Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2)

“I thought you were drunk.”

“I was. So were you.”

“I didn’t think you... Fuck.”

“Well...” He sighed. “Maybe I couldn’t have handled it then.”

“You needed Minnow.”

“I did.”

“And you love her.” At one time that knowledge had hurt, but not anymore.

“So do you.” He did. By God, he did. It hadn’t started that way – he’d wanted to hate her, but who could hate someone so full of patience and love?

“Yes.” He gulped, feeling as if he couldn’t get enough air. “Severin, I –”

“Stop,” Severin said shortly.

His gut clenched. Rodrigo wasn’t supposed to declare his feelings. Understood. It was a small price to pay. “Okay.”

Severin’s voice gentled. “Not over the phone like this, when you’re so far away.”

Rodrigo’s eyes burned and his throat felt thick.

“Okay.”

They ended the call, and Rodrigo sprawled in the bed, willing tomorrow to come faster so he could go home – hating how wrong it felt to sleep without Minnow’s head tucked under his chin, and Severin’s hand on him.

*

The forest was peaceful, other than the dogs yipping and crashing through the underbrush. After being home for a few days, the last thing he thought he’d want was alone time, but the dogs needed a walk, and Minnow had a list of phone calls she needed to make regarding the maintenance of the old house. He’d caned her for her impertinence when she’d waved him off, but then he’d let her get to it. She was pouting and lustful when he left her, which was just the way he liked her.

Severin, on the other hand, had gone back to being aloof. Whatever he’d thought had transpired between them over the phone while he was overseas had apparently been his imagination. Severin showing up at his place alone and beating him, then making him kneel to give him a tattoo – that had been the most significant episode of their relationship. Maybe it always would be. Now he felt as if Severin had stopped him from making an ass of himself on the phone, and he was glad he hadn’t said “I love you.” The next time it was said between them, it would be Severin saying it. He wasn’t making that mistake again.

Humiliation trickled through him, making his back straighten with half-remembered pride. Submitting to Severin had been his choice, and yet maybe it had been a mistake.

Fuck. He’d been dominating women for so long, and yet he’d had no idea how vulnerable submitting made a person. Sure, he’d known, but he hadn’t known. Having no idea whether Severin truly wanted or respected him was a bitter mess to swallow, especially since he’d thought he’d finally won him.

Maybe he had, but maybe he hadn’t.

He probably didn’t love him, even a little. This was like those pathetic high school crushes, but worse in a way, because he was a grown man and shouldn’t be so obsessed with someone who’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t a priority.

Or maybe being away, followed by a week of orgasm restriction, was making him cranky.

He groaned aloud. A small bird watched him curiously from a nearby branch. It was probably laughing at him.

“That’s not the sound of a happy man.”

Rodrigo glanced back over his shoulder to find Loïc walking up the path behind him. Ugh. He supposed it would be rude to tell the kid he wanted to be alone.

“The house was quiet when you were gone,” Loïc said. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. Like either of them actually lived at Severin’s?

“Maybe we can watch more Walking Dead later? I waited for you to come back. I tried half an episode, but it’s no fun to watch alone, and no one else wants to start over again with me. I feel like I missed an important cultural phenomenon, and I need a guide.”

Rodrigo snorted. “