Saving Sebastian: A Catharsis Novel (Custos Securities Series Book 3)

by Luna, David

  He was approached again by a plainclothes detective who didn’t look nearly as helpful as the uniform had, even if he’d been faking it. “Can I help you?”

  He decided to wing it and pulled out his phone, pasting on a confused look as he checked it, as if looking for something that could help. “I have an appointment with a Sebastian Phillips for a composite sketch.”

  The stern lines around the man’s eyes loosened and he became more cordial immediately, though he now appeared confused. “Uh, Sebastian doesn’t work weekends.”

  Gideon tensed at that bit of news, anger at possibly being deceived by his sub burning through his last bit of control. “Hmm. I guess I—”

  “Hang on a minute.”

  The guy held up a finger and walked a couple doors down, knocking on a doorframe. Gideon could hear part of the conversation. “Cap, there’s a guy out here saying he’s…”

  A beefy older man with more muscular bulk than fat came to the door. Though he was probably shy of six feet, he had a commanding presence and after he got a good look at Gideon, didn’t look like he believed the story the detective had given him. “Why don’t you step into my office, sir.”

  Gideon’s affable and confused act vanished as he did just that. The man sat behind a desk that was cluttered with a mountain of paperwork and files, contained three coffee mugs, all containing dregs of what he assumed was some really bad brew, and a calendar blotter that had seen better days.

  The man, whose name plate read Captain Jon Conway, steepled his fingers as he stared at Gideon. “We both know you don’t have an appointment with Sebastian. I know that because I know his schedule, which has never included Saturdays. So why don’t we cut the bullshit and you can tell me why you’re really here.”

  Gideon couldn’t help the tiny smirk that passed over his lips. The man saw a lot, which was probably the reason he’d made captain. Gideon settled back in the chair and responded in kind. “Look, Sebastian’s a close friend. He said he was working today, and I need to see him immediately, so if you know where he might be, I need to know.”

  All he got was a raised brow. “What’s your name, sir?”

  Gideon stared at the captain for several long, drawn-out seconds and finally answered. “Gideon McCade.”

  That got a reaction. The man unconsciously gripped his wrist and asked, “McCade as in…”

  “Yes.”

  Both brows winged up at his response and the man sat up a little straighter. “Mr. McCade, I don’t make it a habit to discuss my employees’ personal lives and whereabouts.”

  Gideon leaned forward, elbows on his knees and prepared to maneuver his way into finding out what he wanted, even if he was giving too much information to the man. “Look, Captain Conway, Sebastian fell down his stairs last night and knocked himself out. He shouldn’t be working in those conditions. If he’s not working as he said, I need to track him down. If you know anything, please, I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself if he doesn’t take it easy.”

  The man’s countenance changed completely and the protective boss came through. “Shit. Kid can’t catch a break. All I know is that he has an art studio somewhere. And I only know that much because he accidentally mentioned it once when I asked him about some travel he needed to do. He’s pretty close-lipped about his personal life.”

  Gideon clenched his teeth and stood. “Tell me about it. Thank you. I think I can work with that information.”

  “Look, I don’t know what kind of friends you are, but I care about my people. You tell him to call me if he needs some time.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  Gideon made his way back out onto the street before he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Zavier, I need your help. Can you use whatever means you have at your disposal in your fancy security offices to figure out where Sebastian has some kind of art studio?”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Brother, don’t fuck with me right now. He fell down the stairs at his place and got a concussion. I woke up this morning and he was gone. He left me a note that he was working. With a fucking concussion, Zavier! I came down to the police station and talked to his captain who said he never works weekends and yet, every single goddamned weekend since we’ve been together, he’s said he has to work every Saturday!”

  “Fuck. That kid pushes himself too hard. He does work every Saturday, at his studio. Braden and I have been there. I’ll text you the address. Call if you need anything.”

  They hung up and all he could think was that his brother and brother-in-law had been to his boy’s studio and he hadn’t even known he had one. His anger at himself and his boy was mounting and he was glad he had some time to get himself under control before he got there, so he didn’t lose his shit. Moments later he had an address. And after that another text from Zavier’s phone.

  The text read, “This is Braden. Don’t yell at him. He’s already hurting enough. Just take care of him, please. I get the feeling nobody does.” And fuck if that didn’t just take the wind out of his sails. Literally. He was in the middle of the sidewalk and stopped when he read it and he had to wonder how true it really was. Something told him it was truer than he’d ever know and that didn’t sit well with him at all. He ached, literally ached to be the one that did, and yet he knew he couldn’t be.

  The realization that he had a contracted sub whom he only knew topically and from a sexual preferences standpoint twisted him up inside. He’d known more about Boone within their first contracted week and he’d never had feelings for Boone. What was he supposed to do with that?

  One thing was for damned sure, while they were still in contract, he would do his goddamned level best to ensure that his boy was taken care of in any way he could do so, without crossing the lines he’d drawn. And when their time ended, he’d do his best to find a Dom worthy of Sebastian.

  By the time he reached the art co-op, he’d calmed considerably. Taking the elevator to the second floor of the office-like building he knocked softly on the door marked two fifteen, not wanting to interrupt or alarm Sebastian, as he had no idea what was going on behind the closed door. When he didn’t get a response, he tried the door and was frustrated to learn it wasn’t locked. Didn’t he know he could get robbed or worse leaving his door unlocked?

  He opened it a bit and was confused to see what looked a little like a really large dentist chair. Beside it was a large rolling shelf with a lot of supplies on it. There was an L-shaped span of white cabinets mostly covering two walls. At the end of the cabinets was a massive, black-framed, standing mirror leaning against the wall, beside which was a set of cubes, plain white and plain black about chair height, with nothing on them. As the back wall came into view Gideon sucked in a breath when he saw a huge array of black-framed photographs ranging in sizes from huge to postcard size in an artistic pattern that radiated from the centermost photograph.

  He walked further into the room, glanced to the right and found his boy sleeping on a couch, covered in a bright red, crocheted blanket. His heart ached at the depth of exhaustion he knew Sebastian must be feeling if he was sleeping in his studio between clients.

  Giving into a desire to know more about the boy who had intrigued him from the start, he let Sebastian sleep so he had time to really look at his sub’s talent. Somehow, he knew that if he asked questions about what he was seeing, Sebastian would play it down and make excuses for them to leave. Attention paid to his sub for any reason other than a scene made the boy twitch. Some of the photos were very intimate and those that were didn’t contain faces.

  It was a wall of color in an otherwise black and white room. The picture that drew him in was the large center one of a nearly naked, muscular man that was sitting on the white cube wearing only black cotton briefs. The photo was from the chest down, the man at a slight angle, his muscular arms were wrapped around one leg that was drawn up on the edge of the cube, but the thing that drew the eye to the center of the photo was the colorful tattoo that was done over
the man’s partial leg amputation scars. The artwork was amazing and depicted a tattooed battle scene containing Roman warriors with intricate armor and realistic looking weapons.

  Moving on he looked at some of the best art he’d ever seen, inked into strangers’ skin. Not all of them were done on scars, but most of them were. One that touched him deeply was of an older woman whose right arm was bent and draped over her face for anonymity, clasping onto her left hand, her left arm bent to cover her left breast for modesty. Her hair was long, curly and steel gray and it rioted about her head in a halo effect. Her right mastectomy scars covered with a starburst of color, depicting a phoenix rising from the ashes.

  So moved by the image, he was reminded of his own mother’s battle with breast cancer. He’d been a child at the time and she’d been a survivor, with the scars to prove it. The mastectomy of her left breast something that she’d never been embarrassed about. He moved closer to see the detail of the wings, the lines of each feather. The vibrancy of the colors was amazing and covered the range of the rainbow.

  Like the woman in the picture, his mom had never wanted an augmentation. She used to say her husband loved her just the way she was and she never wanted to go under the knife again, unless she was forced to. She wore a breast prosthetic that she laughingly called her chicken cutlet. While other people’s mothers would say they were going to take their eyes out, and remove their contacts, his mother would say she was going to go take her boob off and get comfortable.

  He continued to look at every single photo in detail. He couldn’t believe his boy had been hiding this kind of talent. And then it hit him. His boy wasn’t hiding this kind of talent from anyone except him. There’d been numerous times he could have told his Dom what he was doing on Saturdays, but he’d chosen not to.

  As much as he felt frustrated, maybe even angry at his sub for keeping it from him, he realized maybe he was only doing it for the same exact reasons Gideon wasn’t sharing more of himself. It would be too hard in the end to say goodbye the more they got embedded in each other’s lives. The other option; that Sebastian believed Gideon didn’t give a shit, he couldn’t believe was true. Could he?

  His boy had to know he’d want to know everything about him. Didn’t he? Fuck, he probably didn’t. What had Gideon given him to show that he was interested in knowing him like that? Nothing. Not. One. Fucking. Thing. But he did. He wanted to know everything he could possibly learn about his beautiful sub.

  The fact that he couldn’t ask, that he’d made it impossible to do so, pissed him off. But it was an impotent rage, and a self-inflicted one, that he’d have to bear for his boy’s sake. He just knew he couldn’t share more of himself because if he did, Sebastian would start to believe they could have more and his boy didn’t deserve to be crushed like that.

  When he was finally done looking at the photos, he turned and realized with a jolt that Sebastian had woken up and was watching him warily. He softened his features as he approached, not wanting him to feel stressed about his presence there. He crouched down in front of his boy and rubbed his thumb along his cheek, and then up near his still swollen, bruised forehead. “Worried about you.”

  The wariness dissolved at that, and Sebastian let out a slow breath, as if he’d been holding it, but didn’t want him to know it. He nodded and admitted, “Worried about me, too.”

  He looked around the room, still awed by his surroundings “This is… Sebastian, it’s so unexpected, but goddamn, you’re so fucking talented.” He sighed and shook his head, continuing, “Look, I can’t tell you what to do in this part of your life. But, I don’t think you should be working today, or tomorrow. I think you should be taking it easy.”

  Sebastian nodded. “I worked on one client, just a few touch ups, no more than an hour, but I knew after that I couldn’t work all day. My head is killing me. I cancelled the rest of my clients today. I just didn’t have the energy, so I figured I’d take a little nap first and then work on getting myself home.”

  Gideon clamped his mouth shut, his jaw aching with the need to hold in a frustrated growl. The fact that his own sub never thought once of calling him for help just about did him in. Was he such a monster? He let out a calming breath, ignoring his own reaction and focusing on what needed to be done. “Okay, what do you need to do to shut down here?”

  “Nothing. It’s all taken care of, I just didn’t have any juice left after I cleaned up. I figured after I rested I could call a driver to come get me.”

  Unable to help himself, Gideon said, “You could have called me to come get you.”

  The confused vulnerability on Sebastian’s face made Gideon’s heart ache. His boy shook his head and whispered, “I wouldn’t bother you with that. I’d have called for a Lyft ride.”

  Bother him? Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Was he not the boy’s Dom? Was he not supposed to take care of Sebastian’s needs? His sub was plunging that knife in deeper with every comment, and then twisting it for good measure. Why would he assume that he was being a bother? Why would… And then he realized why. He’d specified it before they signed the contract. He’d made it very clear that theirs wasn’t a relationship, that they weren’t dating, they were merely contracted. He’d done it. Him.

  Fuck.

  He found it telling that he’d spent so much time angry at himself for the last several days. He took a deep breath and did what he needed to do. He helped Sebastian up. They slowly made their way down to Gideon’s SUV and headed to Sebastian’s home. When he pulled up as close as he could to Sebastian’s place, he put a hand on his boy’s leg to stay him. “I’m gonna go get Slap and Tickle. You’re coming to my place.”

  Sebastian shook his head looking wary, sad. “I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t think I’m up for that. I know we have our scheduled time the next two nights, but I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can.”

  Killing. Him… Was he for real? “What?”

  Sebastian rubbed his hands back and forth on his thighs, the nervous gesture making Gideon’s guilt spike. And then Sebastian twisted the knife again. “I know I’m cutting out two overnights. If you need me to make up for it, I can try an extra weeknight this week and next.”

  “Make up for… What? No! That’s not… Jesus Christ, Sebastian. What kind of man do you think I am? What kind of Dom?”

  Sebastian rubbed his hands over his face. He shook his head and then rubbed his fingertips over his brow. The fact that he was so obviously in pain just sucked the energy right out of Gideon. Sebastian murmured, “You’re a good man, Gideon. A great Dom. I don’t want to disappoint you. I know I’m taking a lot of our scheduled time away because I hurt myself. I—”

  “Jesus, baby, stop. Please, stop. You’re killing me. I’m not asking for that.”

  Sebastian let out a pained whisper, “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re hurting. I want to keep an eye on you. To make sure you’re all right. You’re coming to my place to rest, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I’ll be okay. I’m not your responsibility.”

  Yes, you are! Gideon grunted and replied, “You need help right now, and I’m not taking no for an answer, Bastian. And, besides, all you have is a shower. Wouldn’t a bath feel good on your sore body?”

  Sebastian huffed. “You fight dirty.”

  “Always. Please, Bastian, let me take care of you.”

  When he finally got a nod from his boy, he was in and out with the little monsters in minutes but had to wait for Sebastian, who’d gotten out of the SUV to grab what looked like a pill bottle from his own car that he was tucking surreptitiously into his pocket. That made him pause, and then his mind was churning, his thoughts combatting each other.

  Check his pockets later because you’re worried about him. Don’t check his pockets later, it’s a violation. Fuck, he’d never felt so on edge in a contract before, never so off balance.

  Once Sebastian was settled back in hi
s SUV, face pink with embarrassment, Gideon handed the furballs over. Having purchased a litter box and food for them to keep at his house—not to mention a ridiculously large, five level cat tree, a cat bed that they had yet to sleep on and a myriad of cat toys that he was always stepping on—he’d made it much easier for them to travel back and forth with the little monsters.

  Once he got Sebastian home, he helped him to the bed while he went to fill up the tub with scorching hot water and some bath salts he liked. When that was done, he went back in where Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked a bit dazed and when Gideon moved to help him up he stood up shakily on his own.

  “The bath’s ready. Let’s get you in there.”

  “I can do it. Thank you for running it for me. I’ll be out in a little while.”

  Knowing an evasive maneuver when he saw one, he shook his head. “I’m helping you. Let’s go.”

  Confused by his boy’s reticence, he ushered Sebastian in and began to help him get undressed, finally understanding why he’d wanted to do it himself. His boy had bruises all over his body, making it obvious that he’d not just slipped on the stairs but had slipped and fallen down them, hitting every body part on the way to the bottom.

  Fuck.

  “Jesus, Bastian,” he whispered as he took in his boy’s battered body. He was damned lucky he didn’t break anything, including his neck. He took a deep breath and asked, “What type of pain meds are you taking and when was the last time you took any? I might have something I can give you that’s a bit stronger.”

  “I took some acetaminophen when I woke up. I don’t want to take anything stronger.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes at him but knew that tone of voice from his boy. It wasn’t a negotiation and he wasn’t budging. There were very few things in which Sebastian was immoveable, but when Gideon hit on one, Sebastian’s spine got straight, his voice got stronger, and he looked him dead in the eyes and held his gaze without blinking, something he rarely did. “Okay, well, it’s been long enough for you to take some ibuprofen. You can alternate them safely.”