continuing past the point of fooling around and enjoying each other's company—sent panic surging through him. “S-stay?”

Timur nodded. “The Legion is all I have done. Only two times, felt…” He tapped his chest. “Two times.”

Marcus swallowed. “Julien.”

“Da.” Timur squeezed his hand. He hesitated, as if struggling to get his thoughts in order and hold Marcus's gaze. “But Julien, that was not…” He looked down at their hands.

Oh God.

Timur took a deep breath. “Julien is comrade. On battlefield, he is… I trust. He trusts me. Is protection, friend.” He met Marcus's eyes. “With you, is different. Battlefield?” He shook his head. “Never. Never with you.”

Marcus cocked his head. “I don't understand.”

“On battlefield, you lose friends. You lose”—Timur nodded toward the kitchen—“comrades. Is hard, but is expected.” Timur's thumb rubbed back and forth along Marcus's, pressing in enough to create some friction, as if Timur was afraid one of them might cease to exist if he didn't earnestly maintain that contact. “If you were on battlefield, I'd be killed.”

Marcus forced a laugh. “You don't think I'd watch your back?”

Timur looked him right in the eye. “I'd never stop watching yours. Because to lose you…” He shook his head. “No.”

The reality of what Timur was saying hit Marcus in the chest. He drew a breath, wondering when something that simple had gotten so hard. “You barely know me.”

“I want to. I know the Legion. It's all I've known for many years.” He locked eyes with Marcus, his gaze more intense than Marcus had ever seen it. “Thinking about going back, is…impossible to sleep.”

Marcus gnawed his lip. “But what if it doesn't work? Between us, I mean?” He struggled to even whisper at this point. “Your military career will be over. Your retirement will be gone. You'll…” he gulped, “…you'll hate me.”

“No.” Timur shook his head. “Couldn't hate you.”

Any other night, Marcus would've responded with a bitter laugh. Instead, he just sighed. “You'd be surprised.”

Right then, Julien and Chris came into the living room, and both stopped dead, eyes widening.

Chris cleared his throat. “Uh, do you guys…”

Julien said something to Timur in French. A question by the sound of it, laced with unmistakable concern.

Timur nodded but didn't speak.

Julien turned on his heel and guided Chris back out of the room, leaving Marcus and Timur alone again.

Marcus moistened his lips and faced Timur. “I love you, Timur. I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long, long time.”
Ever, Marcus. Try
ever
.
“But I don't…I don't want you to change your life's trajectory for me.”

Timur gave a quiet laugh. “Too late.”

Marcus blinked. “You haven't cancelled your flight, have you?”

“No, no. Just…” Timur touched Marcus's face. “Trajectory is already screwed up.”

“Timur…” Marcus closed his eyes, fighting back emotions. “Please. We…” As much as it hurt, as much as he wanted Timur's hands on him, Marcus gently closed his fingers around Timur's wrist and brought it down so he was no longer touching his cheek. He met Timur's gaze—
God, I'm hurting him, aren't I?
“I'm sorry. Everything that's happened between us has been amazing, but it can't…”

He couldn't find the words. Even if Timur's English had been perfect, Marcus couldn't string together his thoughts in any way that would make sense. Not without hurting him even more than he inevitably would.

And the longer he sat here, looking into the face of the man he'd accidentally fallen for, the less sure he was that he could push him away. He loved him so much it hurt, but this was far too new and too much in the honeymoon phase to be the basis of life-altering decisions. A few weeks of bliss weren't enough to throw away ten years of working toward a life-long retirement.