Chapter 4

Devyn stared down into the sink, trying to calm himself. His blond hair hung in his eyes as usual. His breathing came in harsh pants as he thought of the new guy. The man had caught him off guard--in the middle of drawing a picture of Michael. He'd allowed himself to be sucked into the dream of escaping with the new stable hand that he hadn't heard the man coming in.

A tear slipped down his cheek as he thought of Michael. They hadn't known each other long, only the last couple months since Brad had agreed to hire their neighbor's son to help out with the horses. He'd only even kissed the other boy a few times so far, but it had been what had led him to get careless, to beg Kieran to let him out of the house to visit Michael that night.

At first, Devyn had avoided the other teen like the plague, fully expecting him to be one of Brad's minions. But Michael had been cautiously persistent, brushing against him when Devyn tacked his horse, subtle glances, a teasing smile. Devyn had finally allowed Michael to talk to him, and Kieran had turned a blind eye when they disappeared around the back of the barn on occasion.

He'd never let Michael know the full extent of Brad's control over him, playing off that his step-brother was just overprotective. He wasn't sure he could handle Michael knowing the truth. He remembered the first time that Michael had seen one of his bruises a few weeks ago.

Michael's calloused fingers had brushed over the bruise on his cheek, his eyes blazing with anger as they stepped into the stall with Devyn's mare, out of sight of both Kieran and Lyle.

"What the hell happened?" Michael had demanded harshly.

Devyn ducked his head and tried to turn away, but Michael wasn't having any of that.

"Fuck, Dev," the ebony-haired teen sighed. "Why won't you tell me what's going on? Who hit you?"

Devyn just shook his head. It didn't matter. Even if Michael knew everything about his step-brother, no one would believe anything he said. Devyn had already tried years ago to tell someone, but Brad knew enough people to brush everything he'd said under the rug. Now, any accusations he made were taken as a bitter kid just causing trouble for his guardian. Brad didn't let anyone get close enough to him now for Devyn to cause him any more trouble. It was actually surprising that Brad had agreed to let Michael work at the stable. Devyn figured that Brad didn't see the other teen as much of a threat.

When Devyn tried to pull away and escape from Michael's searing gold eyes, he felt himself pressed back against the wall of the stall. His eyes widened in fear briefly before he saw the concern and worry in Michael's amber eyes.

"Devyn," he said hoarsely, his hand drifting over his jaw to his neck soothingly. Michael's thumb traced the scar on his throat, as his eyes focused on Devyn's lips.

Devyn heard himself whimper as he leaned into the soft touch. It had been so long since he'd been touched without pain.

When Michael's breath ghosted over his lips, Devyn felt his breath hitch as his eyes closed. The soft lips barely touched his, a light caress, tentative, seeking permission. Devyn melted against the wall, his knees barely holding himself upright as he pressed back, returning the kiss.

Devyn's hand crept up between them, gripping Michael's t-shirt possessively. He felt Michael's lips smile against his before the boy delved deeper, the warm tongue sliding against his lips, demanding entrance.

Devyn sighed and opened himself up to Michael, knowing then it would be a mistake to allow himself to get involved, but not caring.

He jumped off the bed, brushing at his eyes to wipe away the memory. The next weekend, Michael had begged Devyn to meet him by the lake in the woods at midnight so they could spend time together alone--away from the ever watchful eyes of the Milburn staff. Of course, Michael hadn't understood how difficult that request would be.

He hadn't seen Michael since. Two weeks now. He'd been locked in the house with Sam watching him, only leaving for his hated 'tutoring' sessions.

He was dying to get out of the house, to see Michael, to see his horse, to enjoy the fresh air. He wondered if the new guard had orders to keep him inside.

Devyn wondered just how bad the new guy would be. Would he be more like Sam or Kieran? He didn't look too bad, just big. This new guy, Jason, obviously owed his step-brother something, just like they all did. It was just a matter of how much he owed Brad. Kieran had been the only one he'd been able to break so far, and now he was in the hospital. Chris and Trent weren't as bad as Sam; they'd never actually hurt him, but they weren't willing to break their loyalty to Brad for Devyn either.

Devyn straightened and splashed water on his face. His cheek still hurt from Sam's blow yesterday, and as he looked at the bruise hidden by his hair, he grimaced, but it wasn't as dark as others he'd had.

Maybe this new guy would be the one he could manipulate into leaving the doors unlocked eventually so he could get the fuck out of here. But even as that thought crossed his mind, he knew that he'd never be able to actually go through with it. He didn't want anyone else hurt because of him--and Brad had already proven he'd be willing to that to keep Devyn under control when he'd gleefully told him of his grandmother's 'accident' where her arm had been broken after one of Devyn's particularly rebellious moments.

He straightened his shirt and moved stiffly to the door, his back and shoulders sore from Brad's 'corrective lessons' last night. He'd weathered worse lessons than that. Brad hadn't been particularly angry last night, just upset that Devyn had embarrassed him in front of his new 'employee'.

Devyn was sure that Brad had told the man how horrible he was--and he'd be the first to admit it. He hated Brad with everything he had. He hadn't cared what would have happened to him had he succeeded in killing him that one time three years ago; it would have been worth it.

Brad had underestimated him then, had thought just because he was only thirteen that he wasn't a threat. Unfortunately, not succeeding had made his life a living hell since then.

Devyn opened the bathroom door quietly and peeked out. The dark haired guy was no longer in the room. He padded across the soft carpet in his bare feet. When he reached the door, he hesitated a second as his eyes caught sight of the back of the man's head as he slumped on the sectional. Devyn grit his teeth, gripping the railing as he followed it to the stairs. He heard the rustle of clothes behind him as the TV snapped off.

He tried to ignore the hovering presence that followed him down the stairs. His bare feet made barely any noise on the hardwood floors as he made his way to the kitchen. Trent was sitting at the kitchen bar, enjoying the eggs and bacon that Chris had served. Neither one of the men looked at him as he made his way over to the small table in the breakfast nook.

He slipped into the seat, and Chris slid a plate in front of him in silence.

He was shocked when a body slid into the seat right next to him. His eyes darted up, wide with surprise at the new bodyguard who was grinning as Chris handed him a plate too.

"This looks great, Chris. Thanks," the dark-haired man said blithely.

Chris smiled. "No problem, man. Enjoy."

The man cut his eyes back to Devyn with a smirk, and Devyn glared, resisting the urge to grab his plate and go back to his room. But that would let the stupid asshole know that he'd gotten to him. Instead, he scooped up his eggs and swallowed them down, barely tasting them.

When he chanced to look up again, he caught the infuriating man smiling at him pleasantly, like nothing was wrong. A glance across the kitchen, and he noticed Trent and Chris exchange amused grins.

Fuck that, he thought. He snatched up his plate and glass and practically threw them in the sink. He stalked over to the patio door, jutted out his hip as he turned to his 'babysitter' and gestured at the door for him to open it.

The large guard had carefully placed his dishes in the sink and was staring back at him with an amused raised brow.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want something from me?" the smooth voice said smugly.

Devyn narrowed his eyes, wondering just how far he could push this man. He twisted the knob of the patio door dramatically, setting off the alarm intentionally.

Chris and Trent jumped at the blaring sound, but this man didn't even move, just stared back at him with cool disdain. Fuck, he was going to be harder to rattle than he thought.

"Did you want to go outside?" the man said as Trent moved behind him to key in the alarm code to turn it off. Devyn watched Trent carefully, hoping to catch a glimpse of the code, but his new bodyguard moved next to him, effectively blocking off his view. Devyn briefly wondered if he'd done that on purpose, knowing that Devyn was watching Trent.

Devyn watched the man quirk his eyebrows, obviously waiting for an answer.

Devyn's eyes narrowed. He mouthed the words he couldn't voice, slowly and precisely to convey as much attitude as possible: ^Open the fucking door.^

"Say please."

Devyn's jaw dropped. Whatever response he'd expected, it certainly wasn't that. He had almost expected to be slapped for his attitude like Sam would have done, but he'd wanted to see just how far he could push this one.

He heard chuckles from the kitchen area and saw Trent and Chris watching their exchange with obvious amusement.

Devyn cut his icy blue eyes back up at the guard. He drew his hand across his throat, mouthing: ^I can't fucking talk, you asshole.^

"Probably a good thing with a mouth like that." And Devyn was stunned again that he'd been unable to rattle the man's calm façade. "You want out, you can act like a young man instead of a spoiled brat."

@@@@

Jason crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the slight boy who was definitely trying his best to test Jason's patience. "You obviously can 'say' plenty. I'm sure you can even write it down if you wanted. So you can also ask nicely."

Jason could feel Chris and Trent waiting with baited breath to see who would win this round in the battle of wills. Jason had no intention of folding.

^Fuck you,^ the boy finally mouthed.

Jason just shrugged. He swung his arms out in an 'oh, well' gesture as he turned and noticed that the boy flinched. Obviously, the kid expected to be hit, probably like Sam had dealt with him yesterday. He was probably used to corporeal punishment, since that's what seemed to work with him, as Brad had indicated. But Jason wasn't about to hit a kid just for mouthing off.

He dropped into the leather recliner, ignoring the glares from the boy. He sat back casually, crossing one ankle over his knee, and pulled out his phone, calmly checking emails.

When the boy tried to stomp dramatically past him to the stairs, the effect was lost with his bare feet making a soft slap on the wooden floors instead. Jason watched the small, lithe body of the boy out of the corner of his eye with a slight smile. Trent and Chris looked back at him with something akin to awe.

"Shit, Jason," Chris breathed. "I don't think anyone has ever done that without ending up smacking the crap out of him."

Jason slowly rose, not in a hurry to follow the kid, knowing he couldn't go anywhere. "He's just a kid," Jason said. "I'm not going to go hitting a kid just for being a brat."

Chris and Trent exchanged another look before nodding at him. "Good. Maybe you're just what the boy needs."