Werewolves of Manhattan Box Set

Chapter 6

Tuesday

Sean awoke when a sliver of light entered the room through the dark curtains. He looked around wondering what happened and how he wound up in such a beautiful room. The clock at the bedside read 8:00. He sat up and went to scratch his forehead and felt a bandage and felt another on his side. It all came back to him. Mr. La Marche rescued him from the Russian and gave him the hospitality of his home for the night. He got out of bed, still feeling a bit groggy. It must be the sedative and the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed.

The bed had four posts, he grabbed one. He spotted a chair and sat to regain his balance. The room looked as if it came straight out of an art history book.

The drapes appeared to be burgundy silk velvet, tied back with golden tasseled cords. There were sconces placed around the room and reading lamps in a modified French Empire Style. The paintings hung on the silk wallpaper were original oils and could be compared to old Masters. He recognized the style of the various artists, however, had never seen these particular paintings in any of his art books. A tear fell down his check. I’ll never finish my masters, then he looked down at himself in disgust. How can I even think of that after what happened to Leroy? Sean shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs.

Sean designed and made porcelain pieces from clay to glaze, painting, and firing. He recognized some of the pieces on the mantel of the huge fireplace as being Chinese and of such an age that they were priceless.

His head stopped spinning. He needed to go to the bathroom. Grabbing the bedpost to ease himself up, he walked carefully to the open door to the right of the bed. There he found a bathroom as large as his old apartment. A shower with twelve heads stood in the corner of the room. It was flanked by an old fashioned, claw-footed tub. Two pedestal sinks stood opposite the shower and a door led to a steam room and sauna. In the middle of the room was a step down pool with Jacuzzi jets. It looked big enough to hold six people. The tiles were a brilliant white. Two black veined marble seats sat on opposite sides of the pool.

I wonder if my host has a lover. He felt a stab of jealousy so sharp it almost sent him reeling. Where did that come from? Another door revealed the cordoned off commode with a bidet. Mr. La Marche certainly knows how to live.

Sean emptied his bladder and found a white robe in what looked to be his size hanging on a hook. The room was a little chilly, so he put it on. Some fresh towels were draped on a towel warmer bracketed into the wall. He wondered if he could take a shower, he felt so cruddy after living on the streets for two months and taking showers at the Y.

A soft knock sounded outside the bathroom door. Opening the door he found his host on the other side.

“I see you found the facilities.” Sean wrapped the robe tighter around his torso. “Let’s get you into the tub. I’ll wash your hair. Dr. Artis left waterproof bandages so that your wounds won’t get wet.”

“I need my clothes. There is fresh clothing in my backpack, but it’s behind the Dumpster.”

“Meg washed the clothing you had on and it’s sitting on the bed. Are you dizzy? If you are, I can help get you into the tub.”

“I’m a little woozy, but I’ll be okay. Maybe I could take a shower; I’m too cruddy to sit in a tub.” Sean looked at his benefactor hopefully.

“If you wish; but for my piece of mind I’ll get into the shower and I’ll hold you so we don’t have any accidents.”

“That isn’t necessary.” Sean blushed. “I can manage.”

Armand was busy removing his own clothing. “Yes, it’s necessary. The doctor gave you a powerful sedative last night plus a sleeping pill and I see you’re still woozy. You’re in my care and I don’t want you hurt.”

“Do we have time? I mean before the police arrive to take my statement?”

“You’ve all the time in the world. If necessary, Detective Murphy will wait for you. Now get in, breakfast will be waiting when we are done.”

Sean shrugged off the robe and stepped out of the sleep pants, slightly embarrassed at his nakedness. He moved into the shower, hoping Mr. La Marche didn’t see his face flush. Armand followed. Sean was in shock that his host joined him in the shower. He knew he was still a bit out of it and needed help but Mr. La Marche could have managed that by just extending an arm into the enclosure or making him use the bath. He felt his c**k rise. Embarrassed, he gave it a hard thump. It didn’t help.

Mr. La Marche pressed a few buttons and the showerheads moved so that they wouldn’t hit Sean anywhere near his temple or side. Sean turned his eyes to the wall trying not to display his c**k which, with the sight of Armand La Marche’s tall, broad, and toned body, got rock hard.

“I won’t be long, Mr. La Marche, I appreciate all that you have done for me. As soon as I speak to the detective, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“We’ll speak about that after breakfast.”

Sean began to protest. “You’ve done too much.”

“None of that, now; turn around so I can wash you properly.” Sean turned thumping his c**k a second time, hoping that Mr. La Marche wouldn’t see its apparent interest.

Armand chuckled. “Well at least I can see you’re not indifferent to my charms.”

Sean’s fair skin turned a bright shade of red.

Mr. La Marche caressed his skin with a sea sponge going over every inch with long circular strokes as if Sean was made of spun glass. He turned Sean around giving using the same slow, sensuous strokes on his back. He dribbled water down his crack and washed between his cheeks.

Mr. La Marche bent down and washed Sean’s legs working his way up to his thighs. He turned Sean around and reached for his c**k.

“I’m feeling much better. Eh…I can take it from here.”

Mr. La Marche shook his head. “Let me take care of you, spoil you a bit. You’ve had a difficult time and you’re still shaky after what you saw last night.”

He put Sean’s c**k in his hand and soaped it and his ball sac with great tenderness. Sean was very self-conscious. His usually trimmed hair had turned into a bush. Why did that matter? He couldn’t fathom his reaction to his host. His d**k was ramrod stiff and he couldn’t stop leaning into Mr. La Marche’s caress. Mr. La Marche pulled him up against his chest and began to stroke Sean’s c**k; his own, rock-hard d**k rubbing against Sean’s crack. Sean couldn’t protest. He felt himself about to collapse on the shower floor with need riding him hard.

It seemed as if Armand’s—yes, he now thought of him as Armand—hands belonged there. I want him. I need to fall into his arms and make sure he never lets me go. He came in long ropey spurts. What am I thinking? I’ve known this man for twelve hours and I’ve let him jerk me off!

Armand remained silent. Sean’s knees weakened at the soft touches of the sponge cleaning his spunk off his chest.

“I’ve got you,” Armand said as he turned him around and put his hand into his hair. He pulled it up and back. Taking the hand sprayer he wet the long blond hair. Armand squeezed shampoo from a bottle on the shelf he began to massage it into his hair. The shampoo and the conditioner that followed had no scent. Yet, Sean smelled a delicious odor of wet pine and the green grass of springtime that wasn’t coming from the shampoo. Why does the shower smell like a forest in the spring?

Armand rinsed Sean’s hair and body with the hand sprayer. He pulled Sean into him for a hard kiss. Then he opened the shower door and took towels from the warmer, drying himself briskly; he left the shower as if nothing had occurred. He patted Sean dry using one towel for his body and taking the second to wrap around his hair. He checked to see if Sean was able to stand and then closed the bathroom door to give him some privacy to dress. Sean toweled himself off and again donned the pants. He couldn’t wrap his head around what just happened. Why didn’t I object to the handjob or the kiss? What’s the matter with me? What was I thinking?

The pounding of the shower heads had cleared his brain of the fog left over from the sedative. But he felt as if he were losing his mind. The shower gel Armand used carried no scent. Yet the smell of pine and newly mowed grass persisted. All of the products came from the same private label. He decided to let it be. Maybe the wound had f****d with my olfactory senses besides messing with my head.

Relief flowed over him as he felt truly clean for the first time in weeks. There was no deodorant. Sean shrugged, and put on the robe. He never liked heavy scents anyway. His nose was very sensitive.

Sean found his clothing on the bed. Everything he had on the previous evening was neatly washed and pressed. He sighed in relief that he wouldn’t have to go to breakfast in a robe and sleep pants. He felt vulnerable enough as it is. Taking off the robe and pants he put on his briefs, jeans, his sweatshirt, socks, and sneakers.

* * * *

Armand was sitting at the breakfast table when he heard the brass door knocker. Pierre went to answer the door and escorted Dr. Artis into the breakfast room. The doctor eyes shone with excitement.

“Sit down, my friend. Meg, pour Dr. Artis some coffee. You’re up very early doctor.”

“I acted on a hunch last night when I took some of the boy’s blood. I recognized him as loup-garou. I’d need to do some more tests to determine the bloodline but I’m sure he is a more than a half-blood. It took a dose of sedative, plus a sleeping pill to put him down last night and his wound was healing quicker than a human but not as instantly as a were. It remains to be seen if he can make the shift, however, with more than fifty percent loup-garou blood, it’s possible. That is why he had so strong a scent. Meg and Pierre noticed this too, but I told them not to say anything until I was sure of my information.”

“And now you are sure…”

“Positive. Of course you already knew that, Alpha.”

“If it was Dimitri, I wonder why he didn’t smell him as were in the alley.”

“The garbage, Alpha, it had been there for a while. I have an excellent nose and in the alley I smelled no trace of Dimitri.”

“I thought he was loup-garou but it’s nice to have the fact that he’s were confirmed and knowing he can shift will make things easier.” Armand laid his napkin on his lap.

“Pierre, has Meg sized the clothing?”

“Yes Alpha, she knew you wouldn’t allow your mate to dress so poorly.”

“Go to Abercrombie and Fitch and get my mate a few things to wear befitting his status. Pick out a suit from Barney’s, a box plaid with sage green to bring out his eyes. Make an appointment for the tailor to come this afternoon and make any adjustments necessary.”

“May I ask why, Alpha?”

“Yes you may, I intend to woo him and then marry him as soon as he says yes.”

“I understand, sir.” Pierre bowed and left the room.

“Dr. Artis, I’ve kept you too long from your patients.”

The doctor took this statement as a polite dismissal and bid his Alpha good day.

“I’ll be back later this afternoon to look at the bandage.”

Armand’s sharp sense of smell detected Sean on the stairs. He came down to the breakfast room. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you have wedding plans, Mr. La Marche. If I could talk to the detective, I’ll be on my way. I’m sure your intended…” Sean’s voice hitched on that word, “…won’t want a stranger imposing on your hospitality.”

“As of yet, I have no fiancé for you to worry about. We need to talk, but first you need to eat, you’re much too thin.”

Meg laid a large steak with eggs and home fried potatoes on the table in front of him along with a plate of fruit and another of toast and muffins. The eggs were drenched in Béarnaise sauce as was the steak.

“Meg, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t know your last name.”

“My surname is Blanchet, but before that I was plain Meg O’Connor, so Meg is fine.”

“I wanted to tell you Meg, that your breakfast looks wonderful, but I don’t know if I can eat it all.” Sean said looking at the sheer amount of food on the table.

“You need some good red meat, so oblige me by starting with the steak. The doctor said you need to build up your strength.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Armand poured himself another cup of French roast.

“Not at all, there isn’t really much to tell…”

“Where are you from?”

“A small borough on the Bayshore of New Jersey, Keansburg. My father is a police officer, my mother deceased. Although I just found out in August that the man I thought to be my father, wasn’t my dad. It seems my mom was pregnant prior to their marriage. She died of breast cancer as did her sister, Nellie. She never told me that I wasn’t Tom Quinn’s son or who my real father was.”

Pierre came into the room. “Sir…”

“That must be Detective Murphy. We will continue our conversation after he fills out his paperwork.”

Pierre escorted the detective into the room.

“Would you like some coffee, detective?” Meg bustled and put a cup and the carafe in front of him.

“Sir.” The detective bowed his head to Armand. Armand waved to indicate that the detective should sit down.

“You must be Sean Quinn, I have your backpack. Is that your full name?” the detective started.

“My full name is Sean Lucien Quinn.”

“Oh, was your mother French?” Armand asked.

“No, she was Irish, her maiden name was O’Shea. I always wondered why she gave me such a French middle name. She was Irish on both sides of the family. The man who raised me was also Irish.”

“What did you see last night?” Detective Murphy took out his notebook.

Sean blushed in shame. “I need to explain. I couldn’t pay for school or my apartment because my father cut me off from a legacy from my aunt. The art gallery in SoHo, where I worked, closed and I lost my job. Uh…Leroy said he would show me how to make some money by…”

Armand interrupted. “You don’t have to continue, just tell him about the murder.”

“Leroy said he would look out for me.” Sean face turned bright red with embarrassment.

“Leroy would be the deceased?” Murphy wrote on his pad.

“Yes, sir. We were almost at the pier. He saw this man he called the Russian in front of us. Leroy told me to run and hide in the alley; that I couldn’t handle him.”

“Handle him?”

“You know…”

“Murphy, you’re out of your purview.” Armand growled.

“Excuse me, Mr. La Marche. I’m sorry for prying in what is clearly not my business.”

“You may continue.” Armand gave a second warning growl.

“You hid behind the Dumpster?” The detective looked a bit frightened.

“Yes, I covered myself in garbage.” Sean looked at Armand and he nodded his head encouraging him to continue. “I watched as this Russian pulled a knife and stuck it into Leo’s stomach and pulled it upwards toward the top of his chest. It took a great deal of strength to do that.” Sean grimaced.

“What happened next?” The detective scribbled.

“He must have seen my head over the Dumpster because I stood when I heard Leroy scream. He came after me with the knife. He slipped on some lettuce and I was able to get away. He ran along the docks and I hid again. He stopped as if to sniff the air. He came after me again but I got away and he then stole into an open doorway and I had no choice but to run to get help. His knife cut my head and side. It bled a lot, but it seems to be okay today.”

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“I took off and ended up on West Street running over to the first car I saw. It was Mr. La Marche’s vehicle.”

“Can you identify this Russian?”

“Yes, I have excellent night vision and he turned toward where I was hiding as soon as he finished with Leroy and again when he used the door in the alley.” Sean’s voice quivered. “He hurt Leroy for no reason. He saw the way I went, he could have come after me without involving Leroy.” Sean’s eyes filled up.

“I think that’s enough for today, detective,” Armand said abruptly.

“Your pardon, sir. Do you think Sean will be able to come down to the stationhouse to identify this Russian from a mug shot?”

“Wait a minute, Detective Murphy. I can draw him. Mr. La Marche, do you mind? I’ll get my charcoal pencil and sketchpad from my backpack.” He sat down at the table and quickly sketched a picture of the Russian from memory. “This is him.”

“That’s Dimitri Petrovich, a name both of us know well, Alpha.”

Armand shot the detective a look and Murphy blushed in consternation.

“Can you take it from here? Sean looks a bit tired and I’d rather not have him upset.”

“Eh, yes sir.”

“Pierre you can show the detective out. Sean and I will be in my study. I believe you have some errands to run.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Pierre left the breakfast room.

“Have you finished your breakfast?”

“Oh yes, Mr. La Marche. I’m completely stuffed.”

“Then we shall retire to my study.”

* * * *

Sean followed Armand up the stairs. The study was done in blue and brown with a huge library table that served as a desk which was flanked by two brown leather chairs. A small couch faced toward the fireplace. “Sit with me.” Armand motioned to the sofa. The logs were set and a box of fireplace matches sat on the mantel. “Let’s take the chill out of the room.” Armand took some kindling from the woodbin and started a fire. Sean sat nervously on the far side of the sofa while Armand worked to start the flame.

“I’m afraid I can’t repay you for your kindness, Mr. La Marche. At the moment I have nothing.”

“I’m not looking for payment, far from it.” Armand stepped closer to where Sean sat and a fission of absolute calm descended upon him the closer Armand came. “Come, baby and sit here, closer to me.”

Why is he calling me baby? Now that I think of it, he called me that last evening too.

Sean moved down on the sofa and Armand pulled him into a heated kiss. Sean jumped back.

“Do you feel the attraction between us? The air sizzles with it.” Armand lifted Sean onto his lap. Sean began to fidget.

“I must. I don’t know what came over me in the shower. I’m not easy, despite what I was about to do last night. I was so hungry and cold…” Sean hid his face in his hands shaking and trying not to cry.

“Take it easy, baby. I know what happened. Your stepfather should be shot for what he did to you.” Sean tried to regain control of himself as Armand mouthed soothing words and stroked his back.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Armand asked Sean.

“I’m not very interesting. I studied to be a potter at NYU Institute of Fine Arts and had one semester to go to finish my master’s degree in Fine Arts with a specialty in studio ceramics.” Sean started to sit up straight making a deliberate move off Armand’s lap to sit next to him on the couch. Armand casually draped an arm around his shoulders. Sean sunk lower into the cushions to avoid his arm. He couldn’t trust himself around this man.

“I wanted to study Native American pottery designs. I hoped to stylize their patterns and use a modern glaze to make unique pottery. I had no grand design. I only wanted to be able to work at the craft I love. Someday I hoped to open a shop.” Sean sighed.

“How did you plan to fund it?”

“My Aunt Nellie left me a legacy. I’d been very frugal with the money. I thought that I had enough to make a start. Maybe apprentice myself to a master potter, learn and with the money I earned, plus Nellie’s, open a studio.”

“Your stepfather denied you access to your funds?” Armand guessed as he pulled Sean closer. Unconsciously, Sean leaned on Armand’s shoulder.

“After I told him I way gay, he told me that he had power of attorney over the trust and he would spend what was left before I could even find a lawyer. Mr. La Marche, I don’t know any lawyers and even if I did, any lawyer in Keansburg would know my father. And they don’t much like gay people in Keansburg.” Sean moved sideways a bit trying to get further away from Armand. Armand just pulled him in closer. It felt like a chess game and he was the pawn.

“Armand…”

“Sir?” Sean looked at him perplexed.

“Armand, not Mr. La Marche.” Armand began to absently stroke Sean’s hair.

“I didn’t know how to begin to get the money back. I came back to New York to find that I lost my job because the gallery closed. I applied all over SoHo and all of the galleries were cutting back on help. Even the fast food chains weren’t hiring.”

“Hard times for the art world as well as the rest of the country, baby.”

“My roommates were new, last year I shared the apartment with my best friend Tony and Tony’s girlfriend, now wife, Nina. They went up to Boston where Tony is a teaching assistant at Boston University so I had to room with someone new.”

Armand’s hand stroked up and down Sean’s arm. Sean felt comforted, as if Armand really cared about all that happened to him in the last few months.

“I started to apply anywhere to get a job to pay my portion of the rent. They only gave me two weeks and then they changed the name on the lease. I was homeless. It’s even harder to find work when you have no address. I stayed in friends’ dorm rooms for a night or two and then couch surfed for a week with a buddy, but his roommate complained and I had nowhere to go again.”

“Where was your apartment?” Armand asked.

“At 216 West 16th, between 7th and 8th Avenue, the front apartment on the second floor; it was barely inside Chelsea.”

“Not far from here.” Armand stroked Sean’s arm.

“Older, but a nice apartment, rent stabilized, but I couldn’t pay my share of the rent so I was out on my ear. What little money I had left I spent four days ago on a hamburger. I’d run out of options. I didn’t want to pawn my computer because all of my design work for my master’s degree was on it, but I did. But it didn’t get me enough for a bus ticket to Boston.”

“Yes, you mentioned your friend and his wife. Do they know what happened?”

“I didn’t have a working cell phone to call them.”

“You could stay here with me. I have more money than I know what to do with and I’d be very happy to help you. This electricity between us, I’d like to explore it.” Sean blushed.

“I couldn’t impose on you like that, Armand.” Armand smothered a growl.

“I could pay your tuition and give you a place to stay. Right now, Murphy wants to put you into Witness Protection. I can offer you a better alternative.”

“What’s the catch?” Sean asked, moving away from Armand to the other side of the couch.

“I said I was attracted to you and we seem to be sexually compatible. I know some things about your heritage that you don’t know. I’d be able to help you with them. I want the opportunity to court you properly.”

“Court me?”

“Yes, I want you to marry me.” Sean stood up, about to run for the door.

“Wait a minute and let me explain. I haven’t tried to harm you in any way. You are safe here no matter what happens in the next hour. Pierre and Meg are within shouting range…Give me a bit of time to explain before you bolt.”

Sean edged back into the room and sat down on the arm of the closer of the two leather chairs. “I admit I’ve felt very safe here for the first time in a long time but it’s rather disconcerting to find myself with this attachment to you. I don’t know what I feel and that frightens me.”

“I have a story to tell you, baby. Give me some time, sit and listen…”