EXXERPT (PG):

Down in the cellar the light was dim and the air chilled, despite the fact that its well-scrubbed, whitewashed walls bore no comparison to the gloomy, neglected basements that Max Avery had encountered more than once in a military career that had so far been short but often dangerous. A tall, dark-haired young man with what many called chiseled good looks, he searched along the rows of stacked fine wine bottles, moving towards the far end of the room. His dark blue eyes glinted like fireflies and the only sounds were the careful tread of his well polished boots and his soft, even breath.

He was in full dress uniform, which was rare enough except on ceremonial occasions, or at formal regimental dinners such as that night. But he was entitled to wear it as befitted his position in the regiment, a position that he’d achieved through merit and his own bravery. Max Avery had risen through the ranks, alongside other promising young soldiers, but he was the protégé most favored by the major of his regiment. In addition to that, he was friend to Edward, the major’s somewhat wayward son, and something rather more to the major’s daughter, Elisa. He was on what people called the fast track to the top.

There was a distant call from above, from the direction of the dining room, but he couldn’t make out any specific words. The faint smell of succulent, roasted meat drifted across his nostrils, mixed with the sweeter fragrance of the extravagant flower arrangements set out in the hallways above. He tugged his dark red, braid-embellished jacket around him more closely, though the cold air wasn’t unpleasant. But he felt as if he’d suddenly stepped down into another world; the hatchway back up to the house was a window of clean, warm sky set above the stone floor beneath, cold and dark in contrast.

A sudden quiver of movement from the far depths of the room caught his eye; his keen hearing identified an alien sound. He paused, and his hands clenched into loose but ready fists.

“Max?” The voice was only a whisper, but it was unmistakably male. It came from the very furthest corner down between the racks. The movement became more pronounced and a shadow detached itself from the darkness there, slowly forming into the shape of a tall, slim man. He wore loose, comfortable clothing that didn’t seem in keeping with the semi-formal theme of the evening ahead; his chestnut-colored hair fell down in loose curls, nudging into his neck and shoulders. When he smiled, his teeth were a flash of white in the dim light. His mouth was wide and his lips generous. He had the look of someone who was often found smiling.

Max watched the newcomer approach without any sign of surprise or nervousness. In fact his body seemed to straighten up and his own mouth lifted in a smile of response.

“You’re meant to be arriving at eight, Mackay,” he murmured, his voice only slightly disapproving. “With Edward St Ives and the others. And in uniform.” Up above, he thought he could hear the muted clatter of crockery being unpacked from the cupboards and laid out on the dresser in the dining room.

The longer-haired man shrugged. “I’ll change later. We’re not all so keen to be at the beck and call of the top brass.” His eyes ranged up and down Max’s perfectly tailored clothes, matched by the man’s fit, athletic build. Something flickered in his eyes that hovered between feral and flirtatious. “But you look very good, Avery. Very good indeed.”

Max raised his eyebrows, but his gaze remained fixed on the other man. Ryan Mackay was a colleague and also one of those promising young soldiers – but with a rather different reputation from Max. Something less respectable. Far less respectable.

As Max Avery knew only too well.