by Christi Snow
“Um, thank you, sir.” She tilted her head at him. “Are you okay? You seem a little off today.”
Stig cleared his throat. “Yeah, it was just a long night.”
“But if you found a new artist, it will be worth it. What’s his name and medium?” Lola took notes in her iPad.
“Ryder Garrett, and he works with photography and painting, so the showing will be all wall fixtures.”
She stilled and looked up at him. “Is he related to T. Garrett from the Typecast showing?”
Stig nodded. “Yes, they’re brothers.” Had it only been last year that he’d featured Tommy’s art in the gallery? So much had changed since then. Now, Tommy and Mac were engaged. “And on that front, I don’t know if you heard yet or not, but Tommy’s boyfriend, Robert McIntyre, proposed last night at his bookstore signing.”
She nodded. “I saw that on the news this morning, but I hadn’t even thought about it...” She examined him more closely. “That’s why you’re off today. Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Even though they both knew he was blowing shit. She of all people knew how devastated he’d been when he and Mac had broken up. “Tommy is much better for Mac than I ever was.”
“Stig...” Her voice was low and concerned.
Emotion clogged his throat, but he fought against it and gave her a weak smile. “It’s okay. Truly. We were over a long time ago.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”
Yeah, it did still hurt, but he just had to push past it and focus on something other than how fucked up his love life was right now. Getting turned on by a straight guy who was too young—and too straight, for fuck’s sake—was an all-new low for even him.
“Moving on,” he said. “Assuming I can get the young Ryder to agree to a showing, where could we fit him in the schedule? Do we have any gallery showings coming up with a sculptor or 3-D artist? Maybe if he’s not the sole focus of the show, he’ll be more amenable to the idea. He doesn’t like to draw attention to himself.”
Lola snapped her fingers. “Yes, I just got the contract back from Brumhilda for her show over Valentine's Day. Would his art style complement hers?”
Stig considered it. The pieces he’d seen of Ryder’s had all spoke to loneliness, which is probably why they touched him like they did. It would be an unusual choice for a holiday that was supposed to be all about romance, but it would complement well with Brumhilda’s over-the-top, romantic, love-filled style. For every sap out there who was madly in love over Valentine’s Day, there were half a dozen others like Stig who felt a little bitter about being alone for the holiday...again.
“Yeah.” He nodded and rubbed his chin, considering it. “It will be unusual, but I think it could work. We’ll call the show...Alone Together.”
“Well, that’s a bit depressing for a show that’s supposed to be all about love,” Lola said drily.
“It will work with the two styles of art...trust me.”
“You’re the expert.”
Stig laughed. He knew she meant about the art, but couldn’t help but see the humor on him being the expert on love. Not even close...
Chapter Five
Ryder
Ryder stood in his guest room-turned-studio, looking at the new piece he’d created when the front door of his apartment opened.
“Ryder?” Cari called out.
“I’m in the studio.”
Her high heels clicked on the wood floors as she walked down the hall. If it had been anyone other than Cari, he probably would have rushed to hide the piece. But Cari had always respected his requests to never look at his art unless he said otherwise. It helped that his easel sat so that she couldn’t see the canvas from the doorway.
His gaze dropped again to the piece. Something was different about it, but he couldn’t place his finger on what gave him that feeling. It was so bizarre. He knew in his mind he’d created all the art he found in the mornings. He had had zero recollection of the process, the emotions behind them, or even how to access the talent in his brain to create something like this when his mind was working correctly. This was something he could only achieve when his brain glitched. How messed up was that?
Cari glanced into the room and frowned. “A new piece?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Do we need to cancel tonight?”
Normally on days after he created a new piece, the hangover would be so bad he could barely get out of bed. Today, not only was he out of bed, he was standing. Maybe he needed to invite Stig over to stay with him every night. That thought heated his blood.
He shook his head. “No, actually I’m feeling pretty good.”
“Really?” She squinted, taking him in. “So, do you remember painting it?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“What was different about last night?” Her eyes widened as realization dawned. “Oh, hell, Ryder. Last night was the signing, and you had a bad night. I knew I should have gone with you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” He rolled his eyes, hating feeling like a recalcitrant five year old. “You’re not my babysitter. It was Oliver’s birthday. You needed to spend the evening with your husband, not working.”
Besides if she had come, he wouldn’t have gotten to spend that time with Stig. He didn’t know why that was so important especially after he’d basically kicked Stig out this morning, but it was. Something about the man settled him. He didn’t think it was an accident that he felt better today than he had in years, even after a migraine.
Sleeping with Stig last night had helped...maybe it was just a matter of keeping the nightmares at bay, maybe it had to do with the wet dream. Or maybe it was just the act of human companionship—something he never had when sleeping—that allowed him to relax more. But if how he felt today was any indication, he needed to sleep with another human being more often.
He almost laughed out loud. Like it was just that easy to find a bed companion. It had been a long time since he’d tried to approach a woman for even a date, because his attempts had always ended in disaster. Maybe it was time to try that again. If he could feel like this everyday, the blows that his ego would take until he found someone willing to give him a chance might be worth it. Something to consider.
In the meantime, he needed to plan for his speaking engagement tonight. “Where are we going tonight, again? I haven’t checked the calendar yet today.”
He stepped from behind the easel using the table for balance, careful not to rely too much on his left side. While he felt pretty steady today, that side was never quite trustworthy to hold him up. He’d fallen way too many times by believing in his body’s ability to function when he shouldn’t have.
He waved a hand for her to move into the hall. “Let’s go to the office.” Which was actually just the dining room side of his kitchen that had two desks—one for him and one for her—instead of a table.
As they stepped into the kitchen, he wondered what Stig had thought of his setup. It was rare for him to have people here who weren’t part of his inner circle. Did Stig think he was a total freak now? Most people didn’t live and work out of their homes, but for Ryder, it was part of his survival mode.
Ryder took a deep breath. He needed to stop obsessing about Stig. He had other considerations...like how to get through one more night of the inspirational mumbo-jumbo speaking he did to earn money...even if he thought it was all a load of bullshit.
He shouldn’t be inspiration for anyone.
“Tonight, you’re speaking at the boys’ ranch. Your contact is Melissa Williams. She saw you speak at the Educators’ Council a couple of months ago. There should be about twenty to twenty-five boys in attendance, ages fourteen to eighteen. These kids aren’t orphans but their home situation isn’t the best, so the state has decided they’re better off living at the ranch at least temporarily.”
Ryder nodded as he took the folder Cari offered him. Opening it, he found Melissa’
s head shot with her name in bold letters at the top. His memory could never be trusted, and they’d learned early on little tricks like this to get him through appearances like this with as little awkwardness as possible. The portfolio was key.
He tilted his head as he studied Melissa’s photo. He would guess her to be his age. She wore glasses and had short dark hair. Even behind the glasses in this professional photo, there appeared to be a spark of mischievousness to her that probably made her the perfect choice to work with troubled teens. “She’s young.”
“Yeah, I think she’s only been in the job for a few months, straight out of college.”
So, she was probably close to his age. He wondered if she had a boyfriend. A girl who worked with disadvantaged kids might have a big enough heart to give him a chance. Maybe.
Chapter Six
Stig
Stig stepped into the Black Room of Eclipse. The room had been painted completely black, and Peter had always enjoyed adding that bit of drama to his scenes. Tonight, he’d lit candles so there was a warm glow to the room. That was something new.
As was the way Peter examined Stig when he’d walked in...studying, calculating...predatory.
Letting Peter look his fill, Stig stopped inside the door and dropped his head. He wore tight, black leather pants with combat boots. No shirt. No underwear. Exactly how Peter liked him to present. It was a badass look. He always found it interesting that Peter liked him to dress in the power position while Peter always came in an incongruous white T-shirt and black, holey jeans.
Peter enjoyed the position of turning ideas on their head. He was taller than Stig, but leaner and much younger. Anyone looking at the two of them together would assume Stig to be the Dom. They couldn’t be more wrong.
Peter took the backpack off his shoulder and set it aside. He walked around Stig and trailed a finger down his abs. “You look good, Stig, but then again, you always did.”
He started at the use of his name. Peter always insisted they call one another “boy” and “Sir” in this room. Unease skittered across his gut. For him, this room was about giving up control. They didn’t have sex, but this scene provided a way for him to feel, connect, to go deep into subspace where he could truly experience a level of emotion with another person in a way that he didn’t seem able to do otherwise.
But that didn’t mean he wanted anything more physically or mentally with Peter. For him, this was a means to an end, and that was all.
“Thank you, Sir,” he said, using the label, trying to get them back onto familiar ground.
An unhappy sound emanated from Peter’s throat. Stig wanted to look up and study him for the source of his distress, but he hadn’t been given permission to do so.
Peter stepped behind Stig again and trailed his finger down his spine. “I was surprised to hear from you,” Peter whispered, and it sounded almost threatening. “I expected to hear back from you last year, but you never called. That was...disappointing.”
Stig’s forehead furrowed. They had put a halt to their arrangement by mutual agreement, although Peter had made sure Stig knew he’d always be there if and when Stig needed him.
But Stig knew himself too well. Last year, his desires had been getting too dangerous. He kept pushing them both toward something he just couldn’t quite achieve. Their sessions had become more and more violent and more and more difficult to keep hidden. It hadn’t been healthy for either of them, so they’d mutually decided to cool things down...at least temporarily. Had he read the situation between them wrong?
He was about to ask when Peter stepped away from him. “Strip and position yourself on the cross.”
Putting his doubts aside, Stig removed his pants, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he had in a long time as he pressed the naked flesh of his torso against the cold wood of the St. Andrew’s cross. But that had been what had drawn him to this lifestyle in the first place. The need for a physical pain that flayed him open and superseded the mental pain that he just couldn’t deal with.
Peter strapped Stig’s hands and ankles to the cross, jerking the buckles tight so he had no way to escape.
Then he shoved a ball gag into Stig’s mouth, something he’d never done before. Panic surged, stealing all the blood from his extremities as his heart rate thundered.
Stig tried to shake Peter off and yell that he hadn’t agreed to this, but Peter strapped it around his head.
Peter stepped to the side of the cross so Stig could see him strip. His gaze dropped to Peter’s hard cock. He was extremely aroused, moisture coating the tip of his hard, really large dick.
Ice trailed down Stig’s spine and nausea clenched in his gut.
Peter rounded behind the cross where Stig couldn’t see him.
His muscles tensed and bunched.
Peter pressed his hard chest into Stig’s bare back, but all Stig could focus on was that erect cock flexing against his ass. “And now we’re going to have some fun.”
Their arrangement had never been a sexual one. It had always been about pain, but for the first time ever, Stig was afraid of what exactly Peter had planned.
A cane whooshed through the air and landed hard across the tops of his thighs. Tight, blinding white pain arced across the tender skin. He screamed behind the gag, both for the blazing pain of his skin being flayed wide-open and for his own stupidity that had brought him here.
Chapter Seven
Ryder
“That night was supposed to be the culmination of my high school career. Everything was perfect.” Ryder looked out over the boys piled into the room, sitting on couches and lounging on pillows thrown on the floor. These kids didn’t know what a perfect life looked like. Yeah, his single mother had been poor and struggled to make ends meet for him and Tommy, but she’d always nurtured and loved them. They’d known she was in their corner regardless, and that made the difference.
Pain twisted his heart. He still couldn’t believe she was gone, but he couldn’t think about that tonight.
Tonight was about lifting these kids up, encouraging them to do whatever they could with the very few advantages they had. Because a person never knew when life when turn on them and kick them in the ass.
Where was he in his story?
“We were playing in the state finals and were winning. As a receiver, I’d already made two touchdowns, and we were ahead by twenty-four points. It was the best night ever.” Until it wasn’t.
This is where he had to step back mentally from the speech that he’d done so many times before. If he didn’t, then the pain of what he’d lost became too much...even eight years later.
“Even though it was early in the year for that type of thing, I’d already been offered a full academic scholarship ride to MIT after graduation. I’d planned on becoming an engineer. I had dreams. I had goals. I had plans.” He grinned at the guys. “Unfortunately, I did not have a girlfriend. That was something else I hoped to change after that night. Up until that point, I’d been solely focused on my grades and football. After we won, I promised myself I’d ask out the girl I had a crush on.”
He shuffled the papers sitting in his lap, although surprisingly, he hadn’t needed them tonight. “Instead, I took a bad hit that resulted in a concussion and a brain bleed. My heart stopped, and I died three times that night on the way to the hospital. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much about that game or the rest of the week that followed. But because of the brain trauma, there are days now I don’t even remember my name.”
The kids looked at him with stunned horror. He could relate. It still horrified him the way his brain refused to cooperate sometimes.
“The brain is a funny thing, and doctors will tell you that they truly don’t understand the way it works ninety percent of the time. I’m living proof of that. I can remember the way my mind used to work...my almost photographic memory, the ability to sort out any mathematical problem put in front of me without writing anything down. But there are days now I can’t get m
y brain to work to tell my hands how to put my key into my front door or how to tie my shoe or dial on my cell phone. That’s my reality.”
And fuck, it sucked so hard.
“In one single moment, I’d lost it all. The future I’d planned, the dreams I had, and the hopes I’d counted on.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m not here for you to feel sorry for me. I’m here so you can realize that you may have been dealt a shitty hand, but you still have advantages in your life. You have a safe place here. Take advantage of that. Don’t take it for granted. You don’t know what tomorrow holds for you. You need to grab onto your life. Today. Live with all that you have. Go after your dreams. You have the tools at your fingertips. Live.”
And for once, his inspirational talk spoke to him, too. This morning’s positive start had given him a glimpse of possibilities. It might be possible for him to wake up more functional. Human interaction was the key. He was sure of it.
He just needed to do what he preached. Live. He focused on the sweet, beautiful woman across the room, watching him speak with tears in her eyes. Melissa. He could ask her out on a date.
He could do this. It was the perfect moment, and he didn’t get many of those in his life.
***
“Oh, wow.” Melissa’s eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape. “It’s really sweet of you to ask, but um... I’m not really looking to settle down right now. I’m still young.”
Ryder shook his head. “I’m not asking you to marry me,” he joked half-heartedly. “I thought maybe we’d start with dinner and then maybe a movie.”
Her gaze dropped to his wheelchair and she flushed red. “Yeah, but... I just can’t. You seem like a nice guy. Just not my type.” Uncomfortable vibes emanated off her. She hated this... that he’d asked her out.
Suddenly, he felt the need to apologize for daring to want to spend time with her.
But before he got the chance, she turned with a wave of her hand. “I need to go...check on things in the kitchen.” She rushed off as if he planned to chase her down and maim her with his wheelchair to get her to agree.
