Page 17

“Are you ready to be a little more honest with me, Cal?” Mercy’s voice, whispered against the curve of his left ear, had him whimpering. “I’m going to need you to use your words. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Anything to be let down again. This time, he hadn’t even had company. After dinner, they’d hauled him back into the small room, chained his arms up, inserted the hook, and…left. “Yes.”

It wasn’t like he’d missed them or anything, but it sucked being alone with just his thoughts, especially since those thoughts were traitorous at best, and diabolical at worst.

Cal had successfully avoided himself for years, and now, in just a handful of days, these bastards were undoing all his hard work. It both infuriated and terrified him, and he hated how he needed to lean into Titus to keep from stumbling the second he was freed from their demonic contraption.

Hated how the older man let him and even welcomed him closer with an arm around his waist.

“I’m going to remove the blindfold,” Titus told him in a gentle voice. “Then I’m going to take you upstairs so you can wash up. Okay?”

He nodded his head, then recalled the earlier instruction he’d been given. “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

A whimper slipped out, but before he could get embarrassed, the blindfold was untied, leaving him blinking against the light. It was dimmed, not nearly as harsh as it’d been the other day when they’d taken him to the kitchen.

“Can you walk?” Titus tilted his head, inspecting him as soon as he asked, and then clicked his tongue. “Never mind. Hold onto me.”

“What—” He was lifted into the director's arms, and clamped his mouth shut against any protests he might have had. Truthfully, after hanging there for gods knew how long, his entire body ached, and as stubborn as he typically was, the thought of falling on his face because he’d insisted on trying to walk was enough to quiet him.

They moved out of the room and down the hallway toward the stairs before heading to the next level of the house.

Titus didn’t seem tired the entire climb, carrying Calix with ease all the way to the opposite side of the home, to another bedroom, though he didn’t put him down right away.

Instead, he brought him to an attached bathroom, gently lowering Calix to the ground in front of the sink so Cal could steady himself against the counter.

“I know you prefer to shower,” Titus said as he made his way to the clawfoot tub, passing the glass shower stall on his way, “but I’m afraid you’ll fall over on your own. At least this way, when you insist you can bathe yourself, I’ll be less concerned.”

The bathroom was fairly large, considering it’d been meant for a single person.

The tub sat beneath a window that had been left ajar, allowing a cool breeze to filter in, bringing with it the scent of pine and summer air.

It was too dark to make anything out, but Calix assumed he wouldn’t have much of a view anyway, plus it’d been set high up on the wall.

They were also on the second floor. Escaping through it was nearly impossible.

Even if he’d still been in shape and didn’t feel like blinking was enough effort to cause him to keel over.

“How do you know I like to shower?” he asked, taking it all in as the director turned on the spouts and adjusted the water.

The color scheme was simple, elegant, yet flirty, with white marble, gold embellishments, and baby pink walls.

The shade was so soft, it could be mistaken for cream. “You like pink.”

“I have a certain fondness for it, yes.” Titus stood and turned to face him but didn’t approach. “As for your question, do you really want an answer?”

Probably not.

“Yes.”

The corner of Titus’s mouth twitched. Could he tell Cal was pretending not to be afraid? The setting might have changed, but it wasn’t much better than the hook. At least that tiny room was familiar now.

The bathroom was warm and inviting, almost peaceful with the sound of running water and the steam slowly filling up the space.

The lighting was dim and golden, and the cool porcelain from the counter pressed against his backside was like a balm against his sweaty skin.

His ass hurt and the ache in his shoulders from having his arms forced into the same position were painful reminders that this relaxed environment wasn’t real.

There was another trick at play here, but where, and what was it?

“There were cameras in your hotel room, Detective,” Titus replied casually.

“What?”

“I put them there,” he continued. “I put most of the items you used there. The items the hotel stocks are mediocre at best. We couldn’t have you using garbage. Consuming trash.”

The first time Troya had visited Cal’s room, he’d complained.

He’d pointed out all these things that he supposedly didn’t have in his own room, most of them basics like beer in the fridge, or full bottles of quality shampoo.

Extra throw pillows for the couch that were softer than the ones the Inspector had…

“You…were watching me?” All of those things had been there since the moment Calix had entered, which meant Titus had known before his arrival what room he’d be assigned. “I arrived before the reunion.”

Even if Titus had known Aodhan planned to make a move against Cal, there was no way either of them could have known exactly when he’d be there…

Or for what purpose…

“You can stop thinking about that,” Titus told him. “You aren’t ready to travel down that road.”

“What road am I thinking about?” Cal asked it, but he didn’t want him to answer. Because the other man was right. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at how oily and gross it felt.

“Let’s just keep talking about the cameras, shall we? Aren’t you curious? About why I was watching you?”

“Because you want to make me your Third.” He paused as soon as he said it.

Titus smiled at him approvingly. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not being full of yourself. We really do intend to take you as our Third. I’m glad you’re starting to come to terms with it.”

“Like hell,” Calix growled, but the older man merely tutted at him and then motioned to the tub, which was now full.

“You should bathe. Take your time. I’ll be in the bedroom waiting.”

“Listening,” he corrected, knowing exactly what Titus meant to be doing.

“You’re tired. There’s a good chance you’ll pass out. I’ll listen just in case, but I won’t enter unless you’re unresponsive. Agreed?”

He shifted on his feet. “Why? Why are you suddenly making deals?”

This would have been the perfect opportunity. If he wanted, Titus could have him in the tub on all fours, fucking and cleaning him off at the same time. At the very least, he could insist on sticking around to watch, since that seemed to be one of his pastimes anyway.

Calix’s gaze flicked up to the corners of the room. “Are there cameras here?”

“No, Be’urn. There are no cameras in this house.”

“What does that word mean?”

“It’s Vital,” Mercy explained. “Aodhan says it’s a term of endearment or a respectable way to call a male who’s younger than you. But only when you’re close. Since I’m older, the equivalent would be Be’tessie, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” Setting aside the fact Cal was from Emergence and not Vitality like Aodhan, where they had their own titles and terms, he didn’t like how intimate and familiar it sounded. “Don’t call me that.”

“You don’t like when I call you little monster, and now you’re opposed to this as well?” the director said. “What should I call you then?”

“Don’t call me anything at all.” He straightened from the counter, but had to keep a hand on the smooth surface to prevent himself from wobbling on his feet. “I refuse to be your Third, Titus. That isn’t what I want.”

“You want somewhere to start fresh,” he moved closer as he spoke. “A place where you can safely be yourself, with people who won’t judge you for who you are. People who can help you stop judging you for who you are.”

Cal froze when the older man reached out to cup his cheek, unable to pull away from the warm touch.

“We can give you that,” he promised. “Be my little monster, Calix. It’s who you want to be. It’s who you already are. Be that, and in return, I’ll be your everything. I’ll make it all right. The same way I did eight years ago.”

Was he so obviously lonely, or had Titus just gotten lucky?

No, probably not. He got the feeling the director wasn’t the type to take chances.

Maybe he’d seen something in Cal when he’d spied on him in his hotel.

Maybe he’d seen it in the past. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was whether or not Calix was willing to compromise himself for peace of mind.

If he agreed to be their Third, what then?

He sits alone in this big house day after day while the two of them go off to work at the hospital?

What if he didn’t even like them? What if, once the smoke cleared, they had a few conversations and he realized they were incompatible and he was well and truly trapped?

“I’m going to refuse again.” It was the right choice. The only choice, and yet…That was all he managed to say.

Titus released him and stepped back, but he didn’t seem angry. “The water is getting cold. Take your bath, Calix. I’ll be close. Remember, if I call you, you have to respond, or I’ll come back in.”

“Whatever.” Cal looked away.

The director moved to the exit, pausing beneath the threshold. “The door stays open.”

“I said I got it,” he snapped.

“One last thing then.” Titus waited until Calix gave in and turned to him. “Aodhan’s decided to call you Be’urn from now on. You’d be wise not to reject him the way you rejected me. He won’t be as…understanding.”