Clifford swung around slowly to get a better view of his challenger. His first reaction was out and out astonishment, but that soon passed…into mocking laughter.

"What the Hell are *you* doing here?"

"I came to stop you."

"You?" the teacher sputtered. "You must be joking!"

"What do I have to do to convince you? Kick your ass?"

Clifford smiled and ran a finger down Adam's back. "He *might* be worth it."

Adam twisted around in his restraints as if to throw off the older man's touch on his body. Clifford was no longer making any attempt to disguise his voice. That meant that he was very certain of getting away with what he was doing. The thought that Clifford might violate him didn't frighten Adam nearly as much as the thought that he might try to hurt his would-be rescuer.

That was one voice he could never fail to recognize. "Jazz…"

"Don't worry, Adam. I'm here." Despite the serious nature of the situation in which he found himself, Adam couldn't help but smile. The sound of his lover's voice was a constant reassurance to him. But more than that…he knew something that Clifford didn't.

Jazz really *could* kick his ass.

Clifford's eyes narrowed as he contemplated his options. "You *are* a bit of an exotic. I suppose I can see what your attraction might be."

Jazz snorted. "Maybe you'd like to do *both* of us."

"Hmm," Clifford's mouth curved into a feral grimace, exposing a rather vicious set of incisors. "Maybe I would. Does that scare you, little boy?"

Jazz never flinched or looked away, his green eyes glittering strangely in the dim light. "No, it disgusts me."

"That's all right. I prefer Adam." The teacher slid his hands over Adam's buttocks in a blatantly provocative manner, making Adam squirm restlessly. "He's more my…type."

"You don't have a type, you scumbag," Adam cried, cursing the blindfold that hid what was happening.

"Now, now…" Clifford wagged a finger warningly at him.

Suddenly someone appeared behind Jazz. Someone bigger. Someone far more dangerous. "Adam, I'm surprised at you. Speaking to your elders with such a lack of respect," chided the stranger.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot. Sorry, make that *Mister* Scumbag," Adam said sarcastically.

"And just who are *you*?" Clifford demanded.

"A *minor* interruption. On your way to jail."

"I don't think I like your tone."

"I don't think I like *you*."

"I don't care."

"Better start."

"Come on, I'm a reasonable man. There's more than enough here to…share."

"You're talking about my *son*."

Suddenly there was a tremendous cracking sound.

It was just the sound of Hell freezing over.

"Wait outside in the car, Jazz," commanded the voice.

Normally Jazz would have obeyed without hesitation. But this was Adam…the love of his life. If anything happened to him…

"I need to finish this myself," he finally declared, surprised at how firm his own voice sounded.

"No!" chorused two of the people who meant the most to Jazz.

Adam couldn't see Jazz, but he imagined the younger teenager's face looked every bit as resolute as he sounded. "Jazz, don't. You don't have to prove anything to me. You know how I feel." Adam hated hedging his words, but he wasn't about to confess undying love in front of Clifford. As unhinged as Clifford was, he might like that kind of drama.

"I would greatly enjoy taking you…apart, Jazz. But I fear your ardent protector has other ideas," Clifford said, casting a suspicious glance in his direction.

"Please." It was as close to begging as Jazz had ever been.

He turned and stared intently into cobalt blue eyes he knew as well as his own. "Please, James."

James studied Adam. His eyes remained hidden behind a blindfold, but the rest of his face appeared tense as he chewed his lower lip anxiously. It went against everything he believed in to encourage violence. Violence rarely resolved anything. He knew that firsthand. But the sight of Adam, helplessly bound, at the mercy of this…this predator…filled him with a barely controllable rage.

What kind of a man would he be if he allowed Jazz to have his way? A wave of nausea overwhelmed him suddenly. What kind of a man would he be if he allowed this monster to get away?

With a poorly concealed grimace, James said hoarsely, "I'm going to call the police. My phone's in the car."

Jazz' face cleared instantly. "Thanks…Dad." His tongue might trip over the unfamiliar word, but his heart felt nothing but relief that he'd finally acknowledged what he felt.

For his part, James looked stunned, pausing only long enough to squeeze Jazz' hand before he left.

Jazz winked at Clifford. "Looks like it's just you and me, man."

Clifford sighed dramatically. "Pity this battle will be so unbalanced."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jazz said dispiritedly. Then he snapped out a backhand to Clifford's face, breaking his nose.

"Shit. You broke my nose."

"Yeah, I guess that wasn't exactly fair, huh? How about if I count to three first? One…two…thr—"

Blood poured from the initial wound Jazz inflicted and Clifford vainly tried to stem the tide by putting pressure on it. Jazz frowned. "You don't seem to be concentrating. Is the fight over already?"

Clifford narrowed his eyes and used Jazz' earlier preoccupation with Adam to his advantage. He reached over and ripped the blindfold away, causing Adam to cry out sharply as light hit his eyes for the first time in a couple of hours.

Clifford leaned on the older teenager, pressing his hips tightly against Adam's buttocks. "Would you like me to even things up a little, Jazz? How about if I fuck your boyfriend in front of you? Would that get your attention?"

Jazz growled deep in his throat, his nostrils flaring. "How would *you* like it if I *fixed* you so you couldn't fuck *anyone*?"

Clifford cupped Adam's crotch, his fingers gripping him too hard for a caress. "By the time you get to me, your boytoy will be a eunuch with nothing more than fond memories of what it felt like to get it up."

Jazz stilled. He could do this. All he had to do was remain calm.

He willed Adam to understand and he caught the slow, deliberate, almost imperceptible downsweep of Adam's eyelashes that signaled his assent. Jazz feinted at Clifford and as predicted, Clifford utilized Adam's body as a shield.

Moments later, before Clifford fully relaxed, Jazz leaped into the air and delivered a flying sidekick with astonishing precision. Through Adam's widespread legs. Jazz slid to the floor, landing on his elbows, scraping his hip, but otherwise unharmed.

Clifford, on the other hand, was poleaxed by the stunning blow to his genitals and sank to the floor opposite him. Adam stomped his feet impatiently. "Untie me!"

Jazz rose to a kneeling position and began untying Adam's leg restraints. When he was finished with those, he stood up carefully and took both of Adam's hands in his. "You okay?" he asked huskily.

"I'm great," Adam beamed. "But *you're* wonderful."

"Thanks."

Both teenagers turned to face the new intruder. "James called the police. I couldn't believe he left you both in here with that…madman. But he did."

"Please, Uncle Michael, it was my fault. Totally. Not his."

"Ssh, it's okay, Jazz."

"It is?"

"Thanks to you, Adam's safe."

"Aren't you going to give me the "You were lucky" speech?" asked Jazz.

"Followed by "And don't let me ever catch you trying that again?" Adam added.

"No." Michael shook his head. "The important thing is…you understand the morality underlying all of this. Now you're both old enough to make your own decisions and to act on that morality."

"Oh," Adam nodded slowly, wondering when his father might stop surprising him. Somehow he didn't expect it to be soon.

"Besides," Michael confessed with a half-smile, "*I* would have killed him."

"So we kinda saved you from yourself, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Anything else we could help you with, Dad?"

Michael regarded his oldest son affectionately. "Let's go rescue James before we go home."

"Okay."

Once they were outside, Adam spied James waiting anxiously by the car. Suddenly he grabbed his father's arm and tugged. "Um, Dad? Could I have like one minute?"

Michael glanced at Jazz' still flushed face and back again. "Sure."

After Michael went to join James, Adam turned to Jazz and said, "Hey, Nick. You saved my ass."

"You mean I saved your life."

"Yeah, that, too."

Jazz broke into a shy smile. "Is that your way of saying I'm your hero?"

"Yeah."

"So where's my reward?"

Adam kissed him, lingering for long seconds before pulling away from his lover. His voice breathless, Adam said, "Someday, Jazz, I am going to kiss you and never let you go."

"And that's how you play soccer."

Skye tilted her head in a way that Sasha couldn't help but find endearing. "Thanks."

It was a cool autumn day, not to mention Saturday afternoon. Sasha usually went out with the older kids, but Skye was slowly but surely maturing, a fact that was not lost on him. The soccer team was playing an at-home game, and Sasha was content to sit in the stands and hold her hand.

"Would you like me to get you a soda?"

"No, thank you. I-I don't need anything. Just you."

If she had been anyone else, Sasha would have taken her remark as a come-on. But Skye was completely innocent. Something he was damn proud of. No one would dare approach her inappropriately. In a way, it was almost as if Sasha really *were* her chivalrous protector.

"I like sitting here with you. Holding your hand."

Skye blushed and hid a smile. Once she thought that there was no hope of Sasha waiting for her to grow up, but now she knew differently. She was old enough to realize the competition that was out there and the pressure that Sasha's peers put on him. And still…he chose to wait for her.

"So do I," Sasha agreed huskily.

Skye looked out over the playing field. She wasn't interested in soccer. But she *loved* Sasha. With all of her heart.

As if he sensed what she was thinking, Sasha smiled and took her gloved hand in his. Carefully peeling back her glove, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you, Ange."

She dropped the glove and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to the rapid pulse she found there without really understanding why. "I love you, Beast."

A moment later, he buried his face in her hair. Her hair always smelled fresh, like sunlight, to him. The smell went straight to his head.

And his groin. Stifling a groan, Sasha gently eased himself away from Skye. "Sorry, Ange. We shouldn't…get so close."

Still he couldn't resist playing with a long strand of her pale blonde hair. He wrapped it around his fingers again and again, drawing her near despite his earlier admonition. His dark brown eyes flickered with some emotion that she couldn't identify and she was lost, in thrall to him.

"Oh, God, I want to kiss you so bad," he whispered, unable to take his eyes off her mouth.

Fisting her hands in the collar of his suede jacket, which was drawn up around his neck, Skye whispered, "You can kiss me, Beast. I'm twelve now."

Her words acted like a dash of cold water to his libido. With suddenly shaking hands, he pried her away from him as gently as he could. "And I'm fifteen now. I should know better. I *do* know better. Forget what I said, Ange."

"No…" she said, her vivid blue eyes filling up with tears. "Please?"

Totally at the mercy of her tears, Sasha brushed his mouth lightly against hers, willing himself not to make any more of it than it was. A romantic gesture.

But Skye was not her mother's daughter for nothing. She was every bit as willful and determined as Nikita when she believed she had just cause. She kissed him back, her fingers sinking deep into his long, dark hair.

"Oh, Ange…" he murmured afterward.

"You're mine, Beast, and don't you ever forget it," she whispered.

He smiled and stroked the side of her face. She would be his someday. He swore she would never belong to anyone else. "You fight dirty."

"I fight to *win*."

"There's no competition, Skye. None at all."

"Good." Only the innate goodness of her soul kept her smile from appearing smug and self-satisfied. But if she were honest with herself, she *did* feel just a teensy bit justified in gloating. Sasha was *hers*. Now and forever. She had no intention of giving him up to *anyone*.

Sasha shook his head. He had a feeling that he was in for the ride of his life once Skye was old enough to play real havoc.

They barely had a moment to enjoy the subsequent silence that stretched between them before they were rudely interrupted. "Hi, sweetheart. Don't tell me you're with *him*," said the seventeen-year-old jock standing in front of her.

Sasha's eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. "Yeah, she's with *me*. Want to make something out of it?"

The jock ignored Sasha, concentrating instead on Skye. "You're a pretty little thing. What are you doing hiding up here in the stands? Come on down, sweetheart, I'd be happy to show you around."

Skye cast a quick glance at Sasha, who was clearly itching to get into a knockdown-dragout fight with the young athlete. "Thanks, but no thanks," she said demurely.

A dark glint entered Sasha's eyes, making him look decidedly dangerous. "You heard her. Now get lost."

"You got a death wish, sonny? I outweigh you by about fifty pounds."

"Size isn't everything," Skye remarked blithely, causing both Sasha and the jock to look at her in surprise.

"Well, it's not," she added.

"We should go home, Skye," Sasha commanded.

"But the game's not over."

"You're not watching it anyway."

"I didn't think you noticed," she said with a pretty giggle.

The jock stared at both of them. "How old are you, honey?"

Sasha stood in front of her, his manner overtly protective now. "Younger than she looks, man."

"Well, what are you, her brother?"

"I can defend myself, Sasha," Skye intervened, afraid that Sasha would either get hurt or get into trouble.

"No, you can't, Ange. That's my job."

"Sasha!"

Suddenly the jock grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her out of the stands. Sasha flew after them, his feet barely touching the empty wooden seats.

"Please let me go," Skye asked.

The seventeen-year-old rightly concluded that there was something both different and special about Skye, but he wrongly decided to make his move on her. His kiss was far too adult for a young girl of Skye's age and sensibilities, but in the end, that didn't matter. Skye took things into her own astonishingly capable hands.

First, she slapped him. He looked stunned, then he laughed. "That wasn't a good idea."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

Skye abruptly elbowed the young athlete in the chest followed closely by two sharp blows to his abdomen. When he doubled over in pain, her knee connected with his nose. Left with a nosebleed of incredible proportions, the older teen had no choice but to retreat.

Sasha watched the young man limp away, holding his hands over his face. Turning to face his beloved, he asked, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Same place you did."

At Sasha's confused look, she said, "You guys are always so busy protecting me, you forget that I train in the same martial arts as you do. My life isn't *totally* about computers, y'know."

"So…all this time…you could have done that…to me?"

"Yeah." She smiled brightly. "But I don't want to chase *you* away, Beast."

Sasha smiled weakly. "I'm…glad."

"Daddy would be so happy to know it works."

"Ummmm…I don't think your Dad really needs to know about what happened, Ange."

"You think?" She bit her lip coyly, clearly angling for another kiss.

"You're getting entirely too smart for your own good."

"Kiss…me."

"I shouldn't."

"Ugh, are you going to make me taste that creep's icky wet kiss all the way home?"

Sasha's eyes widened. "He stuck his tongue in your mouth?"

Skye looked disgusted. "Yeah."

"Come here, Ange."

Skye smiled to herself. By the time they were married, Sasha would know how to give her exactly what she needed.

"I am *not*."

"Are, too."

"Am not."

"Are, *too*."

"I hate you, Con."

"Feeling's mutual, Fee."

"Okay, not really."

"Me neither."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Say it."

"I did."

"No, you didn't. You said, I know."

"So?"

"Connnnorrr…"

"I do."

"Do what?"

"Love you."

Faith sighed happily and snuggled closer to Connor. "Mmmm…I think I need another kiss."

"Nope, you need to go home."

"Mom's not expecting me till late," she said in her own inimitable way.

"We're not fooling around, Fee. We'll get caught."

"No, we won't."

"What did your Mom say when she saw the hickey I left on your neck?"

"Okay, she wasn't *that* ecstatic about me being colored purple…but—"

"No, Fee. I—"

Faith wound her arms around Connor's neck and kissed him. It was a sensual kiss, fraught with the unresolved sexual tension that lay between them like a minefield.

"God, Fee. Every time you kiss me, I want more. This is too dangerous. It's getting hard to stop."

"What if we don't?"

Connor's mouth hung open. "I really don't have a death wish."

"But I want to be with you, Con…please?"

"Oh, no. We are *not* going there."

"Don't you want me?" Faith sounded so bereft and so utterly heartbroken, Connor wanted to find a hole to hide in and pull it in after him.

He kissed her, his mouth gentle on hers. "I love you. Of course I want you, Fee."

"Then please take me, Con. I need to know how much you love me."

He leaned his forehead on hers and heaved a great sigh. "You're testing me. I wish you wouldn't do that, Fee. It makes me feel…well, like you're manipulating me."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't do that to you, Con. Not on purpose."

"We'll be together someday, Faith. I swear it."

Faith pouted and slid her hands down his body to gently cup the burgeoning arousal that strained to get out of his jeans. "Part of you wants me now."

Connor gritted his teeth. "*All* of me wants you now, Faith. Trust me."

"We could go just…part…of the way—"

Connor picked up Faith's hands and placed them in her lap. Clasped tightly together. "No, we couldn't. Once we start, I know we won't be able to stop, Fee."

"How do you know that?"

"When you know the answer to that, Faith, then we'll both be ready."

Faith leaned forward and kissed him, her thumbs pressing into both cheeks as she deepened the kiss. When she reluctantly broke away, there were actual tears in her green eyes. "I could push you into this so easily," she said, her voice starting to break.

"Yeah, you could," Connor admitted. "But I hope…that you won't use what I feel for you against me."

"I won't," she confessed in a tiny voice. Then with an elaborate sigh, she buried her face against his neck, begging to be held one last time.

Connor obliged, swallowing over the persistent lump in his own throat now. He loved her more than she would ever know.

"Mmm, how's my brave hero?"

James chuckled as Smoke kissed the nape of his neck and wrapped his arms around his chest. "I'm never going to live it down, am I?"

"Not while I'm alive."

"You know what the best part was, though, Pete?"

Smoke pulled James into the space between his legs and rested his head on his shoulder. "No, what?"

"Jazz called me *Dad*."

Smoke blinked. "You never told me that before."

"For a while, I thought I *dreamed* it. Then I realized it really happened, Pete."

Smoke nuzzled James' neck affectionately. "I'm glad, Jamie. You deserve it."

"Doesn't mean it'll happen again, love."

"Doesn't matter. It's how he thinks of you."

James turned to face his partner, hope brightening his handsome features. "I'm sure it's how he thinks of you, too, Pete."

Smoke lowered his head and kissed James tenderly. "Maybe."

James tweaked the end of Smoke's nose playfully. "Or maybe he wants to see you in a dress and call you Mom."

Smoke laughed, his light blue-gray eyes more blue than gray now. "No way. My legs aren't good enough."

"You're beautiful, though," James whispered, carding his fingers through Smoke's long fine hair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Not a girl, though."

"I noticed."

"You want to dance with me, Jamie?"

"I always want to dance with you, Pete."

They moved as one, their mouths merging, completing each other in ways that only they could understand. Murmurs of love passed between them, some intelligible, some not. James fingered the silver choker that Smoke wore and kissed the place where it lay on his neck. Smoke closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of James' head.

"Whoops! Sorry. I didn't know you guys were in here," Jazz apologized.

Smoke smiled at the teenager he had brought into their lives almost two years ago. "That's okay," he said, his accent slightly heavier than usual. "We were just watching the sunset."

Jazz snorted. "Is that what you call it these days?"

James absently caressed Smoke's neck, his fingers reaching up and under his hair to touch the bare skin beneath. "How's Adam?"

"Seriously perturbed, man. But otherwise okay. No bumps or bruises."

"That's good."

"I think the idea of going back to school is wigging him out, though."

'He has to go back, Jazz."

"Yeah, I know, Dad, but—"

"What'd you say?" James asked.

"I said, Yeah, I know, but—"

"No, no, after that part."

"After which part?"

"You know which part, Jazz. The part where you called me Dad. Again."

"Oh. If you don't like it, I won't—"

"I do."

"You do?"

"I do…like it."

"Cool. Anyway—"

"What about Pete?"

"Ummm…" Jazz looked puzzled. "What about Pete?"

"Don't you want to call him Dad, too?"

"Wouldn't that be…um…confusing?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess it would." James grew silent and Smoke sighed. "Jamie, it doesn't matter. I told you."

Jazz shuffled his feet nervously. "Um, Pete?"

"Yes, Jazz?"

"You know why I call you Pete, right?"

Smoke tipped his head forward and his hair swung into his face, a silky black curtain that hid his expression from view. "Cause I'm not your father."

"Well, yeah, but besides that. I mean, I could call you Smoke, right?"

Smoke nodded.

Jazz bit his lip and hesitated for a moment before he approached the two men. He pulled Smoke's hair away from his face and pushed some of it behind his ear. "I call you *Pete* cause it's what *he* calls you. I just never heard anyone call someone that with such…um…love and affection…and…um…I just wanted you to know. That's all."

"That's how I think of you, too. Cause I, um, love you."

Smoke didn't react for a full second, then he reached out and pulled Jazz into a hug that threatened to cut off the teenager's circulation. "I love you, too, Jazz," Smoke whispered.

"I guess we're like a real family now, huh? Even though we're all guys?"

James ruffled Jazz' hair. "I guess we are."

End