Sunday, April 19, 2015

Sunday's Safe Word Shelf: Angel and the Assassin Series by Fyn Alexander

Angel and the Assassin #1
Kael Saunders loves to dominate handsome, masculine men like himself. Being in charge is his way of life whether it be in his work with the Secret Intelligence service, his personal life, or in the dungeon. The last thing he expects when he is out on a hit is to fall in love with Angel, an eighteen-year-old boy desperate for the love and guidance of a Daddy. Yet Angel also has a passion for being spanked and restrained. Two very different men find love in a world of skilled assassins, Bosnian terrorists, and dungeon play.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: BDSM theme and content, male/male sexual practices.

Be Brave #2
MI6 assassin Kael Saunders was supposed to kill Angel Button after he witnessed a kill. Not only did Kael refuse to hurt Angel, but he took him home and fell in love with him. Living together now in a loving D/s relationship, Angel wants to follow in his daddy’s footsteps while Kael is determined to keep his boy out of the dangerous world of international assassins.

During an assignment Kael finds a little girl who is caught up in human trafficking and determines to rescue her. When he is taken prisoner Angel sets out to find his beloved Daddy and bring him home.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: strong BDSM theme and content, male/male sexual practices, violence.

Sins of the Father #3
MI6 assassin, Kael Saunders, is a larger than life, dominant master who finds himself becoming a Daddy to nineteen-year-old Angel Button. Over the last year and a half Kael and Angel have settled into a loving Dom/sub relationship. But no matter how comfortable the highly intelligent and ruthless assassin and his sweet, eager, loving boy become with each other, Kael is still the boss and Angel wants him to remain so, whether in the dungeon, the bedroom, or the kitchen. Naturally submissive, Angel has learned how to be a good Daddy’s boy and a good slave, but his childlike willfulness still makes itself known now and again.

When Angel is kidnapped by an enemy of Kael's, he'll stop at nothing to save his boy, but his boy may have to take what he's learned and help him.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: BDSM theme and elements (including flogging), male/male sexual practices, violence.

Angel and the Assassin #1
Angel stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the floor, knowing he would never get around to washing them. He had to leave in the next couple of days, and he couldn’t carry much, just the few things he really wanted.

His mother had left early that morning, gone to live with her new boyfriend in France without leaving a forwarding address, let alone inviting him to go with her. Boyfriend was a stupid word; the old creep was at least seventy. Angel’s stepfather had been away on business for several days and had returned just that evening, so she had made her escape. That morning Angel had gone down to the kitchen, and Maria-Jesus had said, “Mrs. Andresen gone.” Then she had shrugged and hugged him.

He couldn’t stay in the same house as his stepfather. The guy couldn’t stand him, and it was entirely mutual. They had lived in the same house for five years, and Sven had never said a kind or civil word to him. Even if Angel did not plan to move out, Sven Andresen would throw him out as soon as he found out his wife had left him.

In the en-suite bathroom, Angel switched on the light and turned on the hot water in the shower. He loved his bedroom and bathroom at the Cape Cod house. They were much bigger than at the Manhattan apartment. More than anything he loved hitching up the cape to Provincetown to look at gorgeous men on the beach. But that day, after his mother had left, he had taken one of Sven’s cars and managed to dent the driver’s side door against a lamppost.

Deciding he wanted a Coke he grabbed his robe to head downstairs. “On second thought,” He tossed it on the floor with his clothes. Sven got furious when he left his room naked, but he no longer gave a damn what Sven thought. Sven could call him “queer little fucker” all he wanted; tomorrow he’d be gone.

Leaving the shower running, Angel padded down the stairs into the wide entrance hall, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. The kitchen stood on the west side of the house, and he had to pass the lounge to reach it. One side of the double mahogany doors stood open, the light from inside illuminating a small area of the dark hall. A loud voice erupted from inside.

Sven was on the phone screaming at Angel’s mom. “Get your fucking ass home, bitch!” A pause. “Oh yes you are; you are coming home. Do you think you are going to get alimony out of me? You’ll get nothing!”

His mother didn’t care about alimony. She was still young, only thirty-four, and beautiful. She had found Gregoire St. Germaine several months before when she had taken Angel skiing in Whistler. She wanted the designer clothes and purses she had got used to being married to Sven, the expensive perfumes and trips to Europe. The new man would give her all that and more, and without the abuse Sven doled out.

Sven had a vile temper. Angel had lost count of the number of times he had listened to them screaming at each other, followed by Sven giving his mother a smack. Then there were days of bliss when they made up and cooed at each other while her black eyes healed.

He crept up to the double doors and stood behind the closed side, peeking in. Sven sat on the dark red leather chesterfield sofa, his back to the wide French windows that looked out onto the sea. The surf was loud tonight, the waves roaring in. Fists clenched, Sven shouted, “No one else will have you, whore! Get the fuck home!”

She’s not coming home, and she’s already found someone else, dickhead. He’s richer than you and too old to knock her around.

Angel watched his stepfather, handsome and tall, always well dressed even at home. The anger on Sven’s face was beginning to melt. “Please, Samantha, come home. I love you. I’ll never lay a hand on you again.”

Angel stepped out from behind the door and stood in the full light, waiting. It took Sven a second to see him. Hands on his narrow hips, Angel wiggled his ass while offering an exaggerated wink. Anger flaring quickly again, Sven’s face contorted. He angered easily and had never had even the smallest patience with Angel. Grabbing the case containing his reading glasses, he hurled it. It landed on the rug about ten feet from Sven, missing Angel by another six feet. He ducked back behind the door, still peeking at his stepfather, a grin plastered across his face.

“How come you didn’t take your fucking faggot son with you? He dented the door on my BMW today. He doesn’t even have a license, and that’s the third car of mine he’s damaged. You should have taken him, because I’m going to kill him.”

Angel shivered. He might be wise to leave tonight.

“I will, Samantha. You come home, or I’ll kill your son. He’s a useless piece of shit anyway.”

A silhouette flitted past the French windows and was gone. Angel squinted. There was nothing there. He had imagined it.

It was back.

A very tall, broad-shouldered figure stood at the French windows, doing something to the lock. Either he was completely silent, or the surf and Sven’s voice drowned him out, because he made no sound.

The next few moments were surreal.

The French windows opened a slit, and a man dressed in unrelieved black stepped inside, closing them behind him so fast that the rush of the wind and surf had no time to enter with him. He was huge and handsome, with a shaved head, and his eyes were a stunning bright blue. His jaw had that chiseled, masculine look, like he’d just stepped out of a magazine.

He must work with Sven.

Sven had no idea anyone was behind him, not even when the man stood so close that he put a gun directly behind Sven’s ear and fired.

Almost no sound came from the gun, just a little pop. It looked like the kind James Bond used in Quantum of Solace, with a silencer. Sven dropped the phone and slumped to one side. Blood ran from the wound, down his neck, and onto his immaculate, white Armani shirt, creating a fractallike pattern.

As silently as he had entered, the man turned to leave. At the French windows, he froze and pivoted round again. His body as still as a statue, he scanned the room by turning his head very slowly. Angel wanted to duck out of the way -- it would have taken him a split second -- but he froze, just like the stranger had a second ago.

The beautiful blue eyes met his. The man put one hand on the back of the chesterfield to lever himself and sprang over the couch toward him.

Angel ran back up the stairs and along the hall to his bedroom. His heart thudded -- not from running -- but from fear. Pure, unadulterated, sickening fear.

In his bedroom, he turned off the light and ran into the bathroom, flipping off that light as well, until he stood in the pitch-dark. Nothing but the sound of rushing water filled his head. On tiptoe Angel crept into the shower. The water ran hot, streaming over his body. He had forgotten he had left it running, and the room was filled with steam. The man had killed Sven, and now he would kill Angel. He pressed his back to the tiles, waiting to die.

* * * * *

Kael stood in the bedroom in the dark. He had studied the house plan with his usual attention to detail and knew the boy was trapped in the bathroom.

He also knew the boy should not have been there. Mrs. Andresen had left her husband that morning, and he had been told by intelligence that the boy had left with her. Not only was he in the house, but he had seen Kael’s face and seen him hit the target.

Only that familiar prickly sensation on the back of his neck that alerted him to danger had made him turn around. At first he had no idea what it was: male, female, child, or adult. It was not until his foot hit the bottom step of the staircase that he saw a very slender naked male figure ahead of him running through the darkened house, and knew it was Andresen’s stepson.

There was nothing else to do. He had to kill the boy.

Kael stood in the bathroom doorway. His incredible night vision had always been an asset. The room was both dark and unfamiliar; added to that, it was filled with steam, and still he could see a vague outline of the boy plastered against the tiles in the big shower stall. It was one of those showers with three jets and room for an intimate gathering, bigger than his own shower at home.

From his pocket he removed the scalpel, placed his gun on the floor, and removed his clothes, smiling all the while. The blood would run down the drain, and he could rinse off any spatter. Why didn’t all his kills have the decency to hop in the shower and make his life easier? He stripped off his latex gloves and shoved them in his pocket.

When he was naked, the scalpel in his hand, he flipped on the light. A whimper issued from the shower. Kael crossed the bathroom and opened the glass door. He stepped into the shower and stood absolutely still. Flattened against the wall stood a lovely and utterly terrified boy. Blond hair was soaked to his head, and his big silvery gray eyes opened wide with fear, staring straight at Kael.

The smell of warm urine filled Kael’s nostrils, and he looked down at the boy’s legs to see yellow piss mingling with the water. The boy also looked down, then back at Kael, shame passing over his face.

“Are you going to kill me?” The voice was little more than a whisper.

An unexpected and overwhelming feeling gripped Kael in the belly. He wanted to take the boy in his arms and calm his fears. He wanted to comfort him, not kill him. “Why would I do that?” Of course he was going to kill him, but he wanted the boy’s fear to go away first. He enclosed the scalpel tightly in his hand, hiding it.

“Are you English?”

The situation was ludicrous, yet the boy’s natural curiosity forced him to ask a question that made it feel almost commonplace. “Yes. What’s your name, boy?”

“Angel,” he said softly. “Angel Button.”

“Angel,” Kael repeated and opened both his arms to the boy. “Come here, Angel.”

He thought he might have to repeat himself or take a step toward the boy to encourage him. He expected Angel to slide down the wall or piss himself again. Instead Angel took two or three quick steps and threw himself at Kael, wrapping his arms around Kael’s broad chest. At six feet five inches, Kael stood taller than most people. Angel was barely five feet eight, so his head rested against Kael’s chest. He looked down at the boy, cupping Angel’s head with his hand.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Angel. I won’t hurt you.” But that was a lie; Kael had to hurt him.

For a long time they stood with the water rushing over them, not moving. Kael could feel Angel’s thudding heart begin to slow as the boy calmed down. Overwhelmed with confusion, Kael did not know what to do. All he knew was that he felt happy the boy trusted him, and angry that the poor kid was putting his trust in a hired killer.

Kael took Angel’s chin in his hand and tilted it up to look into his eyes. His face was lovely -- pale porcelain skin and a delicate, pointed chin. But it was his eyes that drew Kael in, wide, silver, and completely trusting. Kael had told Angel that Kael wouldn’t hurt him, and the boy appeared to believe him. He dropped a little kiss on Angel’s forehead, turned off the shower, and stepped out, taking Angel with him.

Secreting the scalpel in the fold of a towel, he took a couple more towels from a shelf and threw one at Angel. Kael toweled the water from his head and body, watching the boy do the same. Angel’s hair got blonder and blonder as he rubbed it dry. When he was finished, he dropped the towel on the floor, looking at Kael. “Why did you kill Sven?”

Kael pointed at the towel. “Put it in the wash basket.” Angel obeyed at once. That was the second time he had done as he was told immediately. He seemed submissive and eager to please, but then, what choice did he have? Avoiding the question, Kael asked, “Did you love him?”

Angel shook his head, his hair falling into long, soft spikes. It looked like it was cut to be spiky. Kael wanted to touch it, and he beckoned the boy with one finger, fully expecting him to come, and he did. He ran his hands through Angel’s hair, thick and soft and very fair.

Kael usually had no idea why his targets had to be eliminated, but Conran had kindly told him. He reveled in the memory of Conran’s discomfit that day. “He sold guns to bad guys,” he said as if talking to a child.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Angel said. “What do we do now?”


He should kill the boy and leave the house at once. His instructions had told him there would be cleanup on this job, but they would probably be slow to arrive because of the location. “Come and have sex with me. I’ll decide after that.”

A little sigh escaped the boy, and his pale cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Yes, please, sir. But what about Sven?”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Kael said.

Angel issued a small laugh. “After you.” He gestured at the bedroom door. Kael took him by the arm, directing him in first. He never turned his back on anyone.

The bedroom was fairly typical for a young man of Angel’s age. Clothes scattered on the floor, a laptop computer sitting on the desk, a TV, an iPod with a speaker ring, an Xbox, and mess everywhere. The walls were covered with posters of idiots with guitars. A single birthday card stood on the dresser. Kael picked it up. “When’s your birthday?”

“Today,” Angel said.

“Happy birthday, boy.” He glanced at the inscription. “Who is Maria-Jesus?”

“She’s the maid.”

Kael pointed at the duvet falling off the bed and the rumpled sheets. “Did you just get up?”

“No.” Angel looked confused.

Sticking out from under the bed was a sliding stack of dog-eared magazines. Kael bent to retrieve a handful. “Bear Magazine.” He looked at the boy, who no longer seemed frightened and had a very obvious erection. “Is this what you like?”

“I like really masculine men,” Angel said, his flushed cheeks growing pinker.

Kael looked down at his chest, carefully waxed to remove all hair. “I don’t like hair; I have it all removed, except this.” He pointed at the short dark blond hair around his cock and balls.

Angel looked him up and down, saying quietly, “I like men without hair too. I just like them big and manly.” He paused, looking down as if he was shy to say the next thing. “And older.”

“How old are you, just so I know this is legal?” Kael said.

“You just shot a man in the back of the neck, and you’re worried about what’s legal?” Angel looked genuinely confused.

“Just because I killed an arms dealer doesn’t mean I’d have sex with an underage twink.”

“I’m twenty,” Angel said. “I’m still growing. I hope I’ll reach six foot.”

“Good.” Kael looked at the next magazine. “Daddy Magazine.” A mature, bare-chested man on the cover smiled at him.

“That’s what I want,” Angel whispered. “I want a daddy.”

“Are you obedient?” Kael put the magazines back under the bed. He already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Angel said at once.

“Say yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you trust me, boy?” He looked into Angel’s face, thinking how appropriate his name was.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I didn’t say you could call me Daddy,” Kael said. “I’m not into the daddy thing. I’m a master. I expect obedience, instant obedience.”

“I am obedient, Sir,” Angel said. “And I trust you.”

“In that case…” Kael pulled the rumpled duvet off the bed and tossed it onto the floor. He pointed at the bed. “Up on your hands and knees.”

Angel scampered over and leaped up onto the messy sheets. Standing beside the bed, Kael laughed at his enthusiasm. “A moment ago you were terrified of me.”

On his knees on the bed, Angel wrapped his arms around Kael’s waist. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me, didn’t you, Sir?”

Be Brave #2
“Daddy, exactly where are we going and what are we going to do there?”

Kael Saunders steered the small, unobtrusive car along the A23 to Herstmonceux Village. The high hedgerows on either side of the narrow, two-lane road obscured the view ahead, and he hit the horn each time they came to a sharp bend. “There’s a castle owned by a Canadian university up the road past the village. It’s on five hundred acres, and they let us use it for outdoor classes. Survival skills, that sort of thing.”

Kael had made the decision some time ago to tell Angel that he worked for the Secret Intelligence Service, MI6. Angel was a smart boy and could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. He would never do anything that might endanger his daddy. But the rule was, ask no questions.

They drove through the small, quaint village and continued on until the red brick castle rose up from the landscape. “There it is.”

“Holy King Arthur’s court! That is beautiful,” Angel said, and Kael laughed.

He drove onto the grounds and up the hill into the car park, where a ten-seater van was just leaving. Milling about talking to each other were seven men and one woman, and beside them were five rolled-up tents and ten identical backpacks. Several of the men were tall like Kael, though none matched his six feet five inches. They were all well built, muscular, strong-looking men, and every one of them had a crew cut or buzz cut. “Oh my God. It’s like a night out at a leather bar.” Angel laughed.

“In your dreams. How many leather bars have you been to, boy?”

“Only the ones you’ve taken me to, Daddy. Will we be staying in the castle?” Angel’s beautiful gray eyes were wide with excitement; his boyish enthusiasm always made Kael smile.

“No. We’re staying in pup tents in the wood over on the north side. It’s called the Azalea Walk.”

A look of disappointment flitted across Angel’s face, quickly replaced by resignation. “How picturesque,” he said.

“Angel.” Kael looked at the boy he had fallen in love with a mere six months ago -- the boy he was supposed to have killed. “Do not call me Daddy this weekend. I am Sir at all times. I’ve never met this group, but I have to weed out the cowards, the idiots, and the insane, not to mention the men from the boys -- and that includes the woman. They must know nothing about my private life or yours.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They got out of the car. Angel went without instruction to the boot to take out their leather jackets and water while Kael stood about ten feet away from the group. The woman emerged from behind one of the men, dwarfed by his size just as Angel, with his slender five-feet-eight frame, was dwarfed by Kael. For a moment, Kael stopped to suck in a breath. She reminded him of Misha, but this girl had blonde hair and Misha’s had been dark. The young woman smiled when their eyes met. Kael did not return her smile. He would not get friendly with anyone in the group.

Quickly he assessed them, spotting who the friends were and who didn’t like each other. One man, broad and muscular but not much taller than Angel, had a ruddy complexion, a sign of alcohol abuse or perhaps a dicky heart. Another man, no more than nineteen or twenty years old, walked with an overconfident swagger: a sure sign that he overestimated his own abilities. The woman looked happy just being there and eager to get on with the work.

It was a cold morning in February, and the group, attired in dark clothing, wore jackets and hats. Kael wore a black lightweight but very warm pullover, dark jeans, and black Doc Martens. Angel handed him his leather jacket, which he pulled on and zipped up. Angel wore the same, and when Kael pulled a black woolen hat over his shaved head, Angel copied. “Keep your jacket fastened up, boy. Avoid getting cold because it’ll be hard to warm up again with staying outdoors all weekend.”

“Yes, Sir.” Angel obeyed at once, not only because he recognized Kael as his dom, but because he trusted him completely. “Sir, if this is for your work, why was I allowed to come?”

“Conran suggested I bring you. I’d refused the assignment because it was a weekend.”

“Because you didn’t want to leave me, Sir?”

He looked down at Angel, unsmiling in case anyone saw. “That’s right.” He didn’t give a shit who knew he was gay. But they didn’t need to know Angel was his and that he loved him; that would make Kael vulnerable.

Kael looked at his students. “Get over here!” The group stood to attention momentarily and then hurried toward him to stand quietly. His raised voice had succeeded in making them nervous, which was exactly what he wanted. “My name is Sir, and that is what you will call me every time you look at me. How many of you have been in the armed forces?” Two men and the woman raised their hands. “Good. You’ll find it easy to remember. The others will get a smack if they forget. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“Excellent. Pick up the tents and packs and start walking north.”

“Yes, sir!”

Angel brought Kael his pack, but the other men were already carrying the tents.

With Kael leading the way, the group walked for about twenty-five minutes until Kael told them to stop in the woods. “There are five tents, two people to each tent. Start pitching them in a circle. We make a fire in the middle.” He helped Angel pitch one of the tents, mainly to show him how.

When the tents were up and a fire pit was constructed and ready to light later, Kael had everyone sit on the ground. He watched where they sat and who they felt comfortable with. Two of the men had marched side by side to the woods, and they sat together now, so he decided to separate them. They were obviously straight, but they wanted to be together. “You” -- Kael pointed to one of the men -- “will share a tent with him.” He pointed at another man. “Move now.” Kael’s anger flared with the man’s hesitation. “Oh. I’m sorry. Did you want to be with your friend?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. The man moved quickly, his cheeks flushing. Kael proceeded to split up the pairs, assigning the woman to the burly, red-faced man.

“Sir,” the woman said. She was tiny and adorable. “You haven’t asked our names.”

He already knew their names; he had seen their files and a small photo of each and memorized everything. He pointed at each of them in turn, giving their names, ages, and the place they were born. “I know everything I need to know about you, Matilda Thornton.”

She smiled. “I go by Mattie, sir.”

“Sir?” It was the bloke with the swagger: Harry Denbigh. “Is he part of the group?” Angel stuck out as much as Mattie did, and he had been glued to Kael’s side since getting out of the car.

“Yes, he is. Tell them your first name only, boy.”

Angel smiled at him and then around at the group. “I’m Angel.”

Denbigh laughed, and Mattie said, “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

“Sir,” the ruddy-faced man said. “When are we going to eat?”

“Not today,” Kael said calmly, ignoring their disappointed faces.

“I didn’t have breakfast,” another man said.

Kael stood up, towering over them, leaning forward as he spoke and pointing at them one after the next. “You fucking morons! We don’t get lunch breaks and tea breaks on this job. If you want to work in a fucking office, then go and work in one. This job is for real men.” He looked at Mattie. “No offense.”

She grinned. “None taken, sir.”

“Some of you will go into security; you’ll be minders. Imagine taking care of a head of state and saying, ‘Excuse me, minister. I need to stop and have my sandwiches now. And I need to go for a piss. Can you wait there?’”

The men started to laugh. “See how ridiculous that is? There’s water in your packs. That’s all you get until morning. Make it last.” He looked at Mattie. “When you’re small, you have to be more careful. You get hungry quicker.” But she looked as tough as nails. It was Angel he was worried about. Before they left London, Kael had made the boy eat an enormous protein-loaded breakfast to tide him over. “Does anyone want to leave? Because if you do, go now. Don’t waste my time.”

“Our careers depend on this weekend, don’t they?” one of the men asked.

Kael looked round at them. “Your futures with SIS will be determined by my reports. If you want exciting, action-filled careers, then act as if that’s what you want. Or you’ll end up in office jobs.”

“Kill me now.” Mattie laughed.

Kael almost smiled at her and repeated, “Does anyone want to leave?”

No one spoke.

* * * * *

The first task Kael set them was a five-mile run -- not a jog or a walk. He set the pace, and Angel kept up with him most of the way. Mattie on her short legs quickly fell behind, but by the time they all reached the finish, she was back at the front of the pack. Five out of the seven men who had got off to great starts had peaked and become exhausted. Kael reached the end a full eight minutes ahead of the group and stood, hands on hips, waiting for them. Angel and Mattie arrived first, and the men trailed in after them. One man collapsed on the ground, and when his buddy went to help him, Kael said, “Leave him! If you were in the field, running for your life, you would have to leave him or die with him. Be sensible.”

After several minutes of watching him lie flat out, panting like a dog, Kael walked over to the man. “Up you get.” He put out his hand and hauled the man to his feet. Giving him a brusque pat on the shoulder, he said, “You finished the race. That’s all that matters.”

They had barely recovered when he took them to the moat on the east side of the castle, where it was deepest, and ordered them to strip naked. The presence of a woman made them hesitate. But Mattie and Kael were the first ones naked. Angel was next but only because of the cold. He was used to being naked and was very comfortable in his skin, but being so slender, he began shivering very quickly. Kael kept his eye on Harry Denbigh, who seemed to want to compete with Angel and looked angry when the boy had beaten him in the run. He hurriedly stripped off his clothes and strode up to the edge of the moat, ready to go in first.

Angel ran up beside him and jumped in, his knees drawn in toward his chest the way he often leaped into bed at night. “First!” he screamed with childlike glee. The look on Denbigh’s face was one of hatred. He dived in after Angel.

“Get out, the pair of you,” Kael ordered, furious at their stupidity.

The two climbed out onto the bank, shivering. “Only an idiot jumps into a strange body of water,” he said to Angel. “And a bigger idiot dives in.” He got in Denbigh’s face. “There could be rocks in there you could hit. At least Angel would only have cracked his arse. You could have broken your stupid fucking neck.” Angel and Denbigh colored despite the cold. “What if you were in a tropical country and there were flesh-eating fish or reptiles? First you examine your terrain.”

For twenty minutes he made them stand naked while he went over the ways to check if a body of water was safe before using it for an escape route. Then he went in first to show them how to do it.

Later, as they dressed, Denbigh looked at Mattie and said, “Nice tits. A bit small but nice.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, mate. You’ll never get your hands on them.”

The men laughed at the exchange until Kael walked up to Denbigh and grabbed his cock. Stunned, Denbigh reared back.

“Nice cock. A bit small but nice.” The men broke into gales of laughter, but Kael hushed them quickly. “We support our fellows in the field; we do not demean them. There’ll always be times when you’ll work in groups or with a partner. You can’t put down a partner, then expect them to have your back in a sticky situation.”

The remainder of the afternoon they spent on basic survival techniques. By midnight, they were exhausted. “Get into your tents and go to sleep,” Kael told them. “You’ll notice you have no sleeping bags -- only a blanket. Put on every piece of clothing you brought. I hope you’ve all got hats. Keep your boots on. Put the blanket on the ground. Then wrap it around you. The rest of your warmth will come from your tent mate, so get cozy.”

One of the men looked at his partner and joked, “Don’t try anything.”

They all laughed and crawled into their tents to lie down on the hard, cold ground. The moment they were alone, Kael pulled Angel into his arms and felt his boy melt against him. “How did I do today, Daddy?” he whispered.

“You’re amazing.” Kael kissed his forehead. “A couple of those guys have been in the army. All of them have had some training, and you not only kept up with them, you surpassed them. That’s my boy.”

There was nothing Angel loved more than praise and encouragement, but he also took discipline well if he knew he deserved it, and that was a sign of maturity. “That’s because of all the weight training and running you make me do, Daddy.” He kissed Kael softly on the lips. “I’m so tired.”

The conversation from the next tent was just discernible with Kael’s better than ordinary hearing. He pressed his finger to Angel’s lips and listened. Denbigh and his tent mate were talking. “I reckon Sir is as queer as George Michael,” Denbigh said. “That boy’s not with SIS, and there was no question where he was going to sleep when Sir was ordering us around.”

“He’s a good bloke, tough as bloody nails,” the other man said. “I’d let him cover my back any day.”

“Yes, but I think he’s favoring his bitch over us.”

“Shut it, mate. This isn’t the fucking X Factor. No one’s going to get eliminated.”

At the word bitch in reference to Angel, Kael said, “Wait there.” He crawled out of the tent and directly into the next one. Before Denbigh could speak, Kael had straddled him and had him by the neck, pushing down on his windpipe. His tent mate moved quickly out of the way. “I knew you were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you.” He smacked him hard across the face. “Got anything else to say?”

Unable to speak, Denbigh attempted to shake his head. Kael eased up on his throat, and Denbigh whispered hoarsely, “No, sir.”

“Now go to sleep like a good boy. Don’t make me come back.” He had not been quiet about disciplining the young man, and the others were sitting at their tent flaps watching and listening by the time he crawled out. “Get some sleep!” he said. He crawled back into the low tent, and Angel snuggled into his arms again.

“Did he call me your bitch, Daddy?” he asked very quietly.

“Shhh. Everything’s fine.” Kael unzipped his trousers. He took Angel’s hand and pushed it inside. “Make me happy, boy,” he whispered.

Sins of the Father #3
“Isn’t this the best Christmas day ever? And wasn’t that the best Christmas dinner?” Angel said.

Ruffling his boy’s light blond hair, Kael said, “You sound like Tiny Tim. And you said that last year.”

With care Angel tucked glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher. “Yes, and this year is even better. I can’t wait for next year.”

Placing a couple of plates carefully in the dishwasher, Kael reached for another. “Daddy, you don’t have to do dishes. That’s my job.” Angel looked up at him, his beautiful gray eyes bright with happiness.

Angel and Sharon had cooked their Christmas dinner while Kael wandered about trying to make himself useful, and they had done themselves proud. Even the sprouts, which Kael normally hated, were good. Angel had made them to a special recipe with chestnuts and a wine sauce. Sharon had looked tired after the meal was eaten, and Angel ordered her to sit with her feet up, insisting he would take care of everything.

Kael leaned his buttocks against the counter and crossed his arms. “So do you like your presents?” It was a stupid question. When Angel had opened his gifts that morning and had seen the latest Xbox, he had stared at it in disbelief and pure joy.

“Are you kidding? I love my presents. I still can’t believe you got me an Xbox.”

“I knew how much you wanted it. And you’ve been working so hard in school and at the firing range and all the other things I expect of you. You deserve a treat, but when we’re home, you make sure everything else is in order before you play with it.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll consider it off-limits unless I have nothing else to do.”

“Good boy. But I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Kael lifted the stylish, heart-shaped gold pendant on the short gold chain hanging around his neck. He never wore jewelry, especially not necklaces, though this one was masculine despite being a heart. He had been both surprised and touched when he opened the beribboned gold box. “How did you afford this?” The only money Angel had was his monthly allowance from Kael, and he could not have saved that much. It was an expensive necklace.

Angel put the last plate in the dishwasher and tossed in a soap cube. “I sold the Rolex watch my mom gave me.” The boy hadn’t mentioned his mum in months, and he had never worn the watch. “When she didn’t get in touch with me on my birthday or even send me a card, I guessed I probably wouldn’t see her again for a long time. I never liked that watch anyway, and I wanted to get you something special.”

Love surging through him, Kael pulled the slender young man into his arms, pressing him close to his chest. “I’ve already got something special. I’ve got you. I love you, sweetheart.”

Slipping his arms around Kael’s chest, Angel tilted his chin for a kiss. “My Daddy,” he said quietly.

The doorbell rang, and a moment later, Sharon called, “Kael, come and see who’s here.”

Holding Angel’s hand, he walked into the living room and stopped dead. A man he had not seen in ten years took several steps toward him with his hand stuck out to shake. “All right, Kael. How are you, mate?”

Shocked to see Shawn standing in his mum’s living room, Kael stared for half a minute before remembering himself. He shook Shawn’s hand briefly and reluctantly. “I’m fine.”

“Who’s this?” Shawn asked. “Your boyfriend?”

Sharon ruffled Angel’s hair. “Didn’t I tell you Kael is gay?”

“Yeah, I think I knew,” Shawn said. If anyone knew, Shawn definitely did.

Kael hated the word boyfriend. It sounded sissy. Worse still, it sounded casual, as if they weren’t an actual couple but just dating. “This is Angel. He’s my partner. He lives with me.”

“Domestic partners? Isn’t that what they call gay couples these days?” Shawn had always had a warm, intimate smile, a smile that had caused Kael’s heart to beat faster when he was fourteen years old. Shawn had been thirty-five when they had an affair that summer, two years older than Kael was now. He still had the same sparkly blue eyes and boyish grin. He wasn’t any taller, though being shorter than Angel’s five feet ten by three inches. Kael’s boy had gained two inches in the last year.

Shawn shook hands with Angel, but he looked at Kael. “You like them young, Kael?”

“Not as young as you like them,” Kael said under his breath. Angel’s hearing was as acute as his own. With a question in his eyes, he looked up at Kael.

Sharon had gone to the kitchen and could not have heard. She returned a moment later with a bottle of beer. “There you go, Shawn.”

The only reason Shawn could be back in his mum’s life was if he was at a loose end and looking for a woman to cadge off. Kael wanted to smack the fucker. Shawn went over to the big easy chair and threw himself down, looking very comfortable, which told Kael that he had been there before and probably spent the night.

Angel stood at the couch waiting for Kael to sit down first. It was a small, unobvious gesture of submission. That they were a gay couple was never hidden. Kael had been out and openabout his sexuality from the age of fifteen. But when it came to Angel’s submission, Kael had told him when strangers were present to behave as he thought appropriate depending on the situation.

Kael sat, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Angel sat beside him, tucking his legs under himself and leaning into Kael’s side as he always did.

“So what have you been up to, Kael?” Shawn asked.

Completely unaware of the tension between them, Sharon said, “He teaches languages in London. Don’t you, Kael?”

Though he had not taught languages since early in the year, Kael had neglected to tell his mum, and while he hated lying to her, he could not tell her that he worked for the British Secret Intelligence Service. He looked directly at her when he said, “Yes. I teach languages. I also translate.”

“What do you do, Angel?” Shawn asked.

Quickly and briefly, Angel caught Kael’s eyes, asking permission to speak. With people they knew well, he spoke freely, but with strangers he always asked permission. The smallest nod from Kael was sufficient consent. Sometimes Angel picked up such subtle cues that Kael wondered if he was psychic. Or perhaps it was that couple thing of reading each other’s thoughts. “I go to college. I’m taking A levels,” Angel said, his tone carefully polite.

“He passed all his GCSEs in June, didn’t you, love?” Sharon was as proud of Angel as if he truly was her son. “He’s clever, like Kael.”

“What are you going to do with yourself after that?” Shawn asked.

The way Shawn was watching Angel made Kael want to leap up and smack him. It was the way Shawn had looked at him all those years ago, intimate and engaging. Angel smiled. “I’m not sure yet.”

“He’ll take Daddy’s advice,” Kael said, claiming ownership of his boy.

“Daddy?” Shawn half laughed, looking confused.

“Yes, Daddy. That’s me,” Kael said. “He calls me Daddy.” Angel glanced up at him, slightly surprised but pleased that Kael had acknowledged the depth of their intimacy.

To Shawn Angel said, “I always take Daddy’s advice.”

“Whatever turns your crank,” Shawn said, draining his beer. “When did you start shaving your head, Kael?”

“About six or seven years ago.” Less chance of leaving evidence at a kill.

“Kael had lovely hair when he was little, all blond and curly,” Sharon said.

Sudden laughter broke from Angel, and he looked at Kael. “You had curly hair, Daddy? I can’t imagine you as a baby.”

“I was adorable, wasn’t I, Mum?” He grinned at her.

“You certainly were. And you still are.”

“You spoiled him rotten from what I saw when he was a teenager,” Shawn said to Sharon with what appeared to be a touch of resentment creasing his forehead. “I’ll just go outside for a smoke.”

Rising with him, Kael said, “I’ll come out with you for some air.”

“Do you smoke now?” Shawn asked.

“I’d never do anything so disgusting, but I’ll keep you company.” He looked at Angel. “You stay there, boy.” Kael grabbed his leather jacket from the hall cupboard and followed Shawn outside. As they walked down the stairs and outside the building, he watched Shawn with renewed wonder that he had ever loved and admired this man.

The moon sailed high in a black sky, reflecting on the water of the Mersey. The red tip of Shawn’s cigarette went back and forth to his mouth in the darkness.

“What do you want, Shawn?” Kael asked.

“I’m seeing your mum again,” he said.

Involuntarily Kael’s fists clenched, but he kept them at his side. It had been a couple of years since his mum had had a boyfriend, and Kael wanted her to find someone new. He’d just hoped her standards had improved and she would find a man who was not a user like all the other useless wankers she’d been with over the years. “For how long?”

“Just the last few weeks. She said you bought her the flat.” The area outside the building was dark, but Kael, with his exceptional eyesight, easily saw the skepticism in Shawn’s face. “A place like this on a teacher’s wages? Either you got into crime—because you were clever enough to make a success of being a big-time criminal—or…”

Kael cut him off as much to distract him from his train of thought as anything. “As opposed to a petty criminal like you? Have you been in jail recently?”

Shawn gave a small laugh. “Yeah, I was actually. Possession of stolen goods. But you either got into crime big-time or you do something as well as teaching.”

“I teach government people how to speak other languages. Politicians, people like that. And I translate for foreign dignitaries,” Kael lied. “That’s why I get paid so well. And just so you know, I kept the flat in my name in case Mum got involved with any bums. She always had a knack for picking useless dickheads.” It wasn’t true. The flat was his mum’s, lock, stock, and barrel, but Shawn didn’t need to know that.

Shawn took a long pull on his cigarette and blew hard through his nostrils, forcing Kael to take a step back to avoid inhaling the smoke. “Don’t be like that, Kael. We got along great when you were a kid.”

“You were fucking me when I was fourteen.”

“You wanted it as much as I did. You were taller and stronger than me even then. You could have stopped it at any time. Don’t play the victim now.”

It was true. He’d been head over heels in love that summer. “It doesn’t matter what I wanted. I was still a kid, and it was illegal. What if I told my mum? Think she’d still want you around?”

A flicker of nervousness crossed Shawn’s face, and he looked up at Kael. “You’d hurt Sharon just to get back at me?”

No. Kael would not hurt his mum just to get rid of Shawn. He had betrayed her by having sex with this loser during that summer holiday. She had been out working her arse off all day to support them while Kael was enjoying a summer of love with a man who should have known better and was old enough to be his dad. But he wanted Shawn gone from his mum’s life, so he would use it as a threat.

Very calmly he said, “I might have to. I might have to report you to the police as well. I was underage. How do I know you haven’t been with other underage boys, before or since?” The last thing on earth he would do was tell the police. Even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, he couldn’t with his job. But he had to do something, and the threat would likely be enough.

“There was no one else, Kael, just you. You were as big as a man anyway, and you acted like one.”

“But I was a kid.” No grown man would have fallen for Shawn’s uncertain charms, not even when he’d been younger and better looking. “And you committed a crime.”

“What about when I met you in Piccadilly Circus ten years ago? You were old enough then and you still wanted me.”

“I didn’t want you. I just wanted an arse to fuck,” Kael said. What he had wanted that day was to rid himself of the hurt and disappointment he had felt when Shawn had rejected him at the end of that summer.

“You can fuck me now if you want. We could go over there.” With his cigarette he indicated a darkened doorway along the building.

The very thought of sex with Shawn made Kael feel queasy. “Err…no thanks,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Why would I want you when I’ve got a handsome boy waiting upstairs for me?”

For a long moment, Shawn remained still, looking up at him, apparently gauging his intent. Finally he dropped his cigarette and ground it under his toe. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get lost and leave my mum alone.” He paused. “Or I’ll make you.”

Without another word, Shawn walked away, past the Tate Liverpool art gallery, around Canning Dock, and across the road into the downtown area.

When Kael walked into the flat a few minutes later, his mum looked up, surprised. “Where’s Shawn?”

“He had to go,” Kael said. “Do you want some wine?”

“Yeah, go on, why not.” The disappointment in her face rocked him with momentary guilt. But he could not let that piece of crap back into her life.

Angel jumped up. “I’ll get it, Daddy.” He raced to the kitchen ahead of Kael and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge while Kael took three glasses from the cupboard. “Did that man leave, or did you tell him to take a hike?” Angel whispered.

“I told him to take a hike,” Kael said. “Why were you so friendly with him?”

Angel leveled a questioning look at him. “Because I’ve got a daddy who insists I be polite to everyone and not make him ashamed of me. I always try to make you proud, Daddy.”

“Yes, I know you do. I’m sorry,” Kael said quietly.

“Oh God! You didn’t think I fancied him, did you?” The look of horror on Angel’s face was testament to the fact that Shawn did not interest him even in passing. “He stunk of cigarettes. He had nicotine stains on his fingers. And he’s old!”

“I’m old compared to you,” Kael said.

“Daddy, thirty-three is not old. That guy must be seventy.”

This time Kael laughed out loud. “He’s fifty-four, but I suppose compared to nineteen, that’s old.”

From the living room, Sharon shouted, “Where’s that wine? And there’s a box of chocolates on top of the fridge.”

Kael grabbed the chocolates, and they joined Sharon in the living room. They drank wine, ate chocolates, and chatted until it was late. Angel lay stretched out on the couch with his head on a pillow in Kael’s lap. All the while they chatted, Kael ran his fingers through Angel’s long, soft, beautiful hair. He still had not taken the boy for the buzz cut he kept threatening him with, and it trailed well past Angel’s shoulders, enhancing the beauty of his pale skin and delicate features.

“I love the Christmas tree, Sharon,” Angel said happily. “Purple ornaments. Who woulda thunk it? Daddy says Christmas trees just make a mess and gather dust.” He was not being sarcastic, but simply repeating what Kael had told him when Angel had asked if they could have a tree. Sometimes when Angel remarked casually on Kael’s restrictions, he felt like Scrooge. No Christmas tree. No computer games. A least now he had the Xbox.

“It’s not a real one, but it’s nice, isn’t it?” Sharon said. “We always had an artificial tree, didn’t we, Kael?”

“We did,” he agreed.

“You loved it when you were a kid.”

It was true. He had loved it. He’d forgotten that.

When he noticed Angel’s eyes drifting shut, he said, “Go and get ready for bed, sweetheart.” Angel rose drowsily and wandered off.

“He’s such a good boy. He always does what you tell him.” Smiling, Sharon watched Angel go.

“Mum, don’t let Shawn back into your life,” Kael said.

“Why? You liked him when I went out with him years ago. He was like a dad to you that summer, taking you all over the place, spending all that time with you. Were you disappointed when he left?”

Avoiding the question, Kael said, “I just want you to be happy, Mum.”

“I am happy,” she said. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I’ve got you and Angel. Look, luv, I know Shawn’s nothing special and he’s lazy, but he’s a decent fella deep down. He’s a good laugh.”

“Did he tell you he’d been in jail recently?”

“As a matter of fact he did. Stolen goods or something.” Sharon got up from her chair and sat on the couch beside him, tucking her arm through his. “You’re such a good son. But I can look after myself. I haven’t seen anyone in a couple of years, and I’m lonely. You’ve got your lovely Angel now. Don’t you want me to have someone?”

“Of course I do, but what about the flower shop? Men come in and out of there all the time.” When his mum had finally given up working in the old peoples’ homes and the launderette, it had been at Kael’s insistence. But he was glad when she got the job in the flower shop near Marks and Spencer. She was like him: always had to be doing something.

“I love that job, but the only men who come in there are buying flowers for some other woman.” She smiled. “Shawn’s not that bad. He’s good company.”

“He’s not good enough for you,” Kael said.

“At least he never laid a hand on me, not like the others.”

Leaning down, Kael kissed the top of her head. “It’s up to you, Mum. But please don’t let him use you like he did last time.”

He carried the empty glasses to the kitchen while his mum turned out the lights. In the hallway to the bedrooms, she kissed him good night. “I’m going to have a nice hot shower and have a good night’s sleep. Do you have anything special you want to do tomorrow?”

“Angel loves it here. He loves the yellow submarine outside the Beatles Museum, and he wants to get the ferry across to Birkenhead. But first thing we’re going to run to Otterspool.” He pulled her into a hug. “Mum, will you come to London for New Year? Stephen Conran invited you to a New Year party with Angel and me. You enjoyed it last year.”

“You hated him at school, and now you’re friends. Funny how things work out like that.” She laughed. “But all them posh people, Kael. I don’t belong there.”

“You belong anywhere. You’re better than all of them. Most of those women have never done a hand’s turn in their lives.”

“I don’t think so, love, not this year. You go to bed now and kiss Angel good night for me.”

Kael entered the bedroom to find Angel naked and bent at the waist, picking up his socks, his long hair falling forward over his shoulders. His slender body looked vulnerable and very sexy. “Stand up straight, boy, and remain where you are.”

Obeying instantly, Angel tossed the socks into the wash basket and remained on the spot while Kael went to the wardrobe and took the paddle from the shelf. His boy did not speak, but his eyes opened wide in question. “Mum’s getting in the shower. She won’t hear a thing. Are you fully awake again?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Brace yourself.”

His cock already growing hard, Angel spread his feet to about ten inches and joined his hands at the back of his head.

“Good boy. Are you solid on your feet?”

“Yes, Sir.” Angel’s voice was low and breathy, his eyes already unfocused and hazy. He was heading for subspace without so much as a crack across his backside.

“Stay present,” Kael said. “We don’t have much time for warm-up.” Quickly Kael threw off his clothes. He preferred to be naked during a scene, enjoying the freedom and sensuality of it. Standing to Angel’s side, he waited, listening intently for the rush of water from the bathroom on the other side of the wall. The second it started, Kael raised the paddle and landed it hard across Angel’s buttocks. Though he held back, the blow was sufficiently forceful to cause Angel to lose his footing and take a step forward while a small cry escaped his throat. The boy quickly corrected himself, and Kael continued.

“Speak to me.”

“Green, Sir. More please.”

Still holding back somewhat, Kael let fly with the paddle, releasing one hard stroke after the next, fast and perfectly timed. Angel moaned long and slowly each time he released a breath, a technique Kael had taught him to prevent him from crying out under the pain of the whip or paddle. “Good boy, Angel. You’re doing wonderfully.”

With his usual attention to detail, Kael scanned his boy for signs of fatigue and stress. Every part of Angel’s body was tensed. The muscles of his long, lean thighs stood out, clearly visible. His buttocks were tightly clenched and bright scarlet from the blows. Even the tendons in the beautiful, slender neck stood out.

Kael did not pause in his ministrations when he asked, “What are you feeling, Angel?” The silence told Kael he was spacing. “Boy, I know it’s fun to take a trip, but I want you present.”

Angel moaned between clamped lips.

Without pause Kael altered the rhythm of his flogging, disrupting the timing and interspersing a light spank with a heavy one. With a predictable rhythm gone, Angel had no choice but to come back and focus. “Are you with me, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words spilled out on a labored breath.

Listening carefully for the noise of rushing water, Kael threw all his strength behind the paddle, flogging hard for a full minute. Abruptly the water stopped, forcing him to bring the paddling to a fast halt. Panting hard, his heart slowing while his cock remained rigid and blood filled, Kael stepped in front of Angel and held the paddle to the boy’s lips. Angel kissed it, the tension leaving his face and body as he did so. Without permission Angel sank to his knees, laying his cheek on Kael’s feet, encircling Kael’s ankles with his arms. His upper body rested on the hardwood floor, his buttocks in the air. After a long moment during which Kael felt the intensity of Angel’s gratitude, the boy kissed Kael’s feet repeatedly.

The deep, powerful love Kael felt for his sweet boy flooded his being. He reached down, taking Angel’s upper arms, and pulled him to his feet. Angel fell against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. He ran his big hands over Angel’s inflamed arse, rubbing vigorously, making his boy moan again.

“Sir, I love it when you rub my ass like that after a flogging. It’s weird because it hurts more and yet it gives me relief as well.”

“You’re a strong, brave boy. Now get on the bed, on your hands and knees. Feet hanging off the edge.” His eyes hazy with pleasure, Angel smiled up at Kael before obeying.

From the pocket of the carryall bag in the wardrobe, Kael pulled a single glove of very thin latex. “Do you go anywhere without those gloves, Sir?” Angel asked, watching over his shoulder, humor in his tone.

“I do not,” Kael said. “I never know when I might have to kill someone. Now drop your shoulders to the bed, arse high in the air—and be silent.”

“Yes, Sir.” Angel obeyed.

Author Bio:
Fyn Alexander grew up in the UK with a great love of books, libraries, writing and all things literary. Fyn loves writing, being a foster parent, and considers her greatest accomplishments to be her two beautiful daughters, who also love to write.


Angels & Assassins #1

Be Brave #2

Sins of the Father #3

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