Page 22 of Broken Obsession

“Back to being centered.”

“What?”

Ares tipped his head and stared down at him. “Have you never experienced a panic attack before?”

“Oh. Right.”

Guess he had. Maybe it’d just been a while and Eden hadn’t been able to recognize the signs.

Lucky.

“Should we keep going?” he asked, and when Eden’s lips pursed in silent question, added, “Two smells. What do you smell?”

“Blood,” he licked his lips, hesitant, and then gave in and said, “you.”

“What do I smell like?” Ares hadn’t been expecting that.

“Honestly? Like sex and sin.”

He had no idea what that meant, but it could be worse. Right?

“One thing you can taste.” It was the last one, and they could probably skip it, but Ares was a firm believer in following all of the steps just in case. Besides, his intentions tonight had never been to frighten the older man into an episode.

On the contrary, when he’d intercepted those messages to that loser Pan, Ares had assumed this was what Eden really wanted. Someone to sneak in and shake him up.

Someone to ruin and own him.

If anyone was going to be doing that, it would be Ares.

But instead, Eden had experienced a panic attack, and it was so unexpected that, frankly, Ares wasn’t entirely sure what he should do. He knew what Ryker would do, if this were his reality, but it wasn’t, and—

“Blood.” Eden’s expression calmed a second before he struck, head-butting Ares again.

This time, the pain exploded behind Ares’ eyes and he cursed, rearing back. He heard Eden scramble off the bed and shot after him, hand catching the material of the ratty bathrobe the voice actor was wearing.

Ares gave a single pull, catching the writhing man against his chest a second time. The needle was out of his pocket in a flash, the tip piercing through the delicate flesh of Eden’s thigh a breath later.

Eden sagged in his hold almost as soon as the plunger was pressed all the way down.

“Any gamer worth his salt knows,” Ares nuzzled the side of Eden’s face as he lifted him into his arms and carried him into the living room, “always have a backup plan.”

* * *

In an alternate reality, Illya would be standing here in his place.

Or maybe Nyoka.

Or Ellery.

Or Devyn—No. Not Devyn. Devyn had left.

But maybe in an alternate reality, he hadn’t and—

“Hush,” Ares demanded himself, checking the ropes binding his prize to the sturdiest chair he could find in this place.

This tiny, hovel of a place.

In another reality, maybe Eden lived in a mansion.