Page 18

Calix tentatively stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around his hips to keep him covered.

He’d spent as much time as he possibly could in the bath, waiting until the water had turned cold and he’d started to shiver before admitting defeat.

It wasn’t like he could hide in there forever.

He was starting to think there wasn’t anywhere he could hide at all.

Titus was sitting in a plush ivory chair set by a large bay window, flipping through the pages of a book. He didn’t stop reading even though he had to know Cal was there.

The room was medium-sized, with a four-poster bed and an end table on either side.

There was a glass trunk filled with folded blankets set at the foot of the bed, and a desk across from that.

The color palette was the same in here as in the bathroom, and Calix flexed his toes against the pale pink carpet.

“You look better,” Titus’s voice was as soft as the material Cal was standing on. “How do you feel?”

“My wrists are rubbed raw and my ass stings,” he replied bluntly, but if his tone bothered the older man, Titus didn’t give it away. Calix clutched the knot holding the towel in place tightly, a move that didn’t go unnoticed.

“There are pajamas for you on the bed,” the director motioned with his chin to his left and remained seated.

Cautiously, Cal made his way toward the folded bundle resting at the head of the mattress, eyeing Titus as he went. Obviously, being in the same room as the guy and a bed made him nervous, but Titus didn’t so much as shift in the chair.

The clothes were silk, a shimmery pearl white that comfortably flowed around him as he tugged them on, starting with the button-up shirt. He dropped the towel and tugged the pants on last, only vaguely noting he hadn’t been given underwear. For now, he was just happy with having clothes in general.

“What now?” he asked when he was fully dressed and nothing else happened.

“Are you still tired?” Titus flipped another page. “You could go to sleep. I’ll wake you for breakfast.”

He stared down at the bed and clenched his hands into fists.

Because yes, he was fucking tired, but what the actual hell?

The bed had been made with clean sheets, and all he had to do was pull the covers down and slip beneath them.

He was sure the second his head touched the fluffy pillow, he’d be out like a light.

And vulnerable.

“What are you planning? Why aren’t you taking me back downstairs?” He really didn’t want to return there, but at the same time, he didn’t like the way he was feeling now. Uncertain and confused.

Titus finally set his book aside. “Do you miss being filled already. We don’t need the hook to solve that problem.”

Calix’s gaze automatically dropped to the spot between Titus’s legs, and when that earned him a dark chuckle, he immediately tore it away. “Not a chance. I’ve seen what you’re packing. It’s twice as thick as the hook. No.”

“It’ll fit,” Titus promised. “I’ll make it.”

“Go back to reading. I liked you better then.”

“Sure.” He picked the book back up, but didn’t get a chance to look at it.

“Wait.” Why was this so uncomfortable? Was he really just going to sit there all night while Cal slept? Why weren’t they tying him up again? “The snake. Tell me about that.”

“Snake?” Titus’s dirty smirk gave away what he was thinking of, and Cal scoffed.

“Not the one in your pants! The tattoo.”

“Of course.”

“Do all Connects have moving ink?” He’d never heard anything about that in the past. Scanning over him now, Cal couldn’t see any hint of the creature.

Was it a creature?

“Is it a separate entity?” he pondered aloud. “There are many parasitic species in the universe, several in this galaxy alone. If I were one of them, I’d probably hitch a ride with a Connect if given the opportunity to as well.”

“Fortunately for you,” Titus drawled, pulling him from his thoughts, “you’re not a parasite, but you’ve managed to ensnare a Connect anyway.”

“That’s not funny.” Cal crossed his arms. “Seriously. What is it?”

“If you were that curious, you could have asked me sooner.”

“Do you mean at dinner, the only meal you’ve fed me at a table so far?” He’d been starved between sessions, but every three or so days, there’d been food. “Or when I was hanging from the ceiling with a hook shoved up my ass?”

The first week he was here, they’d fed him there just like that. Dangling from the ceiling while speared on their demonic device.

“That is funny.” Titus stood, ignoring the way Calix braced despite the distance still between them. “Except for the part about not feeding you enough. I almost forgot. You should eat before bed. Come here.”

Cal stood his ground as Titus stepped to the door and leaned out into the hall. When he straightened, he was holding a small metal square box, which he brought to the desk.

“Aodhan dropped this off before heading for his night shift,” the director explained as he began to set the table. “He mentioned you know what kind of sauce to ask for if the flavor isn’t to your liking.”

“Kind of…” interest piqued, he moved so he could see around Titus to the table, “…sauce?”

There were three slices of pizza on a white plate.

“Fucking asshole.” His cheeks turned pink, and he dropped his gaze the second Titus turned around, not wanting to be seen blushing at a time like this.

“I saw that too, you know,” the director had to notice his discomfort, but pushed ahead anyway. “I watched you come all over your food and eat it. It was…surprising isn’t the right word, but it’s the closest I can find. I had no idea you were that kinky, little monster.”

“If you watched us, that means you know I’m a lot kinkier than that,” he argued.

“What, because you like to be cut and bled?” Titus shook his head. “That’s nothing. Unoriginal.”

“Un—” Cal snapped his mouth shut, telling himself he wasn’t going to play into this. “You’re trying to get a rise out of me on purpose.”

“Busted,” Titus grinned. “I like it when you’re flustered. It’s cute.”

“Cute. I’m not an itsus.”

“You think itsus are cute?” He laughed. “Would you like one? Although I’m not sure how Aodhan would feel about having a pet…”

“People buy them to keep their gardens free from pests,” Calix drawled. “If you’re saying it’ll help get rid of Aodhan—”

“I’m saying we might come home one day to find it dissected and carefully laid out on the kitchen table,” Titus corrected bluntly, and when Cal gasped, shrugged.

“I call him little killer for a reason. Are we still playing dumb, Detective? You aren’t exactly innocent yourself, though, are you, Azi. ”

“What’s that?” Was he switching it up because Calix had told him not to call him Be’urn?

“Dear one in my language, since you weren’t fond of Vital terms. Is it better?”

“No.” Cal made himself approach the desk, the smell of the food enough to spur him closer despite the potential threat. “And for the record, I’ve never killed anyone outside of the line of duty.”

“But you have killed before.” Titus pulled the chair out for him, motioning with his chin for him to sit.

It wasn’t a question, but Calix answered anyway. He took the seat too, because at this point, what the hell. “I have.”

“How many?”

“What?” The rich smell of sauce and melted cheese almost had him groaning, and he picked up a slice.

“How many bodies have you helped put in the ground, little monster?”

“Don’t know, I stopped counting after the first three.” He did groan after the first bite, then practically scarfed half the slice in under sixty seconds. When a hand landed on the nape of his neck, he didn’t bother shaking it off, just kept eating.

“That’s how far your guilt went? Just three?”

“I didn’t stop feeling bad,” he disagreed. “But I was doing my job.”

“Bad, but not guilty.”

“What do you want me to say, Mercy?” Calix froze with his second slice halfway to his lips.

“Keep eating,” Titus told him gently. “We’re just talking.”

“Did you try to kill him?” He’d wanted to know for a while now, and the question popped out. It felt easier to ask with the other man standing behind him, with no fear of eye contact. He would have asked when the blindfold was on if he hadn’t been too afraid.

Maybe it was the lingering relaxation from the hot bath, or the warm food, or the light, nonthreatening touches he was subconsciously leaning into…Cal wasn’t as scared in that moment as he had been.

“If we’re talking about killers, Amory wasn’t your first. So, did you try to kill Aodhan too? Was that your meet-cute?” Calix held his breath, waiting for a response, that hand still on the back of his neck a reminder that he didn’t have any power or control here.

At any moment, the director could decide he wanted nothing more to do with him and snuff him out.

“Picturing me trying to stab him in a garden surrounded by itsus?” Titus teased.

“As interesting as you are when you’re being playful—and terrifying, by the way—I’m serious.”

He was silent a moment, and then, “He might have tried to murder me, but I’ve never once wanted to take his life.

Own it, yes. But not destroy. He’s too brilliant for that.

You are, too. That’s why I’ll keep you both shining for as long as possible.

And, Cal, Connects live a very, very long time. Are you ready for that?”

“I’m not ready for any of this.” Calix went back to eating. “Same as I’m not ready to take a life outside of the line of duty. I’ve killed, but I’m not a killer.”

“You suffered for years after merely hitting Nero with your car,” Titus mused. “That makes sense. Don’t worry. We’ll never ask that of you. If we need someone dead, we can handle that on our own.”

Cal was counting on it.

Titus shifted, resting a hip against the edge of the desk so they were facing one another again, but Cal refused to look up at him, feigning interest in the last slice of pizza.