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  Josiah is confused, almost startled really, at the way Zweil is volunteering all of this unnecessary information while at the same time another part of him is rejoicing in being able to gather more details about him. The almost dazed look on Zweil’s face brings his world sharply back into focus in the next second.

  “I just…I wish that I could see him one more time or at least find out what happened to him…before it’s all over with…”

  Zweil’s voice fades out and Josiah is once again on high alert as his eyes search the other man for any sign that his injuries have noticeably worsened. That’s when he sees it, sees the way the hand he’d thought was curled closed in pain in now open and loose on Zweil’s other side, fingers barely making contact with an empty glass-vialed syringe.

  The pieces fall together with an almost audible click and Josiah surges forward, hands darting out to cup Zweil’s face in his palms so that he can look into his eyes. The pupils are blown wide, the color almost eclipsed by black, and Josiah can practically see whatever drug the other man had injected into himself swimming there in the depths of his gaze. Cursing savagely he takes a brief second to thank Eagan for his foresight in thinking to keep an open channel between them.

  “Eagan, I know you can hear me. You need to send Marcel and that medical unit to my location, stat!

  Zweil’s injected himself with some sort of drug and I have the feeling that he doesn’t have much time left so tell them to hurry the fuck up!”

  Teeth gnashing, Josiah curses his own stupidity in underestimating just how far Zweil was willing to go. No wonder Zweil had been so intent to stall, so eager to talk and keep Josiah distracted. He’d been biding time, trying to make sure that enough passed so that the drug in his system couldn’t be reversed. Not willing to let it happen, not willing to let him go that easily, Josiah cups a too slack shoulder in one hand and slaps the other man across the cheek hard enough to sting and hopefully to make him focus a bit with the other. Sure enough Zweil’s eyes sharpen for a moment as they focus on Josiah’s face.

  “What. Did. You. Take?” Josiah grits the question out through clenched teeth, each word its own separate sentence as he tries to contain his rage.

  “Hmm. A little of this…a little of that. You don’t have to…worry…about me…anymore…”

  Zweil’s losing coherency fast, the drugs finally taking ahold of him and stealing away his senses. Josiah can feel his own control slipping in a way that it never has before, can feel panic creeping up on him where calm has always been.

  1“Zweil! Zweil! Rafe! Snap out of it and tell me what you took, damn you!”

  Josiah bellows the words but they have no effect. All he can do is clutch uselessly at the other man’s loose form and pray that the sirens he can hear in the distance will make it to them in time.

  1Chapter Five

  Josiah scrubs a hand roughly across his face, fingers scraping through the build-up of stubble that coats his cheeks. He’s basically been playing guard over Rafe’s bedside for the past three days and he’s beginning to get frustrated. He’s given up all thoughts of not calling the man by his given name. Josiah figures it’s a small reward for all of the bullshit he’s had to put up with.

  The situation had gone downhill at an almost awe-inspiring speed after the medical unit had finally made it to the ruins of Rafe’s old home. The submissive had flat-lined twice on the ride back to the city and on the second time the medics had barely been able to revive him again. The large dose of distilled quiesco root, a plant that acted as a powerful sedative, that he’d injected into his arm had stopped his heart before the medics had been able to flush his system completely. They’d almost been too late.

  He’d almost lost Rafe before he even had the chance to have him.

  Josiah pushes that thought away harshly. Rafe isn’t his, cannot be his, and does in fact belong to someone else. Someone Josiah has spent the last three days making damn sure is unable to come within two feet of the vulnerable man. He knows that he should have went home instead, that he should have left the hospital as soon as it was clear that Rafe would live, gone home and washed the feel of ash and death off of his skin with scalding hot water. Instead he’d glued himself to Rafe’s side, ignoring or practically snarling at anyone who suggested he should leave. Eagan had walked in, taken one look at him before shaking his head and wishing him good luck.

  What he meant Josiah isn’t exactly sure he wants to know, but he appreciates the sentiment anyways.

  Frisch had been particularly hard to get rid of, but Josiah had taken an almost feral delight in intimidating the lower tiered dominant into leaving. So far he’d been the only visitor; there’d been no friends, no other family. The unconscious man’s Head of House hadn’t even bothered to show when she’d been notified of his condition and location and that alone spoke volumes about Rafe’s home life. It was something that set Josiah’s teeth on edge and his fingers itching for his rapier.

  Especially when the medical workup on Rafe had been completed and Josiah and Marcel had been presented with irrefutable proof that the submissive had been treated poorly for what had to have been years now. The physical scars were few but the in-depth scans had told a different, more terrible story. Josiah has a not so sneaky suspicion that it’d all began when Rafe had been separated from his father’s Bonded. He’s got feelers out in some discreet places to see if he can locate the other man; it’d only taken a few discreet messages on his p.a.t.c.h to start the process, but he’s more than aware of the fact that after so many years any important information might already be gone.

  Now all they can do is play the waiting game and hope that Rafe will wake up soon so that Josiah can get his testimony and have Frisch’s abusing ass thrown somewhere where he won’t see the light of day for a very long time.

  “You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite this invested in a case before, Josie.”

  It’s Marcel, her platinum blonde hair swept up in her trademark twist as her dark brown eyes almost twinkle at him despite the seriousness of the situation.

  “Don’t call me that, Marcy. You know how much I hate it.” He smirks tiredly at the displeased moue he gets in return.

  1“Point taken, sweetness. Now no more changing the subject! You’ve gotten yourself all twisted up about this delicious little morsel like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Not that I blame you really, he’s exceptional from what I’ve seen.”

  Josiah doesn’t even bother to bristle about the way Marcel speaks about Rafe like he knows he will if others are so casual in their speech. Marcel is a fourth tier dominant who’s been Bonded to a fourth tier submissive from Air named Isaac for the past three years, and Josiah trusts her more than almost anyone else in his life at the moment. They’ve known each other practically their entire lives and Josiah knows that despite her bluster and sometimes entirely too frank manner of speech she’s just as dedicated to the protection of submissives as he is.

  He’s not the only one with skeletons in his closet and a deep hatred of dominants who abuse their positions and tier.

  “There’s just something about him that grabs me, Marcel. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before and I don’t even know him, not really. We’ve had one conversation and that was only because he was trying to distract me from finding out that he was trying to commit suicide. So even if he was free we still wouldn’t be able…it still wouldn’t be right.”

  Marcel drops a comforting hand on his shoulder and when she speaks to him again her voice is a sweet soothing tone that’s rare to hear directed to anyone who isn’t Isaac.

  “You’re the last dominant I’d even accuse of mistreating someone in your care, regardless of the circumstances of your meeting. Let me give you some friendly advice, Josiah. When you find someone that speaks to you on so deep a level without ever really saying anything you don’t let them go without a fight.

  You grab them with both hands and tear your way through anything that tries to keep you two ap
art. Trust me when I tell you that if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “You can’t tell me that, Marcy. You can’t come in here and tell me that I need to keep him when we both know I can’t, that it’s not that simple.”

  Marcel regards him for a moment in silence, her gaze going sharp and cool as she arches a brow at him.

  “I never took you for a coward, Marx.”

  Anger shoots through him despite the exhaustion that lingers around him like a cloud. If there’s one thing he isn’t in this world it’s a coward. Marcel knows how he feels about the word and the fact that she’s dared to cross such a line with him lets him know that she’s serious but it doesn’t change the fact that it pisses him off.

  “We’ve been friends for a very long time, Marcel, and I would hate for that to change over something like this.”

  “Oh please, like you’ll ever actually get rid of me. Face it, sweetness, you’re stuck with me until one of us breathes our last and then if there’s a way probably after that as well. Now smooth down your feathers and let’s get back to the point.”

  Josiah rolls his shoulders and surges to his feet, hands clasped behind his back as he begins to pace the room restlessly, eyes rarely actually leaving Rafe’s still form even as Marcel begins to speak to him again.

  “You remember what I was like before Isaac, don’t you? I went through the pleasure houses like I was racing against time, never staying with one submissive more than once and rejecting everyone who wanted a chance to vie for my attention. None of them were what I wanted; none of them could satisfy me. But when I met 1Isaac. The moment I saw him, all I could think about was how beautiful he’d look for me, about how much I wanted to own him.”

  Josiah hears her, knows what she’s talking about and knows that he’d had the same reaction to Rafe, that instinctual urge to dominate, that drive to conquer and own. It’d been deep and dark and unlike anything he’d ever felt before and he knows with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that she’s right.

  “What do I do then, Marcel? How do I make this right? How do I make it work?”

  He can hear the uncharacteristic edge of desperation in his own voice and it hits him all over again just how much Rafe has affected him in such a short amount of time. Just how tied up in knots this wounded submissive has him without even trying.

  “You do what we’ve always done, Josiah. You gather information, you control the situation, and then you conquer your objective. And this time you’ll have something on your side that Frisch and Zweil’s Head of House will never see coming.”

  “What?”

  Marcel’s gaze is cold and sharp and Josiah sees the steel and ice that made her a fourth tier in the almost cruel smirk that graces her deceptively delicate features.

  “Me.”

  1Chapter Six

  It’s another two days before anything changes with Rafe but Josiah’s been busy so the time is almost appreciated even though he wants nothing more than for Rafe to open his eyes and look at him again. He’s actually left Rafe’s bedside for once, making a quick journey home for a few hours of decent sleep, a shave and a shower, and some truly edible food. He’s left Marcel and Isaac with Rafe, trusting the other dominant to keep anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there out of the submissive’s room while he was out handling his business.

  Still the urge to return, the need to be the one overseeing Rafe’s care bites at Josiah and only the knowledge that he was no good to the other man if he was exhausted and starving had kept him from refusing to leave at all.

  He can’t bite down the savage curse that rips itself out of his throat when his oricula chimes an alert on the channel that he’s left open but muted between himself and Marcel and her voice informs him sweetly that Rafe is waking up. He’d wanted to be there, had wanted to be the first face the submissive saw when he woke up in some misguided sense of possessiveness. Scowling he throws on his clothes and rushes out of his apartment and down to his transport. He’s on the way to the facility after only a few minutes.

  When he arrives he doesn’t bother to check in, doesn’t even pause his long strides when the nurses try to waylay him. He has one set destination and he refuses to be distracted or knocked off course. He practically tears the door to Rafe’s private room out of its track when it doesn’t open fast enough for his taste.

  “Really, Josiah, you’d think you’d have learned some manners and decorum after all these years.”

  Josiah ignores her, knows that she doesn’t actually expect a response or acknowledgement. She knows better, knows that all of his attention will be focused where it should be, on the submissive he intends to claim as his own one way or another. Josiah’s practically devouring Rafe with his eyes the second his gaze lands on the other man even as he makes his way swiftly across the space that separates them until he’s standing at his bedside.

  Rafe looks back at him silently, eyes impossibly wide in a face still too pale for Josiah’s liking. Josiah raises a hand to touch him and feels his heart crack down the center when Rafe flinches back, arms rising in an attempt to protect his face from the expected blow. It’s a telling sign, one more black mark in a case that already has its fair share. Josiah drops his hand slowly and when he speaks he’s careful to keep his voice low and even, keeping an iron grip on his temper in an effort to keep it from leaking through.

  “I want you to know that when this is over. Frisch will never touch you again. No one will ever touch you again unless you want them to. I give you my word.”

  He’s telling the truth because as much as he wants Rafe, as much as he wants to spread him out and work him over with his teeth and his tongue he won’t if the submissive doesn’t want it as well. No matter how much he aches to dominate, conquer and own the younger male he won’t lay a single finger on him in that manner unless Rafe’s willing and eager. He’ll make him beg for it first. Josiah’s never been the type to force his attentions on someone, never been the type to abide by that behavior in others either.

  If this all works out, he’ll have plenty of time to teach Rafe the joys of pain, how a little bit can make the pleasure sweeter, can intensify the feeling until he aches with it. He’ll have years to break him in just right, to coax and soothe him until he trusts Josiah enough to give himself unflinchingly to any punishment that he might earn. Plenty of time to teach him that sometimes punishment can be its own reward. And if it doesn’t, 2then Josiah will make sure that Rafe never has to worry about anything ever again. He’ll make sure that he has a life that doesn’t involve the pleasure houses or another disastrous attempt at matching him with someone not of his choosing.

  If he has to rip Zweil House down with his bare hands he’ll make sure of it.

  The wounded submissive is studying him, arms slowly lowering back down until they’re resting at his sides even as his eyes continue to take in every detail of Josiah they can find. He hopes absently that Rafe finds him as pleasing as he finds Rafe. Neither of them bothers to acknowledge Marcel and Isaac when they quietly step out of the room to wait in the hall, closing the door softly behind them. They’re both entirely too occupied with observing each other.

  “You’re real.”

  Josiah stiffens slightly in surprise at the quiet and steady statement. It’s the last thing he’s expecting Rafe to say so all he can do is answer with the obvious truth.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I thought…I thought I dreamt you, made you up so that I wouldn’t have to be alone when I…at the end.”

  He understands what Rafe’s saying, understands that the other man’s talking about when he tried to kill himself, and while he hates to even think about it he’s almost pleased by the fact that Rafe thinks he is worthy of being a fantasy of any sort. Even if it technically took place during a rather morbid and depressing situation, it still counted for something.

  “No, I was and am as real as you are. I was assigned to your r
etrieval and I tracked you to the Charred District. After everything that happened I stayed with you there until the medical unit arrived.”

  He doesn’t mention the week spent hovering at his bedside, intent on not disturbing the submissive or making him uncomfortable with possibly unwanted attention.

  “Madam Marcel said that you stayed with me the entire time, that today’s the first time you’ve left my side this entire week. Is that true?”

  Josiah doesn’t sigh but he doesn’t rebel against the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in amused frustration at Marcel’s ability to ruin his plans without even trying. Still he refuses to lie to Rafe, will not start off what he hopes will be a relationship between them with falsehoods and outright deceit.

  “Yes. I didn’t want you to wake up alone, and I don’t trust the staff here to keep the people who are supposed to stay out of your room actually out of it. Since I had the time and the will I decided to stay with you.”

  “That’s more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you for going through so much trouble when you didn’t have to. I’m not your problem; I wasn’t supposed to be anyone’s problem anymore…” Rafe’s words trail off, the week he’s spent unconscious and the drugs that have been constantly pumping through his body dragging him back to sleep against his will.

  Josiah grits his teeth at the words; he knows that it is a bad idea to give into the urge to shake some sense into Rafe. He knows better than to lay hands on him despite the way he wants to do nothing more than to make Rafe swear to him that he’ll erase that way of thinking from his mind. Instead he wraps his hands tightly around the guardrail of the bed and stares down into green eyes that are beginning to droop in renewed exhaustion.