With Visions of Red (The Broken Bonds 1)

Unhooking the lead thread from the bar where I have my station set up, I begin to wind the rope. “Just needed some new material.”

He glances around the empty club before his gaze settles back on me. “They do have these things called stores. I know you’re all about the ritual”—his voice lowers—“but it wouldn’t hurt to take a shortcut every once in a while.”

“And see, that’s what you don’t get, Julian.” I stuff the newly braided rope into my pack along with the rest of my supplies. Then rising from the stool, I look Julian in his clear blue eyes and say, “The ritual is everything.”

His gaze turns hard, serious. He straightens, and the banter leaves his voice. “I do get some things.”

“And what’s that?” Apprehension dampers my mood. For months, ever since I took Julian up on his offer to work at his club, I’ve felt like I’ve been treading water. Edging the thin line drawn between us—the one that keeps us hospitable toward each other. It’s a very thin line.

“I get that this is the longest you’ve stayed in one place. At least since—”

“Don’t.” That single, deadly spoken word halts him.

His strained exhale is the only sound amid us.

Gaze still on mine, he says, “I thought that after all these years, I’d finally get my brother back. That if I just stayed quiet, let you deal with everything on your own terms, you’d eventually recover. But—” He shakes his head, breaks eye contact to stare at the floor. “She ruined you.”

Anger brims fire-hot in my chest. “I told you never to mention her again.”

“Colt, listen.”

But I’m already turning away and heading out of the rope room. A hand on my shoulder stops my steps, and I pivot, face contorted, beckoning all control.

Julian removes his hand and takes a step back. “I don’t want to push you away again.”

“Then don’t,” I snap.

He crosses his arms; defensive. Good. As long as I keep him rebounding, he’ll back off. “Fine. I won’t. We don’t ever have to have that conversation. Just do your Shibari. Entertain. Get your kicks…whatever it is that you get out of performing. But be careful.” He presses his lips together, features stern. “I’ve seen what happens when you get too…involved, Colt. The obsession takes you to a dark place. I don’t want you to get lost there again.”

I can’t help it—coming from him? This bullshit?—I laugh.

Then I walk away.

“Just know that I loved her, too.”

His words stop my retreat. But when I don’t react; all stoic control over my emotions, he says, “Just wanted to voice that. To finally have my say.”

Jesus. I really don’t need this shit right now. I drive a hand through my hair, attempting to wipe his admission from my head. Finally, I turn and face my brother.

“Love? Is that what you call it?” I ask, my voice thick with disdain. “You have the worst possible way of showing it, then.” As he opens his mouth to say something more, I hold up a hand. I’ve heard enough. “All right, Julian. What I get out of it—is that what you’re trying to figure out? Why I’m not like you. Sitting in an office, locked away, just on the edge of the scene.” I step closer, stare him in the eyes. “Control. I make sure that my world never spins out of control again. Say it’s obsession. Say whatever you want, but at least I was man enough to stay until the end. I had to face what you were too much of a coward to deal with. I looked it in the eyes…all that darkness…and I stayed. And hell, I’m sure it left an imprint. The price I now pay for having something so beautiful, however fleeting. So, I’ll do whatever the hell I want now. I’ve earned it.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t deny you that. I was a coward.”

Arms crossed, back and shoulders tense, I wait for the rest of his speech. Wait to see if he’s going to take this all the way. Damn, and we really were doing so well. Where the hell did this even come from?

“Look,” he says, and my defenses climb. Here it comes. “You’ve found a way to put everything in place. Nice and neat. You’re a pro at compartmentalizing. But I’ve been paying attention,” he says, gaze narrowing. “I don’t want Marni to shadow the rest of your life.”

I huff a soundless laugh. Asshole.

“I’m serious. You deserve something good. This scene is fun…it’s a lifestyle, yes, but it’s not meant to replace real relationships. I’m doing it because—”

“Because it now pays the bills,” I clip.

He shrugs, his expression neutral. “Yeah. And because she loved it. It got me through the worst of it, afterward, but I don’t use it to lose myself. Not anymore. I’m getting out.”

Tension thrums in the air between us, and I push back against its walls. So this is what spurred this conversation. He always has an agenda. “And the club?”

His shoulders lift again. “I wanted to hand the reins over to my little brother. But not if that means watching him degrade into himself.” He searches my face. “I like the idea of you sticking around the city. Being here…with me. But we have to come to an understanding.”