against the wall. Conran"s face grew red, and his breath came in short, hard bursts.
“Saunders, calm down, please.”
Kael looked down into terrified eyes. “Give me my job back.” He pushed his
knuckles into Conran"s throat, fully aware that he was making it difficult for the
man to breathe. He eased up on the pressure, waiting for him to answer.
Conran spoke with difficulty. “You are not suitable to be in a classroom with
ordinary students. You have absolutely no people skills.”
Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave
17
“I do! How dare you—a member of the tiny cock club—tell me I"m lacking in
any area!” He raised his hand with his fingers drawn toward the palm.
Conran spotted the gesture and screamed, “Don"t break my nose again. It took
weeks to heal last time you did it.”
The door opened, and Kael looked over his shoulder to see Conran"s stout,
dowdy secretary watching them. Kael was always charming to her, yet she did not
look in the slightest bit surprised at the scene. “Shall I call someone, Mr. Conran?”
she asked calmly.
“No, thank you.” His voice sounded strangled and strangely comic.
“Then I shall see you in the morning, sir.” She glanced at the shattered whisky
tumbler on the floor.
“Have a good evening, Mrs. Lane,” Kael said, smiling. The door closed, and he
looked again at Conran. The secretary"s intrusion had broken the tension. Kael took
a breath and released Conran who stood, straightening his tie and brushing down
his jacket.
“I"m sorry, but you are not going back into the classroom.”
Kael walked to the door. “I
have
got people skills. People like me.”
Conran headed for the whisky decanter and quickly poured himself another
large drink. “I find it ironic that you keep insisting you have interpersonal skills
when only a moment ago you had me by the throat up against a wall because I
delivered news you didn"t like.”
“Fuck off.” Kael grabbed the door handle.
“And for someone who is so good at languages, you use those two particular
words with tedious regularity.” Kael released the door handle and started back in
Conran"s direction at lightning speed. Conran downed the whisky, replaced the
tumbler, and raised both hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, his eyes
widening again, a sure mark of fear.
“I"m going.”
He was at the door again when Conran said quietly, “Saunders…Sir.” He
swallowed hard. “May I visit you again? Please.”
Kael looked at him. “How long is it since you were in my dungeon, on your
knees, begging me to paddle you and fuck your arse?”
Color flooded Conran"s cheeks.
“How long, Stephen?” He always used Conran"s first name when he wanted to
make it clear who was in charge. To make the man a slave again.
“Just that one time, Sir. Last September.” Conran spoke very quietly.
Kael snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor. Glancing around as if a
crowd of onlookers were straining to watch their every move, Conran got slowly to
his hands and knees. “Let"s have you, Stephen. Don"t make me wait.” Kael was
suddenly calm and patient. A willing slave always brought out the best in him.
When he was in control of his environment, he felt tranquil.
18
Fyn Alexander
Tentatively Conran crawled toward him.
“Are you afraid someone will walk in and see you?” Kael teased.
“Yes, Sir.” At Kael"s feet, Conran dipped his head and kissed the toes of his
black leather shoes.
“What do you want me to do to you this time, boy?” Kael asked.
“Whatever pleases you, Sir.”
“No, that"s not good enough. I want the details. Tell me what you want.” His
mouth stretched into a smile. God! He loved tormenting Conran, and after the blow
he had just delivered, the little shit deserved it.
“Sir, would you be so good as to paddle my arse? Would you put me in
restraints and fuck me? Please, Sir?”
“I"ll think about.” Kael walked out, leaving Conran on his knees.
Outside in the chill early evening, the sky was already darkening. Angry and
frustrated, all Kael could think about was getting home to see Angel. Despite his
boy"s youth, Angel was often wise beyond his years. Less than six months they had
been together, and he was unsure quite when he had known that going home to
Angel, sharing his day with him, listening to the boy talk about college, had become
the most important part of his day. Like the youth he was, Angel needed constant
reassurance and displays of affection, but he still managed so often to say exactly
what Kael needed to hear.
Then there were other times when Angel was so immature it drove Kael nuts.
On his way to Vauxhall Cross Underground, a group of young women, smartly
dressed office workers in their early twenties, headed toward him. From twenty feet
away, they began whispering to each other while looking at him. His imposing
height and lean, muscular frame set him apart, and with his granite jaw and
intense blue eyes, he was a magnet for young females. Looking straight ahead, he
avoided eye contact, thinking only of getting home to the peace and quiet of his flat
and the anticipation of sex with Angel.
The women passed and were a couple of feet behind him when they broke into
wild giggles. “Nice arse as well as the rest of you,” one of them called out. “Want to
keep us company?”
Enraged at being treated like a piece of meat, Kael turned on them. “Go to
hell. I"m queer!”
Startled and obviously intimidated by his size and booming voice, the women
fell silent, stared at him in alarm for a few seconds, and hurried off. Kael watched
them go, feeling like a bully. They weren"t much older than Angel, and despite his
boy"s intelligence, he could behave like a kid at a moment"s notice. He"d say the
same stupid things to a good-looking man if he was out with his school friends.
Turning on his heel, Kael strode after the young women. “Wait,” he called.
Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave
19
One of them saw him coming and screamed. In another second, they were all
screaming while attempting to run away, tottering on high stiletto heels, arms
waving like scarecrows.
“Stop right there please, sir.” Two uniformed constables began crossing the
road, darting through heavy evening traffic toward him.
“Christ!” He stood still while they approached.
“Do you have a problem with those ladies, or were they having a problem with
you?” The two young officers were both shorter than Kael. They stood about two feet
back and separated about three feet from each other. Kael knew the stance. They
were ready to take him down if he tried to run. They had no idea he could kill them
both and flee the scene without anyone seeing him.
“They were being stupid, so I told them off,” he said. “But I didn"t mean to
frighten them. I was trying to apologize.”
The slightly taller of the two constables, a good-looking blond man with rosy
pink cheeks and an arrogant attitude, said, “Do you do that sort of thing often, sir?”
Still hurt and insulted about losing his teaching position, Kael"s jaw clenched
as his anger flared again. “I"m reaching into my pocket for my identification.” From
the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he withdrew his SIS identification card. His
top security clearance had never been removed, meaning the police could not detain
him even momentarily without the permission of his superiors.
The young constables looked at it and stepped away. “Thank you, sir. Have a
good evening.”
Kael walked quickly into the Underground. All he wanted was to get home to
his beautiful flat on the Thames—and to Angel.
20
Fyn Alexander
Chapter Three
The minute Kael opened the front door, he heard two voices. Quietly he closed
it and listened. Angel"s distinct American accent rose up, along with the laughter
that always lifted Kael"s heart. An English accent responded, a young man whose
voice had broken no more than a couple of years ago and was still light and pure,
just like Angel"s. It must be Jack, Angel"s new friend.
In the living room, Angel"s laptop sat on the coffee table. And thrown on the
couch where anybody could sit on them were the expensive Irlen lenses Kael had
bought the boy to protect his sensitive eyes from the light. Angry at his
carelessness, Kael picked them up, folded in the arms, and placed them safely on
the coffee table. On silent feet, he followed the voices to the dungeon door. The
dungeon was a third bedroom Kael had converted five years ago when he had first
bought the flat.
Angel was still wearing the smart black trousers, white shirt, and red and
black striped tie he wore to the expensive sixth form college Kael had sent him to.
The other boy, as slender and pretty as Angel, in a matching school uniform,
wandered about admiring the leather sling, the flogging post, the torture table and
chair. They looked like a couple of yaoi boys. Kael had never heard of yaoi until he"d
spotted one of Angel"s graphic novels on the coffee table one day. It was full of
stories and pictures of pretty, androgynous boys making out. If they"d had that stuff
when he was a kid, he would probably have read it too.
Following Jack, Angel flicked his chin up to throw his soft, very light blond
hair away from his eyes. “It"s really the slave who"s in charge, you know.”
“The slave? How?” The other boy, with dark wavy hair falling past his collar,
stopped to stroke the smooth black leather of the tabletop.
Angel stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “The master has to stop when
the slave tells him. It has to be consensual. Safe, sane, and consensual. I read that
on the Internet. But it means the slave is really in charge. The master just thinks
he is. It"s all about the slave. You really have to be an attention whore to be a
slave.”
“I wouldn"t mind being a whore of any kind for your man. That picture you
showed me of him is so fucking gorgeous.”
Fists clenching involuntarily, Kael just stopped himself from barging in. He
wasn"t ready just yet to let them know he was there, but Angel had no business
talking about their relationship to an outsider and he had been told numerous times
Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave
21
never to show a picture of Kael to anyone. The fact that they were living a civilian
life now was irrelevant. His training was ingrained. Never create unnecessary
evidence.
Angel sighed. “My daddy is so hot.”
“Don"t the neighbors complain about you screaming?” The dark-haired boy
laughed. “I"d scream my head off if I was getting whipped or even just fucked by a
man like him.”
Angel spread his arms. “No. This room is soundproofed.”
“Where did you meet him, your daddy?” Jack said
daddy
in a dreamy voice,
dragging out the vowels. He had that gay voice that Kael hated and had always
been careful never to pick up. If Angel started talking like that, he"d make him
sorry. He listened carefully. If Angel made any reference to how they met, he must
stop him immediately, but surely his boy would not be so stupid.
“Long story,” Angel said vaguely.
Kael released a breath.
Sensible boy
. But he was still revealing far too much,
and he had no right to bring some boy from school into Kael"s dungeon. He wasn"t
crazy about his bringing a friend to the flat at all, but Angel lived there now too and
he had to be allowed the freedom to have friends. Kael wanted him to have friends
his own age and feel like he belonged in England.
Jack pointed and asked, “What"s that? It looks like something from gym class
in primary school.”
Angel walked over to the leather-topped apparatus that looked like a vaulting
horse. “Daddy throws me over it and fucks me or spanks me.” Kael could hear the
grin in Angel"s voice. He loved Angel"s bright-eyed smile, but he was growing more
and more angry with him for talking about their private life. The boys had their
backs to him so, without a sound, he stepped inside the dungeon and came up
behind them.
“I wish he"d throw me over it and fuck me silly,” Jack said, and both of them
burst out laughing. “I"d have him begging me, not the other way around. Begging
for my arse.” The boy deepened his voice, supposedly imitating Kael, whom he had
never met. “Please let me fuck you, beautiful slave boy. My cock is bursting for you.”
Angel joined in. “My cock longs for you, and my belt wants your ass.”
Jack swatted Angel, and Angel swatted him back as they fell onto the horse,
their high-pitched laughter filling the dungeon. “Have you ever been fucked?” Angel
managed to ask, wiping tears from his eyes.