go, feeling like a bully. They weren"t much older than Angel, and despite his
boy"s intelligence, he could behave like a kid at a moment"s notice. He"d say the
same stupid things to a good-looking man if he was out with his school friends.
Turning on his heel, Kael strode after the young women. “Wait,” he called.
Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave
19
One of them saw him coming and screamed. In another second, they were all
screaming while attempting to run away, tottering on high stiletto heels, arms
waving like scarecrows.
“Stop right there please, sir.” Two uniformed constables began crossing the
road, darting through heavy evening traffic toward him.
“Christ!” He stood still while they approached.
“Do you have a problem with those ladies, or were they having a problem with
you?” The two young officers were both shorter than Kael. They stood about two feet
back and separated about three feet from each other. Kael knew the stance. They
were ready to take him down if he tried to run. They had no idea he could kill them
both and flee the scene without anyone seeing him.
“They were being stupid, so I told them off,” he said. “But I didn"t mean to
frighten them. I was trying to apologize.”
The slightly taller of the two constables, a good-looking blond man with rosy
pink cheeks and an arrogant attitude, said, “Do you do that sort of thing often, sir?”
Still hurt and insulted about losing his teaching position, Kael"s jaw clenched
as his anger flared again. “I"m reaching into my pocket for my identification.” From
the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he withdrew his SIS identification card. His
top security clearance had never been removed, meaning the police could not detain
him even momentarily without the permission of his superiors.
The young constables looked at it and stepped away. “Thank you, sir. Have a
good evening.”
Kael walked quickly into the Underground. All he wanted was to get home to
his beautiful flat on the Thames—and to Angel.
20
Fyn Alexander
Chapter Three
The minute Kael opened the front door, he heard two voices. Quietly he closed
it and listened. Angel"s distinct American accent rose up, along with the laughter
that always lifted Kael"s heart. An English accent responded, a young man whose
voice had broken no more than a couple of years ago and was still light and pure,
just like Angel"s. It must be Jack, Angel"s new friend.
In the living room, Angel"s laptop sat on the coffee table. And thrown on the
couch where anybody could sit on them were the expensive Irlen lenses Kael had
bought the boy to protect his sensitive eyes from the light. Angry at his
carelessness, Kael picked them up, folded in the arms, and placed them safely on
the coffee table. On silent feet, he followed the voices to the dungeon door. The
dungeon was a third bedroom Kael had converted five years ago when he had first
bought the flat.
Angel was still wearing the smart black trousers, white shirt, and red and
black striped tie he wore to the expensive sixth form college Kael had sent him to.
The other boy, as slender and pretty as Angel, in a matching school uniform,
wandered about admiring the leather sling, the flogging post, the torture table and
chair. They looked like a couple of yaoi boys. Kael had never heard of yaoi until he"d
spotted one of Angel"s graphic novels on the coffee table one day. It was full of
stories and pictures of pretty, androgynous boys making out. If they"d had that stuff
when he was a kid, he would probably have read it too.
Following Jack, Angel flicked his chin up to throw his soft, very light blond
hair away from his eyes. “It"s really the slave who"s in charge, you know.”
“The slave? How?” The other boy, with dark wavy hair falling past his collar,
stopped to stroke the smooth black leather of the tabletop.
Angel stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “The master has to stop when
the