Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500
From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com>
Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 32

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and
explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or
are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now.

HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All
Rights are reserved.

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"I expect you're exhausted after being out in the elements so long?" a
beautiful Latino man with a pair of harshly-accented brows and a gorgeous
set of eyes and lips said, stirring a cold glass of lemonade with a spoon
before passing it over the counter to me.

"I'm fine," I replied, sipping the drink. "Thank you."

The kind-eyed man nodded and settled his gaze on me, watching me drink with
near-alien fascination, before he turned and began to scour the interior of
a fridge.

Until a moment ago, I'd thought he was human. Then I saw the rims around
his brown eyes—nearly translucent but still obviously there—and
realized he was just the same as everyone else.

Did Elliot's property house a clan of the Kaldr?

Guy had yet to return. From the depths of the house I could hear heated
arguing—sometimes harsh, accented with barking exchanges, though mostly
cordial despite the friction that appeared to exist between the two. I'd
guessed something was up when Guy hadn't cared to elaborate last night or
earlier this morning. I just hadn't been aware of how serious the situation
was.

"Don't mind them," the Latino man said. "Their relationship
is... complicated."

"You never did tell me your name," I said, eager to stray in another
direction rather than get caught in familial drama.

"Amadeo," he said. "Amadeo Castallano."

"That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you, friend. And you are?"

"Jason," I said.

"The younger Winters' lover?"

I blinked. "Was it really that obvious?"

Amadeo smiled. "Really," he said. "It's fine. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

"How did you know?" I asked.

"I merely suspected. Nothing more."

I swished the lemonade around in my glass and took another sip. Amadeo, as
if sensing my unease, let the situation be and returned to his various
activities about the kitchen.

Nearby, a door opened, then shut. Guy strode into view and set his eyes on
the pair of us. "Papa," he said, nodding to Amadeo.

"Son." The Spanish man nodded before disappearing out a side door.

Now alone, Guy settled into the stool beside me and ran a hand across his
skull.

"Everything cool?" I asked.

"My father's merely taken it upon himself to lecture me for my
stupidity. That's all."

"Did you tell him about what I—"

"Oh, he knows, Jason. He doesn't blame you. He blames me for not handling
the situation properly." Guy sighed and shook his head. "Can I have a
drink?" I passed him the glass and watched him nearly down half of it
before returning it to me. "He wants to meet with you later—if you'd be
comfortable. He'd like to get to know you."

"I don't mind speaking with him," I said.

Besides—truthfully, it was he who held the outcome of my fate, not Guy
or anything he wished to impart. I was ready to know whether I had a place
here or if I was to be cast to the wind and let the fates decide my course.

We sat there in silence for a long time. Occasionally, he'd glance at me
from the corner of his eye, but for the most part kept to himself.

This rift—

Whatever had happened, it surely wasn't good.

I set a hand on his shoulder, the sudden urge to comfort him completely
overwhelming.

He sighed. Muscles tensing, he stood and rolled his neck about his
shoulders before he said, "Come on," and reached to take my hand. "No point
in sitting around here."

"Where are we going?"

"I'll take you to my room. We can get cleaned up. Then..." Guy
faltered. "Then I can explain what the hell's going on here."

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If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the
author with your thoughts or donating to him via Paypal at
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