Ice on Fire (Treble and the Lost Boys Book 1) Read online

  He was kidding himself, anyway. The guy couldn't possibly be gay, and even if he were, he'd never want anything to do with the likes of Adrian. A guy who effortlessly put himself in front of an audience finding anything worthwhile about a guy who hid in the shadows and took solace in books and quiet isolation? A guy who couldn't function without pills? Yeah. Never gonna happen.

  Still, a boy could dream, right?

  And dream, Adrian did. He undressed and climbed naked into his luxurious bed, hand on his cock before he'd even gotten settled down against the pillows. Images of the violinist flashed through his mind as he worked himself into oblivion, picturing that slender body under him. Or maybe straddling his hips and riding him. Or maybe on his knees before him.

  Maybe even–

  No. He wouldn't let his mind go that far. Somehow, he had a feeling it would only set him up for disappointment if he let himself entertain his wildest fantasies about the guy. Still, his imagination left him plenty to work with, and his hand moved faster over his cock, bringing him closer to release.

  Adrian's other hand clenched in the sheets as he thought of pulling all that dark hair free of its tight braid and letting the strands run through his fingers or sweep across his chest. A shiver ran through his body. Gods, he could just picture the beautiful combination of raven hair above a reddened ass while Adrian brought down a hand again and again…

  He threw his head back and shouted his release as the forbidden fantasy pushed him over the edge. He'd let his imagination go further than he wanted, but it did the trick. Adrian came harder than he could ever remember doing before.

  So hard, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment, his bedroom spinning and hazy as he blinked and tried to catch his breath.

  “Holy shit.”

  Adrian gulped air, his body trembling and heavy. He dragged himself out of bed, found a box of tissues, wiped off his chest, and felt his way back in the dark, collapsing onto his pillows with a sigh. He was asleep in moments, but not before regret stabbed through him, wishing the whole fantasy could have been real.

  And knowing it never would be.

  Chapter 2

  ZAC WOKE from a delicious dream of his mystery man to the pounding agony of a hangover.

  He carefully rolled over in bed and burrowed beneath the pillows, wishing he could just go back to sleep. At least in his dreams, everything was good. Mr. Shadow was right there in front of him, within reach, not constantly vanishing before he had a chance to get close.

  His ringing phone slashed through the silence. Groaning, Zac unearthed himself from his bed and stumbled about his room, trying to find the damned thing that was shattering his morning with noise. He finally tracked it down in the pocket of the trousers he'd discarded on the floor the night before.

  Zac squinted at the screen. Shit. He answered the phone as he scrambled for the washroom. “Hey, Mama.”

  “Morning, baby,” his mother said with an obvious smile in her voice. “How are you?”

  Fighting back a groan at the pain in his head, Zac held the phone slightly away from his ear and answered, “I'm great, Mama. How are you? How's Dad?”

  “We're just fine, sweetie.” She told him about some incident at the warehouse where his father worked, then laughed. “But I'm sure you'll hear all about it at brunch.” She paused. “You are making it to brunch, right?”

  “Of course,” Zac said, forcing as much cheer into his voice as he could while his head still ached. He put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter as he quickly brushed his hair. “You know I'd never miss brunch.”

  “Just checking, sweetie. I know how busy you've been lately, and with the next term coming up…” Then she switched to that Mom voice. “You are going to school this term, right?”

  “As long as I can afford it,” he said. “I'm going to the bank tomorrow to see if I have enough for tuition.”

  “That's my boy.” She paused. “If you need some help–”

  “No,” Zac barked, pausing in the midst of trying to pull on a clean pair of pants. “I can manage.”

  “Are you sure, baby? Your father and I talked about it, and I think we can–”

  “No,” he insisted. “You guys have already done so much for me. I can manage. And it's only one more term.”

  “I am so proud of you,” his mother said, and Zac could easily picture her smile, making him smile as well. Despite his family's persistent financial constraints, his parents had always encouraged Zac and his siblings to follow their dreams, and had found ways to make them happen. After all the drama—decades ago—between Dad and a grandfather Zac had never met, Dad hadn't been able to finish school himself, and Mom had never gone. Being graced with eight genius children, however, Mom and Dad had never let Zac or his siblings feel like their dreams were impossible, even if Mom and Dad had both given up their own for the sake of family. Zac wanted to finish school for his parents' sake just as much as for his own.

  “Thanks, Mama,” he said, wriggling his way into a shirt. “Hey, I'm heading out. I'll see you in a bit.”

  “Alright, sweetie. Drive safe.”

  “Will do. Love you,” he said, then rang off, tossing the phone aside so he could finish getting dressed.

  Zac gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror. He was neither Blaze, with the goth clothes, nor the Treble violinist, with the pressed slacks and dress shirt, but something else entirely. Something almost…normal.

  Not that his family didn't know about his two musical personas, and not that they wouldn't approve of either of those two looks, but neither felt quite right for the weekly family brunch. He never could quite let himself go over to his parents' house in anything other than a boring old pair of regular jeans and a conservative sweater. The sight made him sigh with frustration.

  He should probably just come out to them already, but every time he tried, he lost his nerve.

  For all he knew, as close as his family were, they'd probably be entirely supportive. They might not even care. Hells, they might already know, and he was being unnecessarily cautious by not saying anything. Still, he'd heard enough horrific coming-out stories to keep putting off creating his own. Losing his family? He couldn't fathom that level of pain.

  Turning away from the mirror, he grabbed his wallet and keys and headed for the door, still wincing at the pounding of his head. He eyed his violin as he walked by, then decided to leave it. The idea of playing with a hangover was not the least bit appealing. There was going to be more than enough noise to contend with as it was once he got home.

  He found a place to park on the street, noting all the other cars already crowding the driveway. It seemed he was the last to arrive. Zac got out of his car, took a steadying breath, and strode up to the house.

  He could pretend away the hangover, right? He blew out the breath heavily. Yeah, a cup of coffee and he'd be just fine.

  Zac walked into the house. “I'm home!” he called.

  “Zacky!” Tarynn, his little sister, called, racing down the hallway and throwing herself at him. Out of eight kids, Tarynn was the only one younger than Zac.

  “Ooof,” Zac said, not entirely faking it. He cringed in pain while Tarynn couldn't see it, then dredged up a smile and looked down at her. “Stop growing, would ya?”

  She punched him in the arm. “I'm already fully grown, stupid,” she teased. “I am twenty now, after all.”

  “But you're still the baby,” he teased right back.

  “Asshole.”

  “Bitch.”

  “I heard that!” their mother called.

  “Sorry, Mama!” Zac and Tarynn yelled back, almost in unison. They looked at each other and grinned, then headed down the hall toward the kitchen, alternately pinching and slapping one another as they went, both trying to duck out of reach whenever the other one struck.

  “Enough of that,” their father grumbled, an amused grin on his face that he tried to hide behind his newspaper.

  “Stop smirking over there,
Mister,” Mama called over her shoulder, “or there'll be no sausages for you.”

  Dad's expression instantly sobered, and he quickly folded his newspaper and set it aside, tossing his reading glasses down on top of it. He waited until Mama's back was turned again, then shot Zac a wink.

  Zac chuckled and shook his head.

  “How are you?” Dad asked.

  “Just fine, Dad,” Zac replied, easing down into his usual chair at the dining table. “You?”

  Before Dad could answer, Mama whirled around and narrowed her eyes at Zac. “You're hungover, aren't you?”

  Zac opened his mouth to say no, but Mama raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to lie. He blushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, a bit.”

  Mama tsked and sighed, planting her hands on her hips. “And no hug?”

  Zac jumped right up and went to hug her, having to bend down to do so. Mama chuckled, hugging him back, then held him at arm's length, studying his face for a moment before shoving him to one side. “Go on. Get some coffee in you.”

  “Thanks, Mama.” Zac quickly poured himself a cup and stood there sipping it for a few seconds before heading back to the table, bouncing his leg as he sat there. “Where is everyone?”

  Dad waved a hand dismissively. “Your mother wanted the mattresses turned, and I couldn't do it with my shoulder,” he said, giving his left shoulder an experimental shrug. He winced in pain and settled his arm back down. “So they all ran off to do it.”

  Zac eyed his father. “I thought you were getting the surgery for it.”

  Dad shrugged. “Maybe next year.” He looked down at his newspaper, so Zac snuck a look over at Mama. She stood there silently, her brow furrowed with concern.

  “What's going on?” Zac asked.

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” Mama said, setting a dish in the middle of the table. “Go get your brothers and sisters so we can eat while it's hot.”

  Zac was tempted to stay and argue the point, but he knew better. And having the others in the room would create a stronger, united front, so he headed off to the bedrooms to find his siblings.

  He leaned into the master bedroom and found everyone just finishing up remaking the bed. “Food's ready.”

  “Hey, punk!” Fane, the eldest, said, pulling Zac into a rough hug. “I was starting to think you weren't going to show your ugly face.”

  Zac laughed. “What, and you actually made it out of bed on time, you lazy fucker?”

  “I heard that!” Mama called.

  “Sorry, Mama!” Zac and Fane yelled back, then snorted and laughed.

  “Come on,” Fane said, throwing an arm around Zac's shoulders, “before we get thrown out.”

  “Or Niko eats all the food,” Zac whispered loudly.

  “Hey!” Niko protested. “That was one time, and–”

  Zac slugged Niko in the shoulder, then pulled his brother into a side-hug while still walking with Fane, the three of them a snug fit down the hallway while the others followed close behind. Niko squeezed him back and pulled them into the dining room. Once there, the whole group of them spilled out and around the table, giving Zac hugs or pats as they jostled for their usual places.

  In traditional fashion, Dad sat at the head of the table, while Mama took the other end. In between, the kids were squeezed in down either side by order of birth: Fane sat at Dad's right, followed by the eldest girl, Kaelie, then came brother Niko. Between Niko and Mama sat brother Merik, and on Mama's other side sat Milo, Merik's identical twin, younger by just two minutes. After Milo sat Hadley, then Zac, then Tarynn, so Zac had a sister on either side of him as well as directly across.

  “Alright, updates,” Mama said as she set the last dish on the table and took her chair.

  They did this every week, but nobody groaned. It was standing tradition, and even if there was nothing new from the week before, everyone always managed to find something to say simply because it was expected. Even if it was trivial. Even if it was something any other family might find meaningless. Zac found himself smiling. It was so simple, but something he loved about his family: They found good in the tiniest things.

  Everyone started to pass dishes and fill their plates as Fane started, speaking up over the clatter of spoons and forks on plates and serving dishes: “Well, I have some big news, actually.” He beamed at them, and everyone held almost still for a moment, looking at him. “Our head chef is retiring. So, starting next week…I take his place.”

  Gasps and cheers erupted around the table, and those closest to Fane patted him on the back, offering congratulations. Zac reached across the table and gave his brother a fist-bump.

  “That's fantastic, sweetie!” Mama said as the passing of dishes resumed. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks,” Fane said, grinning. “It'll be a lot more hours and responsibility, but I'm stoked.”

  “As you should be,” Dad said. “You've been working toward that for a while.”

  Fane nodded. “It'll mean more money, too,” he said, and Zac saw him sneak a glance at both parents before he added, “so after a couple of paychecks, I'll be able to help out here a bit more.”

  Mama shot him a look. “There will be no talk of that today, young man.”

  Fane blushed. “Yes, Mama.”

  “Especially when you've got another child on the way,” Dad added.

  Fane grinned proudly, and Zac couldn't help smiling at the sight. His eldest brother adored his wife and kids, and if it weren't for the rule that the weekly brunch was only for the ten of them seated there, Fane definitely would have brought them along each week, as would the other siblings with their significant others.

  “That's better,” Mama said with a decisive nod.

  “Yes, Mama,” Fane repeated. He cleared his throat and handed a plate of pancakes off to his right. “What about you, Kaelie?”

  “I've got a new client this year,” Kaelie said.

  “Oh?”

  Kaelie nodded. “A couple of Falsiners, if you can believe it–”

  “Falsiners?” Merik and Milo asked, their voices blending in perfect twin harmony. “Here?”

  “Since when?” Hadley asked.

  “Aren't they super tall?” Tarynn asked.

  “I heard they're really pale, too,” Hadley added. “Like, can't tan at all.”

  “Aren't they kinda savage?” Fane asked around a mouthful of food.

  “Manners,” Mama said, not even having to raise her voice. Fane blushed and quickly swallowed before mumbling an apology.

  “Well I heard–” Tarynn began.

  “They're probably Mr. Vas-kelen's kids,” Niko put in, cutting off the rapid questions. Everyone looked at him, so he shrugged. “He runs security at Arden's casino,” Niko said. Niko worked at the casino as a dealer, his quick hands and a penchant for flair making his table rather popular. Zac had gone to watch him work once, and if it hadn't been for the fact that Niko was on the verge of proposing to his girlfriend of five years, Zac almost would have assumed his brother was gay simply by the camp mannerisms. Sure would have made it easier to come out if Zac had a gay older brother, but as far as he could tell, Zac himself was the only gay one in the family. Zac looked down the table at Niko just in time to catch him flicking his wrist and fluttering his fingers almost dismissively as he went on: “Mr. Vas-kelen is the only Falsiner I've met around here, but he's raising his niece and nephew, and he said they were going to Denmer.”

  “Vas-kelen, yeah, that's them,” Kaelie said. She taught dance at Denmer University, but she also gave private lessons between classes. “They're twins, boy and girl. Selene is studying performing arts anyway, but she and her brother want to learn some traditional tribal dance that they never got to learn back on Falsin.”

  “And you know it?” Hadley teased.

  “Duh,” Kaelie scoffed. “I wouldn't be teaching them if I didn't.”

  Hadley stuck her tongue out at Kaelie, who replied in kind.

  “I learned it while I was pregnant
with Missy,” Kaelie clarified, naming the only child she and her husband had managed to have so far, and that was after three miscarriages. “It's not a terribly aerobic dance, but it's very precise.” Then Kaelie jabbed a finger at Niko. “But you can't say a word to their uncle. They're hoping to surprise him with it for his birthday.”

  “Oh, well isn't that nice,” Mama said, smiling.

  Niko took his turn to tell a story about something that happened at the casino where he worked, then attention turned to Merik, who was practically vibrating with excitement: “I might get to meet Elliden Crawford.”

  Milo grinned like he'd already heard the news, but everyone else gasped. “The Elliden Crawford?” Mama asked.

  Merik nodded eagerly. “He's doing his first gallery tour in, like, fifteen years, and he'll be over in Dunsberg for a showing. It's the closest one to here, and my boss offered to take a bunch of us over there to see it.”

  Zac didn't understand the appeal of art, but he knew Merik had idolized the painter from the first time they'd seen an image of one of his paintings, way back when they were kids. Merik himself was a bit of a prodigy when it came to paint, but he'd only really pursued his art after having seen what Crawford could do. Zac figured Merik getting to meet Crawford would be akin to Zac meeting Will Knightley, a world-famous musician and the composer of the first piece Zac had ever played by ear when he was three years old.

  Except, unlike Merik getting to meet Crawford, Zac would never be able to meet Knightley, since the musician had died centuries ago.

  “That's exciting,” Dad said, smiling at Merik, who was still grinning. Dad chuckled and wagged a finger between Merik and Milo. “You two can manage being apart that long?”

  “No,” the twins replied simultaneously, and everyone laughed. Merik and Milo almost spent more time with one another than they did with their respective wives.

  Milo cut in: “But I'll be plenty busy, so…” He trailed off and shrugged.

  Merik shifted, so it was clear he kicked his twin under the table. “Tell them about work.”

  “Oh.” Milo grimaced. “My company just got bought out by Frost Investments.”