Chapter 10

Blinding lights flashed. All around were news vans. Cameras. Local TV and international. For a moment Noah wondered if his release had drawn more interest than either he or Rhodey had anticipated, but Lifestyle and The National Enquirer didn’t cover crime in small cities still not on some maps.

By his side, Jamie squared his shoulders, his smile at odds with a face that had worn every expression from wonder to fear to lust over the past fifteen hours. It was too practiced. Too perfect. And the look in his eyes held resolve. He’d accepted his fate—the one he’d been trying to escape.

Noah snapped his fingers, jaw ticking as that fake smile flashed his way. “Inside.”

Jamie blinked at him. The smile faltered.

But he didn’t move.

I’m going to regret this.

Dragging the gate shut, ignoring yelps as a few fingers got in the way on the first tug, Noah made sure the entrance was secure, then latched onto the back of Jamie’s neck. He led him inside. Lifted him onto a barstool, glancing over to the man behind the bar.

“Get him some juice.”

The man, built like a lightweight fighter with fair skin and golden-blond hair, hesitated, then sent an inquiring look to the far end of the bar.

Curtis nodded, moving away from where he and Reed looked over the morning paper as they had every morning for the past few years. “Go ahead, Matt. You can speak to him, he addressed you first.”

Matt…

The name would have drawn Noah’s entire focus if he wasn’t dealing with more pressing matters. That the man deferred to Curtis over such simple matters of protocol was interesting. He filed the information away.

Matt cleared his throat as he pulled out a glass, not quite meeting Noah’s eyes. “We still have some orange juice and grapefruit… I can go upstairs if he likes something else better?”

Considerate.

Noah gave him a nod of approval and put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. The touch made him jump, but he lifted his head.

“Do you like orange juice?”

“Orange juice?” Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Who doesn’t?”

The man’s tendency to skip around questions before answering them directly would need amendment. Noah stifled the urge to correct the newbie-sub and inclined his head at Matt’s questioning gaze.

A tall glass of orange juice was set on the bar in front of Jamie.

“Drink.” Noah took Jamie’s hand and wrapped it around the glass. When the man lifted it to his mouth, took a few gulps, then licked his lips with a shaky, yet genuine smile, Noah let out a soft laugh. “There we go, little cat. Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gave himself a little shake. “You got a back door I can use?”

Noah studied Jamie’s face. He’d gone pale, and his eyes, which reminded Noah of mountain fields covered in fresh morning dew, had lost the closed-off glaze that had fit perfectly with the camera-ready smile. The media crush had overwhelmed him but hadn’t come as a surprise. He lived a high-profile life.

But what is he running from?

This reaction didn’t equate to slumming it for an escape from the demands of fame and fortune. If there was nothing more, Noah would let the throng outside have him, no matter how fucking gorgeous he looked when he surrendered. His submission was natural to him, so raw Noah had to put up roadblocks to keep himself from grasping on to it until the jagged parts cut into them both. Until he could form the precious core of it into something priceless.

Protecting him was more important.

That was if he deserved protection. An easy ‘yes’ if Noah went by what his eyes could see and his reactions to the sub, but he made no moves without all the facts.

So he went with the obvious question. “Why are they here?”

Taking another sip of juice, Jamie looked to Curtis and Reed. Curtis’s expression hardened as he read whatever was on the bottom of the front page. Reed chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head as though he didn’t want to believe what he saw.

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“Because I’m asking you.”

“‘Jamie Kent’s Glam Sham.’” Voice deepening, Jamie parodied a newscaster, fist coming up to mime a microphone. “Bandmate, Trevor Wittes, says Kent’s drug habit killed chances of the all-boy-band, Glam Grenade, reuniting for their twelfth world tour next summer, as Kent’s manager was arrested last week with a stash of heroin and cash belonging to lover Kent at London’s Heathrow airport.”

The detached tone gave Noah pause. Mention of drugs set his teeth on edge and he clenched his fist against his thigh to avoid turning his focus to Curtis. The man had made amends over years for his part in the death of Noah’s student. As tentative as things were between them, Noah refused to let this widen the gap.

His student had used once. Once and lost his life. But in prison, Noah had met men who’d used for years. They didn’t have the glow to their skin Jamie had, the alertness, the lithe movements. Not to say the addiction couldn’t have been managed in a way to avoid detection, but every instinct told Noah the accusation was a lie.

Paired with him being the manager’s lover…?

That part could be true. And wasn’t something Jamie should be ashamed of. He tapped a finger under Jamie’s chin. “Your bandmate, Trevor, had an issue with you being gay?”

Jamie’s gaze shied away, his leg moving in a jerky little bounce. “That can happen when you make a drunken pass at someone.”

Noah’s lips thinned. “So your relationship with your manager came after?”

Laughter burbled, a little hysterical, from Jamie’s lips. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t screw the guy even if I had the worst case of beer goggles this side of a bottle of Jack.”

“I see.” Noah cocked his head. “Is anything about the band’s breakup true?”

“Frank was arrested with my money and some drugs last week.” A wry smile twisted Jamie’s lips. “Our PR guy had mostly hushed up the story. I didn’t know until the day before yesterday what Trevor had said in his interview. It was…” The smile fell away, replaced by troubled regret. “I’m an idiot.”

“As long as you’re here, you won’t refer to yourself that way again.” Noah framed Jamie’s jaw with his hand. “Understood?”

“As long as…?” Meeting his eyes, Jamie frowned. “No, I don’t understand.”

No surprise there, not when he’d been hauled out of the loft without warning, necessary as it had seemed at the time. Noah sat back, drumming his fingers on the gleaming bartop. He was conscious of the other three men in the room watching but dismissed them. Their knowledge of the exchange was irrelevant. If anything, it would offer Jamie an extra level of protection.

Once we clear up a few things.

“I can’t let you stay if you’re not a member. You can’t be a member if you don’t know what being a submissive here means.” Noah weighed his words, needing to be absolutely clear. “We don’t have beginner courses, but Wren can help you. If you’re certain being part of the lifestyle is what you really want.” There were other options. Noah held Jamie’s gaze. “If not, I can find you somewhere else to get away from this fucked-up mess. A place where no one will expect you to kneel, follow orders, or tolerate punishments for infractions you can’t possibly avoid.”

When he got to the word kneel, Jamie’s gaze darkened with interest. Tongue poking at the corner of his mouth, he rubbed his hands on his thighs, avoiding Noah’s gaze. His attention skipped to where Curtis, Reed, and Matt sat, red creeping up his neck.

“Um… What was the question?”

The smirk on Curtis’s lips was going to have him sporting two black eyes for the next month. Noah frowned at him, then inhaled slowly. He did not like repeating himself, but this sub needed things kept very direct.

“How badly do you want to be here?”

That got Jamie’s attention snapping back to Noah. “With you?” He seemed to think he’d said something wrong and shook his head. “I mean, it’s a nice place.”

Reed snickered.

Many will suffer. Just wait.

Ignoring him, Noah lifted his brows. “You may remain with me for the time being. But I will not be easy on you, little cat.”

Relief gusted from Jamie, and his shoulders sagged. “Thank fu—dge?”

“Finish your juice and bring your bag back upstairs.” Noah shook his head. “Let Wren know that you’ll be staying and he’s to instruct you. If I believe you’ve made a mistake because he failed to warn you, you’ll both suffer the consequences.”

“How’s that fair?” Jamie’s scowl darkened, erasing his earnest attempt at submission. “It’s not like my screwing up is something he can control.”

How riled up the boy got when his protective instincts were triggered was definitely appealing. “When you signed that contract… No, wait. As I recall, you skimmed over it. Let me clarify one important fact.” Noah leaned close, voice low. “Nowhere does it say things will be fair.”

Jamie’s gaze skipped from Noah’s face to the stairs, then to the front door and back again, as if he were trying to determine whether it’d be better for Wren if he left. Sighing softly, he returned his attention to Noah. “As long as you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. When there is any.”

“Are we negotiating?” Noah chuckled, noting the way Matt shivered and backed up. Even Reed swallowed. Curtis had gone still. Much better. “He’s a good teacher. Smart. Don’t make him regret your friendship.” He cupped Jamie’s cheek. “Ask him about the wisdom of giving me ultimatums. I’ll assume this is the last time you’ll make that mistake.”

Blinking as if he still stared into the camera flashes, Jamie leaned into his hand. “Did you want me to do something now?”

“Juice. Bag. Upstairs.” Noah gave Jamie’s cheek a light tap. “Learn to pay attention or you’ll be taking notes on every exchange you have here. And writing them over repeatedly every night.” He was a patient man, but this morning was beginning to push him to his limit. His pleasant smile wouldn’t comfort his little cat, but that couldn’t be helped. “Pleasing me is something to strive for. Keep that in mind.”

Not breaking Noah’s stare, Jamie reached sideways for his juice, tipped the glass to his mouth and drank deeply until the last drop trailed down the inside of the glass. After catching it with the tip of his tongue, he placed the glass on the bar. Slipped off the stool, his proximity bringing his chest within a hair’s breadth of Noah’s.

Tipping up his chin, he smiled sweetly, a daring glint in his eye. “Thank you...sir.”

Fuck, this one is going to be trouble.

If they’d been alone, he’d be tempted to pull Jamie to him. Taste those glistening lips and show him surrender meant more than following orders and accepting punishments. He made a point not to watch Jamie as he picked up his bag and made his way across the bar, disappearing behind the door that led to the upper levels.

“A coffee with one sugar and two creams if you’re quite done eavesdropping.” Noah tapped his knuckles on the bar twice when Matt continued his silent exchange with Reed. “Obedient I see.”

Matt flushed when Curtis snapped his fingers, then hurried to fix Noah’s coffee. He spilled half of the first attempt over his light gray shirt. Started fixing another, jaw tense with pain. Reed rushed over to help him, both subs scrambling around like unruly puppies.

“Jesus Christ.” Sighing, Curtis went around the bar, nudging Reed away to grab a mug. He poured the coffee, added cream and sugar, then stepped around the subs, placing the cup in front of Noah. “They’re housetrained, I promise.”

“Clearly.” Noah arched a brow as he took a sip. “You seemed interested in my exchange with this new sub. Do you have something to say or are you otherwise occupied?”

Curtis’s brow furrowed. His lips parted, then pressed together. “I hate it when you do that. There’s no right answer.”

“There’s the truth.” Noah decided to let Curtis off easy. This time. He set down his mug. “I told you things would change. I can’t be here and have my every action questioned. What happened with Ram could happen with any number of Doms and you damn well know it. My authority will prevent issues like you’ve had in the past.”

“I get that, but you’re…” Curtis raked his fingers through his hair. “Doing that thing.”

Forearms rested on the bar, Noah gave Curtis his most relaxed smile. Not one that would provide the answers he was looking for, but he was a goddamn Dom. If he wanted to be treated like one, he’d seek reassurance elsewhere. Because Noah had none to offer.

Not right now.