Feel Me

Chapter Twenty-Four

Something was definitely wrong this morning. Brennan was in a dark, dangerously foul mood and that had put all workers under his employ at terrified unease. Everyone went about their duties with the silence of ghosts. The malevolent anger dripped from walls of his office down the four corners of the hotel like thick muck, pouring through every nook and cranny. Even the activities of the kitchen had a solemn air.

Everyone knew what had transpired that morning, yet hadn't the faintest idea what caused it and didn't have the guts to utter a word for the fear they might be next.

Alder had been fired. He had vanished into thin air without a trace. His belongings were still in his locker. Some said they saw him leave the hotel with righteous anger. Others claimed he had left with haste of one pursed by the devil, his eyes wide and wild with stark fear and terror.

Lydia watched Toran's head bent over the ingredients he was prepping and wondered what had happened. She had a haunch that somehow Alder had found out about their illicit acts and Brennan had not taken it too well. Knowing she wasn't going to get anything from him as questioning him will raise suspicions, she remained silent.

The door of the kitchen pushed open drawing everyone's startled, apprehensive stares. Lia appeared with a grim, blank face. Her eyes scanned the occupants and connected with the person she came for with a grim, quick nod. "Mr Rox wants you in his office."

Everyone stood still, wondering who it was since she never mentioned a name. Toran eased his way out of the cluster and followed Lia out of the room.

†

"Mr Rox? Toran is here to see you, sir." Lia announced in a clear voice.

"Send him in and see to it that I'm not disturbed." Brennan's dark voice answered.

"Of course." Lia twisted the handle of the heavy doors, then muttered to Toran without meeting his gaze. "You may enter."

Toran entered; the door closed gently behind him.

Brennan stood facing the thick paned window overlooking outside with his back to Toran. The sleeves of his crisp pristine white shirt were rolled over heavily inked forearms; something Toran hadn't seen in all his years working here. The only time he had, was during sex.
"Brennan." Toran spoke softly.
The tawny blonde curly head turned over his shoulder but didn't fully glance at him.

Brennan turned his attention back to the large window. "Sit down, Toran."

He slowly pushed back one of the chairs in front of Brennan's desk and sat as quiet as a flying owl. Still, Brennan didn't speak to him, nor even think to spare him a glance.

This was one of the unpredictable moments and there was no telling what could happen.

Brennan finally turned with hands deep in his pockets. His dark green eyes held unfathomable emotions and coldness. Toran just sat there, staring at his sneakers while Brennan's heavy, death-like stare pressed upon him like slabs of stones and heavy bars of steel.
Brennan finally moved to his chair and took his seat. His brows and shoulders tense. Every part of him appeared so.

Toran pressed his eyes shut as nervousness raked and overwhelmed him. Anxiety sank black talons of dread into his head, clutching tightly and refusing to let go. Brennan was going to -

"The migraines have started, and I need your help." His quiet voice perforated the thick fog of dread clouding Toran's lungs.

Toran blinked his eyes open. A couple of times. Slowly letting Brennan's words sink into his brain. "What?" he whispered weakly.

Brennan arched a dark brow. "I don't need to repeat myself, Toran. Get to it." He commanded coldly with tight-laced anger brewing in his voice.

Toran rose from his chair and circled the long, polished desk to stand behind Brennan. "Undo your shirt, please, sir."

Brennan compiled and deftly undid the buttons of his shirt with mere flicks of his wrists before peeling the starched shirt away from his skin, folding it into a long strip of two on his desk.

"And the balm?."

"On the drawer next to the cabinet in the bathroom." He answered.

A minute later he appeared with the balm and took his place behind Brennan. He opened it and took a small scoop of the herb-infused balm, then applied it on the point at the base of his skull and the line of his spine, then began working away the tensed muscles.

Brennan's teeth tightened as Toran worked at a particular knot on his on his shoulder. He couldn't stop the relieved-agonized groan which escaped his lips when the knot finally loosened.

Toran's fingers travelled up to the base of his skull. There, the pressure of his hand loosened a bit. Brennan closed his eyes at the melting sensations; at the woodsy fragrance of the balm and the skilled fingers against his skin.

"Alder's gone."

"Mmm."

The hands travelled to his spine. "I was wondering if maybe -"

"If there's something you wish to say, Toran, spit it out. Don't beat about the bloody bush." Brennan growled under his breath.

The hands on his back stopped.

His fingers pressed lightly on Brennan's skin. "What happened?"

Brennan's eyes slowly slid open. Silence reigned for a few moments before he asked in a deceptively gentle voice. "What do you think happened to Alder? What do you hear amongst your co-workers?"

Toran swallowed at the frigid tone. "They say he left hastily."

"Oh. Is that so?" he drawled, straightening his back as Toran finished the massage. "There's ice in the mini-fridge. Get some and proceed to the second phase."

"You're ignoring me." Toran stated flatly.

Golden lashes lifted, exposing frigid, dead dark green orbs and laid them on him. "Do not make me repeat myself. You won't like the consequences."

Toran's face burned with humiliation and anger. Brennan had treated him like a dirty Slave. What had he done wrong? Why was everything going downhill so fast? He walked stiffly to the bathroom and took a clean hand towel, opened the freezer and took out a couple of cubes, slamming them with more force than necessary then wrapped the towel around it, forming an ice compress.

He walked up to Brennan patiently awaiting his ministrations and performed his task without a word and with minimalist, impersonal touches. Minutes later, he removed the now wet towel from Brennan's closed eyes and watched the dark blonde lashes slowly blink open to stare at him.

Toran was the first to tear away his eyes from the fallen angel's face and cleaned up as Brennan silently reached for his shirt. He emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his black apron as he walked to the door with angry hurt.

"And Mr Herra, " Brennan's calm voice called behind him, stopping Toran dead on his tracks. "effective immediately your services are no longer required. Do well to turn in your letter of willful resignation. Everything work-issued should be left in your locker."

Ice froze his veins. Mechanically, Toran rotated dazely to watch Brennan button his cuffs, covering the ink work on his flesh. "Why?"

Cool, blank eyes met his in stony silence. There was nothing to be said. Brennan willed it so it had to be done.