Being with Archie had spoiled me. I’d gotten so fucking comfortable in our high-protocol dynamic, where we sure as fuck never wrestled in the mud. And I loved that shit, normally. If I were to place myself in another category as a Sadist, it would be the primal variety. Few things were as adrenaline-inducing as leaving humanity behind to behave like a beast. But…well…tonight, I’d rather sit with a nice whiskey on the patio, under the heaters, with Archie kneeling next to me, while I carved a nice anal plug out of ginger.
Me being me, I had to interact with people while I drove, and it’d been a minute since I’d checked in with Kingsley. We should schedule a happy hour soon. I sent him a voice-to-text to ask if he and Tate would be at the house tonight, and he replied back, saying they’d stay home. He’d been pulling extra hours all week and was tired. Fair enough. I’d see them next weekend for the November Game.
It felt good to have an event ahead of us that didn’t require so many hours to put together. Under the umbrella of sensory deprivation and restrictions, I was gonna host a waterboarding challenge with Colt. River and KC were planning something with blindfolds and abductions. Lucian and Penelope would get into the mental sadism of screwing with the senses of taste and smell. Nathan was joining us as an organizer for the first time to show us the ropes, literally, around predicament bondage.
It’d be fun.
When I was about ten minutes away from the house, I was saved from boredom by Reese calling.
“Yellow,” I said. “I’m afraid I’ve already left the warehouse if you need something.”
“Nah, we’re all stocked up,” he replied. “I’m calling about Corey.” Fuck. Now what? “As of three thirty-two this morning, he’s listed to attend your demo tonight.”
I thought he was still in Denver. Archie was keeping an eye on his Facebook for me.
“I wasn’t gonna tell you till you got here—didn’t feel the need to,” he explained, “but about twenty minutes ago, Marcus emailed to cancel his and Corey’s memberships with us.”
That son of a bitch! I growled a curse under my breath and white-knuckled the wheel. Anger tore through me, as did urgency. We had to do something right away, and I was sure Reese had called for that reason.
“He’s gonna take the kid to Denver,” I stated flatly.
“Looks like it—just a second, buddy. What is it, boy?”
I heard Shay in the background, and I heard Corey’s name. Something about Facebook too.
“That motherfucker,” Reese chuckled darkly. “Did you catch that, Greer?”
“Not enough of it.” And I was growing impatient. There was no way that Corey was the motherfucker.
“I can only assume Marcus is the reason,” he said, “but Shay tells me Corey just posted on Facebook that he’s going to work harder on not taking up too much space.” Sweet Jesus, my heart fucking broke for the kid. “I gotta see this. Can you show me the post? Or read it so Greer can hear it too.” Reese was talking to Shay again, who shuffled closer, because then I heard his voice.
“Okay, this is what he posted four minutes ago,” Shay said. “‘Sometimes it’s extra important to reflect on what others tell you, and we’re never too old to improve. I’m going to dial things down and try not to take up so much space. Because when I talk, I can’t listen.’”
I…I couldn’t find my words. Rage threatened to boil over, and I stepped on the gas as I finally reached the private road.
“That’s written by someone who believes what he’s saying,” Reese said.
“Aye.” I clenched my jaw and shook my head. Okay, time to act. “Our window of opportunity just got a lot smaller, so we gotta do something right away—today, as soon as he gets there.”
“Agreed,” he answered firmly. “We can assume he’s emotionally vulnerable and impressionable as fuck, so whoever takes him on better stick around for a while.”
It had to be me. Sloan and me, more correctly. I had a somewhat established arrangement with the boy already, and Sloan had helped victims of abuse before. The fact that he was a Daddy Dom was a big bonus. If anyone could help cushion the blow of Corey’s imminent crash-landing, it was Sloan. And me. I had to be there. It was possible I was a bit more attached than I’d thought, because holy fuck, I wanted to drive over to Marcus’s place and punch the daylights out of him.
“I’m gonna talk to Sloan and Archie in about two minutes,” I told Reese, “but the three of us will be there for him. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get him away from that useless piece of shit.”
Reese blew out a breath. “I was hoping you’d say that. All right, I’ll go out and talk to the others who’re involved, and I’ll let them know you’re taking over.”