Free Make Me Soar by KC Wells

sleep,” Dorian said, his voice rasping.
    Alan peered at him. “That sounds like a good idea. You didn’t sleep well last night, I know.” He smiled. “I’ll take a look in the kitchen and work out what I’ll cook us for dinner. And if needs be, I’ll order in. That sound okay?”
    Dorian nodded, a look of gratitude flitting across his face. Then he got to his feet and picked up his bag. “Don’t let me sleep too long.” Those brown eyes had a haunted quality about them.
    Alan peered at the clock on the wall. “It’s gone three o’clock. How about I wake you before six?” Dorian nodded. “And Dorian? You can take off the bandage. It needs air now.”
    Dorian’s eyes were pained. “Is… is it bad?”
    Alan decided to be honest. “Dorian, a brand is basically a third degree burn. It will feel irritated, just like when you burn your finger.”
    “Is there some cream or something that you can put on it?”
    Alan shook his head. “It only needs cream for the first day or so. When you’re in the flat, it would be better if you left it uncovered. It will heal faster like that. I’m leaving it up to you to apply some cream to your anus. You don’t need me for that.”
    Dorian was still, his expression closed off. “Thank you for all this.” Then he disappeared through the door into his bedroom, mug in one hand, bag in the other. The door closed with a soft snick .
    Alan sagged into the cushions. He knew the atmosphere would improve, but the tension in Dorian was palpable. He nursed the warm mug of tea, his thoughts going back to the sight of Dorian in that tiny hotel bathroom, the blood stark in the fluorescent lights, the pallor of his skin, and the sound of his breathing, harsh and rapid. Alan knew it would be a couple of weeks before the injury to his anus would heal, the same for the brand on his back. The physical scarring he could help with. As for the mental ones? They would take a while.
    Those fucking bastards .
    Alan wasn’t a betting man, but he’d lay even money that they hadn’t told Dorian what they’d intended doing.
    A soft knock at the front door brought him back into the present. Alan put down his mug and went to answer it. Leo stood there, overnight bag in one hand and laptop bag in the other. Alan let him into the lounge, and Leo glanced around with interest.
    “He’s gone for a nap,” Alan told him. They sat down after Leo had placed the laptop bag on the coffee table and left the other on the floor by the couch. “Did you find stuff easily?”
    Leo nodded. “I didn’t pack much, just a few changes of clothes and some sleepwear.” Then a wry smile crossed his lips. “I have to say, I’m very curious about something.”
    Alan frowned. “Oh?” Then he sat very still. He suddenly had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what Leo was about to say.
    Leo smirked, as if privy to his thought processes. “I thought about bringing you a book to read, so I took a look at your bookshelves.”
    Shit .
    Leo grinned. “So either you’re Lauren Peters’s number one fan, because you have all her books, or there’s something you’re not telling me.”
    Well, crap . Leo must have seen his notes on the table. Then it hit him. “Just a moment. How did you know I had all her books? Unless you’re a fan too?” Alan grinned. “Why, Leo Hart, are you a closet gay romance reader? I’d never have guessed.”
    Leo’s cheeks burned. “It’s not something I spread about, okay? Only Thomas knows, and he’s not about to tell anyone at the club, because I have far too much dirt on him after all these years.”
    Alan chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me. So I guess I have no choice but to share mine.” He extended a hand toward him. “Pleased to meet you. The name’s Lauren Peters.”
    Leo shook it and then broke into a broad grin. “How come you’re writing MM romance under a female pseudonym? It’s usually the other way round. I’ve heard of a few women writing under male pen