The Brotherhood 3: The Dragon's Tongue Read online

You will come to us tonight.

  This was written in the stars.

  You hid for so long, but now we have found you.

  No more running. No more hiding.

  Become what you were born to be.

  Become one with the fire.

  Dragon.

  Collin shook his head, hard, trying to clear it. He heard the fire-whisperers laughing, mocking his efforts with kindly humor. The branded burns on his skin sank in, burrowing beneath the flesh, and disappeared.

  Then, the bonfire exploded to fill the world.

  Fire! Everywhere, he was on fire. The fire was the men, and the men were the fire. They engulfed him. Inflamed his senses. Lit a fuse and made ready for an explosion.

  Collin knew he’d crumble into ash when he climaxed. It wouldn’t take long. He could feel his limbs trembling, heaving, shaking. It had been too long since his last orgasm to hold off the inevitable.

  His cock pulsed fiercely. He could feel the tidal waves of scorching heat rolling in to shore.

  Almost there ... almost ...

  Suddenly, the men of flame stopped. Just ... stopped. Drew back, away from him. Collin heard the first voice whisper-hiss, the second joining it in eerie chorus:

  The spark is struck.

  Electric blue.

  We meet again soon.

  Know us when you see us.

  Come to us. No fear.

  No fear.

  No fear.

  No fear.

  “They’re here. Collin? Collin, are you awake? Everyone’s here. Collin ...”

  Collin jerked awake with a gasp. Coughing, he bent double, sucking in deep lungfuls of clean air. He gagged on a charred taste in his mouth and almost vomited up the sour coffee that was all he’d had for dinner.

  Liam’s face hovered into his field of vision. Concerned. “Are you well?”

  Collin spared him a glare. “Fuck ... you,” he rasped, forgetting himself so far as to curse Liam as he’d yearned to for months.

  Liam smiled and shook his head. “You will be fine,” he said. “Take deep breaths. Relax your muscles.”

  Collin narrowed his eyes.

  “Bree is approaching on his motorcycle. He is the last of us. Collect yourself, Collin. Stand strong. Stand tall. Stand ready.”

  Collin shook his head. “What kind of place is this?” he asked, voice raw.

  Liam’s eyes all but glowed. “The place where your dreams come true,” he said. “Now come. Follow me. Tonight, we enter the heart of magic and love.”

  He danced off, leaving Collin alone. Collin snarled, resisting the urge to check himself for burns. That dream ... too real. Collin didn’t have those kinds of dreams. No sane person did.

  What was going on? There had to be a rational explanation. The world had rules. Had Liam slipped him some PCP or rubbed it on his shirt collar, where he’d have breathed it in?

  The only other explanation sat poorly with Collin: he’d finally snapped. Regardless of how little he liked it, though, he had the uneasy feeling that was the right answer.

  He couldn’t be sane. Not while staring at the walls of the club and all but hearing a low chuckling coming from the foundations. Not and feel the strangest of certainties that the club had somehow given him his dream.

  A gift? A preview?

  So real. He fought the urge to look down and see if there really were kanji burned into his flesh.

  What stopped him was a very real doubt as to what he’d see.

  The idea of something, someone -- Liam -- tangling with his mind made Collin’s spine crawl -- and then raised his hackles. Did Liam think he, Collin, would back down, tail between his legs, after a bit of hocus-pocus? No way, no how.

  He straightened his shoulders, dealing the irritating pest in question a black look. “Think you can beat me?” he muttered. “We’ll see who comes out on top. We’ll just see.

  “Bring it on.”

  Chapter Three

  Collin kept his face carefully schooled into expressionless lines and his gait casual, still bored, as he joined the Brotherhood. They’d gathered together in a tight-knit cluster on the sidewalk, giggling and whispering. Even the guys he’d hoped would be solid had apparently lost a Y and gained an X. Even straight-laced, Sunday-School Simon kept straightening his tie and smoothing back his hair. Guess he wanted to look appealing.

  Collin rolled his eyes. Hail, Caesar. We who are about to die from embarrassment salute you ...

  “Ah, you join us at last!” Liam gave Collin a horrible, limp-wristed wave. Such a princess! “Come, join us, come! We have much to discuss before entering the bright lights and secret shadows of Amour Magique.”

  “Uh-huh.” Collin stepped up to the group without quite joining it. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave the men a dry, flat once-over. “I’m assuming you all broke out your prettiest prom dresses for the occasion?”

  “Hey!” Micah -- who, frankly, didn’t have to make an effort to play the queen, as it came one-hundred percent naturally -- was the one to bristle at Collin’s remark. “So we dressed up. This is supposed to be fun, or did you forget?”

  Collin gave him another dose of blank-face. Micah sneered. “Right. Fun. I forgot you don’t know what the word means.”

  “Micah --” Liam warned.

  Micah ignored him. “Loosely translated, Mr. Butch, it indicates the intent to have what’s known as a ‘good time.’ You must have tried it once or twice in your wild and crazy youth. Or were you born with a corporate stick jammed up your ass?”

  Collin bit his tongue and kept quiet. Don’t rise to him.

  “I can see it now,” Micah went on. He put his hands on his hips and struck a pose that Collin guessed was meant to be sexy. Micah tried too hard. Always did.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Trophy Wife, it’s a boy. No, wait, it’s a man! A full-grown man! No wonder you wanted more spinal block. Alert the presses! He developed in utero complete with a three-piece suit! Designer, even -- look at those creases! Oh, and yeah, there’s a rebar lodged up his anus. Sorry, but we can’t do anything about it. He’ll grow up stiff as a flagpole.”

  “Micah --”

  “Also, he’ll probably be gay. Not like anyone could tell, since he never ... has ... sex.” Micah leaned in close to Collin. Too close. Collin could smell the pantywaist queer’s cologne. French. Obscenely expensive. It stank.

  In the face of Collin’s calm, Micah decided to push his luck a few more inches. “Have you, Collin? Ever gotten laid, I mean?” he asked, smirking. “Ross Palm and his five sons don’t count, if you even go that far.”

  “Boy,” Collin said evenly, “I think you should walk away from me. Now. Far away.”

  Micah laughed as Liam laid a firm hand on his arm, trying to defuse the tension. Not so dumb as he looked, then, eh? “Silence speaks a thousand words, Collie,” Micah babbled on, digging himself deeper with each and every word. “Tell us, are you a virgin? Is this little visit going to pop your frozen cherry?”

  Collin’s teeth gritted. Hard. Tight. He thought he heard a molar crack. “I’ve had more sex than you’ll ever get, no matter how long you live,” he said, deadly quiet. “Done things you can’t imagine. Been places a fairy queen like you wouldn’t go. Do us both a favor and shut up before you humiliate yourself beyond the point of no return. Are we clear?”

  “You want to go?” Micah shook off Liam’s restraining hand. “Come on, Collie-boy. You and me.”

  “I’m not completely desperate yet.”

  “Bastard!” Micah snarled, lunging at Collin. Luckily -- for Micah -- as he leapt, Liam caught him in midair before his flailing fists made contact. Despite being several inches shorter and forty pounds lighter, Liam managed to hang on to the man’s sculpted arms, dragging them back down.

  Collin shook his head, bored again. “Micah, you only wish you had a chance with someone like me.”

  Micah’s pretty face twisted into ugliness. Liam, ready this time, aborted his lunge before it gained momentum.<
br />
  “Enough, do you hear me? Enough!” Liam barked, shaking Micah like a kitten. “Calm down.”

  Collin grunted and turned his head. Oh, yeah. The night was off to a killer start.

  “Get your hands off me. I’m fine.”

  “You look a goodly ways from ‘fine’ to me.”

  “I won’t hit him. Okay? I promise.” Micah shrugged Liam off. He adjusted his collar and shook his arms, loosening them up. “No fighting. I’m calm.”

  Collin glanced at him sideways. For some reason, he couldn’t resist a tiny gibe. “Naturally, no fighting. You might break a nail.”

  Micah’s temper flared back up like a delayed burst from a Roman candle. All the same, he kept his hands by his sides, even if they were clenched into fists. “Asshole!” he hissed.

  “With a rebar jammed inside. Don’t forget. It’s crucial. Appearances, you know.” The rest of the Brotherhood laughed. Micah’s eyes darkened with rage. Collin had no idea why the prom queen was taking this so personally. Then again, he didn’t really care, did he?

  “Tell us,” Micah challenged. “Liam, down. I’m not going to start a fistfight. But you, Collin. Go on. When’s the last time you got laid? Five years ago? Ten? Maybe a sweaty grope behind the gym in high school? Come on. Give us your best shot. Tell a story.”

  “Micah ...” Liam warned, clearly not seeing the pointlessness of the gesture.

  Collin ignored Liam. He stared at Micah through hooded eyes. “Let’s see. How about today? A pretty young thing with cross-cut hair and sixteen separate tattoos. I counted. Muscles you’ve never seen in the flesh. Cobblestone chest. Nine-inch cock, uncut. Oh, and yes -- a sweet, sweet mouth.”

  Micah’s lips parted. He stared.

  “See, there’s one thing about being as high as I am in the corporate world. No one cares if you enjoy a nooner in your office with the door closed. Not if you turn in the daily reports on time.

  “I have a black book and a good reputation with the highest-class escort services in town. They know what I like. One call does it all. You probably had a hamburger for lunch. I had a sweet piece of well-trained ass.” He let himself grin, white and bright. “Beat that, Miss Priss.”

  “Hookers?” one of the Brotherhood asked. He sounded slightly horrified. Collin couldn’t remember his name. The pudgy one. Baby-faced, boy-next-door type. David? “You pay for sex?”

  “Not by the hour.” Collin shrugged. “I have an account and a running tab. We settle up once a month. But,” he said, “I do tip. Very well. Rinako earns a goodly sufficiency of cash to flash. Earns it very well. Did I mention his mouth? If he put his mind to it, I’ve no doubt he could suck the chrome off an exhaust pipe. Just imagine how good it feels when he’s plying his trade. Plying me. Imagine it, David. Sex. Pure sex. Have you ever, ever had anyone look up at you like you’re their own personal god? I have. I do. Whenever. I. Feel. Like. It.”

  Micah seemed to have forgotten to breathe. His eyes had grown round. “You,” he said. “You --”

  “Me.” Collin twitched the lapels of his idiotic shirt, smoothing them down, wishing he could dampen the vivid color somehow. “Speaking of which -- Liam? After tonight, kindly don’t pester me again about R and R. I have plenty available on the job.”

  Liam eyed Collin. After a moment, he nodded.

  A tiny bit of tightness eased in Collin’s chest. He knew Liam hadn’t bought the bald-faced set of lies, but it looked as if he wouldn’t make an issue in front of the Brothers. Black book? Escorts? Hookers? Please. Who had time for sex when you worked against the clock? Besides which, who would possibly be stupid enough to walk a whore through headquarters?

  Not him, not that it mattered. The Brotherhood believed his story, and it shut them up. A satisfying enough conclusion for Collin.

  He felt no flush of pleasure at his victory, yet ... somehow ... better. Almost good.

  At some point during the Mexican stand-off, Bree had swaggered up to join the Brotherhood. Collin stared at him. Outrageous at the best of times, Bree appeared to have gone for broke. Punked himself out like a two-dollar tramp. Mesh shirt, eyeliner, blusher --lip gloss? His jewelry boggled the mind. Enough hoops, studs, and chains to make his face look spider-webbed.

  Disgusting.

  Bree glanced down at Collin’s jeans. He grinned, predatory. “Collin. I didn’t know you cared. You like your meat rough?”

  What the --? Oh, for Pete’s sake. He still had a hard-on. Persistent little devil -- or not so little, to pinpoint the problem. “You dare to --” Collin stopped himself. One argument was quite enough for the present hour, thanks. “In your dreams. Your wet dreams.”

  Bree threw back his head and laughed. “Please. You know you want a piece of this. You man enough to take me on?” As Simon sputtered in the background, Collin wondered vaguely what Gothic Gayboy had gotten high on.

  Whatever it was, he idly wished he could have a hit, himself.

  Liam clapped his hands. “Good! We are gathered. I must explain a few things before we enter.”

  Collin zoned out during a long-winded explanation regarding why they wouldn’t have to wait in line. They were VIPs or something similar. His honored guests. Right.

  Collin resigned himself to a few hours behind the ropes, avoiding grabby hands and tolerating the Brotherhood’s monkeyshines.

  But to his surprise, sure enough, one word from Liam to the bouncers and the whole Brotherhood did get an open invitation to bypass the miles of waiting muscle queens and frilly fairies.

  Liam bounced toward the entrance. Bounced, at least, until Collin reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. The small man turned, expression mildly curious. “What may I do for you?”

  “Listen,” Collin said, voice low. Threatening. “Don’t play with me. Don’t fuck with me. Don’t get me mixed up in your games. Never again. Understand? I’m going to have one drink, and then I’m going home. No dancing. No flirting. No hooking up. You and the Brotherhood leave me alone once we’re inside. Leave me the hell alone. Do you understand?”

  Liam laughed. Laughed! “Ah, Collin, Collin! You truly have no idea what you are about to experience tonight, do you?”

  “And I don’t suppose you’d care to enlighten me, would you?”

  “I could. Yes, perhaps I could.” Liam tilted his head and smiled winningly. “I think you had a dream just now, yes? Men of fire and of flame, dancing blazing patterns around your body. Scorching you hot, so hot, bringing your heart and cock pulsing back to life. You thought of them as lizard-like, but if you think back, you may see them as they truly are: dragon men. Yes?”

  The breath caught in Collin’s throat. He stared. His lips worked, unable to form words.

  Liam looked suddenly older than his years. Much older. Ancient. Terrifying. Serious as death. “This is a night you will never forget. A night to change your life forever. An alteration far too long in coming. You will be born anew. I have seen it, and I mean to see this through. Angry, are you? Don’t be. Liam knows best. I see more than you think, and Collin ...”

  He laid a slender hand on Collin’s chest. It flared with unexpected warmth. “I see you.”

  Collin stared. He shivered. Liam had lost his fey, almost girlish beauty. He looked like an avenging angel. Something Collin’s grandmother would have read about from her worn old Bible. All he needed was a fiery sword.

  “What are you?” Collin whispered.

  “Me? Nothing special.”

  Snap! The image vanished. Liam was young, annoying, and lovely once again.

  “Sugar and spice, pretty and witty, and, best of all, gay,” he chirped. “Come, Collin. After me. Go where I guide you, and have fun. Fun, I say! Enter, for Amour Magique awaits!”

  He danced on ahead. Bouncy as a bunny rabbit in mating season.

  Collin stared after him. He swallowed down a lump in his throat. Great. This is just ... great.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Four

  Okay. Now this?
Not what I had been led to expect. Did I just fall down the rabbit hole?

  A hell hole?

  I wouldn’t be surprised. I do have to wonder, though -- at just what point did the world go Poseidon Adventure on me?

  Collin stood still, statue-still, trying to assess his current situation and the options at hand. Years of practice kept his features expressionless. Without the experience? He’d be hiding in a corner. Trembling, with his face to a wall.

  Amour Magique was no ordinary club. Looked like one on the outside, but when you went in ... Collin couldn’t hold back a shudder.

  First, the bizarre, spine-crawling tingles of walking into a haunted house. Not some entertain-the-kiddies affair gotten up for Halloween, but a genuine stomping ground for spooks. A nightmare chamber designed by someone who knew all his worst fears, his dreaming terrors, and had brought them to life. Laughing at him, hidden somewhere he would never be able to find.

  Calm. Stay calm. Collin inhaled a slow, deep breath and tried once more to regain control. Analyze what had happened.

  The doors to Amour Magique had looked like regular doors. Square. Crash bar handle. A beefy bouncer swinging it open for the Brotherhood to enter. Normal. Check.

  The Brotherhood had swarmed in ahead of him. Laughing, giggling, shoving each other. Idiots. Check.

  Liam twittered in, merry as a sprite. Nutty little fag. Check.

  Collin had entered last. Check.

  Yes, he decided. Right about then was when everything had gone bananas.

  He remembered looking around himself, curling his lip in distaste. Amour Magique, a place of magic? Of course. And he was King Kong. Frankly, the vaunted club looked, to Collin, just like any other trendy, gay fuck-fest club available in most major modern cities.

  A gutted warehouse vibrating with deafening techno, garish strobe lights flashing fit to give one epileptic seizures. Half-naked ab-doll bottom-boys shaking pencil dicks. Rancid whiffs of cologne, aftershave, cheap beer, flop sweat, and sour come.

  The effluvia almost made him gag. Had Liam actually thought Collin would enjoy himself in a place like this dive?