The Cartographer (The Compass series Book 6)

by Tamsen Parker

  So I withdraw bit by bit from the conversation. Watch their flirtatious conversation ping between them like a tennis ball between two evenly matched players. Attraction, check. Conversational compatibility, check. They study each other carefully, watching for the signs I taught them both to seek, and then I know it’s time to go.

  I text Matthew on the sly, though it’s easy with Allie and Julian so distracted by each other, and wait the seconds it takes him to do as I’ve asked. My phone rings, and I excuse myself. The men barely acknowledge my departure, though Allie tracks me with his eyes. His attention is called back to his new golden god by a touch of Julian’s hand on his shoulder.

  Placing my cell to my ear, I sigh. “How are you, Matthew?”

  “Good, sir. Did you need something?”

  “My phone to ring.”

  “Yes, sir. Should I expect you home soon?”

  “In an hour if things go well, which I anticipate they will. Are you there already?”

  “Yes, sir. Finishing up some things.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you soon.”

  I don’t wait to hear his confirmation, which is a bit rude and I make a note to apologize for it if Matthew noticed, which he may not have. I’ll be able to tell when I see him. Now it’s time to finish this puppet show.

  Allie and Julian are still flirting when I get back. Julian touching him frequently and in increasingly intimate places and Allie not backing away from his touch. Perhaps even moving toward it. Good, good.

  They both turn at my approach, but not until I’m almost on top of them. If this is going so flawlessly, why does it feel like a nightmare instead of a dream? I shake it off and offer an explanation in response to their curious expressions.

  “Matthew.”

  “Everything okay?” It’s Julian, his eyebrow cocking while he studies me.

  “Not an emergency, but I should go.”

  Allie’s face falls, and it makes me take a hard swallow. This is what you want, this is what you’re getting. Don’t be unhappy.

  “No need for you to go too,” I say to his crestfallen face. “In fact, why don’t you stay? I’m sure Julian would be happy to keep you company and bring you home at the end of the night. Wouldn’t you, Julian?”

  He nods with a roguish smile, and images of Allie and Julian together flash through my mind. Images I wish I could block out. I know it’s going to happen. I should be happy it’s going to happen, but some selfish bit of me resents them.

  The solution for this is clearly a binge on decadence and kink and hedonism, beating and fucking as many people as I can get my hands on for the foreseeable future. It shouldn’t be difficult. I’m in demand and not often available.

  Allie grabs my arm, and his gaze is hot on me. “I’ll see you tonight, though? You mean home like your house, right?”

  Those words I’ve ached for. Yes, I’d love for Allie to use his key when he’s had his fill and crawl into my bed where I’d do…well, whatever I pleased. Instead I smile and lean in.

  “I think Julian would be more than happy to have you in his bed tonight.”

  “But—”

  I hold up a finger, and out of habit, Allie clamps his mouth shut, lovely boy.

  “Give us a minute, Davies?”

  Julian is all solicitousness when he drops an elegant bow and sweeps out an arm. “At your service, Walter.”

  Both Allie and I watch him stroll over to a friend who he greets with a handshake and an easy smile. Handsome devil, he is.

  Then Allie shoves me. Plants a palm roughly in my shoulder and pushes. It startles me, and though he hasn’t done it hard enough to elicit the reaction, I step back because of the shock.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “What the fuck is this?”

  His eyes are blazing, and not with the passion and desire I like to stoke. He is ripshit. I’ve made him angry before, certainly, but nothing like this.

  “What does it look like?” I force my voice calm and collected, wipe all emotion from my features.

  “It looks like you’re passing me off. Throwing me away. Is this your way of saying we’re done?”

  My chest feels tight, like I can’t quite get air all the way down to the bottom of my lungs. I don’t care for the shallow inhales and exhales it forces. Makes me uneasy.

  “I wouldn’t say throwing you away. I’d never…” Never throw you away. Never discard you. I want to keep you locked up for my own self, but I can’t. I’m not what you need, and I’m trying to give you that because you’re wonderful and you deserve that. I don’t say any of that, though. “But setting you up? Yes. I think perhaps we’re done here, and I’ve made some arrangements. I think you’ll find Julian to your liking. In fact, you seem to already.”

  His face crumples in anger and incomprehension. He’s livid and confounded, and it’s not a good combination for him. Noxious, in fact, because he resorts to his fists instead of his words, pushing me again with palms at both my shoulders. This time I’m prepared and I don’t move an inch.

  I let the emotions rage on his face, biting my tongue and fighting the urge to grab him by the collar, drag him past Julian to whom I’d offer a “Sorry, made a mistake, this one’s mine,” but I can’t. This is the right thing to do, and in a few days, perhaps a few weeks, we’ll all see it was true. Except maybe Allie, who looks as if I’ve ripped his soul out and am stomping on it. I’m a sadist to be sure, but soul-stomping is not one of my kinks. Nor is the devastated look on his face.

  I’m expecting cutting words when he opens his mouth again, and I get them. Oh, do I ever.

  “Do you not have feelings? Or do you not feel emotional pain, either, you freak?”

  This is the other shoe. Usually I expect it to drop, but this one’s kicked me in the face. Or someone else’s whom it would actually pain. As it is, it would injure my vanity.

  The tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but I clench my jaw and hold my voice steady. “I have feelings. I feel things very deeply. The only pain I’ve ever felt is emotional pain. Those are the only tears I’ve ever cried, the only ache I’ve ever felt, the only anguish I’ve ever experienced. So fuck you, Hart.”

  Never do I lose my temper. Ever. I’m always patient, always in control. Whether it appears that way or not, I am always getting my way. This…this poking of holes in the walls of domination I’ve built, the complete and utter lack of being able to handle him… It’s nothing short of infuriating and confirms for me what I’ve long known to be true but put off because I was enjoying myself so much. I have to let him go. Have to send him away to be with someone who’s better suited.

  Will they have the same volume of raw passion? I almost hope not, but what they will have is something more than I can ever give. Julian is a good choice for him. They’re well-matched in their kinks and intellect. They have a good shot at being compatible in the long-term, and Julian is willing and able to give Hart a family. Julian can make him happy. I’ll find my next project. And the one after that. Until my chessboard is cleared, until everyone is settled down and satisfied—however that might look for them—and I’ll be able to watch from on high and enjoy it all.

  Who am I kidding? There will always be someone else in need. I’ll just have to help them all until the day I draw my last breath. Because helping people is the best, most important thing I can do. This is what I’ve chosen to be faithful to instead of whom.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a few seconds to settle myself, find that more comfortable mantle of managing pieces. That’s all Hart is—another project for me to manage—and my work here is done. It’s time to send him on his way. Not like this, though.

  “Look, Hart. It’s been fun. I’ve enjoyed you. But…that’s all it’s ever been. I told you from the beginning I don’t play for keeps. I play for pleasure and for helping people reach their full potential. We’ve done that here, so there’s nothing more I can offer you. You have my word Julian will take excellent care of you, and i
f he doesn’t, call me. I’ll find you someone new.”

  “At your regular rates, I suppose?”

  The sharp offense in his tone strikes me at my center, and I nearly suck breath through my teeth at the impact. I hide my tell and go on because I need to go before the shell of my composure cracks. I give him my most charming grin. “Don’t be silly. For you? Gratis. Always.”

  Foolishly, I reach out my hand in the hopes I’ll get to touch him one last time, feel his skin on my skin, steal one last memory of the strength of his touch. He looks at my invitation as though it’s poisonous. As if it’s hurting him by being offered. He doesn’t even snap at me again, but his mouth tightens as he turns away, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t.

  I watch him as he walks back to where Julian is waiting for him. They do make an awfully handsome couple, Julian all golden and slight, Allie so dark and powerful. Knowing behind closed doors, Julian’s dancing eyes go flinty and hard and he’ll have Allie at his feet, panting and begging to be hurt more.

  The bloom of jealousy in my chest is surely for that—the feeling of having a man like Hart submit to me. Nothing more. When Allie reaches him, Julian lays a hand on his biceps, his slim fingers looking strange against Allie’s bulk. They talk for a few minutes, Julian stroking him all the while over the worn cotton of that goddamn Henley. Then they’re turning, Julian’s touch going from the relative innocence of Allie’s arm to the intimate small of his back to lead him away and back into the inner sanctum of Elouisa’s den of iniquity. Julian looks over Hart’s shoulder toward me right before they turn a corner, his expression asking in silence, Are you sure about this?

  Though I can’t quite breathe normally, I give him a raise of my chin and mouth, “Godspeed.”

  He smiles back like the cat who got the canary before they disappear out of sight.

  As for me…I slip out to the long drive to find my car. I’ll call Elouisa tomorrow and thank her for having me and to apologize for not saying so in person. For now, I start my car and drive off, feeling as though I’ve left something behind.

  *

  When I get home, Matthew is there. He’s on the phone, and he’s laughing. Something I’d rather not call jealousy alights between my shoulder blades because it must be Peter. Peter’s made my Matthew happy in a way I’d never be able to, in a way I’ll never make anyone happy, and it all suddenly seems unfair.

  I didn’t make this choice. I was born the way I am, and I’ve fulfilled the role I’ve been assigned. Sometimes, though, I’d like to trade. I would give up this superpower if I could have a normal life, a normal love. If I could come home at the end of the day to someone I could call my own. Someone I wouldn’t have to give up and send away.

  Allie’s face flashes across my memory, the pain in his eyes when I nudged him into Julian’s firm grip. It’s better this way. Better to give him up now before he gets too attached and convinces us both this is something we’re allowed.

  Matthew’s hung up the phone with whispered goodbyes. When he turns to me, the easy smile on his face disappears.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  No. I’m not all right. I’d guess this is what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest. Or to stub your toe really hard. Or get a paper cut and then touch a lemon slice or a pickle. Maybe a kidney stone. Perhaps childbirth. All of those things people seem to know are excruciating. Maybe that’s what this would feel like if I weren’t a freak like Allie said.

  “Nothing for you to trouble yourself with, Matthew.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He eyes me suspiciously, as if he knows I’m lying through my teeth, and opens his mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it. Something I’ve always liked about Matthew; he knows when to shut the hell up.

  “Are you ready or is there something you need to finish up?”

  “I’m ready if you are, sir.”

  “Lead the way.”

  I watch Matthew’s slim hips sway slightly as he climbs the stairs, and when we get into my room, I stand in the middle of the floor so he can attend to me. It should be relaxing, Matthew serving me in this familiar and comfortable way. I should be finding pleasure in the elegant way he strips me, almost like a dance, in the economy of his movements. Instead I find myself watching him, studying him. I want to ask him a question, but I’m not sure I’m going to like the answer.

  As he kneels to unzip my pants, I can’t keep it in anymore. So much for self-control.

  “Matthew?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  He looks up at me, and regret streaks through my body. “Have I… Did I ever…”

  “Sir?” Concern creases his forehead, and his gorgeous long lashes flutter against his cheeks in alarm. Poor, sweet boy. Stuttering is not something I do, and it’s distressing him. So I reach out a hand, smooth the springy mat of his hair, and his eyes close. Relief in the form of physical contact even if I can’t get my shit together to complete a fucking sentence.

  “If I had—” His eyes blink open, and I want to stop talking, keep petting, keep us both in this place where everything’s the status quo. I don’t. “—asked you to stay. With me. When you told me about Peter. Would you have?”

  His pink mouth, not as full as Allie’s but just as sweet, widens into a reluctant grimace.

  “No, sir.”

  My heart beats harder, faster, and I have to rein in the insult attempting to run away with my voice. You asked the question, asshole. “Why not?”

  “Peter is… He’s not perfect. Not like you. But he wants me and he tells me so. I know I’m important to you. You make me feel valued and cared for. I love serving you, and I loved playing with you. You’ve taught me so much, and I have a lot more confidence than when I met you. You’ve always held yourself apart, though. Like you’re up there and everyone else is down here. Which makes sense. You’re a god. I’m not fit for a god. I belong with another mortal. Peter’s human. You need someone who feels they’re worthy of climbing Olympus, and that’s not me.”

  “Matthew, I—”

  “I don’t feel that way because of anything you’ve said or done. Not on purpose, anyway. It’s how you are, and I wouldn’t want you to be any different. It’s not anyone’s fault. And I’m happy. Peter makes me happy.”

  “I’m glad. I am. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

  Matthew smiles—that lovely beatific smile that still gives my dick ideas—and proceeds with his task, sticking his hand down my pants to deal with the zipper. “So do you, you know.”

  I make some gruff noise in response and stand still as Matthew finishes his work. When I lie down on the bed in anticipation of getting massaged, I can’t seem to find a comfortable spot. Nothing hurts, because it can’t, but it doesn’t feel quite right.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

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  “Sir?”

  Matthews lilting voice cuts like a hot knife through the butter of silence and stillness in my bedroom.

  “What?” Walter, you’re a terrible person. Matthew doesn’t deserve this, watch your tone. “I’m sorry, Matthew. What is it?”

  “It’s…” I’ve made him fret. I am officially going to hell. Matthew might be able to take a sound beating like a dream, but he doesn’t do well with me being tetchy. “It’s nearly nine, and you have Knight at ten. I thought you might need some time to prepare.”

  I sigh and can practically feel Matthew’s tension vibrating from the other side of the room. “Of course. You’re right. Thank you for letting me know. It was the right thing to do, and I appreciate it.”

  Which I do. Or rather, I should, and that’s all Matthew needs to know.

  “Yes, sir. Can I make you some breakfast?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Matthew closes the door to my bedroom, and I roll onto my back. Would it be the worst thing in the world to sleep for a few more minutes? To not be show
ered and shaved when Knight comes knocking at my door? It wouldn’t be problematic to pick up my phone and text him I’m feeling under the weather and would he be terribly put out if I needed to reschedule? It wouldn’t be difficult, but it would be impossible.

  I have no qualms about, shall we say, fibbing, but this isn’t a circumstance that requires prevarication. The fact is, I’m not sick. Tip-top shape, actually. Just…

  At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I have a job to do, and I’ll do it. So I force myself to sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and pause briefly to put my head in my hands. I don’t often feel tired, and I can’t even say that’s what this is. I could run a marathon…if only I could get out of my bed. Which I can, and which I do. Every day for the past three weeks, I have gone through the motions of being alive.

  I eat when Matthew sets food in front of me. I get on planes when my itinerary tells me to. I shower, I dress carefully, I am on time for my appointments. I do not skimp on my obligations. Beyond that, though, all I want to do is stay in my bed, so that’s what I do. Not reading, not thumbing through my phone, not watching a movie or even rubbing one out.

  No, I lie on my cool, clean sheets because Matthew’s a dear and replaces them every day, and I remind myself of all the things I always tell my clients: You can’t always get what you want. If you’ve committed to something, you had best see it through. Sometimes what you want is not what you need. I remind myself Julian is what Hart needs and I was right to hand him over. Surrender him to the proper authority.

  With alarming regularity, I find myself rubbing a spot on the left side of my chest, which is idiotic, because I’ve never felt an ache or a pain in my life, but somehow there’s a feeling where my heart is and it’s not that warm, glowy pleasure of seeing a couple I puppet-stringed together. It’s not the icy sensation of fear for someone I love. It’s… I don’t know, but I don’t like it.

  In fact, I’m rubbing that spot right now, absentmindedly, and I have to stop. Get myself presentable because I’ll be working quite closely with Knight today. He’s asked to be tutored in micro-bondage, and I had been only too happy to oblige when he’d set this up about a month ago. It’s rather devilish and so small it doesn’t look at all threatening, but it packs a wallop—or it can. Under Knight’s control? I have no doubt it will. My enthusiasm for it, however, has dimmed. Like everything else.