Ollie Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (11 page)

“You’ve made this so much more painful than it needed to be.” McBride washed his hand over his face. He looked exhausted. If he was having sex with Caleb, it clearly wasn’t very satisfying, which led Ollie to conclude they weren’t doing that with each other. But then again, Ollie remembered when he’d been resisting Jonas. He’d been tired, cranky, and his lack of release showed in his face and the way he carried himself. Caleb had thought Ollie was snarly because Jonas was fucking him against his will, but the truth was Ollie was irritable because they
weren’t
having sex when he desperately wanted to do that with Jonas. Could that be what was going on with Caleb and McBride? Both men had seemed unduly cross, so maybe they were resisting one another. All the things Jonas had said while they sat and waited floated through Ollie’s awareness.

“We never set out to do this.” Jonas looked at Ollie and did a quick little head shake. It was almost as if he wanted to caution him not to ask McBride any of the questions in his mind.

“I know.” McBride sighed. “Believe me, I know you didn’t do this on purpose.”

“Thank you.” Jonas offered a modified bow since he was sitting.

“I don’t see how that means anything.” McBride stretched his long legs out in front of him, drawing attention to the prodigious bulge in his trousers.

“That you know Ollie didn’t deliberately set out to defy you means everything to me.”

Ollie realized that Jonas was still trying to make things as right as he could when there was no way they could be separated for any length of time.

“Have you eaten?” McBride asked.

“No.” Ollie didn’t think he could even if he tried. Still, it might put his master in a better mood. He’d seemed to perk right up last night after a good meal and a full suck of blood. “Would you like me to make us all something to eat?”

“I would appreciate that very much.”

McBride looked on the verge of saying something more, perhaps pointing out that he wouldn’t be likely to eat anything unless they ate it first, but Ollie deftly cut him off by saying, “I will eat what I make.”

“I trust you, Ollie.”

“Do you? It matters to me that you do. I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” McBride stood. “Can you trust me that I’ll do what I have to in order to protect you?”

Ollie almost asked what that meant, but he remembered the old saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Horses died out in the plague, but Ollie understood the gist of the sentiment. It would be unwise to question McBride’s motives. He and he alone could make or break his relationship with Jonas.

“I will trust you if you’ll trust me.” Ollie nodded and rose, pulling Jonas up with him. “Come and watch.”

“Me?” Jonas laughed. “I fear I would be more likely to cut my fingers off than anything.”

“You will be a wonder.” Ollie kissed his cheek then whispered, “I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

Jonas nodded and then joined him in the kitchen along with McBride.

“Do you wish to learn?” Ollie asked McBride.

“I do.” McBride looked around with more trepidation than excitement. “After last night…”

“Last night?”

“Ah. Easton cooked for me.” McBride tried to keep a neutral face, but it was clear Easton’s cooking left much to be desired. “I told him his mate could help him put theory into practice, but I will have to find another way.”

“I will be happy to teach him.” Ollie wondered if offering might soften McBride’s heart toward him and Jonas, or only prolong the agony of not knowing what would ultimately happen to them.

“We’ll see.”

It was about as noncommittal as McBride could get, but Ollie nodded. “First I must assess what you have to work with.”

After some discussion and McBride turning off the cookbot, Ollie decided to make something quick and easy. He tried not to be self-conscious while he worked, but he was because Jonas’s hungry gaze followed him everywhere. Ollie knew he wasn’t hungry for food, and that made him overly aware of his body. McBride’s gaze followed him, too, but his hungry gaze was truly interested in food.

When everything was ready, they went to the dining room table. McBride sat at the head of the table with Ollie on one side and Jonas on the other. The butler served them then disappeared into the kitchen.

Ollie was surprised to find that he was hungry. Jonas also ate more than he seemed to think he would. McBride did indeed perk up after having something satisfying to eat. He seemed tired still, but less annoyed. If anything, McBride looked thoughtful as he sipped his coffee and peered out the picture window in the dining room.

When Ollie realized he was looking the direction of Caleb’s house, he asked, “Are you fucking my brother?”

Jonas almost choked on his coffee. He darted a shocked glance at McBride and watched as his fatigue cleared off his face only to be replaced by astonishment.

“How dare you?” McBride blinked rapidly as if he’d just been brutally slapped awake.

When Jonas looked at Ollie, he realized his love had not meant to ask in such a bold, vulgar way, but it was too late now to correct anything. The question had been asked, and Jonas’s ability to subtly direct McBride with innuendo and concealed threats was lost. In a way, Jonas was relieved. Having been subjected to blackmail himself, he wasn’t so sure he could inflict the emotional torment on another, especially not a man like McBride. Now he didn’t have to. Ollie had saved him from permanently soiling a part of his soul forever.

“I want to know.” Ollie looked out the window then back at McBride. “He attacked Jonas today because he thought he was protecting me. Maybe it’s up to me to return the favor.”

“Do you honestly think Caleb is a man who needs your—hell, anyone’s—protection?”

Ollie seemed to consider for a moment. “I don’t think it matters what he needs. He’s my brother, and he’s stood by me. If you’re hurting him, then I will fight for him.”

“I’m not hurting Caleb.” McBride rose from the table. He took the napkin that was clinging to his lap and tossed it down on his plate. “I want you to finish up.”

“And then?” Jonas asked.

“You forget your place. Both of you.” McBride looked on the verge of ordering them out of his house and off his land. If he did, it would be the worst possible start to their life together, but Jonas would take it over being turned in, imprisoned, and dying a slow death from longing for his blood mate.

“Fine.” Jonas folded his napkin, placing on the side of his plate. He rose and then left the dining room for the parlor. He moved to the bar near the fireplace, poured himself a brandy, then settled on the larger couch. Closing his eyes, he sniffed the potent liquor before taking a delicate sip. It was exquisite. A mild trail of warmth flowed down his throat to swirl in his belly. “Your father always had the finest of everything.”

It was the right thing to say because it drew McBride into the parlor and made him receptive to what Jonas wished to tell him. Like all sons, McBride was curious about the man whose genes he mimicked. Since boys were reared far and apart from their genetic forefathers, they stepped into their lives knowing nothing. As the years past and they built their own life out of the remains of their ancestor, they learned things, not all of them pleasant.

“My father chose you as his companion.” McBride forwent the brandy and settled in the same chair he’d been in earlier. Oddly, it was the same chair his father had favored before the drastic change.

“I was the finest man he knew.” Jonas took another sip of the brandy and tried not to purr. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had liquor of any kind. Thralls did not drink, so he’d been eschewing alcohol in keeping with his role, but now that there was no hope for that, he picked back up his role of entitled gentryman. It amazed him how easy doing so was.

McBride allowed that to pass without comment, which told Jonas he was different from his father in that he didn’t care to take cheap shots.

Ollie entered the parlor, his eyes narrowed. He wanted to know what Jonas was doing, but he wasn’t about to ask. By throwing such a rude question at McBride during their meal, he’d forced Jonas to change tactics. He had no idea now how to get McBride to help them, but if he acted like he had the upper hand, perhaps McBride would believe he did.

“Please sit with me.” Jonas patted the cushion next to him. “Do you want a brandy?”

Ollie darted a questioning glance to McBride, who nodded. It was clear he wasn’t threatened, and that took some of the wind out of Jonas’s sails. He needed to put him off-balance. He needed McBride receptive to giving him and Ollie what they needed. Jonas rose and poured a brandy for Ollie, who took one sip and set the glass down on the table. From the look on his face, he didn’t like the drink in the least.

“Telling me tales about my father won’t make me give you Ollie.” McBride pulled his boots off and set them beside his chair.

“He’s already mine.” Jonas placed a possessive hand on Ollie’s knee. “You can’t break our bloodbond.”

“Actually, you’re wrong.” McBride stretched his legs out and wiggled his toes. “There is one way to break the bond.”

Jonas was partway through what he hoped looked like a casual sip. It took all his self-control not to sputter the alcohol right back up and out. After swallowing it down, he softly asked, “Are you threatening me?”

“I wasn’t the one who made the threat.”

It was Ollie who looked out the parlor window toward the neat circle of houses and whispered, “Caleb.”

“That’s right.” McBride lifted each leg up across his knee so he could remove his socks, which he tucked into his boots. “He was quite adamant that he would free his brother of your hold one way or another.”

Jonas took a much bigger drink of his brandy. He’d never liked Caleb, and now he truly had a reason to fear him. He’d thought the giant wouldn’t care about anyone but himself, but he loved his brothers and it was clear he’d kill to protect them. The messy situation that Jonas had made by his uncontrollable lust had gotten far more dangerous.

“What did you say to make Caleb stay away?” Ollie looked toward the foyer, and it was clear he was wondering if the front door was locked. Jonas didn’t think a locked door would keep Caleb at bay for any length of time, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

“I told him I would handle the situation.”

“And Caleb accepted that?” Jonas found that impossible to believe. “Caleb is a see-for-himself kind of man. Why would he trust you?”

McBride leveled his gaze at Jonas. “Because I’ve never lied to him.”

“So you’ve told him that you want him?”

Rather than answer, McBride stretched his legs out and dug his toes into the carpet with a sigh of bliss. Why wasn’t he concerned? He should have been frantic to cover up his transgressions with Caleb. And there was the answer staring right in Jonas’s face. McBride hadn’t misbehaved with Caleb. His grand strategy was meaningless without having the leverage of guilt. If McBride had done nothing wrong, there was nothing for Jonas to hold over his head. Maybe McBride was far stronger than him.

“Do you want my brother?” Ollie seemed oblivious to what Jonas was attempting to do. Just like Caleb, his concern was more for his brother than his own happiness. Jonas felt intensely ashamed of himself for putting his wants and desires above all else.

“I am not here to discuss that with you.” McBride closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair. He couldn’t appear any more relaxed if he tried.

It wasn’t a no or a yes. It was a nonanswer that left Jonas feeling empty and tired. “Are you going to let him kill me?”

“No.” McBride didn’t hesitate. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, so I don’t see how three will, either.”

Again, a curious expression crossed McBride’s face. He seemed lost in yearning and then sharply determined to hold himself away from that which he longed for most. In the split second of time the look owned McBride’s face, Jonas understood that, though McBride might want Caleb almost desperately, he wasn’t about to break the law to have him. But it was deeper than that. McBride wasn’t going to break his own code. Jonas realized that more than any law of the land, McBride held to a law of his own that was far stricter and more rigid than any crafted by the Genetics Board.

“What if there was a way you could have him?”

“You steal one brother with an illegal and morally objectionable bloodbond and then you attempt to barter with another brother for my complicity?” McBride looked Jonas in the eye, dipped his attention to his glass, then raised it back until he was peering intently into Jonas’s gaze. “Either you’re a very light touch when it comes to booze or you think I’m a fool.”

“I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re a good man who knows what will happen to Ollie if I’m parted from him.” Jonas sought now to engage McBride’s compassion.

“I know what will happen. I think it’s what killed my father.”

Jonas stiffened.

“He was withdrawn, moody, unable to leave the house, and everyone said he refused to feed.” McBride lifted his hand, cutting Jonas off. “Right. He would feed only from your neck and you only fed from the seven—no, wait—six Morgan brothers. Something about that just never rang quite right in my mind.”