Agamemnon Frost and the House of Death by Kim Knox

Author:Kim Knox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

6. Frost and His Preparations

Mason fought to speak. “My shield?” His thyreos. The word resonated. Mason was newly formed and a simple pezos, a junior foot soldier to their Martian masters. Frost was senior and more adapted to the change. As thyreos, Frost was his commander. Of a sort. Mason still had difficulty in calling him sir. “Surely you’re—”

“This is not up for discussion. They expect it.”

“They’re not here.” Mason caught his hands in his hair. “You should go first.”

“Already done.”

Mason glanced back at the bed and frowned. “We only arrived minutes ago.”

“It’s been almost an hour.” Frost put a firm hand under his arm and pulled Mason to his feet. Mason stiffened. Frost stared at his hand, then removed it. He lifted his chin. “The first part of the change is disorientating. Time becomes compressed.”

Frost’s clothes were fresh and his face shaved. His hair was damp, the scent of the macassar oil mixing with the familiar odours of sandalwood and vanilla. How had Mason not noticed the fact that Frost had washed and changed when he knew that Nestor was in an underground room, simply from the echo of his voice?

“I don’t understand any of this.” He also didn’t understand why he had almost flinched at the man’s touch. He wanted Frost, had wanted him from almost the very first moment of their meeting. To deny that...? “None of it.”

“You will. Parts of your mind still have to slide into place.”

Frost pushed open the door to the shower room. Warm, damp air filled the windowless space, lit by a small but brilliant covered lamp. A large glass-and-metal-framed shower filled most of the far end of the room, its copper pipes and showerhead tightening Mason’s chest. It was a deliberate taunt. There was a sly grin lurking in the dark place at the back of his skull. He had to know his place. Know that his superiors—the Martians—gave him life.

Frost opened the glass door. “Livery off, Mason.”

“What are their real names?” His fingers moved over the buttons of his stained waistcoat and dropped it across a small wooden chair. He carried on to the buttons of his shredded shirt as he toed off his boots. “They can’t be called Martians.”

“They’re from Mars. So, Martians.” He paused. “We have the command names. No one, as yet, has uncovered any other name for what they call themselves or what they truly look like.” His gaze slid over Mason’s body, and the familiar heat rose again. “The rest of it.”

Mason paused at his braces. “How are you going to prepare me?”

Frost smiled, that slow wanton smile that made him resemble a debauched illustration from the News. “We will do what has to be done.”

Mason’s mechanical heart groaned. He felt the strain of it in his chest, the tightness, the sudden fast pace. And his dick was hard. Frost still liked to play his games.

Mason dropped his braces over his shoulders, letting them fall against his thighs. His shirt joined his waistcoat

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