Being mindful of the bottles, Danny crawled to his cell phone lying on the floor in the living room and picked it up. Seeing nineteen missed calls, he was compelled to open it. Only five were from his mother, the rest were social calls. Several were from Denise and Melissa, who sounded as concerned as his mother, but many more were from other girls. He remembered now why he went primarily cock after high school. Straight girls were annoyingly high maintenance.
While listening to a long, concerned message from his mother his phone started ringing in his hand. Danny groaned, thinking entirely too many people had his number. He stared at the caller ID, not recognizing the number, and answered hesitantly, “Hello?”
“Carlow?”
“Yeah,” Danny said, putting a face to the unrecognized number. Surprised at who it was, he actually pulled away and frowned at the phone. “Arty?”
“Listen, I got your buddy over here,” Arty said, a shiver of nervousness sounding in his voice. “Adam.”
Danny raised his eyebrows. Hope surged through him when he realized Arty was talking about Paul. He wasn’t surprised Paul used the name Adam to play his twisted games, considering how deeply he pined for Eve. He certainly wouldn’t use his own name, not unless he was insanely stupid, and Paul was a lot of things but stupid wasn’t one of them.
“Yeah, what about him?” Danny asked once he came to his senses, the feeling of hope being replaced with something much more sinister. An icy wave of fear punched him in the gut when he realized Arty was calling him. They knew each other, but they certainly weren’t on phone-call terms. If he called about Paul, no question, something was very wrong. “What happened?”
“If you care about him,” Arty started, his voice terrifyingly somber, “you’ll come get him. The doc doesn’t trust him with the Dommes he’s with and he’s not responding to us.”
“I’m coming.” Danny sent bottles rolling across the floor when he jumped to his feet. His heart was hammering the hell out of his chest as the most sickening wave of terror he’d ever experienced settled in his stomach and he scrambled for boots and keys. “Is he okay?”
“Just come get him,” Arty said rather than answer his question, which magnified Danny’s fear at least twenty-fold.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Danny said, realizing too late he was outside without a shirt.
He drove fast and reckless, being confident enough in his ability as a driver to run stop signs and red lights in the name of an emergency. Parking at Arty’s when he was having a party was a fucking nightmare. Danny knew he was blocking several cars in, but didn’t care as he turned off his car and jumped out to sprint up the long, winding driveway.
The bouncer at the door didn’t even stop him. Only at Arty’s parties would Danny look dressed for the occasion wearing black jeans, cowboy boots and nothing else. He didn’t notice the leather and corsets, was blind to lipstick, high heels and dog collars as he scanned the inside of Arty’s mansion filled with deviants. The lights were sparse with candles in every corner, making it hard to see faces in the shadows.
“Carlow!”
Danny turned around, stuffing his keys in his pocket as he spotted Arty walking toward him wearing a pair of extremely short leather shorts and a dog collar. Any other time and Danny would have considered it his duty as a card-carrying smartass to make fun of him. This time he rushed at him fast enough that Arty cowered, his dark eyes wide in fear. Arty was Tony’s accountant and go-to guy, but Danny was the muscle. Between the two of them, Danny won the intimidation contest.
“Where is he?” Danny growled, his voice fierce in his panic as he grabbed Arty and resisted the urge to shake him.
“You gotta understand,” Arty started, his voice quivering. “I can’t babysit everyone and I’m not one to tell people what they can and can’t do, ya know?”
“Where is he?” Danny asked slowly, punctuating each word.
“I’ve never seen anyone with a pain tolerance like him,” Arty said quickly, obviously still in excuse mode as he turned and started walking down the hall. “They swear he didn’t safe word, but I just don’t see how that can be true. They gotta be full of shit. I banned them. They’re never playing at my place again.”
Danny followed him, his apprehension mounting as Arty continued to ramble in a cowardly, weak-spirited way he found repulsive. He and Paul may both be submissives, but Paul was the exact opposite of Arty. There was a core of raw strength to Paul that was unshakable. He was powerful
because
of his submissiveness. Instead of becoming angry and violent to survive his brutal childhood, Paul had simply taught himself to like it. That made him near invincible in Danny’s mind. It was an incredible feat, one Danny had spent a lot of time thinking about over the past few weeks.
Once again he found himself wishing for a chance to take back pushing Paul away, but he couldn’t. Now he was stuck swallowing back the sick dread of raw fear, the taste bitter on his tongue as Arty stopped in front of a door at the end of a long, marbled hallway.
“He won’t talk to us,” Arty explained, his hand on the doorknob. “We figured the hospital was a last resort.”
Danny’s head snapped back, his eyes widening as his body went into flee mode. He was suddenly very afraid of seeing something he couldn’t handle. Instead of bowing to his instincts, Danny shoved Arty aside hard enough that the smaller man stumbled. In comparison to the dim flicker of candlelight, the shock of track lighting had Danny squinting against it as he opened the door himself.
A man he didn’t know was kneeling on the floor, leaning over Paul, whose back was to the door. Danny’s stomach lurched. He turned away because the sight was more than he could take. This made last time look like a paper cut. Someone had literally destroyed Paul’s back.
“W-What…” he started, not even recognizing his own voice as he searched for inner strength to deal with this when the guilt was tearing him up inside.
“Caning,” explained the man who was kneeling next to Paul, obviously understanding the question behind the sputtering horror. “In the right hands it can be a pretty extreme weapon of torture.”
“What the fuck?” Danny choked, turning around, forcing himself to stare at Paul’s back more as punishment to himself than anything. “How could someone let this happen?”
“They were playing with him privately. When he passed out, one of the Dommes panicked. No one would have let this happen if they’d been doing a public scene. We didn’t know he was playing with Raven. She’s banned from everywhere, but her friend used her invitation to sneak her in. We usually have some safeguards against things like this.”
“Who are you and why are you touching him?” Danny growled, his mind snapping into a strange survival mode where details and solutions became essential.
“My name is Jason,” he explained, looking up at Danny with warm brown eyes that gleamed with compassion. “I’m a doctor.”
Arty, Danny could give or take, but this man radiated a calming energy Danny immediately trusted. He just had a difficult time wrapping his mind around his title. “You don’t look like a doctor.”
Jason smiled, showing off deep dimples in both cheeks. “We’re allowed to have social lives. I was playing when Arty found me and explained the emergency.”
He was young for a doctor, perhaps mid-thirties. He was handsome too, with dark brown hair that curled at his nape, framing an open, trusting face. It was his wardrobe that was throwing Danny off. Wearing only leather shorts like Arty, with nipple rings to boot, he looked about as far from a doctor as one man could.
“Why didn’t someone take him to the hospital?” Danny barked, careless of how cute and unusual Jason was in the face of what he was seeing. “Don’t ya think he should be in a fucking emergency room?”
“He should,” Jason agreed. “But he won’t talk to either of us. I’d like to get his consent before I make that drastic of a decision for him.”
“He’s got a huge pain tolerance,” Arty cut in, his voice whining. “You can fix him, can’t ya, Doc? Why put him through that?”
Jason cast a glare at Arty, the accusation written all over his face. Arty was more worried about possible legal repercussions than Paul’s life. Rather than respond, he looked back to Danny. “See if you can get his consent.”
“Why couldn’t you?” Danny forced himself to walk toward the bed, realizing he’d been hiding by the door. A part of him wanted to avoid facing this, talking to Paul and seeing the hurt in his eyes. He feared being reminded of the look on his face when he pushed him away. Danny kneeled down on the other side of the bed and reached out, stroking Paul’s hair that was drenched with sweat. His eyes were closed, and Danny would have panicked thinking he actually died. There were no worry lines around his eyes. His face was eerily serene, but his skin was scorching to the touch. “He’s burning up.”
“He’s either sick or he’s got an infection.” Jason touched Paul’s back gingerly, as if looking for something underneath shredded, bleeding skin. Danny noticed for the first time that he was wearing rubber gloves. Where he got them, Danny probably didn’t want to know. Jason’s voice was mystified, as if he were trying to solve a very complicated puzzle. “I can’t find any injury festering, but I could be missing something. It’d be nice to have feedback.”
“Paul Guy,” Danny whispered, brushing at Paul’s hair once more. “Open your eyes for me.”
Paul instantly complied, blinking to stare at Danny, his eyes so dilated there was only a rim of brilliant blue against the blackness. Paul frowned, confusion marring his brow. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice slurred as if he were drunk.
“They called me.” Danny tried to hide his concern that Paul hadn’t noticed him in the room for several minutes. He swallowed, his eyes stinging with the battle against tears. His voice choked as he said, “I—” Tears rolled down his cheeks despite his fight against them. He wiped at them hastily. “This is pretty bad.”
Paul’s eyes widened in panic, his breathing becoming labored. “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Danny said quickly, shaking his head in denial. “I’m—” He searched for the right words, knowing the last thing Paul needed was to be upset in the condition he was in.
“He’s in deep subspace. He hasn’t responded to anyone else. He obviously sees you as an authority,” Jason coached from the other side of the bed, speaking so softly his voice was less than a whisper. “Play with him. Find out if he’s got an infection.”
Danny cast a skeptical look at Jason, but followed directions out of desperation. “Paul Guy,” he said, willing the sadness and fear into a deeper place in his mind to be dealt with later. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. “You’ve got a fever. Do you have an infection? Are you hurt somewhere else besides your back?”
Paul’s eyes closed, his body falling limp in a way Danny knew was a form of protection. He was hiding in his own mind, a trick Danny wished he could learn, but knew he probably never would.
He grabbed Paul’s chin, his fingers digging into his skin. “Do you wanna make me angry?”
“No,” Paul said, his eyes snapping open. “I’m sorry.”
“I wanna know where the infection is,” Danny demanded, glaring at Paul in a way he hoped conveyed his determination. “Now!”
“Nowhere,” Paul said, his breathing rapid once more. “Just my back.”
“You better not be lying to me.”
“Just my back, I swear.” Paul gave Danny a wide, open-eyed look of innocence that made him want to double over from the pain it caused. “I’m sorry I’m a freak.”
“You’re not a freak.” Danny stroked his hair again, brushing it away from his sweaty forehead. He finally found a way to lose the tight hold he had on his pride as tears he couldn’t hide rolled down his cheeks. “I’m really¼proud of you.”
“Yeah?” Paul asked, his eyebrows lifting as a smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t safe word.”
“Yeah, great,” Danny said dryly, looking over to Jason. “He must be legitimately sick.”
“His fever’s pretty high,” Jason said in concern as he studied Paul. “And it looks like he’s been losing weight. Have you been eating?”
Paul didn’t answer him.
Danny rolled his eyes, knowing the answer for himself. Though Paul was still big, all muscles and broad shoulders, his face was thinner than it had been three weeks ago. It was obvious he hadn’t been eating. Even if his back wasn’t torn to shreds, Paul needed medical attention. Who knew how long he’d been sick like this? “Paul Guy, we’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay?”
“I don’t wanna go,” Paul said, his voice pleading. “Can I do something else? I’ll do anything you want.”
“No,” Danny said firmly. “You’re sick. You need to be in the hospital, but I’m gonna go with you. It’ll be okay.”
“It will?” Paul asked, sounding completely trusting. “You’ll tell them you’re proud of me?”
Danny opened his mouth, not totally sure how to respond to that. He was definitely dealing with a different Paul than he was used to and it left him on very unstable ground.
“He’s afraid they’ll commit him.” Jason’s voice cut into the silence. “If you tell them you’re proud of him then they’ll know he did it to please you, not because he’s self-destructive.” Jason stared at Danny steadily, giving him a pointed look. “That’d be one hell of a promise. It’d be almost
impossible
to keep.”
“Can I keep it?” Danny asked, terrified he already knew the answer.
Jason gave him another look, his eyes wide to convey the message as he silently mouthed,
no
.
“He can keep it,” Paul said confidently.
“Paul Guy.” Danny reached out to Paul once more, touching his cheek until his eyes were focused back on him. “I’m gonna go talk to the doctor. But I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Paul whispered, giving a smile that made his entire face light up. It made his beauty almost hard to look at when it was so pure and radiant. “I’ve missed you. I’m happy you’re back.”
That choked Danny to the point he couldn’t respond. He shakily got to his feet and followed after Jason. He paused in front of Arty, who’d been standing in the corner, watching the scene unfold like a train wreck.
“Don’t speak, just watch him. If he needs me, come get us,” Danny growled, his voice so vicious it startled even him. “And if you touch him I will hurt you in a way that is
not
sexy. Got me?”