Hearts Under Fire

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Authors: Kelly Wyre and HJ Raine
Tags: gay romance
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hand.
    Or, at least, the keep-your-distance hand.
    After the lunch fiasco, Clark had gone home and changed for a trip to Green Dojo. On his way out the door, Clark spied his calendar and froze. April thirtieth was right around the corner. Normally he felt that date approaching like people felt the beginnings of the flu: lethargic, cranky, and in need of a dark sickroom for a few days.
    Because of the Daniel distraction, the date had snuck up on Clark this year, and that explained so damned much that Clark nearly collapsed in relief.
    April thirtieth was the date Clark lost an eye, his first choice in career, and...
    Him. You lost him that day, too.
    In a strange mixture of calm, grateful, and numb, Clark went to the dojo. He trained hard and came away with a mind almost completely consumed with new aches, pains, and bruises. Clark texted Heather to tell her he wouldn’t be coming into Glow, ate well, and went to bed early. He didn’t dream and woke up the next morning eight hours richer in sleep. He warmed up, ran ten miles in the cool fog of morning, and was pleasantly surprised when the first real thought he had came to him in the shower.
    You lost focus. Daniel, like you, is good at what he does. And maybe he reminds you just a little of what you lost. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all. Identify, strategize, and solve, Clark.
    By the time Clark fumbled in his closet to get dressed to meet Daniel at Break, he was mostly good with what had happened at Orsino’s, and with what Daniel called forth in Clark’s brain.
    Professor Germain was a professional dom. He was obviously intelligent, good at understanding people, intuitive, and someone Clark had a hard time reading. All traits of a man good with being on top.
    Germain rejected Clark, he assumed, because Clark didn’t sub and rarely bottomed. Clark was as aware of his own reputation as he was of others, and Daniel’s words and actions had confirmed that for Clark at the bar and at Orsino’s.
    Since Daniel didn’t sub or bottom, either, all hopes of anything like a relationship had met a quiet death. Clark regretted that -- and in admitting the regret, he found some relief.
    It was okay to regret the fact that he couldn’t be with someone who was obviously a force of nature. And hot. Never forget the hot. And brilliant. Ah, yes, that was nice, too. Kind, perceptive, and those eyes .
    After much chuckling at his hormonal self, Clark went on to theorize that it was a combination of that regret and the fact that Daniel was very good at inspiring the need to please that left Clark feeling off his game. Add to that Clark’s difficulty reading Daniel and the date of April thirtieth, and hell, it was a wonder Clark wasn’t already seeking sweet oblivion with two bottles of whiskey.
    Understanding all that helped Clark organize his mind and put memories back into their cages. Daniel was a job: a friendly kind of job, to be sure, and Clark relished the idea that he could help Daniel out by introducing him at Break. That made him feel good -- and there was nothing wrong or unusual about that, either. He liked helping others whom he respected. Daniel was certainly worthy of Clark’s respect, and there was nothing wrong with liking such a person. It made the job easier, after all.
    Clark would just need to guard himself better around Daniel. He needed to nix this crush, and he needed to get through tonight without burdening the guy with any more of his emotional bullshit. Daniel already seemed worried about Clark, and that was unacceptable.
    Shifting to cross his arms as he leaned against his car, Clark smiled as he recalled his image earlier tonight, standing naked in his apartment in front of a full-length mirror. In one hand, he’d held a wad of fabric headed toward the reject pile. And when he caught sight of his reflection, Clark paused, went still, and thought of beaches and tides. Closing his eyes, it was easy to recall the feeling of sand under

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