Make Me Soar E-Book

K.C. Wells

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 521

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Collars and Cuffs: Book Six Anyone who frequents Collars & Cuffs knows Dorian Forrester is built for pain, including Dorian himself. But everyone has it wrong. For six years, Dorian's chased a feeling that remains tantalizingly out of his reach. Unteachable, Dorian can take anything and everything a Dom can throw at him. Still, it's not enough. Dorian needs… something more. Something he won't find at Collars & Cuffs. Dorian's search takes him out of the safe environment he's known for years, out of his depth, and into a realm of deep, dark trouble. Alan Marchant has been watching Dorian with interest for a while and knows there's more to Dorian than his label of "pain slut" suggests. When Dorian disappears, Alan and his friend Leo set out to find him. But the disoriented young man discovered cowering in a hotel room is not the Dorian they know and love. That Dorian is shattered. It's up to Alan to pick up the pieces and show Dorian there are better ways to fly. They may be off on a new journey together, but their destination will rock them both to the core. 2015 Rainbow Awards The Bobby Michaels Award for Best Gay Erotic Romance Runner-Up

Leseprobe

Readers love the Collars & Cuffs

series by K.C. WELLS

An Unlocked Heart

“You need to experience K.C. Wells’s style and knowledge for yourself… when An Unlocked Heart is opened, it’s the hottest sex ever. Forcibly, strenuously, lustily recommended.”

—The Novel Approach

Trusting Thomas

“Trusting Thomas should be included in all D/s libraries… I absolutely loved [it].”

—MM Good Book Reviews

“K.C. Wells delivers another EXCELLENT novel… I was engrossed from beginning to end.”

—Sinfully… Addicted to All Male Romance

Someone to Keep Me (with Parker Williams)

“The storyline keeps you in its grip and doesn’t let you go”

—Love Bytes

A Dance with Domination

“I loved this addition to the Collars & Cuffs series.”

—Hearts on Fire

Damian’s Discipline (with Parker Williams)

“I never thought I would tear up in happiness but I did. Why? You need to read the why of it.”

—multitaskingmommas Book Reviews

By K.C. WELLS

A Bond of Three

Love Lessons Learned

Waiting For You

COLLARS & CUFFS

An Unlocked Heart

Trusting Thomas

With Parker Williams: Someone to Keep Me

A Dance with Domination

With Parker Williams: Damian’s Discipline

Make Me Soar

LEARNINGTO LOVE

Michael & Sean

Evan & Daniel

Josh & Chris

Final Exam

Published byDREAMSPINNER PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

DREAMSPINNER PRESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Make Me Soar

© 2015 K.C. Wells.

Cover Photo

© 2015 Terry J Cyr.

Cover Design

© 2015 Paul Richmond.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63476-294-6

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-295-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015905069

First Edition June 2015

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

Dedication

For Wulf, who really got Dorian.

Thank you for all the conversations, the advice, the constant Skyping….

This one is for you, baby.

Acknowledgments

As always, my thanks to my ever-growing list of wonderful betas: Lara, Tina, Mardee, Will, Max, Wulf, and Jason.

But here I must also mention two very worthy charities which play a part in this book, both of which need your support:

George House Trust (GHT) is a well-established and vibrant charity that was established in Manchester way back, in 1985. They are the second-oldest HIV charity in England.

To quote from their website:

“At GHT we have a very clear vision—for all people living with HIV in the North West to live happy and healthy lives and be free from stigma and discrimination. Our vision is for all people to know their HIV status and to be HIV aware.

“Over the years GHT has grown substantially and earned a reputation (both regionally and nationally) for developing ground-breaking services in its field.”

http://www.ght.org.uk/

The Albert Kennedy Trust supports lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans homeless young people in crisis. Every day they deal with the effects homelessness can have on young people’s lives. They have offices in London, Manchester, and Newcastle.

http://www.akt.org.uk/

One

I WISHit were me.

That thought had been bouncing around in Dorian’s head since he got the call from Master Leo to attend Ben and Scott’s wedding. He didn’t really know them, beyond seeing them at the club, but a call from Leo was something Dorian just couldn’t refuse.

Except it wasn’t Ben and Scott’s wedding, was it?

Leo Hart had got down on one knee and asked Alex Daniels to marry him, right then, right there, and suddenly that made it so much more personal. Dorian had watched them be joined in marriage, a smile pasted across his face like all the men around him. He listened to the applause, whistles, and shouts from the club members, saw their expressions of joy, and all the while he felt hollow inside. Oh, he wished the couple nothing but success. They were obviously meant for one another, but….

There it was again. Surrounded by genuine happiness, all eyes on the happy couple, and yet that one thought was still hammering in his brain.

I wish it were me.

He watched Alex at Leo’s side, laughing and smiling, drinking champagne and accepting all the congratulatory wishes of their guests. Leo hadn’t stopped smiling since Alex had said yes. His face glowed with love for his new husband. Dorian had sat through the whole wedding, transfixed by the looks that passed between the two men—and wishing he could feel what every other man in the room seemed to be experiencing.

Damn it, I need another drink.

Dorian turned away from the joyful scene and looked around for one of the waiters who were circulating, holding trays of champagne flutes filled with golden bubbles on high. Dorian stopped the nearest waiter and took a glass, placing his empty one on the tray. He took a long drink, enjoying the dryness of the champagne. He couldn’t help himself; he turned around to take another look at the happy couple.

All the best, Sir, he silently toasted Leo in his head.

“How many of those have you had?” Pietro’s voice broke through, making him jump slightly. Dorian could hear his friend’s amusement in every syllable. The slim sous-chef looked relaxed, a half-empty glass of champagne in his hand.

Dorian raised his glass and gave him a grim smile. “Not enough.” He drained half the glass.

“Whoa there, go easy. Are you feeling okay?” Pietro placed his hand on Dorian’s arm.

Dorian’s throat tightened to see the genuine concern reflected in Pietro’s voice and expression. Pietro’s gaze flicked over to Alex and Leo and then back to Dorian. The look of understanding in Pietro’s eyes made his gut wrench. Of all the subs at Collars & Cuffs, he was the one who knew Dorian best. And right then that was not a good thing.

“It’s not what you think,” Dorian blurted out, his stomach churning.

Pietro regarded him silently for a moment, eyes narrowed, before glancing around the spacious room. “Let’s go over here.”

Without waiting for Dorian’s reply, he grasped him by the elbow and tugged him over to a quiet corner, away from the groups of men who were standing around, chatting and drinking champagne. Dorian was too weary to complain and allowed himself to be led. A table stood empty, and Pietro pushed Dorian to sit down before sitting next to him. From their vantage point, they could see Alex and Leo, a small crowd gathered around them.

Dorian watched them, his heart aching. He raised his glass to his lips, but Pietro stopped him, taking it from him and placing it on the table. Dorian scowled, but Pietro merely sat back, arms folded across his chest.

“So it’s not what I think, yeah? Then explain. ’Cause from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve still got a thing for Master Leo.” His gaze narrowed once more.

Fuck. Dorian gulped. “Yeah, I can see why you might think that.”

Pietro said nothing, but waited. Dorian took a deep steadying breath in an effort to inject a little calm into his system.

“I haven’t felt that way about Sir for a while, not since I’ve seen him and Alex together. I mean, they just fit, right?”

Pietro nodded, his eyes grave.

“And you don’t need to remind me what a little shit I was, trying to stir things up, but look at them. They just got married, for God’s sake. No harm done, yeah?”

Pietro tilted his head. “So if you’re not burning up with jealousy, what’s going on?”

Dorian couldn’t meet Pietro’s direct gaze. He twisted his hands in his lap, fingers laced. “This is really hard, Pietro,” he whispered.

Pietro shifted his chair closer, his demeanor changed. “It’s okay, y’know. You can talk to me.” His voice softened. “C’mon, Dorian, you and me go way back.”

That much was true. Dorian’s heart raced. For God’s sake, just tell him. Keeping it all bottled up inside him had only made matters worse.

“It’s not just Master Leo and Alex,” he confessed. “It’s seeing you and Miles, Master Thomas and Peter, Ben and Scott—” He swallowed. “—Master Andrew and Gareth.”

Pietro’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it.”

Dorian heaved a heavy sigh. “What’s wrong with me, Pietro? Why can’t I find someone who fits me?” His stomach turned over.

Pietro’s frown cleared. “Oh, Dorian.” He took Dorian’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Is that what this is all about?” He studied Dorian for a moment. “You’ve never shown any signs of wanting to find a partner. You’ve always been so focused on….” His frown returned.

Dorian snorted. “Yeah, I know what you’re going to say.” He knew his reputation around the club. He might as well walk around Collars & Cuffs with Pain Slut tattooed on his rear. That was partly what had made it easier to come to his decision. “I’ve had contracts, plenty of them, but nothing beyond three months. So I have to ask myself: why hasn’t one Dom wanted to extend a contract beyond the trial period?” As if it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t achieve his one goal….

Dorian shivered. Can’t think about that now.

Pietro regarded him with dismay, his mouth turning down. “Dorian, I had no idea.”

He huffed. “Why would you? We may have known one another for years, but it’s not like we’re that close, right?” Pietro’s eyes widened, and Dorian swallowed. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. You’ve always been nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” He ran his fingers through his short layers of hair. It still felt strange not to feel curls there anymore. The change in hairstyle had been an impulsive decision. Dorian’s heart pounded. “There’s so much going on in here right now”—he pressed a finger to his temple—“that sometimes it feels like it’s going to explode.”

Pietro’s hand tightened around his. “Then talk to someone. Don’t go through this on your own.”

Dorian barked out a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t know who to talk to. Besides, I think I’ve burned my bridges with the Doms at Collars & Cuffs. Time for a change.” Just the thought made his heart race even faster.

Pietro stared. “What do you mean?” He became very still, his attention focused on Dorian.

He sighed. “I think it’s time to move on, maybe find another club where I can get a fresh start. And maybe I need something new, something to really push my boundaries.” Voicing his decision for the first time somehow made it all the more real.

Pietro shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of this. You’re starting to worry me.” He glanced around the room. “Let me find Miles.” He made as if to rise from his seat.

“No!” Dorian said in a loud whisper. Pietro gave a start, and he took a deep breath. “I’m not going to leave this very minute, okay? Right now I’m just thinking about it. But the part about wanting to push my boundaries?” He shivered. “I need something to get me out of my head.”

“Like what?” Pietro whispered.

Dorian smiled at him. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have this mess in my head. I’d be doing something about it.” He sighed. “But if I think of something, you’ll be the first to know, yeah?”

Pietro tightened his grip on Dorian’s hand. “You’d better. I don’t want to come to the club one night and find you’ve disappeared on me.”

“I promise,” Dorian assured him. “Now how about another glass of champagne? This is a wedding, right?” He winked, affecting a demeanor that was pure fiction. Inside his head, the storm was still raging.

I need to do something. And soon.

Pietro giggled. “I daren’t drink too much. Miles says I get really silly when I’m drunk, and I wouldn’t like to embarrass him.” He stared longingly at his empty champagne flute. “It’s not something I get to drink that often.”

Dorian said nothing. His parents’ wine cellar had never been without at least a dozen bottles on any given moment when he’d been growing up. He could understand Pietro’s liking for it, but for Dorian, champagne had lost its appeal.

I suppose that’s true of lots of things, he mused. Have something too often and it begins to lose its luster. And what once had made him giggly and muzzy headed after one glass, now failed to have the same effect.

It was ironic that this also applied to his experiences within the walls of Collars & Cuffs.

Definitely time for a change.

ALAN MARCHANT couldn’t stop staring across the room at the two young men, apparently deep in conversation. Judging from their body language, the subject matter must have been very intense.

What I’d give to be a fly on the wall in that corner.

Of course it didn’t help matters that one of them was Dorian Forrester. It was bad enough that the boy intrigued Alan at the best of times. The fact that his hair was not only cropped of its youthful curls but that he’d also had it dyed blond, only served to bring Alan’s dick into the equation. The combination of short blond layers and rich brown eyes was very striking, and it was all Alan could do to keep himself from frequently adjusting his hard-on.

Fuck, boy, what you do to me….

Only now he looked less of a boy and more of a delectable, erection-inducing young man.

“Alan!”

A deep, rich voice broke through his heated reflections. Alan twisted his head to regard Thomas Williams, co-owner of Collars & Cuffs. Thomas lifted his eyebrows, his lips twitching.

“That’s the third time I’ve called your name. What planet are you on?” For a moment Thomas’s gaze flickered toward Pietro and Dorian at the corner table but then returned to give Alan his full attention.

Alan shifted on his chair and chuckled. “Okay, you caught me. I was woolgathering.” He picked up his glass of champagne from its position on the bar and took a long sip. The chilled liquid cooled the burning in his cheeks. He made a concerted effort not to look over in Dorian’s direction but peered around Thomas. “Where’s Peter?”

“At the buffet table with Scott and Jeff when I saw him last.” Thomas smiled. “He kissed me on the cheek and told me he was a big boy now, and he’d be just fine.” His eyes shone. “And that if he needed me, he’d find me.”

Alan had to smile at that. It had been wonderful to see Thomas’s submissive lover at the wedding and even more wonderful to watch Thomas almost bursting with pride at how Peter handled himself.

Then a thought occurred to him. “I have to ask. Did you really know nothing of Leo’s plans for this wedding?”

Thomas snorted. “I’m still trying to get over the shock. All these years working with Leo, and he finally managed to keep a secret from me.”

They both laughed at that.

Alan glanced across at the two grooms, their arms around each other’s waists, and let out a sigh. “It does my heart good to see two people so much in love. That’s what the world needs right now—more love.”

Thomas smirked. “I feel a song coming on, but that would be far too queer.”

Alan snickered. “Yeah, and it wouldn’t be me singing it. I have a singing voice that can turn milk sour.”

Thomas winced. “Ouch. Remind me not to ask you to join the carol singers next Christmas.” He took a drink from his glass and gave Alan a speculative glance. “So you’re happy with us? Found your feet?”

Alan hesitated long enough to have Thomas gazing at him, frowning. Alan shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the club.” When Thomas arched his eyebrows, Alan expelled his breath. “The Doms are a great bunch, and I’ve shared some really good scenes with the subs. They’re well-trained, responsive, and most of the time it’s been a very satisfying experience.” He fell silent, studying his flute.

“I’m waiting for the but,” Thomas said at last. Around them was the low hum of chatter and laughter.

Alan rested his chin on his clasped hands, elbows on the bar. “I’ve been fortunate to live and work in a variety of places around the world, Thomas. I’ve seen a lot of things that some here would find a bit… excessive.” Thomas merely arched his eyebrows, and Alan smiled. “Not you, probably, but then you’ve seen more than most.” Thomas let out a wry chuckle. Alan considered how best to put his thoughts into words. “I guess what I’m trying to say—and making a pig’s ear of it—is that I haven’t had the opportunity at the club to do what I do best.”

Thomas put down his glass and turned to face him on his chair, his face rapt. “Now you have my undivided attention.”

Alan leaned against the back of his chair. “The club has a lot of Doms who are very adept with a whip, cane, or flogger. Their skills are impressive, to say the least. But what impresses me more is someone like Andrew Barrett. He is a very sensual Dom. I watch his scenes whenever I can, because he’s a joy to observe. The heights to which he takes the subs is astounding.” His gaze drifted once again across the room. “In fact, I found one such scene almost mesmerizing.”

Thomas followed his gaze. A slow smile crept across his face. “Ah.”

Damn. Thomas always saw far too much.

Alan cleared his throat, which had tightened. “What I love most of all is working with a sub, taking time with him, training him, until I’m all that’s in his head, until we’re so in tune that all he can think about is submitting to me.”

Thomas regarded him steadily. “I once asked you if you liked a challenge. Remember?”

Alan nodded. “I’ve never forgotten it.” He gave up any pretense of glancing surreptitiously at Dorian—there seemed little point now—and studied him openly from across the room. “But to be honest, until recently, I didn’t think he was worth my efforts.”

“What changed your mind?” Thomas spoke in a low voice.

Alan didn’t hesitate. “The Shibari scene with Andrew. What I saw that night was not the same lad. Something happened to shake him up, and he’s not been the same since. And I found the change intriguing.”

“Ah, I wondered if you’d noticed.”

Alan gazed quizzically at Thomas, whose brow furrowed.

“Leo and I had noticed the same thing. We were going to wait and see how he was after Christmas, and if nothing had changed, we’d intended to talk with him. And we’re not the only ones. I’ve had several Doms approach me, voicing their concerns. They felt uneasy about speaking directly to Dorian because none of them really know him that well. Dorian isn’t one to encourage intimacy.”

“Which is strange,” Alan interjected, “because I get the feeling that intimacy is something he craves.” He stared at Dorian, noting his pallor. “What do you suppose they’ve been talking about? Because Dorian appears to be in the grip of some very strong emotions.”

Thomas widened his gaze, and then his smile returned. “Do you like Dorian’s new look?” he asked with a nonchalant air, his eyes glittering.

Damn the man.

Alan stared at Thomas. “How do you do that? I mean, seriously? What is it, some sneaky, underhanded mind-meld?”

Thomas let out another snort. “Alan, I’d have to have been blind to miss the hard-on you were sporting when I first sat down.”

Alan stifled his groan. Trust Thomas to see that.

Thomas pushed on. “But this is all good. You’re attracted to him. That much is obvious. And you may be right about him desiring intimacy, so start with that. Work with him, but according to your rules, not his.” He leaned forward. “Do what you do best—get into Dorian’s head. If you manage that, you’ll be the first man at the club to do so.” He turned his head to look at Dorian. “And who knows what you’ll find once you get in there.”

Alan couldn’t deny the appeal of the challenge. To break down Dorian’s defenses one by one, to lead him into uncharted territory, and ultimately, to help him find what he was looking for.

What we’re both looking for, he corrected. Isn’t that what’s missing right now from my life? Alan had never clicked enough with a sub to want a relationship with him. He’d tried relationships outside of BDSM, but they never worked. He’d never found a sub that he loved, or a lover who would be a sub. Alan knew what he was after—a partner who could fill all the needs in his life. He wanted someone to come home to, who could be submissive.

Alan stared at the two grooms, his heart aching with a longing so acute it made him catch his breath.

I want what Leo Hart has—a best friend, lover, and submissive.

Whether Dorian could be all that, he didn’t have a clue.

He could only hope.

Two

DORIANSQUIRMEDin the worn leather chair facing Thomas’s desk. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir.” The lie brought a flush of heat to his cheeks. Inside his head was a frantic collision of thoughts and emotions.

It crossed his mind that Pietro had said something to Thomas, or maybe another Dom. Dorian was going to strangle the little sod.

Thomas peered at him over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows arched. “How long have I known you, lad?”

Dorian thought quickly. “About six years, Sir.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “And yet you still think you can hide things from me?” He gave Dorian a patient smile. “So let’s try this again, shall we? Is there anything troubling you, anything that I should know about?”

Dorian breathed evenly in an effort to calm his racing heartbeat. “Sir, I don’t know where you’ve got the idea that there’s something wrong, but I—”

“It’s not just me, pup. A lot of people have come to see me, every one of them concerned about you. Let’s face it, when Dorian Forrester goes for more than two months without participating in a scene, something has to be wrong.” His green eyes were kind. “And the Doms in this club are an observant lot.”

In spite of his emotional turmoil, one thing touched Dorian at his core.

People were worried—about me. He had to fight hard to keep back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He gave himself an angry mental shake for being such a basket case right then. He blamed his overemotional state on a lack of sleep. There had been far too many nights recently where he’d found it difficult to get to sleep, and many a morning when he’d awoken feeling tired.

Dorian inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m flattered. I didn’t think I was worthy of such scrutiny.” At least he knew Pietro was off the hook.

Thomas did that peering thing again, making him squirm once more. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he said with a sigh.

Dorian couldn’t. Much as he respected Thomas, he wasn’t about to share what was going on in his head. He had a feeling the Dom would try to make him change his mind.

Thomas leaned back into his deep leather chair and took off his glasses. He rubbed them over with a little cloth and regarded Dorian steadily. “If you are unhappy with anything that is—or isn’t—happening within my club, I want to know about it. If anyone has treated you badly, then I need to know that, too.”

Dorian straightened instantly. “Oh no, Sir, nothing like that.”

He watched a look of relief sweep across Thomas’s face.

“I’m glad to hear it. So my next question was going to be…. Is there anyone that you would like to do a scene with? Someone you’ve worked with already? Or maybe someone completely new?”

Yes, but he doesn’t want to do a scene with me.

The thought was there, poised, ready to fall from Dorian’s lips, but he held it back. It was pretty clear after more than eighteen months since he’d joined the club, that Alan Marchant didn’t want anything to do with him. Dorian had watched for any signs of interest, and all he’d seen so far was a succession of subs wanting Alan’s attention—and what was infinitely worse, receiving it.

Why doesn’t he want to do a scene with me? It was a thought never far from Dorian’s mind. Not that he’d ever tell a soul. To his mind it sounded arrogant.

He looked Thomas in the eye and took a deep breath, forcing as much sincerity into his voice as was humanly possible. “No, Sir. There’s no one.” He waited with bated breath to see if Thomas saw through him. To his utter relief, Thomas stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

“Then I’ll say no more.” Dorian half rose from his chair, and Thomas leaned forward, his eyes bright. “But if you need to talk to someone, about anything, my door is always open. And if I’m not here, then Leo’s a damn good listener too.”

Dorian nodded. “Thank you, Sir.” All he wanted to do was get out of there. Thomas had always been a bit of a mind reader where he’d been concerned, and Dorian didn’t want to give him more opportunity to glimpse what was going on inside his head. He flashed Thomas a smile from the doorway and then went into the club. For a Tuesday night, there were already quite a few members around. He spotted several Doms watching from the sidelines, but he avoided catching their eye. He was in no mood for a conversation, much less a scene.

He told himself he was going have to bite the bullet eventually. Then he huffed. Except I don’t have a clue what I want to do in a scene anymore. Not now. Not after Andrew bloody Barrett had taken him right to the edge, without so much as a flick of a whip or a lick of a cane. And had blown away all Dorian’s suppositions about subspace.

He pushed—no, shoved would be a better word—the thoughts aside and looked around for Pietro. There was no sign of him in the main area. Dorian had seen him an hour earlier with Miles, so it was a fair assumption they were doing a scene. Pietro didn’t get many nights off from his job in Severino’s restaurant, and Dorian knew how much he loved spending time in the club with Miles.

He saw Scott sitting in the bar area, his laptop open on the table in front of him, chatting with Ben, who stood behind the bar, his attention focused on the bar’s computer screen. Scott gave Dorian a grin.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you since the wedding. Wasn’t it awesome?” Scott’s eyes danced with mischief. “God, the look on people’s faces when they found out what was going on.”

Dorian smiled. “Yeah, it was great,” he agreed automatically. “Listen, have you seen Pietro anywhere?”

Scott’s brow furrowed. “Er, I think he was in the group room, with Miles.”

“Thanks.” Before Scott could engage him any further in conversation, Dorian gave him a nod and then walked off in the direction of the rooms. He hadn’t been in the club’s public room for a while. He pushed open the door and glanced around. Trevor was on duty as Dungeon Master and acknowledged him. Dorian skirted around the outer edge of the room, taking in the scene before him. There were about ten or twelve men in there, most of them watching what was going on. That wasn’t new.

Jonathon and Dillon were there, but that was nothing new either. Jonathon loved doing public scenes with his sub. Dorian watched the pair, Jonathon sitting on the low chaise, Dillon astride him, riding him energetically. The words that poured out of Jonathon’s mouth left Dorian in no doubt as to how he felt about his submissive.

“God, you’re so beautiful, boy.” Jonathon’s gaze was locked on Dillon’s face. The Dom wore an expression of wonder. “Let me hear you. Let them all hear you.” He tilted his hips and thrust up into Dillon, making him cry out.

“L-love you, Master.” Dillon was trembling, arching his back, eyes closed.

Jonathon’s eyes gleamed. “And you fucking know I love you too.” Dillon let out a soft moan, and Jonathon sat upright, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him downward onto his thick cock that pushed in him up to the hilt. “You were wonderful tonight. So responsive.” He pulled at Dillon’s neck, bringing their mouths to meet in a fierce kiss.

Dorian turned away, his chest constricted. Is everyone in this fucking club in love? Jonathon’s words of praise for his sub, the compliments, the looks he gave Dillon…. They only fueled the ache inside Dorian. And then he caught his breath at the sight of Pietro, bent over the back of the low couch, holding himself up with his hands flat on the seat cushions as Miles plowed into him from behind. The couch moved a tiny bit with each powerful thrust, Pietro’s harsh cries and Miles’s grunts punctuating each slide into him.

“Is that what you wanted, pup?” Miles demanded, his breathing rapid and uneven, hips snapping forward as he fucked his sub. “My thick cock in your arse?” He grinned, panting, the sound of flesh slapping together so fucking erotic to Dorian’s ears.

“Fuck, yes, Sir!” Pietro gasped out, trying to twist around to look at Miles, who laughed and pushed him facedown into the couch, his groans muffled by the cushion.

Miles picked up speed, fucking him faster and harder, each thrust forcing a joyous noise from Pietro. He gripped Pietro’s hips tightly, pulling him back onto his dick. A few guys were standing around watching them, and there were low noises of appreciation, along with hands stroking very obvious erections.

Pietro’s loud groans matched his thrusts, the sub not holding back. He raised his head from the cushion and cried out, “Oh, fuck, Sir. Gonna come.”

Miles howled, “Yes!”

Dorian had had enough. He turned quickly and exited the room, the sounds of four men succumbing to orgasm following him, almost like a taunt. He went straight to the changing room and ran cold water into the washbasin, then splashed it onto his face, his breathing uneven. He straightened and stared at himself in the mirror. Drops clung to his skin, dripping from his nose and hair, his eyes wide and staring.

What is wrong with me?

He forced himself to take deep breaths, the pounding of his heart so loud in his ears in the silence of the room. He patted his face dry with a nearby towel and then gripped the edge of the basin, steadying himself as he stared at his reflection.

“For God’s sake, get your act together,” he muttered under his breath. “What’s gotten into you?”

He knew what lay at the root of it—a deep sense of dissatisfaction with his sex life, his scenes at the club, and the way his life was mapping out.

Is it so wrong to want more?

He knew he’d only touched on part of it in his conversation with Pietro after the wedding. Yes, he wanted a partner, someone who understood his needs. Yes, he was unhappy that so far there’d been no one who looked like they wanted to fill that position. And yes, he wanted more than Collars & Cuffs seemed to be able to offer him at the moment. But as for what he was going to do to change the situation? Dorian needed to think long and hard about that.

Calmer, he sank down onto the wooden bench below the clothing hooks and leaned his head against the cool white tiled wall. He closed his eyes, grateful for the peace and quiet to soothe his aching head. Beyond the changing room, he could hear the distant noises of the club, but he forced them into the background, letting his mind be still.

He knew what he needed—a change of environment. One where he didn’t have to see daily reminders of his failures.

Something stirred in his brain, a memory from the end of the previous year, something he’d seen and filed away in his head. Except now that memory was as bright as a flashlight, and the more he thought about it, the more excited he grew. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it might prove exactly what he needed, or at least push him in the right direction.

And it would take him away from Collars & Cuffs, away from the memories that assaulted him every time he’d stepped through its doors during the last few months.

The sound of the door opening brought him back. Pietro entered, beaming, his belly still bearing traces of his come.

“Hi!” he greeted Dorian with a smile. “What are you doing, sitting in here on your own?” Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to one of the showers and flipped it on, sighing as the hot water cascaded over his body.

Dorian watched him, his heart aching at the sight of Pietro standing under the jets, eyes closed, his fingers resting on the collar that lay snug around his neck. His friend was the perfect picture of contentment, a peaceful smile stretched wide across his face. Dorian closed his eyes and let the sound of the water flow over him. In his head, everything was suddenly much clearer.

“Dorian?”

He opened his eyes to see Pietro standing in front of him, a towel fastened around his hips, his eyes bright with amusement. “Were you asleep?”

“I was thinking.”

Pietro smirked. “I wondered what the noise was. It was obviously the cogs in your head.” He chuckled but then fell silent when Dorian didn’t respond. Pietro sat beside him. “Are you okay?”

It was on the tip of Dorian’s tongue to tell him that everything was fine, but he stopped short of saying it. Pietro was probably the only one in the club who might understand.

Dorian gazed at him thoughtfully. “Remember what I said about wanting to push my boundaries?”

Pietro stared at him, eyes wide. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”

Dorian regarded him for a moment and then nodded. “You remember I went to London in October? Well, I was there for a reason—Fetish Week.”

Pietro smirked. “Well, that’s appropriate, I suppose. I’ve never been. Was it any good?”

He shrugged. “It was all right. Okay, so there were some events that were more extreme than we have here, but mostly I saw the same kind of kink. And then I found something.” He gave Pietro a speculative glance. “What do you know about the BDSM clubs in Berlin?”

Pietro frowned. “Absolutely nothing. Why?”

Dorian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, recalling what he’d read. “It seems they’re more hard-core than over here.” He snorted. “Than anywhere, if it comes to that. Anyway, I saw a poster advertising one of the clubs, Lab.Oratory, or the Lab for short, and I was thinking of going there.” When Pietro said nothing, Dorian looked up. His fellow submissive was staring at him. “What?”

“Why would you want to do that?” Pietro asked in a low voice.

He swallowed. How the hell do I explain this? And in that moment he realized this was a bad idea. He couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to. Pietro wouldn’t understand. Why would he? He had a master who adored him. Dorian had only to look at them together to see that. In their scenes, they were a good fit—no, they were an amazing fit. Pietro wouldn’t have a clue what Dorian was going through. No one did. Not even Thomas, though it had shocked Dorian to know that his lack of scenes had been noticed. He’d been grateful that Thomas hadn’t asked about his scenes with Andrew Barrett, because that was one place Dorian didn’t want to go.

Fuck. Why can’t I forget those bloody scenes?Two fucking months since Master Andrew had agreed to do that second scene with him, and still he couldn’t get it out of his mind. And it wasn’t Andrew that was the problem. What plagued Dorian was the way he’d responded to something as simple as Shibari. Then again, maybe “plagued” wasn’t quite accurate.

It had scared the hell out of him. Not the scene, but its implications. It had forced him to take a long look at himself, his goals and everything he’d believed until that moment. And the fact that he might have got it all wrong scared the shit out of him.

What worried him was how angry he’d got when he thought about the club. He’d always thought no one had noticed him, that no one truly saw him. At least he knew that first part wasn’t true, and he’d given up hoping for someone to see beyond the facade he put up for everyone. Except how could he expect them to see him when he didn’t let anyone get close enough?

He groaned inwardly.

God, I am such a fucking mess.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Pietro’s voice was soft, his eyes full of concern.

Dorian met Pietro’s gaze and pushed aside his inner turmoil. Come on, think of the plan. Because there was one, now.

“I need to do this, okay? That’s all you need to know.” Then something occurred to him. He knew how Pietro got when he got his knickers in a twist—he ran straight to Leo Hart. “And you can’t tell anyone, you hear me? I’m only telling you because I trust you.” And maybe because he had to tell someone.

Pietro bit his lip. “Are you going there on your own?” Dorian nodded, and Pietro’s frown deepened. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Dorian retorted, immediately regretting his impulse. I should have known better than to tell him in the first place.

Pietro’s expression grew stubborn. “No, I don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to make sure you’re safe. How long are you thinking of spending there? And do you even speak German?”

“Maybe a week. And my German is rusty, at best,” he admitted.

Pietro scowled. “A week, on your own, in a country where you don’t speak the language? Okay, it’s official—you’re nuts.”

Dorian chuckled. When Pietro put it like that, he had to agree it sounded like a crazy idea.

Then why was his heart hammering at the mere thought?

“So if you are going to do this, I want some assurances.”

Dorian shook himself. He arched his eyebrows. “Oh, you do?” In spite of Pietro doing his usual mother hen routine, it warmed him that his friend cared enough to look out for him.

“Uh-huh.” Pietro dipped his chin. “One, you text or message me regularly so I know you’re okay. And two, if you get into any trouble whatsoever, you call me.”

“And what could you do from here if I was?” Dorian wanted to know, mildly amused.

“If you needed help, I’d bloody well think of something, all right?”

The expression of grim determination on Pietro’s face robbed him of any humor he’d found in the situation. Pietro was deadly serious.

Dorian placed his hand over Pietro’s. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I promise to keep in touch, okay?” It wasn’t a big thing to ask, after all. A quick one-line message via WhatsApp every now and again would suffice, surely.

Pietro studied him, as though trying to see into his head. Finally he nodded. “That’ll have to do, I suppose.” His expression relaxed a little. “I’d better get dressed before Miles comes looking for me.” He winked. “You know what Doms can be like.” Pietro stood, whipped off his towel, and reached into his locker for his clothes. He paused in mid-action. “When are you going?”

Dorian’s heartbeat raced. “Thursday morning, if there’s a flight.”

Pietro stilled. “So soon?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Strike while the iron is hot, and all that.” And before I lose my nerve.

Pietro bit his lip. “It just seems like you’re rushing into this.” Then the tension across his shoulders eased. “But if you’re going to keep in touch, then that’s all right.” He squinted at Dorian. “You are going to keep in touch, yeah?”

Dorian snickered. “I promised, didn’t I? Now stop worrying and go find Miles before he sends out a search party.”

Pietro smiled and hurriedly finished getting dressed.

Dorian watched him, his mind already going over what he needed to do: book a flight, find a hotel, exchange some money….

He only hoped the Lab lived up to its reputation.

Three

DORIANLEANEDagainst the wall of the club and closed his eyes, letting the hard techno beat pulse through his body. He was still weary, despite having slept the day away after falling into his hotel bed at nine thirty that Friday morning. Thursday night had been amazing.

His first look at the abandoned power station that housed Lab.Oratory had been disappointing. The whole neighborhood was bleak, the club sitting on a street containing many warehouses, some of which were clearly still in use. That initial walk from the Berlin Ostbahnhof railway station up to the main door of the club, passing between chain-link fencing, had almost convinced Dorian to change his mind. Looking at the stark exterior of the building, with its concrete facade and tall windows, it was difficult to believe it contained Europe’s top techno club, Berghain, not that he had any intention of dancing the night away in there. Dorian had other fish to fry.

The entrance to the Lab was via a side door located to the left of the main building, and once inside, the visuals didn’t improve. The sex club had maintained its industrial architecture, designed with high-voltage power-line insulators, steam pipes, and pressure gauges set within a steel and concrete interior.

Certainly nothing like Collars & Cuffs. And the differences didn’t stop there.

On an average night, Collars & Cuffs would have maybe forty to fifty members present. Dorian estimated there had to have been upward of three hundred men in the Lab the night before, naked and half-naked, in all shapes and sizes, young and old. The air was rich with the scent of men, raw and sweaty, and the heady mix of testosterone and desire. Dorian had removed all his clothing except his boots and had deposited them in the sack provided, along with his money. The number written on his shoulder got him his drinks—and Crisco—at the bar. Having taken the advice he’d found on the Internet, he’d tucked condoms into his boot. Apparently they ran out on occasions, and Dorian didn’t want to be caught short.

At midnight on Thursday the doors had been locked, and Dorian had simply let himself go. He’d paid a visit to the glory holes, gotten some group action by the graffiti-covered stalls, and had watched any number of guys getting fisted, fucked, pissed on—and it had been glorious. Anything that could happen, did, and Dorian had loved every minute of it.

And now he was ready for more. Bring it on.

“You are English?”

Dorian opened his eyes to see a thin man, maybe in his early thirties, wearing leather trousers and boots. He was tall, with a shaved head and blue eyes.

Dorian smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

The stranger grinned. “Not really. I was here last night. Hearing you demanding to be fucked by those men was a bit of a giveaway.” His eyes gleamed. “You looked like you were having a good time.”

Dorian matched his grin. “Oh, I was.” He peered around the interior of the club. “Maybe you can answer a question for me. I go to a BDSM club in Manchester, and there are mirrors everywhere so the guys can watch themselves and their scene partners. Yet I haven’t seen one mirror here—or any reflective surfaces, if it comes to that. And there are no clocks either.”

The man laughed. “They are not stupid. No clocks so you have no idea of time. No mirrors so you are not concerned with how you look. All things devised to keep you raving away here as long as possible, blissfully ignorant of the outside world.” He gestured around the club. “Here you are only aware of your body’s demands, the pleasures of the flesh and the music.” He regarded Dorian. “I am Karl, by the way.”

“Dorian.” He accepted Karl’s kisses to his cheeks. “Your English is excellent.”

Karl waved his hand. “You are too kind. I lived for a year in London during my studies. I found Soho to be a most fascinating place.”

Dorian snorted. “Soho doesn’t compare to this,” he said, sweeping his arm in a wide arc. And yet….

Karl tilted his head. “Something concerns you?”

Dorian sighed. “I had a great time last night, but that was only a warm-up. I came here tonight ready for something more, but the atmosphere seems….” He couldn’t put his finger on it. Fewer men, less kink, maybe.

“Ahhh.” Karl gave him a knowing nod. “Fridays here are different. Tonight is the time for Friday Fuck two for one. As the revelers get more drunk, you will see more acts taking place, but there are no themed nights. Plus there are two-for-one drinks all night. It is a lot more tame.” He smiled. “You will still be able to get fisted or participate in some water sports if you so wish. Especially as more men get drunk.”

Dorian pulled a face. “Been there, done that, bought the T-shirts.” The puzzled expression on Karl’s face told him he’d found a limit to his new friend’s English skills. “I could have stayed in Manchester and done any of those activities.” That went equally for the events of the previous night, if it came to that. The surreal quality of the club had worn off, and now Dorian was ready to push his boundaries.

Karl gave him a speculative glance. “Perhaps I might be able to suggest an alternative?”

There was something about his demeanor that piqued Dorian’s interest. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Karl studied him carefully for a moment and then removed a phone which had been tucked into the front of his leather trousers. He scrolled through and then had a hushed conversation in rapid German. Dorian’s limited knowledge of the language was not enough to allow him to keep up with the quick-fire patter. The call went on for about a minute, and then Karl disconnected, meeting Dorian’s gaze.

“I was going to meet some friends for a party tonight,” he said slowly. “A sex party.” He didn’t break eye contact once. “We tend to play a little harder on such nights, and it is not for the fainthearted.” Karl’s eyes sparkled. “Would that be of interest to you?”

Dorian’s heart pounded, and he grinned. “Now you’re talking my language.”

Karl glanced around. “They have not locked the doors yet, but it must be nearly midnight. If we are going to leave, it should be now.”

“Lead the way.” Dorian followed Karl through the throngs of seminaked men, his pulse racing. He thought briefly of texting Pietro to inform him of the development but then dismissed it.

I can tell him all about it tomorrow.

Once they’d collected their clothes, Karl led him out of the club and back along the street with all the warehouses. The night was quiet but for the pulsing of the techno beat behind them.

“So are you here on your own?” Karl asked him as they walked along.

“Yes.” Dorian gazed at his surroundings. The landscape was industrial, with grime and graffiti everywhere. “Where is this party?”

Karl chuckled and pointed to a warehouse about forty feet away from them. “That is now a block of apartments. My friend Erich has a loft apartment, a big space with plenty of room, not to mention soundproofing.”

The word was enough to make Dorian’s heart beat just that little bit faster, but he said nothing. He followed Karl into the building and up endless stairs that smelled unpleasant until they reached the top floor. There were two doors, one of them made of metal, and Karl rapped on that one. Dorian could feel music pulsing through the floor.

The door swung open, and a tall blond man stood there, grinning. “Welcome.” Dorian was a little shocked to see that the guy was naked but for black boots, seemingly unperturbed to be standing where he could be seen by his neighbors. What was even more eye-catching was his very prominent erection.

This is certainly nothing like Manchester, Dorian thought wryly.

Karl smiled. “Erich, this is Dorian.”

Erich nodded. “Come in.” He stood aside to let them enter and then closed the door behind them with a heavy thunk. Dorian followed them through another door into a wide room where seven or eight men were waiting, all of them naked. The lighting was low, and the music had a heady percussive beat.

One of the men grinned when he saw Dorian. “Karl! Sie haben uns ein neues Spielzeug gebracht.” The men around him laughed.

“Ich liebe Frischfleisch,” another added with a leer.

There was an edge to their laughter that had all the hairs on Dorian’s arms standing to attention. Karl prodded Dorian to go deeper into the room.

Dorian inspected his surroundings. The floor was covered in a layer of plastic, and the furniture had been pushed to the edge of the room. There was a low bench, like the ones at Collars & Cuffs, and a sling had been set up, suspended from heavy chains. More chains hung from the ceiling. So far, so good. He’d expected as much.

What made him catch his breath was the table, or rather, what lay on it.

Scalpels, thin blades, a wicked-looking implement in stainless steel that Dorian had only seen online, a huge tub of Crisco, an odd-looking pen with a wire trailing from it—and a bloodied towel.

The men advanced on him, hands tugging at thick, heavy cocks, their eyes gleaming, every last one of them grinning.

Dorian swallowed hard.

Fuck. What am I letting myself in for here?

“HAVEYOU seen Dorian this week?” Alan asked Leo as they sat together with Miles in the bar area, enjoying a drink. It was Leo’s night off, and Jonathon was Dungeon Master. Leo seemed a lot more relaxed these days. He and Thomas were back to sharing the club’s responsibilities more evenly. Alan had been surprised to find Peter sitting in their office one night the previous week when Thomas had been there. The submissive seemed to be blossoming more with each passing week, and having him spend more time at Collars & Cuffs had had a wonderful effect on Thomas. There was such an air of peace and contentment about him, and everyone had noticed.

Alan had been at the club four nights that week, mainly because he was avoiding part of his job that he detested. Anything rather than stay at home and work. He’d intended on talking with Dorian, but the sub had been nowhere in sight.

Great. I decide to find out what’s going on, and he does a disappearing act.

Leo paused, glass in midair. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him since Tuesday. Saturday nights, he’s usually here. Have you seen him, Miles?”

Miles gave a start. “Sorry. Did you ask me something?”

Alan regarded Miles intently. “Is everything all right? You’ve been very quiet this evening.”

Miles studied his glass. “Have either of you noticed anything different about Pietro tonight?”

Alan nodded. “I was going to ask you about that. I was watching the two of you in your scene. He did appear a little distracted.”

Leo murmured in agreement.

Miles huffed. “A little? Then you didn’t see all of it. I stopped the scene. Oh, he was adamant there was nothing wrong, but goddamn it, I know my pup.” He raised his chin to meet Alan’s gaze. “Glad it’s not just me, then.”

“Then let’s find out what’s going on,” Leo suggested. He glanced over Alan’s shoulder. “Pietro? Over here, please.”

A moment later, Pietro stood in front of their table, fidgeting and clearly reluctant to make eye contact. “Master Leo?”

Alan noted the sub’s pale face and listlessness.

Leo gave Miles a nod, and the Dom straightened in his chair. “What’s going on, pup?” he demanded bluntly. Pietro opened his mouth, and Miles cut him off. “And if you’re about to tell me there’s nothing wrong, think again. Because it’s not just me asking now.”

The three of them regarded Pietro, unblinking.

“Oh, this is really not fair,” Pietro whined. “Three Doms against one sub, that’s just not on.”

His lower lip trembled, and Alan couldn’t miss how he shivered.

“Pietro, we’re not ganging up on you. We’re concerned, that’s all.” He pulled out a chair and gestured for the sub to sit down. “So forget about the three Doms part and tell us what’s wrong.”

Pietro dropped into the chair and leaned back, biting his lip. “I… I promised I wouldn’t say anything,” he began, his gaze darting between the three of them.

Miles’s expression contorted, and in that moment, Alan sensed real conflict in him. It had to be difficult, knowing when to cross the line from Dom to lover.

Something in Pietro’s demeanor triggered a reaction in Alan’s head. His stomach knotted as the thought took a deeper hold and wouldn’t let go. “This is about Dorian.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it instinctively. Shit. What has that boy gone and done?

Pietro’s eyes widened. “Oh God,” he said softly. His face was a mask of misery and something else—fear.

“Tell me now,” Alan demanded, pushing every ounce of authority into his tone. His heart raced and his palms grew clammy. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

Pietro nodded, his gaze fixed on Alan. “He’s in Berlin,” he whispered.

Miles reached across and squeezed his hand, gaining a grateful glance from his lover.

“What the hell is he doing in Berlin?” Leo’s voice broke through the turmoil in Alan’s brain. His mind was already going through various computations, and he didn’t like the answers.

Oh hell. Dorian, tell me you didn’t….

Pietro didn’t break eye contact with Alan. “He flew there on Thursday. He was going to visit some sex club.” The sub swallowed. “He promised me he’d stay in touch, but….”

“When did you last hear from him?” This came from Miles.

“Friday afternoon.”

“Okay, that’s not so bad.”

Alan knew Leo was trying to inject some calm into the conversation.

“It’s only been just over twenty-four hours.” He glanced at Alan, his eyes betraying what his words masked. Leo was worried.

Alan was more than worried. He’d experienced Berlin’s sex clubs firsthand.

Pietro shook his head vehemently. “You don’t understand.” He began counting off on his fingers. “I had texts from the airport, when he landed, when he got to his hotel, Thursday night at this club, when he woke up on Friday…. Then nothing.” He gulped. “Not a fucking word since then. And now his phone is switched off.”

Alan breathed deeply, fighting the urge to lunge to his feet right now. “Okay, Pietro, think carefully. Do you know which club he was going to?”

Pietro nodded. “I think he said it was called the Lab.”

Alan’s heart sank like a stone. “Fuck.” All his worst fears were being realized. “That fucking little idiot.” He rarely swore, but right then the situation warranted it.

“I know that name.” Leo didn’t sound happy. “It’s a hard-core fetish club.”

Alan snorted. “Probably one of the most extreme clubs there is.” His mind was racing. Dorian, why in hell were you going there? Then he stopped himself. He knew exactly why. Shit. This is not good.

“You’ve been there?” Miles asked, his brow furrowed.

Alan nodded. “The guys in Berlin take their BDSM very seriously. Forget about safewords, contracts…. And there are some very hard-core players over there.” He finished his drink and rose to his feet. He couldn’t stay there, not while Dorian was God knew where—and probably in one hell of a mess.

“Where are you going?” Leo stopped him with a hand to his arm.

Alan gazed down at him. “To Berlin.”

“What—now?” Leo stared at him.

“That lad may have bitten off more than he can chew.” He shoved his chair under the table and grabbed his jacket from the back of it. “The Lab is open Thursday to Sunday. If I’m going to find him there, I need to go now.” He knew he was acting illogically, but he couldn’t help it. Some inner sense was telling him to go, now.

“You think he’s in trouble, don’t you?” Pietro was ashen.

Alan couldn’t give voice to his fears. Somehow that felt too much like tempting fate.

“If you’re serious about going there, then I’m coming with you. But it’s too late to find a flight for tonight.” Leo was on his feet. “Let’s go to the office, and I’ll book us onto the first flight out tomorrow morning.”

Alan stared at him, and Leo gave a grim smile.

“You think I’m going to just sit here? Besides, you need me.”

“I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own. And I speak German.” Alan stood his ground, clenching his teeth.

Leo arched his eyebrows. “Well, that’s good, because mine’s nonexistent,” he said dryly. “My point is, if we start asking questions and people are reluctant to give answers, which of us could pass for Dorian’s father?” He stared resolutely at Alan. “I may only be four years older than you, but this makes me more of a likely candidate for the role, wouldn’t you say?” He pointed to the silver hair at his temples, which was spreading throughout his hair.

Alan liked Leo’s pragmatism. The man had a point. “Okay, let’s do this.” He peered at Pietro. “Do you know which hotel he is staying in?”

Pietro shook his head.

“I want to see every message you’ve had from Dorian since he left, all right?”

Pietro nodded immediately, his head bobbing.

Alan turned to Leo. “Let’s get those flights booked.”

He followed Leo to his office, his heart quaking. He clamped down on his fear and focused on the task in hand. Anything was preferable to the images in his head that were tormenting him.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Dorian?