A Dom and His Warrior

by Xenia Melzer

  “That’s awful. Just awful.” Carlos paused. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. All the stress, the crazy eating habits, the reflexive lashing out at everybody. I mean, we no longer live in caves, but seeing some of our fellow athletes, I could be fooled.”

  “Not all people can be as cultured as we are, Carlos.”

  Leeland wanted to lighten the mood, and given how Carlos chuckled, he had succeeded.

  “No, probably not. I’m sorry to cut this short, Leeland, but I’ve to get my chicken breast and then some much needed downtime. Enjoy your evening out and good luck with Adams. You can beat that idiot.”

  “Thanks, Carlos. I’d say I wish you fun with your meal, but we both know that’s a lie… so have a nice, relaxing evening. I’m looking forward to our next call!”

  “Me too, Leeland. ’Bye.”

  “’Bye.”

  The line went dead. Leeland took the last turn to Curtis’s house, his thoughts already on the food he was soon going to eat.

  CURTIS OPENED the door to his tasteful little villa with a smile on his face. Even though Leeland knew he could easily afford a home as grand as that of Richard or Martin, Curtis preferred his sanctuary a little south of downtown Miami. He had bought the house after his disastrous breakup with Jasper O’Malley, the asshole Dom who’d dumped him for a younger model three years ago. Leeland remembered well how devastated Curtis had been and how much it had cost him to rebuild his life without the worthless piece of shit. When it came to Jasper O’Malley, none of the subs had a good word to say. It wasn’t just the way he had treated Curtis, although that was the main reason, but also how he acted as a Dom. O’Malley was a man who never understood the true concept of submission, and how Curtis had ended up with the asshole in the first place remained a mystery to Leeland. He suspected the saying was true and love was indeed blind.

  “Hello, Leeland! We’re all so glad you could make it today!”

  Curtis smiled at him warmly, and Leeland sank into his embrace that smelled faintly of the expensive cologne Curtis used.

  “I’m glad too. Now, where’s the food?”

  Curtis chuckled. “I thought that would be the first thing on your mind. It’s already here. Collin said he wanted to bring somebody new today, but we don’t have to wait. He understands your need for pasta.”

  “The doll. Let’s go.”

  Leeland knew he was being a bit rude, but the prospect of getting tagliatelle and spaghetti and fusilli in his ravenous stomach had him drooling a little. He just couldn’t wait any longer. The moment he entered the dining room—in that respect, Curtis was a lot stricter than Collin—he was overwhelmed by the delicious smell of Mamma’s best dishes. Dean, Peyton, and Emilio were already waiting for him, Dean wordlessly handing him a plate with a selection of his favorite pasta. Leeland choked out a “Thank you” before sitting down. His fingers actually trembled in joy when he twirled the first mouthful of spaghetti on the fork. He knew the orgasmic groan he made when the food landed in his mouth was porn-worthy. There was nothing like real food. His athlete’s diet was no doubt better for his body and physical health, but his soul yearned for things that had nothing to do with healthy or wholesome and everything to do with taste. When he became aware of the silence around him, Leeland looked up from his plate.

  Dean smiled at him, Peyton just rolled his eyes, and Emilio busied himself with preparing his own plate.

  “I can’t tell you how delicious this is.” Leeland’s smile felt broad enough to cut his face in half. He was in heaven.

  “We know, Leeland, we know. And you deserve every single bite.”

  Dean sounded a bit like he was trying to calm a crazy person down. Leeland huffed and stuck his tongue out.

  “I’m not dangerous. Just starved.”

  “Which is the same,” Peyton intervened. “The only thing worse than you deprived of food is Emily on a sugar high, and only because her voice can reach a higher register than yours.”

  Since his tongue was already used to the fresh air, Leeland showed it to Peyton as well. Before he could come up with a sharp retort—he was kind of distracted by the pasta on his plate—they heard the doorbell again.

  “That would be Collin and his mysterious guest,” Dean murmured while Curtis got up to answer it.

  Expectantly, they all eyed the door through which the men would be entering. Curtis appeared first, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Then came Collin, and behind him a redhead about six feet tall. Collin grabbed the man’s hand and dragged him toward the table.

  “Hi, everybody, this is Seth Redmond. I met him in the wild, and he’s real cool and nice and as crazy as we all are, but different, and he’s going to be my wedding planner, and I hope you all like him because I think he’s perfect for the job.”

  Leeland watched Seth Redmond carefully during this breathy introduction. He wore a white T-shirt that showcased a well-defined chest and healthy biceps covered in colorful ink. Dragons, flowers, and tribal patterns made for a very intriguing picture. His slim waist and long legs were covered by the tightest pair of leather pants, his eyes highlighted with black eyeliner. Seth Redmond looked like a cross between a bad boy motorcycle club member and a high-maintenance twink, but somehow, he managed to rock the look. His red hair was artfully tousled on top, the sides a bit shorter, and the freckles on his skin added to his appeal. He was looking at Collin with a dazed expression that was common upon first exposure to Collin. Leeland extended his hand.

  “Hi, Seth. I’m Leeland Drake. Nice to meet you.”

  Seth took his hand, the smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes. If pressed, Leeland would guess the man was in his thirties, though he couldn’t be sure.

  “Nice to meet you too.” He had a warm, deep voice that projected calm and kindness. Leeland liked it.

  Peyton got up from his chair. “Hi, I’m Peyton, and this is Dean. Are you really a wedding planner?”

  Seth raised a brow at the blunt question but answered nevertheless. “Hi, Peyton, Dean. Yes, I am a wedding planner. I know I don’t exactly look like one, but—”

  Peyton cut him off with a gesture. “You look perfectly fine. Don’t worry about that.” He turned to Dean, hand outstretched. “You owe me twenty, mister.”

  Dean grumbled while producing his wallet. Seth seemed like he didn’t know what to make of this and looked at Collin, who just shrugged. Leeland had a suspicion what this was about but wasn’t sure. It was Emilio who enlightened them.

  “They had a bet going. Peyton said Martin would find a wedding planner soon, while Dean was convinced he would get fed up with all the drama, whisk Collin away to Vegas, and marry him there without any of us present.”

  Collin gasped. “You think Martin wanted to do that?”

  “Well, he did seem a bit skittish to me last time I saw him over at our place. I thought he was getting ready to bolt.” Dean grinned, showing Collin that he was making fun of him. Though with Dean, the difference was hard to tell. Leeland loved the man like the brother he never had, but he could be a terrible tease sometimes.

  Collin reached over the table and slapped him lightly on his upper arm. “Martin wants a wedding here, with all his friends and family present.”

  “Exactly what I told him!” Peyton chimed in.

  “Ha! If I remember correctly, you said something about Olivia shooting Martin in the knees if he dared to elope. No talk of love and family.” Dean looked indignant.

  Peyton shrugged. “The wording doesn’t matter. The outcome is what counts,” he announced triumphantly.

  Leeland turned to Seth, who still stood rooted on the spot. “Welcome to the asylum. This is actually pretty tame, so if you want to run, now is your chance.” He winked at Seth.

  Seth shook his head like a kitten that had gotten wet. “No. I think I like it. Anyway, it was Collin who brought me here. I kind of expected things to be… different.”

  “Spoken like a true diplomat.” Curtis gestured toward the empty cha
irs around the table. “Please, take a seat and help yourself to some food. We have a nice selection of Mamma’s pasta dishes, a Merlot to go with them, and sodas if you prefer something nonalcoholic.”

  Seth inhaled. “Smells delicious. Thank you, I’ll take a mineral water. I still have to drive today.”

  Curtis nodded and poured him the beverage. When they all had filled their plates, Peyton looked at Seth with puckered lips. “Now, Seth, tell us everything about you, and start with how you met Collin here.”

  Seth took a sip from his water and looked at Collin, who was busy slurping down his spaghetti carbonara. “It’s a strange story, but you probably already guessed that.”

  Leeland couldn’t suppress a chuckle, just like the others.

  “I was out going on a jog on one of the trails in the glades when I heard somebody talking. I looked around, and suddenly the biggest, meanest-looking rottweiler I’ve ever seen appeared on the trail. I almost wet my pants.” Seth shuddered. Emilio made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat, and Curtis reached out to pat Seth’s hand reassuringly. Dog could be a bit intimidating when you didn’t know him.

  Seth took a bite of his pasta. After chewing, he caught Collin’s gaze and winked. “So there I was, not knowing if I’d live to see the evening. Me and the dog were having an honest-to-God staring contest, when suddenly I heard someone squeal, ‘Dog, they’re coming, they’re coming!’ The rottweiler took off, and after a moment’s hesitation, I followed.”

  Peyton clucked his tongue, which caused Seth to grin. “I know. Not my smartest move. What can I say, I’m terribly nosy.”

  “Just who do you remind me of…?” Dean wondered loudly enough to have Peyton punch him on the arm.

  “Anyway, a little off the path, I found the dog next to a man who was staring at something on the ground with rapt attention. I went closer, and the man looked up at me and said, ‘They’re finally coming out. I’ve been waiting forever since I saw how busy the hill was. Look, all those princesses, getting ready to fly off on their wedding. Aren’t they beautiful?’ With that, he looked back at the anthill, where indeed a lot of ants with wings were crawling around. Then I noticed the sketch pad and could finally make a little sense of the situation.”

  Seth smiled, clearly enjoying the memory. “I’ve never given anthills much thought, apart from not wanting them in the garden or house. I watched Collin sketching for about an hour, and I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

  Leeland reached out to pat Seth on the arm. “Happens to the best of us. Especially when Collin is around. He has that effect on people.”

  Seth nodded. “I figured. When the last princess had taken flight, we started talking about insects in general and ants on their mating flights in particular. Collin told me he’s going to be married and, well, one thing led to another. Now here I am.”

  Leeland was still thinking about how funny coincidences could be when Curtis reached out to get the last of the spaghetti alle vongole, which caused Leeland to fly into action. “Mine!” he yelled more fiercely than intended.

  Curtis seemed a bit startled but withdrew his hands and held them up in a soothing gesture. “It’s okay, Leeland. Nobody is going to steal your food. Right, guys?” Curtis looked around the table, where Leeland saw his friends nodding furiously. Even Seth, whose puzzled look would have made Leeland laugh if it weren’t for the gravity of the situation. This was food, precious, delicious carbohydrates with saturated fats and even a hint of alcohol in the vongole, and sharing just wasn’t an option, not after the months he’d had to go without. Leeland winced. And the months still to come. Tonight was an exception. He had to make the best of it.

  Dean took pity on Seth, who did look a bit confused, and explained. “Leeland is currently a professional athlete in the UFC and on a strict diet. He has somehow managed to convince his trainers to let him off the hook for tonight, which means he’s trying to consume his weight in pasta and create sugar reservoirs for the next five months.”

  “You’re an MMA fighter?” Seth looked at him wide-eyed. “I’m kind of a fan, though for the last year, I wasn’t able to follow the matches. Moving here and setting up business had me working all the time.”

  “I’m just filling in for somebody. My uncle has a gym, and his fighter broke a leg. In order to keep his sponsor, my uncle had to find a replacement. No big deal.”

  “Oh, but it is a big deal!” Peyton chimed in. “So far Leeland has won all his fights. He’s that good.”

  Leeland didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or not. He didn’t like bragging, probably because of his Japanese heritage, though his mother wasn’t fond of it either. His parents had taught him accomplishments had to be made, not talked about. Peyton, on the other hand, believed firmly in giving credit where credit was due. And it felt good to be praised by his friend. Still—

  “I was lucky.”

  Seth raised one of his perfectly plucked brows. “Somehow I doubt that, but I’m going to watch your fights on the internet and form my own opinion. Wow, this is so cool! I get to meet a UFC fighter!”

  Seth’s unbridled joy had them all laughing. They ate the rest of their meal bantering happily back and forth. When Leeland had licked the last bit of tiramisu from his bowl, Curtis led them into his spacious living room. Each of them found their favorite spot on the large, whiskey-colored, U-shaped couch in front of the flat-screen on the wall.

  “What are we going to watch today?” Peyton asked, dread shining in his eyes.

  An evil smile appeared on Curtis’s face, causing Peyton to flinch. “I thought we could venture into the world of sci-fi tonight.” He made an ominous pause, during which he pinned Peyton with a deadly glare. Leeland knew that look. Curtis was daring Peyton to bitch about his choice of film. These two had a movie feud going that was a source of never-ending entertainment for Leeland and the other subs, even though they sometimes had to suffer through exceptionally bad movies.

  “Blade Runner with Harrison Ford and The Island with Ewan McGregor.”

  Peyton threw a pillow in Curtis’s general direction and missed. “You ass! You were taunting me on purpose!”

  Curtis flicked some invisible dust from his lilac button-down shirt. “Who was threatening me with a Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson marathon the last time we met? Who? Oh, I think that was you, Peyton. A joke in bad taste if ever I heard one. This is payback, and don’t you forget it!”

  Peyton pouted. “Fine, I apologize. That wasn’t the nicest thing to do. In my defense, I had a shitty week and needed to unwind.”

  “You don’t unwind like that.” Curtis shuddered. “The Rock,” he added, lifting one of his brows.

  Leeland elbowed Seth, who was sitting to his left. “Since I have a feeling you’re becoming a regular in our little group, you need to learn the rules—there are none.”

  When Seth glanced at him in question, Leeland elaborated. “Whoever hosts the evening gets to decide which films we watch. As you may have guessed, our tastes vary greatly. You can always choose to antagonize the others by selecting something horrible, which is fun for you, on your night. Just remember, their turn will come as well.”

  “I get it. I’d like to sign up as last on the roster. That way I can get a feel for what you guys enjoy.”

  “Have fun with that,” Dean murmured to Leeland’s right before snuggling into him. Leeland sighed contently. With carbohydrates and sugar in his belly, his friends around him, and a good movie playing, he could ignore the looming threat of his fight against Noah Adams.

  Chapter 13

  JONATHAN COULDN’T believe it. Two minutes into the fight with Noah Adams and the obnoxious asshole had already gotten three fouls in, of which the referee had only seen one. Jonathan hoped the judges weren’t as blind. In the last two days before the fight, Noah’s verbal bullshit had become so bad, even Jonathan couldn’t listen to it or read it anymore. He had followed the man on Facebook, Twitter, and the media to be able to shield Leeland from unexpecte
d surprises. But when the threats against his boy grew more personal with each post and tweet, Jonathan had to make a choice. He could either keep on reading and listening and call Martin afterward to have the fucker removed from the surface of the earth, or he could stop and concentrate on supporting his boy. After long, careful consideration, during which he was tempted to go with option number one, Jonathan finally decided to focus on Leeland. His lover had been tense the days before the fight, more so than before the other matches he had competed in. When Jonathan asked him about it, Leeland explained what was going on in his complex mind. “It’s just—he’s nasty, Jonathan. He’s not just posturing and ramping it up for the fight; he really believes what he says. I can feel it. And I can’t lose against such an ass. No way.”

  Jonathan understood. He understood very well. So he’d done everything in his power to help Leeland get ready for his meeting with Noah. And now here they were, Noah going full-speed right from the beginning, waling into Leeland as if he wanted to use him as a punching bag. He’d clearly thought he could end the fight within the first few seconds, sending Leeland down with one heavy blow. The idea that Leeland could put up a fight and even have the audacity to gracefully duck out of the way didn’t seem to have occurred to Noah, because he was obviously getting angrier with every jab Leeland evaded and every kick Leeland got in. Red as he was in the face, Jonathan wondered what would happen first—Noah blowing a blood vessel or starting to froth.

  The whistle sounded and the first five minutes were over before this question could be answered.

  Jonathan watched his lover retreat into his designated corner with concern. Leeland had taken some bad hits from the asshole, and Jonathan could only hope adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay for the moment. Later he could take care of his boy, could kiss all his hurts better. The thought distracted Jonathan for a moment and had him smiling until Martin elbowed him.