2“You’re not a problem at all, and I’d be ready and willing to say that you’ve probably never really been a problem in the past either.”
He’s almost positive that Rafe doesn’t hear him because the submissive’s lovely green eyes are closed and his breathing is even. He’s asleep, body unable or unwilling to fight against the pull of unconsciousness any longer. Josiah stares down at him silently, hands gradually relaxing their white knuckled grip on the bar. He reaches out slowly, almost against his will, to touch the now peaceful face that’s resting on the soft down pillow. All he wants is a touch, one tiny moment of skin on skin contact that he knows will both soothe and enflame his urge to possess and dominate the other man.
Before he can make contact a throat is cleared quietly behind him and he jerks his hand back swiftly, recognizing Marcel in the tiny sound. His shoulders tense automatically. He knows that she would have never interrupted him if it wasn’t something important, something that he needs to know immediately.
“What is it, Marcel?”
He almost winces at the harshness of his tone, the commanding growl in his voice, but he knows that Marcel will understand, that they’ve been friends for too long to let dominance displays come between them.
Although he is aware that there’s an end to even her patience and he has no desire to push her to that point.
“There’s been a new…development.” She sounds almost angry, like she’s biting back her temper the same way he is but there’s also a small current of what sounds like satisfaction hidden beneath it.
“Just tell me. Whatever it is I’m sure that I’ll be able to handle it.”
“I just received word from Sanctuary that they will be unable to house Zweil once he’s been released from medical containment. According to their representative, the main office was notified this morning to the fact that Zweil has an extensive history of violence and has on more than one occasion caused extensive physical harm to those around him. Out of concern for those who are already housed on the premises they are sorry to inform us that there will be no place for him there.”
Josiah can tell from the stiffness of her words that she’s quoting whomever she’d spoken to, that the words are not her own and suddenly he knows just where her anger comes from. Frisch or perhaps even the head of Zweil House herself had contacted Sanctuary, the safe haven for all those who were abused by their partners, and intimidated them into refusing Rafe’s future attempts to relocate.
“I’m sure I can guess where the rest of this headed. Sanctuary refuses him admittance and that means he’s destitute and wounded now so of course for the sake of his wellbeing he should be handed over to his Head of House and his future Bonded. Both of whom I’m sure only have his best interests at heart and are willing to overlook this misunderstanding. Does that about sum up the situation?”
“As always you’re at the head of the class, sweetness.”
“They will not get their hands on him again. I promised him, swore to him that I wouldn’t allow it. So is there another way to make sure I don’t become a liar, or am I going to have to take drastic measures?”
By this point he’s almost hoping that it’ll come down to that, that he’ll have to resort to swords and pistols, to fists and blood and physically making sure that no harm can ever touch Rafe again. He knows that with his training and experience that he’ll be able to do irreparable damage before they even know what hit them. He also knows that if he does that, if he goes to such lengths, they’ll send Cleaners, a specially trained branch of the armed forces that specialized in neutralizing or capturing berserk soldiers, after him and he’ll never see Rafe or anyone else ever again.
2“You’ve always had such a flair for the dramatic. You do know that, don’t you? That’s why I started calling you Josie when we were younger. No, you won’t have to go out and risk having someone sic Cleaners on you, sweet. Like I told you before Frisch doesn’t know about me; I’ve managed to keep my name almost completely out of this. As far as he, and that shrew who calls herself Head of House, knows, they’re simply dealing with one hellishly stubborn enforcer.”
Marcel pauses for a moment as she reaches down and undocks her p.a.t.c.h, a delicate silver model that looks lovely on her wrist. Her fingers fly across the screen without any hesitation for a few seconds before she briskly refolds and docks her unit with a satisfied air about her. Marcel shoots him a sly smile that lights her features up from within and her voice rings with victory.
“They’ll never see this coming, and by the time they figure out which way’s up, it’ll be too late for them to do anything immediately. I’ll tie them up in so much paperwork and litigation that their descendants’
descendants will be wading through it. Now I just sent you a file and I need you to read and sign everything in it as soon as possible.”
Josiah immediately undocks and unfurls his p.a.t.c.h and dives into the information that Marcel had just sent streaming to him. His eyes widen a fraction at what he reads and he’s almost grinning before he’s done.
Attention never leaving the text before him, he raises his free hand, fingers positioned as if holding a pen, and signs his name across the air in front of the screen with a flourish. A sense of deep satisfaction wells up in his chest when he sees his signature appear in the correct slot and he doesn’t bother to try and tamp it down when it’s authenticated and made official.
That easily, Rafe belongs to him for the period of no less than one year.
“I’m not exactly sure how you did that, Marcel, but you are a goddess of law.”
“You’re finally admitting something I’ve been trying to get you to see for years now so I would definitely count this as a win for me as well. As for the how, well, so few people check those pesky little bylaws that were developed when Sanctuary was first established. Especially not the ones that state that a reputable enforcer has the right to take custody of and house any dominant or submissive that has been rejected from the premises.”
Josiah chuckles low in his throat at the almost childish tone Marcel’s adopted, the one that does nothing to hide the vicious glee that threads through her voice.
“A goddess, Marcel; there is no other word to describe you. Still this almost seems too easy somehow.”
“Oh, sweetness, it’s not easy. We’re both going to have our hands full for some time to come. This just makes things a bit more manageable and keeps you from ripping apart an entire complex to get what belongs to you back. That in turn keeps me from having to use all of my considerable pull in a vain effort to keep the both of you safe afterwards.”
Josiah docks his p.a.t.c.h and turns his eyes back on Rafe’s sleeping form. His hand reaches out and his fingers brush softly against the skin of the sleeping man’s cheek. He can touch him now, has all rights to lay hands on him, but this is all he’ll take for now, all he’ll take until he knows Rafe wants it as well. He has a year, an entire cycle of seasons to turn the submissive to his way of life, to convince the man that he’ll never find somewhere he belongs better than at Josiah’s side and in his bed.
“And what will you do with the time your little maneuver has given us, Marcel? What dastardly plan do you have spinning in your parlor?”
Marcel laughs, a thick, honey-sweet sound, and when he looks up at her briefly her smile is as devious and 2venomous as the spider he’s just likened her to.
“I’ll show those miscreants at the Sanctuary that going against the vows you’ve made to protect the abused has a steep price to pay. When I’m done with them they’ll be on the streets searching for those in need instead of waiting for them to show up on their doorstep. And if they don’t, then I’ll bring their organization down around their ears.”
Josiah smiles down at Rafe’s still form and the expression’s a sharp one, all gleaming teeth and satisfaction.
“Good.”
2Chapter Seven
“Easy now, there’s no need to rush.”
“Honestly, J
osiah, you’re hovering. Give the poor thing some room to breathe.”
Josiah fights down an uncharacteristic flush that’s threatening to work its way across his cheeks at the poorly veiled amusement in Marcel’s voice. He knows that he’s hovering, that he is practically on top of Rafe as he walks slowly down the hall towards the door of Josiah’s apartment, but he can’t help himself. Rafe is still noticeably unsteady on his feet after over a week spent confined to a hospital bed and heavily sedated.
He would personally prefer not to start Rafe’s tenure in his home with a return trip to the hospital to treat the concussion the submissive would probably get from tripping over his already dragging feet.
“It’s fine…I’m grateful for the help.”
Rafe’s softly spoken sentence draws all of Josiah’s attention back to the other man as he willfully ignores the smug expression on Marcel’s face. She’s entirely too amused with the fact that he’s being openly concerned over Rafe and almost manic when it comes to anything that he deems too stressful for the other man. Still he doesn’t intend to stop; he’s not ashamed to openly care for a submissive in his power. He’s always been a firm believer that only the foolish believed that showing concern over someone entrusted to them for safekeeping was a mark of weakness.
To have someone willingly give themselves over to you is to experience true power and only a fool would abuse such a thing. Josiah is many things but a fool is not one of them.
So instead he rests one hand lightly on the small of Rafe’s back and cups his elbow with the other, feigning ignorance to the way the submissive automatically tenses and then flushes in embarrassment. Rafe is helpless against his body’s natural desire to protect itself from harm and Josiah will not embarrass the man further by bringing attention to it. Rafe’s reaction is more than expected from someone who’s been through so much and Josiah cannot hold it against him.
They manage to make it into Josiah’s apartment without any mishaps, and Marcel waves them off with a wink, saying something about raiding Josiah’s kitchen for lunch of some sort. Left alone, Josiah and Rafe move slowly down the apartment’s short hallway and stop in front of the door to the spare bedroom Josiah’s had prepared specifically for Rafe. He’d had it done in colors that reminded him of Rafe, colors that he hoped the submissive would find relaxing and appealing, and he finds himself strangely nervous about showing it to him.
“I had the room made up for you. It’s not much, but I hope it pleases you.”
Josiah’s voice is a bit rough, his nerves showing through in the stiff way that he holds himself as he unconsciously falls back on his engrained training. Rafe looks at him silently for a moment before he nods his head, and Josiah reaches out and slowly opens the door. Their eyes maintain contact with one another until the doors fully open and Rafe turns his head slowly to take in his new living space.
The room is done in cool mint green, the hardwood floors are polished to a shine, and the thick black comforter on the bed is already turned down invitingly. They’re standing so close to one another that Josiah feels more than hears Rafe suck in an unsteady breath.
2“This is…” Rafe trails off and clears his throat roughly as he turns back to Josiah, his eyes suspiciously damp around the edges and his face filled with a sort of confused awe. “Is this really for me?”
Josiah closes his eyes for a moment, fighting to repress the urge to turn around, walk out of his apartment, hunt Frisch and the rest of Rafe’s family down, and then take them apart with his bare hands. Or worse the urge to wipe that look off of Rafe’s face with his tongue and his hands, which is something that he knows Rafe isn’t ready for yet, if he ever will be. When he opens his eyes, Rafe’s staring at the ground silently, already weary shoulders slumped even further. Josiah cannot help himself when he reaches his free hand up and grasps the submissive gently by the chin and tilts his face upwards until their eyes meet.
“This room, this bit of space and paint is less than you deserve and the least that I could do. I want you to be comfortable, to be happy here.” The with me remains unsaid at the end of Josiah’s sentence, but he thinks maybe Rafe hears it from the way his eyes soften and his body relaxes the tiniest bit.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Are the colors to your liking?”
“It’s perfect, all of it.”
Josiah sighs softly, the pad of his thumb stroking the curve of Rafe’s jaw gently.
“If there’s anything you need or anything you want to change, just tell me and I’ll take care of it. Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything, Rafe.”
Rafe stays silent and after a moment Josiah reluctantly drops his hand and steps back and away from the submissive. He doesn’t want to leave him but Josiah knows that he needs some space, a moment to gather his composure before he makes a move that he’ll regret.
“Will you be alright from here? I would like to go and make sure that Marcel isn’t destroying the kitchen in one of her attempts to cook. I would prefer not to have to replace any appliances this time.”
Josiah is pleased by the small smile his statement draws from Rafe even as the submissive shuffles slowly into his new room, the door closing with a low click behind him. Josiah doesn’t move immediately. Instead he lingers for few moments, listening for any sounds of distress from within the room before he slowly makes his way to the kitchen to take over Marcel’s latest attempt at making lunch.
Half an hour goes by and Josiah makes them all a light lunch and is about to go and fetch Rafe himself when he appears silently in the doorway, looking freshly showered and better than he has in days. Josiah motions him silently toward the already set table and is pleased when Rafe shoots him an appreciative look as he sets a bowl of soup in front of him before moving to take his own place, Marcel trailing along behind him.
The three of them settle down and eat together, the atmosphere comfortable and for the most part quiet except for the occasional comment thrown by Marcel and its required answer. Josiah feels strangely at peace, content to share a simple meal with one of his closest friends and the submissive who has captured him so completely and so quickly. When everyone is through, Marcel volunteers to take the dishes to the cleaning receptacle, and they sit in silence for a moment before Rafe actually speaks up.
“If it would please you, I could take over all of the meals in the future.”
It’s less of a question and more of a statement, and Josiah cannot repress his frown even when it causes Rafe to hunch in on himself.
2“Was the food not to your liking?”
“N-No, I meant no offense…I just…it…” Rafe’s words trail off and he hunches further in his seat. Josiah scrambles to recover the situation.
“Is cooking something that you enjoy? Honestly?”
Rafe doesn’t meet his eyes when he answers him and Josiah has to force down the growl of displeasure that provokes from him.
“I am proficient in the kitchen and can prepare any number of meals.”
His words are stiff, almost rehearsed sounding, and Josiah is quickly beginning to hate the meekness Rafe is presenting to him. He wants the fire, the passion and strength he’d seen in the other man in the video, the dark humor and wit he’d seen in the decrepit house. He doesn’t want to spend the next year with this shell, this pale imitation of the man he’s been itching to claim as his own since he first saw him.
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked you if you enjoyed cooking and I would like an honest answer.”
Rafe actually looks up at him then, green eyes studying his face, and Josiah falls back on his training to make sure that nothing he feels is given away. The last thing he wants to do is startle or alarm Rafe by letting the intuitive man catch a glimpse of the darker emotions that are rioting inside of him at the moment. Josiah almost hums with pleasure when Rafe seems to gather himself before he answers, his shoulders straightening as he comes to a noticeable decision.
“No, not particularly. I’m well ed
ucated in the subject, as it was something that I was expected to know, but it’s not something that I’m all that fond of.”
“Then I’ll handle the meals or we’ll take turns as the mood strikes us. You’re not here to serve me, Rafe; you’re here for your own protection. I’m not going to treat you like a slave. You’re a person; being a submissive doesn’t make you less than I am and despite what you might have been told in the past I believe that you deserve nothing but respect.”
Rafe stares at him, eyes slightly wider than normal, and Josiah is both pleased and saddened by the look of almost shocked delight that flitters briefly across the other male’s face. It’s replaced all too quickly with a sort of wary acceptance. He knows that it’ll take some convincing before Rafe truly trusts him, that it’ll take work to make the submissive understand that he’s telling the truth. Just like Marcel had warned him earlier in the week Josiah knows that it will not be easy, but he also knows that Rafe is well worth the effort.
2Chapter Eight
They fall into a steady routine together sometime within that first week. Josiah is as soft spoken and gentle tempered as he can force himself to be and Rafe wanders through the apartment like a wraith. Marcel is a regular visitor and her loud and unapologetic presence provides a pleasant sort of buffer between Josiah and the still skittish submissive. Even better are the days that she is sometimes accompanied by Isaac.
The obviously happy and well-loved submissive visits on the rare days that he doesn’t spend locked inside his studio, spinning the pottery that makes him famous. His presence seems to almost reassure Rafe on some level, almost as if it’s a small amount of proof that Josiah is telling him the truth. Somehow it seems as if Isaac’s obvious love for Marcel and the joy that is palpable between the couple begins to help Rafe believe that he might actually be safe with Josiah, and he slowly starts to relax.
Love in the Land of Fire Page 4
