The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3 by Rebecca Grace Allen

Author:Rebecca Grace Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ménage and more;MMF;polyamory;bisexual;mental health;religion;small town;triad;erotic;ugly duckling;geek;anal
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2016-08-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Rafe was relaxing on the armchair when Mikey and Krissy entered the apartment. He looked up from his phone, the outline of his muscular form visible beneath his dark jeans and long-sleeved white tee. He’d trimmed his beard and mustache while they were gone, and the clean lines by his sideburns made the angles of Rafe’s face even sharper, so masculine Mikey could feel it in his bones.

“Everyone cleansed of their sins now?”

His voice was sex and hot chocolate and a blanket on a cold day.

“I’m better now,” Mikey said. “Thank you.”

“Good. Although I personally found the idea of confession so ridiculous,” Rafe said as he stood. “It’s like the religious version of the Staples Easy Button. Bang! You’re forgiven.”

Mikey chuckled. It was difficult not to laugh at the other man’s sarcasm. But Rafe’s gaze remained trained on him, and Mikey had to pause for a moment, his heartbeat skittering at the barely masked concern couched in those dark eyes. It caught him by surprise, but Mikey shook it off, taking Rafe’s look in the spirit he was sure it had been meant. He should’ve realized Rafe would be bothered by his disappearance too, given the state it put Krissy in.

“Sorry I bolted. I didn’t mean to worry you both.”

Rafe grinned. “It’s cool. I was only pissed because you have the truck keys, and we’ve got a theater tour to get to.”

Krissy released Mikey’s hand and clapped. “I almost forgot. Let’s go!”

As she skipped to the door, Rafe and Mikey exchanged glances. Rafe dipped his chin, a small move that said we cool now? Mikey nodded. It was an odd moment, one that was comforting and reminded him there was some kind of common ground between them.

As well as the fact that they’d seen each other naked.

They went down to the truck and made their way into the Old Port. The sidewalks were coated with chunks of snow and dirt, the already-darkening sky dappled with clouds. The doors to the theater were unlocked, and Mikey followed Krissy and Rafe inside.

“How’d Merrick work this out?” he asked. “Aren’t they getting ready for tonight’s show?”

“It’s Monday,” Krissy answered. “The theater’s dark today.”

“You’ve arrived!”

They all looked up the stairs. Merrick was at the landing by the mezzanine seats, sans the long black wig he’d worn in the performance. His natural hair was spiked and red, his ears a veritable Christmas tree of piercings. He slid down the banister and landed in front of Krissy, holding out his hand.

“Are you ready for your tour, madame?”

She giggled. “I am, fair sir.”

He hooked her arm around his. “Good. The cast is waiting for you.”

“They didn’t take the day off?”

“Of course not. We’re theater people. We are each other’s family. The stage is our home.” Merrick glanced over his shoulder at Rafe. “Right, Rafael Elias Brigham?”

That was Rafe’s full name? It was quite a mouthful. Faith-inspired too.

Rafe chuckled. “Right, Godfrey Merrick the Third.”

Merrick winced and mimed a gag. “Don’t call me that.”

He turned with a flourish and led Krissy toward the stage.

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