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  “Sean, Sean Quinn.”

  “…back to the house.”

  “Who are you?” asked Sean.

  “I’m Armand La Marche.” The boy murmured something unintelligible that sounded like a protest.

  Pierre spoke into the phone.

  Armand said, “I believe he said the victim’s name was Leroy. As soon as we get Mr. Quinn medical attention he’ll be able to give a statement.”

  “Alpha, are you sure this is wise?”

  “Mate!” Armand conveyed silently over his alpha link to the chauffer.

  “I’ll wait here. Get him to the house.”

  * * * *

  Sean opened his eyes wide, not quite understanding the undercurrent running through the conversation. “Leroy is dead?” Tears ran down his cheeks. “I barely knew him and he died trying to protect me.” He shook uncontrollably.

  Armand moved away from Sean. “Lay back down on the seat. Keep pressure on your side with the shirt. I’ll have you to a doctor in five minutes.” Armand opened the back door and jumped into the driver’s seat of the limo. Since St. Vincent’s closed, it was easier to call Dr. Artis to the house than to drive to the nearest hospital some fifteen minutes away, longer if there was traffic. Besides, Dr. Artis was pack.

  He drove down West Street taking the side streets to Washington Square pulling into an alley behind a four-story stone building double-wide townhouse five minutes later. Armand stopped the limousine, opened the back door, picked Sean up despite his protests, and carried him into the building.

  Meg and Dr. Artis met him at the door. Armand carried Sean up three flights of stairs to the master suite that occupied most of the third floor and laid him gently on the bed. Blood and mud covered Armand and the dress shirt in his hand, his suit jacket, and the T-shirt he wore underneath. His dark hair was plastered to his head, drops sliding from the long ringlets.

  The boy next to him was babbling in shock. “Leroy was only trying to help me…I can’t believe…the guy was so strong.”

  Armand growled as the doctor neared his mate. “Alpha, I need to examine the wounds.” Armand backed off the bed and brought a chair closer to the side.

  “It would be better if you left the room,” Meg told him. Armand’s growled low in his throat and his blue eyes were tinged red around the rims. “Mate,” he shot back. Meg said no more.

  Meg, who in addition to being Armand’s housekeeper; was the pack’s nurse, took the boy’s pulse. “It’s thready.” The boy’s breathing was rapid and shallow. His lips were blue, his hands, clammy.

  “Mr. La Marche, I’m going to vomit,” Sean whispered. Meg produced a small basin and Armand held it under his chin as Sean spit up some bile.

  Dr. Artis examined his patient. “He’s in shock. Alpha. Meg, set up an IV with saline solution and take four vials of blood. I’m going to do some tests. Take off his dirty clothing and wash him down with warm water and antiseptic. Alpha, you should change your clothes.” The doctor worked on Sean as he spoke. Armand quickly changed into a robe and ran some water over his face. Meg went to fetch a basin of water, a cloth and antibacterial soap.

  Armand pushed Meg aside and undressed Sean. He took the basin of water from Meg and washed his mate.

  “Will he be all right?” Armand asked. Fate couldn’t be so cruel to let me find my mate and lose him the same night.

  “He’ll be fine, Alpha. Get him a pair of sleep pants if you have them. He’s in bad shape but not from the head wound, it was only a graze. The wound in his torso is more worrisome. It can be stitched, there is no damage to major organs.”

  Armand snapped, not used to being sidelined when decisions were made. “He hid in a Dumpster, what about infection?”

  “I’ll shoot him up with antibiotics to ward off infection. As soon as I patch him up, he’ll be fine.”

  “I’m holding you to that, Artis.” Armand growled menacingly.

  “I’m more worried about shock, hypothermia, and dehydration. He also looks like he’s skipped more than a few meals.”

  Artis cleaned the wounds. The doctor pulled two butterfly bandages from his black bag. He dressed the wound on his torso after examining it and finding it only nicked muscle. “You’re a lucky young man. The knife just grazed your head and the wound on your side, though deep, missed all of your vital organs. You’ll be sore; but up and about tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Sean whispered.

  While the doctor worked, Armand never left his mate’s side speaking soothing words. Once the IV began to drip giving him the necessary hydration, Armand calmed and stroked Sean’s arm.

  Artis motioned for Armand and Meg to follow him out of the room. “In addition to the wounds, the boy is malnourished. He needs red meat and carbohydrates as soon as he can keep something down. In the meantime give him some chicken broth to sip. Try to keep him warm.”

  “Don’t worry. I have some stock on the stove to give him. He’ll warm up.”

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” the doctor told Armand as left. “Meg, keep him on the saline drip until he finishes the bag, I’ve given him a sedative to help him sleep. I also left a sleeping pill—Because of the circumstances, he may have night terrors. There are no signs of concussion, so there shouldn’t be a problem as long as he rests and eats something.”

  “Are you sure you should leave?” snapped the Alpha.

  “He will be fine, Alpha,” Artis said for the third time. “Let Meg do her job.”

  Armand hurried back into the bedroom. Meg followed grabbing an armful of fresh linens from the linen cupboard in the hall. Sean was a bit groggy but could still speak. “Leroy saved my life. I have to talk to the police.” Armand detected the hitch in Sean’s breath. “He called him the Russian. Leroy knew him and said he was dangerous.” Armand saw Sean take in a shaky breath. “I saw his face. I can identify him.” Tears were running down Sean’s cheeks.

  “That can wait until the morning, baby. In the meantime, why don’t you sleep? I’ll hold you up while Meg changes the bed.”

  “I can’t take advantage of you like this,” Sean said trying to get out of bed fighting the sedative.

  “You’re good here, baby. Calm down.” Armand gently moved the bedspread. “Let me get you into sleep pants. Meg, get out the down comforter to put over the bed and raise the heat.”

  Armand lifted Sean’s legs and hips slipping on the flannel pants. He could not help but notice the fine contours of his little mate’s body. The creamy white skin was unblemished and soft. He was built to be lean and muscular but recently lost quite a quite bit of weight. His stomach was hollow. Armand took his muddied clothes and put them in the hamper for Meg to deal with later. His body was clean under his filthy clothing. For a street kid, he tried to take care of himself. With great tenderness, Armand brushed some leaves out of Sean’s hair.

  “I can get him settled in bed,” Meg said.

  Armand looked at his mate’s face. “No, I’d prefer to do it myself.”

  “I’ll get the broth. I’ll be right back.” Meg left the room.

  Armand adjusted the pillows underneath Sean’s head and stroked his brow. He still fought the sedative.

  “You may not want me to stay here. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

  “No worries, baby. We can take care of ourselves. Is there anyone we should notify?” Armand could not help the note of jealousy that crept into his voice.

  In a low halting voice, Sean said, “No one. The man I thought was my father threw me out because I’m gay.” Sean breath hitched on a sob. “I went to art school, but couldn’t pay my tuition or my rent so I was thrown out.”

  He clutched at the bed sheets, babbling, trying to tell Armand his story. “I was going to sell myself. I had nothing else of value to trade. I was hungry and so cold. But Leroy came…” Sean broke into a paroxysm of sobs. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed, the sedative seeming to have little calming effect. “Maybe I should go to a shelter or s
omething.”

  “No, baby, you will stay right here rest and eat.”

  Gazing up at Armand’s eyes he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m gay and was going to sell my body to strangers?”

  “No, baby, not at all since I’m gay myself. As far as your rent boy status, if you were a rent boy, it wouldn’t matter, but you aren’t. You never even made it to the pier.”

  Sean was babbling again. “Oh, my backpack I left it behind the Dumpster. Everything I own is in there, my notes, my sketchpad and pencils…and my clean clothes. I already hocked my computer and cell phone.” Realizing what he said, he stuttered, “I’m s-s-s-sorry, that’s not your problem.”

  “Everything that concerns you is my problem. No worries, this can be your home for as long as you need. I’ll also see that your backpack is returned to you.” Armand wondered if he should call Artis back for a higher dose of sedative.

  Sean nodded his head not knowing what else to do and too much in shock to object to anything. “Are you sure I’m not going to be a bother?” he mumbled trying to stay awake.

  Armand stretched himself out on the huge bed pulling Sean down beside him.

  “No worries, it’s all good.”

  “I don’t know why I feel safe. I should be scared shitless.”

  Armand smiled. Sean’s head dropped to his shoulder. Armand cupped his hand under his mate’s chin and gave him a gentle kiss on his lips. He looked down at his mate. He liked that Sean had nuzzled into the crook of his neck. In fact, so far, he liked everything about the mate the Fates chose for him. He placed another light kiss on the top of his head. He’s so beautiful. Armand couldn’t help running his fingers through Sean’s hair and down the curve of his face. Now I have to figure out how to keep him.

  Meg brought up the broth and whispered. “Alpha, Pierre called. He’s dealing with the police at the scene. Detective Murphy is downstairs. Should we wake your young man so he can eat?”

  “Yes, I’ll wake him. Artis said he needed nourishment.”

  Armand gently tapped his shoulder. “Sean, you have to eat.”

  Sean opened his eyes. “You need to eat something, baby.” Sean nodded sleepily.

  “Meg, would you make sure that our guest takes some of that broth, while I deal with the detective?”

  “Yes Alpha.”

  Armand strode down the stairs to find Detective Murphy. He stood by the fireplace in the great room. Murphy exposed his neck as a sign of respect.

  The detective asked, “What can I help you with, Alpha La Marche?”

  “The young man upstairs witnessed a murder and was knifed in the process. The knife grazed the left side of his head, and he has another slash on his left torso. The wound is deep, but Dr. Artis and Meg can handle it here. The boy said the victim’s name is Leroy and that Leroy called the man chasing them the Russian.”

  “Do you think this Russian is our Russian, Alpha?” Murphy asked with deference.

  “Could be…This Leroy tried to protect Sean from him and was gutted for his kindness. We both know that Petrovich favors small blonds and no one misses street kids.”

  “Pierre told me as much when I arrived on the scene. The guy had a wolf’s strength. He gutted the kid from his stomach up to his neck. Did the kid see anything?” Murphy asked taking notes on a small pad.

  “Sean can identify the killer. The boy is my mate, so I am naturally concerned for his welfare. He’s had a sedative and needs to eat something, so he can’t speak to you now. If you come around in the morning, I’ll see if he is up to giving a statement.”

  “Your mate, Alpha? Congratulations, at least something good came of this night.” The detective looked up at the staircase in curiosity. “There’s going to be paperwork.”

  “I’m sure you can take care of any difficulties that come up before morning. By the way, Sean had a backpack. It fell behind the Dumpster. If it was recovered from the scene, please make sure it’s back here in the morning.”

  “Yes Alpha La Marche. Would ten be too early?”

  “No Detective Murphy, ten will be fine.”

  Armand closed the door behind the detective and bounded up the stairs to his mate. He found Meg spooning the broth into his mouth. “I’ll take over here.”

  “He’s finished taking the saline and now that he’s eating, he won’t need more. He should get some sleep as soon as he finishes this broth.”

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Thank you.” Sean said to Meg. He looked up at Armand. “Thank you for all this, I’m in your debt.”

  “No worries, little one. You finish your broth. Would you like some more?”

  “No thank you. I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold it down.”

  “By the time morning comes, you’ll be fit enough to eat. I want you to sleep. I have a sleeping pill for you if you need it. I’ll sleep beside you to check on you during the night.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.” Sean shivered.

  “It’s not necessary, baby. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “I’m frightened; but I have to do what is right for Leroy. He tried to protect me.”

  Meg stood by the door. Armand beckoned her to the bed. “Could you give him that sleeping pill now? He’s fighting the sedative.”

  “Yes, Alpha, right away.” Meg went into the bath, filled a glass with water and handed it and the pill to Sean. He took it without a fuss.

  Armand nodded. “Good boy.” He moved over from the chair to the bed. “Sean, I’ll help you slide over so I can hold you while you go to sleep.” Armand gently set Sean on his chest and placed his arms around him. Sean didn’t protest. His eyes closed as he nestled into Armand’s embrace. Baby, if I have my way you’ll never spend another night away from my arms.

  Chapter 2

  Tuesday

  Sean awoke when a sliver of light entered the room through the dark curtains. He looked around wondering what happened and how he wound up in such a beautiful room. The clock at the bedside read 8:00. He sat up and went to scratch his forehead and felt a bandage and felt another on his side. It all came back to him. Mr. La Marche rescued him from the Russian and gave him the hospitality of his home for the night. He got out of bed, still feeling a bit groggy. It must be the sedative and the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed.

  The bed had four posts, he grabbed one. He spotted a chair and sat to regain his balance. The room looked as if it came straight out of an art history book.

  The drapes appeared to be burgundy silk velvet, tied back with golden tasseled cords. There were sconces placed around the room and reading lamps in a modified French Empire Style. The paintings hung on the silk wallpaper were original oils and could be compared to old Masters. He recognized the style of the various artists, however, had never seen these particular paintings in any of his art books. A tear fell down his check. I’ll never finish my masters, then he looked down at himself in disgust. How can I even think of that after what happened to Leroy? Sean shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs.

  Sean designed and made porcelain pieces from clay to glaze, painting, and firing. He recognized some of the pieces on the mantel of the huge fireplace as being Chinese and of such an age that they were priceless.

  His head stopped spinning. He needed to go to the bathroom. Grabbing the bedpost to ease himself up, he walked carefully to the open door to the right of the bed. There he found a bathroom as large as his old apartment. A shower with twelve heads stood in the corner of the room. It was flanked by an old fashioned, claw-footed tub. Two pedestal sinks stood opposite the shower and a door led to a steam room and sauna. In the middle of the room was a step down pool with Jacuzzi jets. It looked big enough to hold six people. The tiles were a brilliant white. Two black veined marble seats sat on opposite sides of the pool.

  I wonder if my host has a lover. He felt a stab of jealousy so sharp it almost sent him reeling. Where did that come from? Another door revealed the cordoned off commode with a bidet. Mr. La
Marche certainly knows how to live.

  Sean emptied his bladder and found a white robe in what looked to be his size hanging on a hook. The room was a little chilly, so he put it on. Some fresh towels were draped on a towel warmer bracketed into the wall. He wondered if he could take a shower, he felt so cruddy after living on the streets for two months and taking showers at the Y.

  A soft knock sounded outside the bathroom door. Opening the door he found his host on the other side.

  “I see you found the facilities.” Sean wrapped the robe tighter around his torso. “Let’s get you into the tub. I’ll wash your hair. Dr. Artis left waterproof bandages so that your wounds won’t get wet.”

  “I need my clothes. There is fresh clothing in my backpack, but it’s behind the Dumpster.”

  “Meg washed the clothing you had on and it’s sitting on the bed. Are you dizzy? If you are, I can help get you into the tub.”

  “I’m a little woozy, but I’ll be okay. Maybe I could take a shower; I’m too cruddy to sit in a tub.” Sean looked at his benefactor hopefully.

  “If you wish; but for my piece of mind I’ll get into the shower and I’ll hold you so we don’t have any accidents.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” Sean blushed. “I can manage.”

  Armand was busy removing his own clothing. “Yes, it’s necessary. The doctor gave you a powerful sedative last night plus a sleeping pill and I see you’re still woozy. You’re in my care and I don’t want you hurt.”

  “Do we have time? I mean before the police arrive to take my statement?”

  “You’ve all the time in the world. If necessary, Detective Murphy will wait for you. Now get in, breakfast will be waiting when we are done.”

  Sean shrugged off the robe and stepped out of the sleep pants, slightly embarrassed at his nakedness. He moved into the shower, hoping Mr. La Marche didn’t see his face flush. Armand followed. Sean was in shock that his host joined him in the shower. He knew he was still a bit out of it and needed help but Mr. La Marche could have managed that by just extending an arm into the enclosure or making him use the bath. He felt his cock rise. Embarrassed, he gave it a hard thump. It didn’t help.