Chapter 9

“Good morning.”

Noah kept his back to him. “Sit.”

What am I, the replacement for the missing closet dog?

“Thanks. Is Wren okay?” He approached the stool as Noah nodded. Sitting, tip of his tongue between his teeth, Jamie looked around the loft as if he might be able to make Wren appear. His leg bounced with agitation. “Where is he?””

He didn’t know why, but Wren’s well-being seemed more important than his own right now. Maybe because he knew his own day was going to suck no matter what. Someone’s should be better than the ass-end of a shit explosion.

Laying down the spatula, Noah considered him. “What, exactly, was your purpose in coming here?”

“I—” Well, that seemed a little unfair. “—asked you a question first.”

Thumb and forefinger stroking his chin, Noah slid his gaze toward a door near the opposite end of the loft, then back to Jamie. “If he’s smart, he’s icing his hands. If not…?” He shrugged.

“What did you do to him?” Jamie’s jaw dropped. “Why would he be icing his hands?”

Noah faced the stove, flipped the pancakes onto a plate, then flicked off the burner. “Because it will help. Some. More importantly, it will be a long time before he gambles again.”

Jamie’s stomach twisted. Picturing Wren with broken fingers and mangled flesh, he choked on his own spit. Flew off the chair toward the door Noah had glanced at. Without knocking, he flung it open and stormed inside. Light from the living area spilled into Wren’s bedroom, illuminating a well-proportioned space with its own small bathroom and a fairly standard, light wood bedroom set.

“What…” Hair tousled, Wren sat up and winced.

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed to gingerly take hold of Wren’s wrist. Was kinda surprised when Wren didn’t say a word and just let him look at the fine red wheals covering his palms from his fingertips to just above his wrist.

Wren curled his fingers self-consciously, hissing in pain, but didn’t pull away.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Not even close. Still, this was all his fault. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t supposed to gamble. But, this is just… ”

“I knew…” Chewing his lip, Wren turned his face away. “It’s a problem for me.”

Cupping Wren’s cheek, Jamie turned his face toward him. “It’s okay. We all have our stuff to deal with, yeah?”

A sad smile lifted Wren’s lips. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Light moved, then dark, as Noah stood in the doorway. “If you’re satisfied I’ve answered your question, I would like an answer to mine.”

Adjusting his position on the bed, Jamie glared at the man. “Jacks knew I had an interest in...exploring. So, when I told him I needed a place to hang out for a while, he suggested I come here.”

“And did you realize exactly what you were…” Back-lit, Noah tilted his head, expression extra-inscrutable in the dim light. “‘Exploring’?”

Honestly? No fucking way.

Except, outside of protecting a guy he’d rapidly come to consider a friend, he was intrigued by everything he’d found here. The whole BDSM thing was new to him, and he was unsure of his own reactions. Films and shit were full of the bondage part but missed the mark with Dominance and submission. Knowing he didn’t have a choice when Noah gave him an order both comforted him and turned him on in equal measure. From anyone else, it might get annoying.

But not with Noah.

He glanced at Wren, whose wrist he still soothed with his thumb. “No. Not totally.”

Nodding once, Noah pivoted, leaving the doorway.

After squeezing Wren’s wrist lightly, Jamie let go, then stood. “Do you want me to get you some ice?”

“No, thanks.” Wren looked past Jamie as Noah’s footsteps returned. “Don’t fight. It’s better this way.”

“I think you sh—” Jamie nearly bit his tongue on his next word.

Hand latched around Jamie’s wrist, the man began walking toward Wren’s bedroom door. Thinking he was in for another spanking, Jamie dug in his heels. Found the world turning upside down, his abdomen impacting a hard shoulder.

“What—”

Noah kept walking. Out his door, down the first flight of stairs.

It took Jamie a minute, but when he registered his bag bouncing against Noah’s opposite hip, he realized the guy was throwing him out of The Asylum.

He closed his eyes on his quiet curse. “Look, you really don’t want to do this.”

Halfway down the second flight, he began to panic. Struggled to get out of Noah’s grip. The guy had to hear him out. He went from limp to biting the soft flesh at Noah’s waist between one breath and the next. Noah’s grip slipped and he stumbled. A thud told him something besides his own shoulder had just impacted the wall.

“Ow. Fucking fuck. Put me down.” Noah had him by the ankles now, barely hanging on to him as he twisted. His head barely missed a tread.

The bag tumbled down the stairs as Noah reached around to scoop him to his front. They made it to the bar by some miracle before Noah dropped him onto the closest flat surface. A pool table.

Breathing hard, Jamie gripped the edge. Glared at him. “What the f—”

A hand covered his mouth as Noah bent over him, that vein in his temple working overtime.

“Shut. It.”

Breaths puffing over the man’s palm, Jamie clenched his jaw, shaking his head. Noah adjusted his grip. Slid his hand over Jamie’s nose and mouth.

He sucked in a breath. Couldn’t get any oxygen. Stilled, eyes widening.

Dude’s a murderer.

The warning whispered through his mind. His hands pulled at unmovable wrists, even as something else uncurled in his middle, sending delicious tendrils of heat outward to soak his limbs.

Starting to float, lids fluttering, he moaned, hands dropping to his sides.

And stopped fighting.

Stopped wanting to do anything but exactly what Noah wanted. His tongue darted from between his parted lips, licking the salt from heated skin. Noah’s pupils shifted, forming wider circles of darkness Jamie wanted to pitch himself into. Headlong. Feet first. He didn’t give a fuck which.

Fingers spreading, Noah allowed him a breath.

He sucked in air, nostrils flaring, eyes fixed on the man’s face. What did he want?

Whatever it is, he can have it.

Every single bit.

“Are you finished?” The inscrutable expression returned.

Jamie nodded.

Releasing him, Noah stepped back, went to get his bag and returned, holding it out to him.

Heat flared in Jamie’s cheeks as he dropped his gaze to the floor. Whatever he’d just experienced, no matter how intense, Noah hadn’t felt a thing. Taking the bag, he slipped off the pool table and followed the other man to the door.

Outside, the morning was extra-sharp in the way only fall in New England seemed to be. The world was quiet and cool and calm on this side of the security fence. He took one long, last look at The Asylum’s safe, sturdy brick walls while, at the gate, Noah punched some buttons on a pin pad.

“Thanks for everything. You might want to step out of view before opening that gate.” He tried to warn the man.

Who behaved as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

Stepping to Noah’s side, he prepared to face—his lips twisted into an ironic smile—the music. Maybe Jacks was right and no one would have dared to call the paparazzi last night. He’d be able to find somewhere else to—

Yeah...no.

The gate slid open to reveal a fucking mob.