I’d never seen Vaughn again after he’d gotten me, Magnus, and Dante out of the house.
But I’d dreamed of him often.
Almost nightly.
Strange dreams I didn’t always understand.
But that I enjoyed just the same.
And now he was here, saving me again.
Vaughn led me to his car and got me settled in the passenger seat. He walked around the front of the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. I turned and held out my hands as I said, “Can you… can you take me home, please? I don’t want to wait for the police. Dante will be worried… he’ll… he’ll help us explain what happened to the police.”
Vaughn got the car started, then turned to look at me. There was enough light from the touchscreen in the dashboard to see his face.
And I didn’t like what I saw.
In fact, it had fear skating through me.
Fear that turned to a sensation that I could only describe as agony as a sense of betrayal hit hard and fast.
“Vaughn,” I whispered as I jutted my hands toward him a bit, desperately hoping I was wrong. “Please untie me and take me home.”
Tears began flowing down my cheeks long before he turned away from me and put the car in gear. Long before he set his eyes on the road ahead of us. And long before he confirmed my worst fear with seven little words that cut through me like the sharpest of blades.
“I’m sorry, Aleks, I can’t do that.”
Chapter 1
Vaughn
It’d taken me nearly two months to earn enough of his trust to get him to talk to me.
I doubted I’d ever be able to get that back after this.
Even when he’d been a prisoner in the Parks mansion, he hadn’t ever flinched away from me or any of the other guards. He’d mostly just been emotionless… a breathing, walking, silent robot who’d done as he was told. I’d never once seen him cry or beg or argue.
Young Aleks, who hadn’t even been allowed to possess a last name, had been the epitome of obedience.
It had made me sick.
Not because of him, though… he’d had no choice. He’d already known what I’d had yet to learn… that Marcus Parks was a twisted, cruel master who’d found as much, if not more, pleasure in mental torture than sexual gratification.
I had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a lesson Aleks had necessarily first learned when Marcus had purchased him like he was nothing more than a prized animal at an auction, but I had no doubt that after years as Marcus’s possession, Aleks had become more than adept at doing what needed to be done to survive his master’s cruel whims.
The day I’d met Aleks was still seared into my brain, no matter how many times I’d tried to will it away. I’d been sitting in Marcus’s lavish study, an expensive glass of scotch in hand as Marcus had sat behind his big desk and pinned me with what probably was supposed to have been an intimidating look. I’d wanted to laugh because the man had had no clue that he was about as threatening as a kitten compared to the man who’d ruled my entire world as a child. I’d also really wanted to put a bullet through the sick fuck’s brain then and there, but I’d had to remember the end game… the reason I was there.
My disinterest had probably ended up working in my favor, but hell if my mask of indifference hadn’t slipped just a little when the man had summoned his “pet” into the office. Marcus had languidly gotten up from behind his desk as a teenage boy had silently entered the study, escorted by a large man in a slick-looking suit.
The boy had remained by the door, eyes downcast and hands carefully folded in front of him until Marcus had motioned to him. By the time Marcus had been sitting in the opulent armchair across from me, his own scotch in hand, the boy had been standing next to him.
I could still remember every detail about Aleks as he’d stood there as still and silent as a statue. He’d been about average height with a boyishly skinny body and naturally bronzed skin that hinted at a mixed heritage. His chocolate-brown hair had been short but there’d been just a bit of curl to it. He’d been wearing clean, pressed khaki pants and a thin shirt that had appeared a little big on him… he’d looked like the countless private-academy-attending rich kids I’d always been secretly jealous of as a teenager. I hadn’t known how old Aleks had been at the time, but he easily could have passed for Marcus’s son.
But there’d been nothing fatherly about the way Marcus had treated the young man. With the wave of one finger, Aleks had dropped to his knees in front of Marcus, opened his pants, and sucked his cock to the back of his throat in one well-practiced move. It was like I hadn’t even been in the room.