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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384

  Dothan, AL 36301

  Eros Rising

  A Hearts from the Ashes Story

  Copyright © 2007 by Ally Blue

  Cover by Anne Cain

  ISBN: 1-59998-311-7

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2007

  Eros Rising

  Ally Blue

  Dedication

  For J.L. and Willa, my friends and partners in crime on this anthology, and for Sasha, whose brilliant idea it was in the first place. You ladies rock!

  Chapter One

  “Scott, would you please relax?”

  “You didn’t tell me Ganymede’s Grotto was a sex club, Logan.”

  “You wouldn’t have come if I had.”

  Scott Jasper glared at his lover, who sat sipping an Appletini (fucking girly drink, Scott thought nastily) as if they were in a five-star restaurant instead of a gay swingers’ club. The music boomed through the air, the heavy bass vibrating in Scott’s ears.

  He studied the large, dimly lit room. Tiny silver stars dotted the dark blue ceiling, which curved down to meet bluish-black walls that formed small bays along the edges of the club. The bays contained private booths in which pairs and groups of men gathered, engaged in activities Scott was rather glad he couldn’t quite see. He and Logan sat in one of the freestanding booths scattered around the dark blue wood floor, facing a large curtained stage.

  “Why’d you want to come here, anyway?” Scott asked, watching the crowd at the polished mahogany bar.

  “I’ve never been here, I wanted to see what it was like.” Logan widened his hazel eyes. “You wouldn’t want to waste those guest passes Todd and Steven gave us, would you?”

  “Don’t know what made them think we’d want two guest passes to a swingers’ club for Christmas.” Scott gave Logan a pointed look. “You told them to get us that, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t tell.” Logan took a sip of his drink. “I may have let slip that we wanted to check it out, and they’ve been members for ages, so…” Cocking an eyebrow at Scott, he grinned.

  Scott couldn’t find it in himself to smile back. Years ago, that wicked, I’m-up-to-no-good look of Logan’s could melt Scott into a sticky little puddle. Then he’d figured out that Logan’s mischief was usually at Scott’s expense, and now that look just made him sad, missing something he was no longer sure they’d ever had together.

  “I know you were curious, Logan,” Scott said, keeping his voice calm and soft, “but you know that sex is a private thing for me. This place is nice, but it’s not my scene and you know that.”

  Logan made an impatient sound. “You’re always like this. So damn uptight.”

  It was Logan’s standard comeback and Scott ignored it. He laid a hand over Logan’s, trying to keep some sort of connection between them. “Why are we here, Logan? The truth.”

  Something passed through Logan’s eyes, something Scott didn’t like one bit because he’d seen it too often before. “Well, I was thinking we could, you know…”

  Scott knew. With a sigh, he slid to the edge of the black and purple leather booth and stood up, leaning against the painted table. “How many times do we have to have this argument, Logan? I don’t want to have a threesome. I don’t feel comfortable with it. Why can’t you accept that?”

  Logan’s expression turned hard. “And why can’t you ever do what I want? You know the things I let you do to me, but you won’t let me have this one fantasy. Selfish prick.”

  Scott straightened up and closed his eyes for a second, trying to control the mix of fear and anger and hurt roiling inside him. Nothing was that simple, and they both knew it. Logan was trying to guilt him into doing something he didn’t want to do. Scott was determined not to let him.

  Logan grasped his wrist as Scott started to walk away. “I’m sorry, Scott. Don’t be mad at me, okay?” He gazed up at Scott with his patented kicked-puppy look, oblivious to the fact that Scott had been immune for years. “It was just an idea, baby. We won’t do it if you don’t want to. We can just stay and watch the show, huh? It’s about to start.”

  Sure enough, a gray-haired gentleman in a black suit and pink feather boa had stepped up to the mic and was announcing a performer with the improbable name of Eros. Drawing a deep breath, Scott started to tell Logan where he could stick his fake-pleading eyes and his stupid ideas.

  At that moment the blue velvet curtain behind the MC swung open and Scott promptly forgot what he was going to say. He stood there with his mouth hanging open, staring at the vision on the stage.

  The man stood no more than five-foot-eight or so, at least six inches shorter than Scott. He was slender and graceful in sinfully tight white pants, a sheer white shirt and huge white-feathered wings. Strawberry blond hair streaked with white hung in wild waves and curls down to the middle of his back and framed a rounded, pixyish face. The silver ring piercing the man’s full lower lip glinted in the light.

  “Well, I see you found something you like at the dirty sex club after all.”

  Logan’s sneering tone grated on Scott’s nerves, but he nevertheless tore his gaze from the stage. Lowering himself to the edge of the padded seat, he gave Logan a guilty smile. “Sorry.”

  “Whatever.” Logan shot him a dark look. “I’m going to the restroom.”

  Scott watched in resignation as Logan slid out of the booth and stalked toward the back of the room. He knew Logan wouldn’t be back for a while, if he bothered to come back at all. If he cared to go look, Scott would undoubtedly find Logan at the bar, flirting with the first twink to give him the eye.

  He did the same thing practically every time they went out, which was the main reason Scott didn’t like going out with him. Even though Logan’s behavior rarely went beyond flirting—as far as Scott knew, anyway—it still hurt.

  “Why,” Scott wondered aloud, “do I put up with this shit?”

  He didn’t answer himself, because he didn’t know. After seven years, he supposed it was sheer complacency that kept them together. It sure as hell wasn’t love, not anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time.

  Not wanting to dwell on his strained relationship with Logan, Scott turned his attention back to the stripper. Eros. The young man was dancing to the primitive rhythm of the music, his movements lithe and sensual. To Scott’s shock, he found himself hardening in his jeans. He hadn’t had that sort of reaction to a stranger since his teenage years.

  Eros tore his shirt away, revealing lean, defined muscles and creamy pale skin, and Scott gasped out loud. Little silver rings pierced both of the man’s nipples. Through the wings and the thick mane of hair, Scott caught glimpses of a huge tattoo on his back, though he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

  The pants came off next, ripped away in one fluid motion. Must be those special stripper’s pants, Scott thought with the part of his brain that still worked. Eros was now dancing in nothing but the feathered wings and a gold and white G-string that left nothing to the imagination. A tattooed vine wound up the man’s right leg all the way from
ankle to buttock. Scott watched, mesmerized by the stripper’s gracefully sexual movements.

  Scott didn’t realize the show had ended at first. Wild applause, cheers and a few indecent proposals from the audience snapped him out of his stupor. Eros flashed a wide grin at the audience and bent forward in a deep bow, long reddish-gold tresses brushing the floor.

  Eros exited the stage with a wave, disappearing behind the edge of the curtain. Scott took a deep breath and glanced around, hoping no one could see how the show had affected him. He needn’t have worried. No one was paying him the least bit of attention.

  When the tightness in his pants subsided, Scott reluctantly decided he’d better look for Logan. He got up and wandered toward the bar, threading his way through the crowd. He had to deflect several offers along the way. Logan was nowhere in sight, which increased Scott’s irritation exponentially.

  “Good grief,” Scott muttered as he slipped onto an empty barstool. “Am I the only one who’s not into threesomes?”

  “Not really,” said a voice from behind the bar. “It just seems that way sometimes.”

  Scott raised his head, looking for the owner of the voice, and was startled to find himself face-to-face with Eros. The young man wore skintight jeans faded within an inch of their life and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt with Ganymede’s Grotto embroidered over the left breast. His hair was wound into a single long braid. Little golden wisps escaped to curl in wild disarray around his face. Scott stared, seized by a sudden urge to tug on the silver lip ring with his teeth.

  The young man grinned. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

  Scott blinked, trying to clear his head. “Huh?” he said, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Smooth, Scott, he thought, mentally smacking himself. Some great impression you’re making.

  The stripper laughed. “I was just saying that no, you’re not the only one who’s not here for a threesome. Most guys join the club either to find other couples to swap with, or to watch the live sex shows, but there’s still some looking for single guys to play with. Hot as you are? No wonder you attract ‘em like flies.”

  Scott cleared his throat. “I’m not actually single. I’m here with my partner.” He was relieved that he didn’t sound flustered this time, and wondered why he cared. He wasn’t exactly available, after all.

  The man’s gaze raked down Scott’s chest. “Too bad.”

  Scott licked his lips. The stripper’s eyes were different colors. One dark midnight blue, one pale gray, both sparking with life. Fascinating.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” Scott heard himself say. The blood rushed into his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” Drawing a draft beer, the man slid it over to someone on Scott’s right. “I think I like you complimenting me.”

  “It’s just that I…I’m, uh, I’m with someone, and I don’t even know you, I shouldn’t be saying those things.”

  “Well, I can’t do anything about you being taken, but I can introduce myself.” He stuck a hand across the bar. “I’m Keegan Rourke.”

  Scott took Keegan’s hand and shook, feeling like he was in a dream. “Scott Jasper.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Scott.” Keegan flashed that wide, wicked grin. “There, now we know each other. You drinking?”

  “Oh, um…” Scott tapped his chin, thinking. “Gin and tonic, please. With lime.”

  “Coming up.” Keegan snatched a glass and two bottles and began pouring, every bit as graceful as he’d been on stage. He stuck a lime wedge on the rim of the glass and handed it to Scott. “That’ll be five even. You want to pay now, or you want me to start you a tab?”

  Scott considered. A quick look around revealed no sign of Logan. Hell with him, Scott thought, and favored Keegan with his sunniest smile. “Guess I’ll start a tab, since Logan doesn’t seem to be around anywhere.”

  “’K. I’ll need a credit card.” Keegan gave Scott a careful look as he dug his wallet out of his jeans pocket and handed Keegan his credit card. “Is Logan your partner?”

  “Yes.” Scott squirmed uncomfortably on his barstool. “Let’s not talk about him.”

  “Whatever you say.” Keegan ran Scott’s card through and handed it back to him. “So. Did you like my show?”

  Scott choked on his drink. “What?”

  Keegan laughed. “Man, you gotta relax a little. I asked what you thought of my strip show. Did you like it?”

  Scott held Keegan’s amused gaze with an effort, wishing he could stop blushing. “Very much. You’re…” Incredibly gorgeous. Sexy as hell. “You’re really good.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I could give you a private show sometime.”

  Keegan’s smile promised sex and sin. Scott gulped. “I…I, um…”

  “I know, you’re with Logan, wherever he is.” Keegan sighed, one hand over his heart. “Don’t worry, I’ll get over it some day.”

  Scott laughed, Keegan’s playfulness dispelling some of his tension. “Keegan’s an unusual name. Where’s it come from?”

  “It’s Gaelic.” The young man made a sour face. “It was my grandfather’s name. My mom promised her father before he died that she’d name her first son after him.”

  “I like it. It’s different.” Scott took a sip of gin and tonic. “What’s it mean?”

  Keegan blushed and stared at a puddle of beer on the bar. He mumbled something Scott didn’t catch. “What was that?” Scott asked, leaning closer.

  “I said,” Keegan repeated, looking resigned, “it means ‘little fierce one’.”

  “I like that,” Scott said, holding Keegan’s gaze with a boldness that surprised him. “It fits you somehow.”

  Keegan’s eyes softened, the subtle guarded expression Scott had only just noticed dropping for a second. Before he could say anything, a young man in full leather gear called from the other end of the bar. Keegan glanced over, then back at Scott. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

  Scott smiled. “Of course. I enjoyed talking with you, Keegan.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” Keegan gazed at him for a moment longer, then turned, braid swinging, to wait on the other customers.

  Scott leaned against the bar and watched him work, for once not wondering what Logan was up to. Everything about Keegan fascinated him, from those captivating eyes to his natural grace to the charisma that seemed to draw every eye in the room. For the first time since he and Logan had been together, Scott wished he was single.

  Not that I’d have a chance with him, he thought morosely. He could have his pick of anyone here, what would he want with me?

  Craning his neck, Scott scanned the room once more. Still no sign of Logan. Scott settled in with a smile, not at all disappointed with his lot. A guy could do worse, he figured, than parking at the bar in an upscale club, drinking good gin and watching the sexiest bartender-slash-stripper he’d ever seen.

  Another two hours slipped by while Scott sat at the bar, working his way through several more gin and tonics. Keegan stopped to talk whenever he had the chance. Scott found himself liking the young man more and more. He was intelligent, well-read and well-spoken, and had a warped sense of humor that matched Scott’s perfectly. His apparent rapt interest in Scott’s mundane tales of life as an accountant put Scott more at ease than he’d ever felt with Logan. The realization came as something of a shock.

  Keegan was at the other end of the bar pouring tequila shots for a raucous group of men in leather and chains when Scott heard Logan’s laugh ring out from somewhere to his right. It was the too-loud, slightly desperate giggle Logan used when he wanted something and thought he was about to lose his chance at getting it.

  Instantly, all the tension Scott had let go over the course of the evening came flooding back. He turned toward the unwelcome sound, dreading what he might see.

  It was even worse than he’d thought. Logan stood pressed between two men, one short and stocky with a shaved head and a health-club tan, the other tall and slender with cinnamon-co
lored skin and an expensive suit. Logan had one arm around the black man’s neck, kissing him with great enthusiasm. The other man was sucking on Logan’s neck, hands running up and down his thighs.

  Scott’s vision went red. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d jumped off the barstool, shoved his way through the crowd and yanked Logan away from the two other men.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Scott shouted, ignoring the protests of the two men. “You said you were going to the restroom, Logan! Over two hours ago!”

  Logan blinked at him, eyes wide and panicked. “Scott, baby, it’s not what it looks like—”

  “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me!” Scott bellowed. He ground his teeth together, fighting the urge to punch that deer-in-the-headlights look right off Logan’s lying face. “Where were you, huh? Where’ve you been all this time?”

  Logan licked his lips, gaze darting around the room. “I…I was…”

  “They came out of one of the viewing rooms,” Keegan supplied from behind the bar. “Live sex shows, every night,” he added helpfully.

  Scott turned to him with a grim smile. “Thank you.”

  “Any time.” Shooting Logan a look that Scott was glad wasn’t aimed at him, Keegan went back to pouring drinks.

  Scott glared at Logan, crossed his arms and waited.

  Hanging his head, Logan gazed up at Scott from under his lashes. “I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I didn’t mean to let them tempt me like that, but they were just coming on so strong.” The men in question broke their stunned silence to vigorously protest this statement. Logan ignored them both and plowed on. “And I’d been drinking, and the show was so hot it made me really horny, and I was disappointed that you wouldn’t let us have a threesome and you were already mad at me anyway, so—”

  “Stop,” Scott snapped.

  Logan laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, Scott, just listen for a minute—”

  “No.” Scott shook loose of Logan’s grip and stepped back. “Don’t try to make this my fault, Logan. I’m not the problem here. The problem is, you wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked you upside the head.”