“Vegan’s such a dirty word,” Kim said.
“Mmm, I love dirty words,” Sloane said, snagging a
praline. “I love you.”
“Back at you,” Kim said.
The exchange sent a pang of sadness through
Keaton that mixed with his anger. He wished Aiden were
beside him, having dessert.
He would be, if he’d just
behave
. If he’d pull himself out of this pit of negativity and act
like the adult he is.
Kim wiped her hands on her pants. “I’m going to
go talk to him,” she said matter-of-factly. It took Keaton a
minute to realize she meant Aiden.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”
“It’s all right,” she said simply, leaving the room.
“If it makes you feel any better, Kim was totally the
Brat Whisperer when he lived here,” Hera said. “For
some reason, he never gets ticked at her. And he always
eats when she tells him to.”
“I guess I could learn a thing or two from her,”
Keaton muttered.
“Hey,” Hera said, looking at him with sympathy,
“relax. Have a praline.”
“I’m fine,” Keaton said brusquely.
“Maybe.” Hera grinned. “Or maybe you’re
human.”
* * * *
Aiden rinsed his face and was startled by the soft
knock on the door. “What?” he snapped.
“Fully clothed?” Kim’s voice.
Aiden opened the door. Before he could speak,
Kim took his wrist and led him to the living room. She
sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. Aiden
sat. For a few minutes, neither said anything.
“Hera doesn’t have the patience to make good
curry,” Kim said. “You have to let it simmer for hours.
And she adds way too much salt.”
Aiden wasn’t sure what to say.
“She never listens to me. Sometimes I just want to
grab what’s left of her hair and pull.”
Aiden looked at her. “How do you do it? The three
of you? How do you make a relationship work?”
“Most of the time, we don’t. You lived here; you
saw. Constant bickering. Over what to have for dinner,
what to watch on TV, who’s excluding who… ”
“But let me guess, you wouldn’t trade it for
anything in the world?” Aiden couldn’t keep the
bitterness from his voice.
“There’s plenty I’d trade it for. There are times I’m
sure I’ll walk right out the door and never come back. I
might, someday. Who knows?”
Aiden was shocked. “But you’re engaged.”
“That means a lot to me. I take it seriously. I love
my girlfriends. But that doesn’t mean we’ll be together
forever.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? Not knowing?”
“Sometimes. But no one on earth who ever loves
anyone can be sure it will last. They might think they
know, but they don’t.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
“Sort of.”
Aiden stared out at the hall. “I can’t stay here right
now. I need to go. Maybe one of you can run Keaton
home?”
Kim nodded.
“Don’t let him come after me. Please? Make him
stay and have dessert.”
“I’ll hold him down if I have to. Just promise me,
for his sake, that you’ll be safe.”
“Yeah. I just need to be alone awhile. Tell him I’ll
see him at home.”
Aiden left, trying not to think too much about what
he was doing. He needed to fly on autopilot for a while.
He needed to get away from himself and from Keaton.
He drove to Obey. He’d texted Scott that he’d be there
and Scott had agreed to meet him out front, but Aiden
saw no sign of him. He reached into his pocket for his
phone, but it wasn’t there. He patted his jacket. Shit. He
must have dropped it, either in his car or at Hera’s. Oh
well. No turning back now. He went inside.
Scott sat at the bar, alone. Unusual—Scott almost
always had a small crowd of disciples. He wore dark
jeans and a T-shirt, no harness or boots. He drained
whatever he was drinking and set the glass on the
counter.
“Hey,” Scott said as Aiden slid onto the stool
beside him. He didn’t seem drunk, but there was a
strange edge to his voice. Aiden recognized the look he’d
occasionally seen in Scott’s eyes, the look he used to
hope for—a kind of sad longing, as though Aiden was
the answer to a question Scott had been asking his whole
life. He didn’t glance at Aiden, just stared pensively at
his glass. “Water,” he said, answering a question Aiden
hadn’t asked. “I’m not drinking tonight.” He paused.
“You want to go downstairs?”
“Yeah.” Aiden paused. “No sex, Scott. I mean it.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, I know. Your boyfriend. No
sex. But I’m gonna make you hurt.”
“That’s what I want.”
Scott’s old confidence seemed to return at those
words. He straightened, and his eyes hardened. “It’s
what you
need
, Aiden.”
“Yes.”
“It’s what you can’t get over your boyfriend’s
knee.”
“Let’s just go.”
Scott took hold of the back of Aiden’s neck and
pushed him through the club toward the basement.
The dungeon was crowded. There were men in
every corner, kissing, groping, panting. Leather thudded
against flesh. Subs whimpered and cried out in pain or
ecstasy, while tops scolded or encouraged or barked
orders. Aiden caught glimpses of strange costumes, bare
skin, hungry stares. He wasn’t sure he wanted to play
here, in this chaos. He stopped, and instead of forcing
him on, Scott stopped too.
“It’s loud,” Aiden said. “Too crowded.”
“You want to go back to my place?” Scott asked.
Aiden nodded. Why not? This was all happening to
someone else. Aiden didn’t want to think, didn’t want to
feel anything but pain, carrying him out of his mind,
taking him to the edge and over. He needed to hurt; he
deserved
to hurt. How could he endanger what he had
with Keaton? How could he be so cold, so stubborn, so
deceitful?
Scott led him through a back door.
“Maybe I should get my car,” Aiden said.
“It’s cold,” Scott said. “My car’s right here. Get in.”
Aiden got in.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Scott said as they drove.
“I’ve missed you.”
Aiden didn’t answer. They pulled into Scott’s
driveway, and Scott got out, heading for the house.
Aiden didn’t move. Scott stopped partway up the drive
and hurried back. He yanked Aiden’s door open,
grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him out.
“Come on, boy.”
“I’m not your boy,” Aiden said.
Scott slammed him against the side of the car.
“You’re whoever I want you to be,” he said, his breath
hot against Aiden’s face.
“No,” Aiden said. “I’m not.”
Scott didn’t answer. He led Aiden into the house
and shut the door behind them. “Bedroom.”
“Fuck you.”
Scott slapped him. Aiden staggered backward.
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
In the bedroom, Scott ordered him to strip. Aiden
refused. Scott shoved him against a wall and ripped off
his shirt, buttons scattering on the floor. He knocked
Aiden to the floor and yanked off his shoes, pants, and
underwear, then pulled him upright once more. He ran
his hands over Aiden’s chest, his stomach, his cock.
“Don’t touch me,” Aiden said.
Scott stopped suddenly, as though Aiden’s words
were electric. “Turn around. Palms flat against the wall.”
Aiden didn’t obey. Scott socked him in the stomach
with a fist—not hard enough to do damage, but hard
enough that Aiden doubled over. Aiden forced himself
up and turned to face the wall. Scott reached around and
pinched his nipples, pulling until Aiden cried out.
“You’re a bad boy, aren’t you, Aiden?” Scott asked.
“Is your boyfriend waiting for you at home? Wondering
where you are?”
“Don’t talk about him!” Aiden shouted. “Just hurt
me.”
Aiden felt Scott tense, then step back. The belt
buckle jingled as Scott doubled the leather in his hand.
“Brace yourself, kid. This is gonna hurt.”
* * * *
Aiden go. If Aiden wanted to be alone, he should be
alone. But Keaton couldn’t help worrying about him.
Aiden’s state of mind might prevent him from driving
safely. And once he was home, what would he do? He
might grow even more distressed, left to his own
devices. And what if he didn’t go home?
He survived on his own before you, Keaton
reminded himself.
Hera offered to drive him back. Keaton said a numb
good-bye to Kim and Sloane. If Aiden was home when
he got there, they’d talk. If not, Keaton wouldn’t stay up
and wait for him. He’d let Aiden come back in his own
time.
On his way out, he nearly stepped on Aiden’s
phone, which lay on the front stoop. He picked it up.
Aiden was somewhere without his phone. Great. The
screen flashed on as Keaton wiped the phone on his
shirt, and Keaton saw that Aiden had a new text.
From Scott Runge.
Keaton froze, blood pounding in his ears. What was
Scott Runge doing texting Aiden? He knew he had no
business looking at Aiden’s message, but he couldn’t
stop himself. He hit View.
The text read:
See u there.
A quick scan through the past few messages
revealed that Scott and Aiden had planned to meet at
Obey to attend a party. Scott had offered to pick Aiden
up.
Keaton shook his head. He couldn’t let himself
think about the implications of this. Couldn’t think about
his own hurt, shame, or sense of betrayal. He had to
think about Aiden’s safety. Aiden was with Scott Runge.
Keaton had to find him.
Except the pain was so awful that Keaton felt
physically sick.
Hera had backed the car out of the garage and now
idled in the driveway, waiting for him.
“You coming?” she called.
Aiden had a voice mail too. Keaton listened to it as
he walked to the car, hoping it was from Scott and that it
would offer some clue to what was going on. It wasn’t.
Keaton put the phone away and explained the situation
to Hera.
“Oh shit. No way. No fucking way. That idiot. That
little piece of
shit
.”
Keaton wasn’t sure if she meant Aiden or Scott.
“We have to find him,” he said.
“Do we?” Hera demanded. “I’m pretty sure this is
natural selection at work, Keaton.”
“Aiden’s not himself. He’s confused.” Keaton
wasn’t sure he bought his own excuses for Aiden, but
guilt was beginning to overtake anger.
I shouldn’t have left
him alone. I should have stayed in the bathroom and talked to
him about whatever he wanted to talk about.
But the earliest texts between Aiden and Scott were
from midafternoon. This wasn’t some spur of the
moment decision Aiden had made out of anger. He’d
planned
to go to this party with Scott.
Keaton clutched Aiden’s phone, wanting to smash
it against the glove compartment. He took a deep breath,
aware that Hera was watching him.
She put the car in reverse. “All right. We’ll find him.
But when we do, I get first dibs on beating his ass.”
She sped down the driveway and into the road.
They reached Obey in record time.
“There’s his car,” Keaton said, scanning the lot.
“I’ll let you out and cruise the block. This place is
packed.”
Keaton got out and all but ran into the club. There
was barely room to move inside. Keaton fought his way
through the crowd, looking for someone he recognized.
He tried to go down to the basement, but there was a line
extending up the stairs, and when he tried to bypass it,
someone yelled, “Hey, man, there’s a line to play.”
“I’m looking for someone!” Keaton yelled back. But
there was no way around the bodies blocking the stairs.
He headed back to the bar.
Please let him be all right
, he
prayed, even as another voice said,
Let him go. It’s over.
There was no way to get a bartender’s attention.
The bar was blocked by leather daddies in caps and
jackets, subs in rubber suits, angel wings, pony getups…
He suddenly spotted the top called Daddy heading
from the bar to the dance floor. He shoved through the