The Love Risk [boyxboy]

Chapter Two

Chapter Two (Mark)

"What'd you do? Give birth?" I demanded, putting a fist on my hip as Storm and I stood by the baggage retrieval area, our bags in hand and ready. Slade stuck his tongue out at me, making me roll my eyes before I looked at Alexander, who looked uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" I asked at him as Slade snatched his bags up, throwing one over his shoulder and popped out the handle to drag his wheeled suitcase. Alexander glanced up at me sideways before looking away with a frown.

"I dunno. Just a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach." He muttered. I frowned, but said nothing in return. I didn't quite know what to say and I think he was only feeling that way because he didn't want to be here. We'd taken him away from Amber and Mary-Kay; pretty much the only family he truly had left now. I feel that somewhere he was blaming the Gothica Clan for everything that's happened the past couple years, but I didn't want to jump on that bandwagon too quickly, so I kept it myself as Storm led the way out of the airport.

"We're meeting your dad at the hotel, right?" I asked, making Storm nod as he fiddled with his cell phone, probably texting his dad to let him know we were in the city. I looked away from Storm to glance at Slade and Alexander who followed behind us along with Zander, who was struggling with the extra bag he had to carry-- which belonged to Slade. Speaking of Slade, the psychic child was nibbling on his lower lip and looking around cautiously, like he was expecting something to hit us.

For some reason, that made me nervous. I mentally cursed myself, taking a deep breath.

No. Stop worrying. This is a nice comfortable vacation in fucking Italy. I was just nervous because Alexander was nervous and he was just nervous because he was angry.

I just had to lay low, be cool and--

"Mark!" I jumped, accidentally letting a squeak slip out when I felt Storm's grip on the back of my shirt, tearting me back. I blinked and looked around, bewildered when I realized I had almost walked into the road outside the airport. I felt my cheeks flame as a car went by after honking a couple times.

"Get your head out of the clouds," Storm scolded worriedly, putting a hand on my shoulder and pulling me closer to him, "You're gonna get yourself hurt."

"Seriously, mate," Slade agreed with his usual thick Cockney accent, which was slightly further skewed by the injury to his tongue from our battle last Christmas, "Ye mays be immortal an' all dat fancy junk, but ye can still ge' hurt pretty badly."

"Sorry," I muttered, then glanced around at the nice sleek cars that drove around through the city, "Wowww. This place is neat! And it smells nice too. Better than the Detroit Airport, which smelled like some kind of mix between sweat and feet. Smells like bread here."

"Couldn't agree mo'." Slade chirped, then came up to step beside me on the curb as he sniffed the air, then cocked his head curiously for a moment before he seemed to see something he didn't like and quickly turned his back on it, facing me so his face was right in mine. I winced, looking at him suspiciously and opening my mouth to speak when we heard someone call Storm's name.

Storm looked up from his cell phone and I followed his relieved gaze when I spotted Kristophe standing near a sleek black Porsche limousine, holding a sign that read GOTHICA on the front. Storm picked up his things and led us toward Kristophe.

He looked far more comfortable in Italy than he did back at home. His dark hair had grown out a bit, bangs longish and sideswept, almost hiding his right eye. It fell to the nape of his neck in the back and seemed a little unruly, but in a casual sort of way. His blue eyes looked less tired and he looked great in the black silk suit Vladimir had bought for him, specifically for the trip.