Unfortunately, once he’d set his sights on another man, Caleb wanted him again. That kiss in the yard had said that more clearly than words ever could. It seemed every time he turned around, Caleb was there. Shirtless. Shorts bulging. His dangerous eyes filled with wicked promises that McBride struggled to resist. He’d considered putting Caleb at the other end of the table, but he didn’t want him anywhere near Quintus. McBride didn’t trust that Caleb wouldn’t do everything he could to push Quintus away from McBride.
After three days of recovery, Quintus was back on his feet. His shin was only bruised, not broken, but Renner had been as devoted to him as any medical man could be. He had a fresh scar on his neck that at first bothered McBride, but then he realized if he made Quintus his companion, he would have access to all his slammers. If he wanted to mark them, he should do so. Better that than covering over the mark McBride had made, which he would have taken far more umbrage with. When he’d gotten the brothers from Jonas, that was what he’d done. McBride made a point of commandeering Jonas’s scars.
Well, except for Caleb.
His bronzed neck had been utterly unblemished. At the time, pushed by hunger and lust, McBride told himself he hadn’t noticed, but he had. And he’d reveled in being the first. It was possessive and silly, harkening back to when virginity was highly prized. Things were different now, but apparently McBride’s ego hadn’t advanced. When he thought about Caleb’s pure neck, he couldn’t help but think about the rest of his form.
Without asking, McBride knew Caleb had never been penetrated. Caleb was shockingly alpha for a slammer, but McBride knew if he were to claim him, Caleb would willingly part his legs. What had stunned McBride was the notion that he would do the same. For some reason, when McBride looked down the long table and considered Quintus, he saw it only working one way. Quintus would be submissive to him. McBride couldn’t seem to picture Quintus rising over him, filling him, claiming that part of him. Or his neck.
Frowning, McBride covered his startling insight by taking a long drink of his wine. He barely tasted the richness or felt the alcohol because he couldn’t let go of the idea that he didn’t want Quintus to bite him. It was crazy. If they became mates, that would be one of the things they would share. It was said the ultimate pleasure was to bite and be bitten at the same time. However, when McBride pictured that, he saw the man to his right, not the man at the other end of the table.
McBride thought the problem might be that he’d simply been picturing Caleb there too much. If he gave Quintus a chance, and more importantly gave his overactive brain a chance, he would eventually see Quintus in all those roles. He just had to push Caleb out to make room for Quintus. It was easier said than done, but McBride was determined.
“A toast.” McBride rose, and all the men picked up their glasses. “To hard work, brotherhood, camaraderie, and loving mates.” Against his will, his gaze darted away from Quintus and onto Caleb. Just as quickly as it happened, he looked away, but he worried Quintus had noticed. Caleb certainly had, given the way he smirked. “May this land know peace.”
A chorus of agreements and a sea of raised glasses followed his wish. He settled back in his seat as the butler began the laborious process of serving. Rather than tax the poor bot, McBride took what he wanted from the dish and then passed it to the left so the butler could attend to the second course and Ollie could stay at the table.
“Nice. You just had to find a way to make sure I’m last.” Caleb talked behind his hand and kept his voice low, but McBride had no trouble hearing him.
“It’s customary to pass to the left,” McBride murmured.
Renner took the serving dish with trembling hands. McBride couldn’t help but notice that he’d been incredibly jumpy lately. He thought when Quintus was better, Renner would relax, but ironically, that only seemed to make matters worse.
“I guess I’ll have to find something else to do while I wait.”
McBride didn’t care what Caleb did as long as he was quiet. What he wasn’t prepared for was Caleb entertaining himself by slipping off his loafer and sliding his foot up and down McBride’s leg. His initial instinct was to jerk away, berate Caleb, and then banish him from the table. However, if he did that, he would only reveal that Caleb had upset him. So he held steady and waited until everyone was occupied with food, talking, or both, and then he grasped Caleb’s foot in his hands. Using his forefinger and thumb, he pinched the webbing between his big toe and the second one, causing him to utter a truncated cry, but more importantly, Caleb withdrew his foot.
“Don’t do it again, or I won’t be so nice the second time.” Like Caleb, McBride kept his voice down and used his hand to cover his mouth while he was talking.
“Afraid your pretty little companion might find out?”
“He’s not pretty, and he won’t because if you cause us any trouble, I won’t make good on my promise.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “There aren’t any more thralls, McBride, so stop dangling the nonexistent possibility over my head.”
“There are and I’m going to find two more.”
Caleb’s gaze darted to Renner, compelling McBride to do the same. Renner looked at both of them then down at his plate. He didn’t look up again until he was passed the next course. Even then, his gaze stayed low, only high enough to see the food. What in the world was wrong with him? And then McBride remembered walking in on him. That had to be it. He thought he’d explained that he was sorry, and that every man masturbated, but it appeared Renner was still embarrassed. McBride let it go. Eventually, Renner would relax, and things would go back to normal. A decent mate would bring him right out of his shame shell.
“If you do manage to find them, they are going to be beaten and battered just like Karsten was.”
McBride’s attention went automatically to Karsten. He was toward the center of the table, sitting across from his mate, Devon. Like all the men, he was dressed for the special occasion, but unlike the other thralls, he didn’t wear a collar around his neck to show ownership. Instead, Karsten wore a beautiful scarf that covered his scars. When the town went crazy after the virus hit, gentrymen had strung up thralls and fed from them until the slammers revolted. Most of the gentrymen were dead, the slammers were in scattered marauding groups, and the thralls who were left became slaves to the slammers.
“Why didn’t they have any with them?”
“What?” McBride had no idea what Caleb was getting at.
“The group of slammers that came here. They didn’t have any thralls with them. Why do you suppose they didn’t?”
“Maybe they kept them away for their own safety.” McBride didn’t realize how loudly he’d spoken until Quintus answered.
“They didn’t have any thralls with them because most of the thralls are dead.”
Silence descended as everyone put their utensils down. The dish of food continued to make the rounds, but no one was eating it once they served themselves.
“You saw this?” McBride asked.
“While I was hiding out, waiting for the right time to run, I watched what they were doing.”
“Did you see…” Karsten didn’t finish the question, but McBride wondered if he was going to ask if Quintus had seen him trussed up to the side of a building. How Karsten managed to get free was nothing short of amazing, but that he’d found love here, with one of McBride’s men, was even more so.
“I saw slammers turning on their masters and tossing them into the stocks. When they grew bored, they killed them.”
McBride couldn’t imagine that kind of terror. There were far more slammers than gentrymen in the world, but at least that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. His men had shown they stood with him against danger to their land. McBride wondered if all the gentrymen so abused were unkind to their slammers. Had he escaped retribution only because he’d always taken their needs seriously?
“But before that, the gentrymen were attacking thralls.” Quintus darted a quick look at Karsten then away. “They were drinking them to death.”
Karsten reached up and touched his throat through the scarf. He swallowed hard but didn’t cry.
“You’re safe now.” Devon assured him as much as he could from across the table. “We showed them the other day they aren’t welcome here.”
“All of you were very brave.” McBride had never been so proud of them.
“Especially Caleb.” Bailey grinned at his brother.
McBride bristled as Ferris’s comment in the shed came back to taunt him a second time. He’d seen it as all of them standing behind Caleb, and perhaps there was some truth to that, but McBride saw it more that they had stood together.
“I was just doing my part to protect our land.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to correct
our land
, but McBride nodded instead. Having them see this farm as collectively belonging to all of them would inspire every man to do anything they could to keep it safe.
“I’m sorry that I led them here.” Quintus shook his head. “I thought I had a chance to get away unseen, but I guess I was wrong.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t killed.” Renner seemed to suddenly realize he had spoken. He dropped his attention to his plate but didn’t eat.
“I am extremely lucky,” Quintus agreed. “I don’t think I would have survived much longer in town.”
“So you don’t think there are any thralls left?” McBride worried for Renner and Caleb. How would he get them mates if all the mates were gone?
“I don’t think so. There were so many of them dead in the streets.” Quintus blanched at his own words. “Can’t we discuss something else?”
“Of course. Forgive me.” McBride had forgotten where he was and the point of the meal. “This is about praising us, not worrying about the rest of the world. All of you have worked so hard to put in the garden and get the farm as self-sufficient as we can make it. You’ve done excellent work. All of you.”
Glasses were raised, congratulations were offered, and the ugliness outside their little spot of brightness was forgotten, at least for a while. Ollie brought in the dessert course personally, and everyone marveled when he turned off the lights and set it on fire. Something about the flames flickering made McBride think that almost every time he went to drink from Caleb at night, there would be something in his bedroom flickering. He’d never gone back to see what it was, as he’d always given his slammers privacy, but he’d been curious.
When the flames died down, Ollie covered the dessert with a domed lid, extinguishing the fire entirely. The butler turned the lights back on, and then they ate Cherries Jubilee. It was rich and so tartly sweet everyone was puckering and joking about kissing. Almost against his will, McBride’s attention darted to Caleb. That kiss in the yard kept coming back to him. He’d wiped his mouth with the back of his hand but only to send a message. In truth, he’d wanted to toss Caleb down in the dirt and put an end to their sexual frustrations.
Except for Caleb’s foot business and the truncated discussion about the goings-on in town, McBride couldn’t remember a more pleasant evening. He ate until he was certain he was going to burst and then he ate a bit more. When the meal was finished, they retired to the parlor. Dozens of couches and big chairs were scattered around the room, allowing couples the chance to sit close and cuddle. As much as McBride wanted to settle in next to Quintus, he didn’t want to put too much pressure on him. Caleb’s outburst during the scuffle might have put him off. Besides, McBride would approach him when the time was right, and tonight did not feel like the night.
Instead, McBride played bartender. He mixed drinks and poured shots, which gave him a chance to check on everyone and give his future mate some space. He was pleased when Quintus took a small couch and settled his injured leg across the seat. From his posture, it was clear he’d rather sit alone than sit beside a man he didn’t want. Not that there were a lot of free men to choose from.
That thought gave McBride pause. It hardly seemed a fair choice to Quintus when he either had to accept McBride or go mateless. McBride would have to tread lightly. He didn’t want Quintus to feel he had to become his mate. He didn’t. McBride would let him stay here as long as he wanted. If he wished to bring another man on the land, that was fine, too. More than anything, McBride just wanted everyone, including himself, to be content.
As he mixed a very light drink for Alden, McBride found his attention drifting more and more often to Caleb. He, too, had settled in one of the smaller loveseats, but he hadn’t put his leg across the width. Instead, he draped his arm over the back and crossed his legs at the ankle. This had the curious effect of tightening the fabric over his crotch.
McBride almost dropped the shaker when Caleb reached down, palmed himself, then let go. His cock was now filling out the triangle pouch. Inadvertently, McBride licked his lips. What he wouldn’t give to order everyone out so that he could have Caleb strip, and then—
With great effort, McBride pushed the image away and turned his attention onto Quintus. He was sipping his brandy from a bulbous glass while he talked with Karsten. Devon was holding Karsten in his lap, clearly comforting him, but also just as clearly enjoying the feel of his mate’s bottom against his prick.
As his gaze wandered around the room, it seemed all the pairs were in similar states of touchy-feely. Only he, Caleb, Quintus, and Renner were solo. Renner wasn’t even sitting. He was standing near the big picture window looking out toward the circle of houses. Or perhaps he was staring at the stocks. It was difficult to say when McBride could only tell the direction of his stare, not what he was looking at.