Blurb:
Mark has always been a Dominant. The Top in every relationship. Just ask Leon, his very ex-boyfriend, because that’s precisely what he told Mark he was.
Okay, Mark’s only had the one relationship so the ‘always’ was a reach, but it didn’t matter. It was more than over with now, and Leon was long gone. That was until Leon decided he wanted to show off his new boyfriend, a gorgeous mountain called Rogan, by evidently telling him that Mark was stalking, harassing and get this, abusing him.
“He’ll kill you, Mark, because he loves me and wants to protect me.”
From whom? Skinny little Mark? What a joke. Because all Mark has ever done was exactly what Leon told him to do and that now included staying as far away from Leon as he could get. But even that crashed and burned when Leon became hell-bent on proving all the lies he's told Rogan were true, and by any means possible except the actual truth. Thankfully, it seems Rogan’s not quite as clueless about Leon’s wild imagination as Mark has always been. In fact, the big, beautiful man has come to Mark’s rescue a couple of times and has made it clear, Leon and he are not a thing. At least, not anymore.
Which is good. Because something else is out to get Mark. Something not Leon.
This something isn’t even human…
Excerpt:
They took the elevator to the sixth floor and headed cautiously down a deserted hall. Okay, maybe it was only Mark who walked warily.
Rogan marched slightly ahead of him and seemed to barge down the hall with his
chest puffed out like some storybook bodyguard protecting the prince. However, no apparitions flew out at them this
time, no lights exploded trying to kill them. When they got to Mark's apartment, Rogan snatched the set of keys
Mark dug out of his pocket and opened the door of 612 and attempted to turn on the
light.
“It doesn’t work,” Mark remarked. “It never has.”
As if that might have been important in the whole
scheme of things, Rogan turned to him. “Really? Why?”
“I have no idea. They have never been able to fix it,
either.”
Rogan grumbled a string of profanities against
landlords as he pulled out his phone. “Hey Raptor. Flashlight.” The phone shot
out a bright beam and Rogan shined it into the apartment. “Where is a switch
that does work?”
“Right here.” Mark glanced around the apartment before
he tiptoed over to the switch in the kitchen and turned it on. The apartment lit
up enough to see that everything was normal―so to speak. The destroyed TV was right
where it had been when they left, debris still everywhere. Not the chaos Mark
had walked into with Leon, but shivers of that time chased through him as well.
“What I don’t get is why you don’t even have a scratch on you.”
“That is a mystery,” Rogan murmured. “What’s even more
an unknown is why you were basically sliced in the first place. Cut, I would
understand. But sliced?” He walked over to the large, jagged piece laying
against the wall, the piece that had been laced with blood but no longer
appeared to be and picked it up. “This should never have been sharp enough to
do that.” He brought it over for Mark to see.
“Fuck,” Mark whispered as he gazed at the piece of
plastic. “It’s… like a knife.” And it was. The six-inch, razor-edged side appeared
paper thin, to the point of it being see-through. As if someone had purposely
honed it down to that sharpness. “But… didn’t it have blood on it?”
Rogan narrowed his eyes and glared back at the plastic
as if it had just lied to him. “You’re right. It did. Exactly my point.”
“Which is?”
Rogan glanced briefly at Mark. “This isn’t right. I
mean, how does something like this even happen?” Rogan’s lips pursed together.
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m not sure.” Rogan gazed down at Mark. “And I don’t
like not knowing. I will find some answers. That I promise.” He sighed. “Now
what do we need to take with us so we can get out of here?”
Mark packed a backpack while Rogan kept watch. Mark
would have thought it laughable if he wasn’t so panicked. It was one thing to
be bullied by Leon. Quite another by a ghost.
“The extra apartment key is in the kitchen drawer,”
Mark told Rogan as he threw the backpack over his shoulder.
Rogan immediately reached over and grabbed the
backpack. “Go get it. I got this.”
Heat climbing Mark’s face he walked quickly to the
drawer. “I can carry it. I’m not a princess.”
Rogan smirked but remained silent as he adjusted the
backpack and held out a hand to accept the key. “Thanks,” he said, winking at
Mark when he dropped the key in his hand.
“I don’t know what you plan on doing but have at it.”
Rogan grimaced as if he were guilty of something and
shook his head.
When they arrived at Mark’s dad’s house, Rogan
insisted on walking Mark in. “I didn’t keep you safe like I promised. He
deserves an explanation.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not some fragile teenager on a
date. Besides, I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. But security is my job, and I should
have…”
“Should have what?”
“Known.” He knocked on the door.
“Known? How? Why?”
But Rogan remained silent. Except it was clear he was
battling something in his head.
“Whatever,” Mark mumbled. “Just… I can take care of myself.”
Mark went to knock as well but the door flew open in front of him, Mark’s dad
standing on the other side.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” Rob snarled,
startling both Mark and Rogan.
“Sir!” Rogan nearly shouted back, gaining the older
man’s attention. Then he lowered his voice probably realizing how loud he was
being. “Mr. Corda. Sorry to wake you…”
“What the hell happened to you?” Rob grabbed Mark and
pulled him into the house. “Why the bandages?” He turned his attention back to Rogan.
“Why is my son covered in bandages?”
Mark took immediate offence. “Dad, I’m standing right
here! Ask me!”
“Um… sir…” Rogan interrupted. “it’s a long story.”
