by Piper Scott
The injustice tore Lucian to shreds. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he did not let them fall—he wouldn’t give Adrian that pleasure.
“Cut him loose and no one will ever know your secret. Then you can keep your shitty job.” Adrian turned. He shrugged a single shoulder. “Or you can keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. The choice is yours.”
It was a choice, but it was a terrible one to have to make. Newly liberated and enjoying life on his own for the first time, Lucian didn’t want to lose the security and independence that holding down a job brought him. On the other hand, for the first time since he’d been freed from The White Lotus, Lucian had found someone he cared for—someone who made sex so soul-shaking that Lucian could never think of it in the same way again.
Would there be other jobs? Yes, but at a detriment to Lucian’s way of life. He’d parted ways with the florist’s shop, so The Shepherd was his sole source of income. Over the last few months he’d been frugal enough to set a percentage of his earnings aside, but even those funds wouldn’t last him for very long.
There would be other jobs, but there would be other lovers, too, no matter how much his heart thought otherwise.
27
Marcus
Marcus barreled through The Shepherd’s lobby before Stephanie had time to make small talk. The soundproof door barricading the lobby from the pulsing beats of the dance floor was wrenched open, and Marcus stepped inside as Stephanie squeaked out something he didn’t quite catch.
The dance floor was close to empty. The DJ was still setting up, leaving simple, pre-recorded dance floor hits to fill in for him. Marcus dodged the few people who’d already arrived and made his way to the stairs. Each of his footfalls thudded in his ears, louder and more urgent than usual, driving home a single word with each impact of his sole against the tread.
Lucian. Lucian. Lucian.
Marcus couldn’t bring himself to slow down. It felt like if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to continue.
If he’d known, he never would have pushed Lucian to do the things they’d done. He would have been more understanding. He would have—
Someone bumped into Marcus’ shoulder. Marcus reeled to a stop, grasping the handrail to keep from falling. He turned his head too quickly, and it took his eyes a moment to understand what they were looking at. Adrian had braced himself against the back wall, looking like he might topple over. Marcus braced him with a sturdy arm, but his feet were already telling him to abandon Adrian and get back to moving. Marcus’ nausea built, threatening to drag him down into crippling self-loathing and overwhelming rage.
“Marcus.” Adrian sounded pleased. “You’re here early tonight. Why don’t I buy you a drink? I don’t have anything else going on.”
“I’m not staying.” Marcus didn’t have time for conversation. He took a few steps toward the upper landing, but before he could get far, Adrian latched onto his wrist.
“It’s Friday night. You have time for a drink. Let’s go together.”
“I’d rather not.” Marcus pulled his arm from Adrian’s grip. He took the last few stairs at a sprint, but Adrian followed him. The last thing Marcus wanted was someone else around when he saw Lucian, but Adrian was tenacious. He followed Marcus across the floor and to the bar counter, going as far as to take a seat on the bar stool next to Marcus. Marcus did his best to ignore him. Lucian was behind the counter, his back to the floor. From behind he looked like he always did, but Marcus knew that as soon as he turned around, that would change. What Marcus had learned couldn’t be minimized, and it would shade how he saw Lucian forever if he didn’t make things right.
“Lucian,” Marcus said to get his attention.
Lucian turned to face them. There was a dead look in his eyes that Marcus had only seen once before, and it shook him like nothing else. Had he been so blinded by his lust that he’d ignored the physical signs? Desperate for answers, he scanned his memory of his time spent with Lucian, but every recollection was shaded by retrospect. A nagging voice told him Lucian had always looked this way, and he’d simply overlooked it in his greed to shake the monotony from his life.
If that was the case, Marcus would never forgive himself.
“Marcus?” Lucian asked. The uncertainty and hurt in his voice destroyed what little confidence Marcus had left in himself. He had hurt Lucian. He’d dragged him right back into the hell he’d escaped from.
“We need to talk. You need to take a break right now and come with me.”
Adrian leaned forward on his elbows, his chin in his hands like it was the most interesting conversation he’d ever heard. There was a smug hook to his lips that frustrated Marcus to no end. Right now he didn’t have the strength to deal with Adrian. Sorting out business with Lucian took priority.
Lucian glanced in Adrian’s direction, then lowered his gaze. He was afraid of being caught, Marcus was sure, but right now Marcus didn’t give a damn if that happened. Sterling could expel him from the club if he wanted. Access to The Shepherd meant little while Lucian’s wellbeing hung in the balance. Marcus couldn’t ignore what he’d learned, and he couldn’t wait for Lucian to finish his shift to talk to him. The unrest in his soul forbade it.
“No.” Lucian stared at his feet. “I’m working. I just started. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t take a break right now.”
“Lucian.” Marcus tried to sound firm, but his voice wavered. All his life he’d been in strict control—of his emotions, of his career, and of his relationships—but now he was left on uneven ground, unsure of his footing. “Take the time off. Now. Please.”
“No.” Lucian’s voice was small. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Had Lucian always dodged his eye? How far into delusion had Marcus sunk? He pushed back from the bar, bitterness spreading down his tongue to leech into his throat. Lucian was disgusted with him. His avoidance spoke for itself.
“Alright,” Marcus said, crestfallen. “We’ll talk later. Just… I’m sorry. Know that I’m truly sorry from the bottom of my heart.”
“You’re really not going to stay for a drink, Marcus?” Adrian pouted. “Lucian, why don’t you fix Marcus one of the drinks he likes? The whiskey… whatever it is.”
“Bourbon,” Lucian said, keeping his gaze away from Marcus. “It’s bourbon.”
Marcus didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. He pushed away from the bar, disgusted with himself. The length of his relationship with Lucian, it had been his top priority to provide Lucian pleasure through obedience. Now that he knew what the price of Lucian’s obedience was, he wanted nothing more to do with it.
Not all that long ago, Marcus had considered giving up on the lifestyle completely because of his complacency. Now he wished he’d gone through with it.
Marcus didn’t look back as he rushed down the stairs. He tried to let the sound of dance music drown out the thoughts in his head, but no noise was loud enough to overshadow his guilt.
He’d hurt Lucian. He’d dragged him back into the same kind of darkness he’d once been enslaved by. There was nothing kind about that, nothing liberating. All these years, had Marcus deluded himself into thinking he was helping submissives when really, all he was doing was suppressing them? The kink was exciting, and it had been a steady part of his lifestyle since he’d become sexually active, but if it was damaging his partners like it had damaged Lucian, Marcus wanted no part in it anymore.
He left The Shepherd, dodging Stephanie’s pointed questions as he exited the lobby. There was still a chance that he could apologize and make things right, but the look in Lucian’s eyes made him think it was a long shot.
The only man who’d ever mattered to him was too damaged to be saved, and Marcus had caused his destruction by his own hand.
As long as he lived, he didn’t think he could forgive himself for that.
28
Lucian
There was no joy when Clarissa made last call, nor was there any repri
eve from the melancholy in Lucian’s soul when Clarissa gave him the go-ahead to leave for the night. The front door clicked closed behind him as he left, locking. The streetlights bathed him in their orange glow. There were still a handful of hours before the sun appeared on the horizon and turned the sky crimson, but for now, there was nothing but the darkness of the night.
And the darkness of the back alley.
Lucian was drawn to it by habit, used to his secret, late-night encounters with Marcus. But the feeling was different this time. What had once been excitement had turned into anguish.
They’d been careless. They’d broken rules, thinking they could get away with it, but they’d tempted fate and paid the price. The thrill of knowing that at any moment they could be discovered had been their downfall, and now both of them were left to pay the price. It ate at Lucian to know that he was the one who’d have to come across as the bad guy. The wide-eyed fear in Marcus’ eyes earlier that night didn’t compare to the ugly disappointment rotting in Lucian’s chest.
It was the end.
There was a shadow in the alley, vaguely human-shaped. Lucian stepped toward it, the gravity of what he was about to say weighing him down.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Marcus admitted. He stepped forward, but even as the shadows shifted, Lucian couldn’t bring himself to look at the man he needed to cast aside. “We need to talk. I need to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Lucian said. His voice was hollow, like his syllables were shells that bore sound, but no meaning. “We have to stop seeing each other.”
Lucian expected a fight—Marcus was powerful, older, and better versed in relationships than Lucian could claim to be—but Marcus said nothing. Lucian wished he could see his face in more detail, but the night stole his finer features and masked his expression. There was nothing.
Nothing.
It bothered Lucian more than a fight would.
Anger meant passion, and passions could be swayed, but apathy? Apathy was a stone rubbed smooth by water over time, or a cliff ledge with no footholds. It made Lucian think that there was no saving what he was about to lose.
He couldn’t stay, not when every sweet word Marcus had whispered to him was turned on its head by Marcus’ refusal to fight. Maybe Adrian had saved him from heartbreak. If Marcus wouldn’t fight for him now, there was no way they would have lasted as a couple.
“I need to go.” Lucian took a step back, his eyes still on Marcus, but no matter how far back he went, a part of his heart remained in that alley. It stayed with Marcus. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” The thunder in Marcus’ voice was gone. All that was left of it was woeful drizzle. “I’m the one who did this. I’m the one who should have known.”
Had Adrian spoken to Marcus, too? Lucian wouldn’t put it past him.
“I don’t blame you for the choice you’re making. I only wish you’d give me a chance to prove I can be better than this—to show you that I can do right by you.”
“What?” Lucian hesitated. That line of thinking didn’t fit with Adrian’s earlier threat. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re hurt.” Marcus stepped out of the shadows. They stood beneath the moonlight, exposed to anyone who chose to look. “I didn’t know it, but I should have seen it earlier. I should have known that something was wrong by the look in your eyes and the way you moved your body, but I was too willful to listen to the signs.”
There was something else going on here, but Lucian couldn’t piece together what it was. He frowned. “The signs? Marcus, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Garrison Baylor.”
It was a name Lucian had never expected to come from Marcus’ lips—a name he’d hoped to hide from Marcus forever.
Marcus shook his head. “I found out about what happened to you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing like I did. I’m sorry for dragging you into my world when the last thing you needed was for another alpha to own you so completely. If I’d known, I never would have done the things I did. I would have been sensitive to your needs. I’m sorry, Lucian. I failed you, and I blame no one but myself.”
Lucian had nothing to say. He stood where he was, heart throbbing in slow, heavy beats that made him ache.
“I thought you’d been with an inexperienced, selfish Dom, and that was why you were acting the way you did.” The regret in Marcus’ eyes was visible despite the low light. It burned Lucian all the way through. “I thought I could prove to you that not all Doms are selfish. I told myself that with guidance and a proper education, you’d grow into a terrific sub. I didn’t know what you’d been through, and I’m sorry for making things worse.”
Lucian threaded his arms together, tucking them against his chest. The heartbreak of the situation with Adrian was fortified by Marcus’ confession, and it left him even more hollow than before. It wasn’t fair that all of this was happening at once. The rest of his life, Marcus would think that he’d walked away because he’d been hurt, but that was far from the truth. Lucian wanted to be with Marcus, but he also had to care for his own future. Now that he had one, he didn’t want to let it go.
“You didn’t make things worse.” Lucian tightened his arms, looking for comfort in his own touch. The night felt cold despite the season. “The way you’ve touched me and treated me over the last several weeks has helped me reclaim who I am—who I was supposed to be.”
The year of intensive therapy he’d received at Stonecrest roared to the forefront of Lucian’s mind as he processed everything he’d been through with Marcus. Counselor Ellis had showed him that he’d been masking his pain and insecurities through humor. For years, Lucian had suppressed the despair he felt until it had hardened inside him and molded into a mask. He’d been able to put up with his treatment because that artificial facet of his personality had saved him. The sex-craved, cock-starved Lucian that had entered Stonecrest wasn’t the same man who worked at The Shepherd, nor was he the man Marcus had taken home to bed.
That mask had been chipped away, but what remained of it had been dismantled by Marcus, cast aside to be forgotten. The initial fear that he was falling into the same trap that he had with Baylor had passed—Marcus wasn’t looking to lock him away and use him selfishly. Marcus demanded respect and laid down rules that were not to be broken, but those rules were for Lucian’s benefit, and Marcus returned the respect he received exponentially.
“Then why do you want to leave?” Marcus asked. “Tell me what I can do to fix this, and I will. I will do anything. You have no idea how much you mean to me, Lucian. You have no idea how you’ve changed me.”
Lucian wanted to shake his head, but he held off, paralyzed by the moment. When he spoke, his tongue tripped over the words. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Then why are we standing here?” Marcus asked. He gritted his jaw, shadows catching on the angles of his face. “Why did you tell me that we have to stop seeing each other? I will fight for you, Lucian. I turned down a seven-figure deal because I couldn’t bring myself to defend the man who’d hurt you. Whatever it is, whatever the cost, or whatever the personal expense, I will see it through.”
He’d turned down a million dollars for Lucian’s benefit? Lucian lifted his gaze, processing the thought. A million dollars was more than he could dream of owning, but Marcus had brushed it off like spare change.
And he’d done it out of principle.
No longer did the idea of leaving Marcus behind feel like the better option. Lucian rubbed at his arms, torn. He didn’t want to have Marcus expelled from the club, but what did it matter if Marcus wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else? If what Marcus said was heartfelt, he might never have reason to come back to The Shepherd again.
Lucian had never been in a serious relationship before, but despite his inexperience, he got the feeling that they could make it work. The way he felt for Marcus wasn’t caused by shallow lust or f
inancial greed. Lucian wanted Marcus for Marcus, and he knew the feeling was mutual.
“Adrian has pictures of us in the alley,” Lucian admitted. The truth was harsh in his mouth, and his tongue wanted nothing to do with it, but he pushed the words out anyway. “He knows what we’re doing. He told me that if I wanted to keep my job, I needed to break up with you. If I didn’t, he said he was going to go straight to Sterling.”
The shadows on Marcus’ face shifted. Lucian watched them move, witnessing the transformation between sorrow and stern, measured rage.
“It was wrong of me to think of breaking up with you,” Lucian admitted. He hung his head, ashamed of himself. “It’s just, I was only recently released from inpatient therapy at Stonecrest, and it was the first time in my life that I ever had a job I could call my own. Since I don’t have any experience and nothing more than a GED to fall back on, I’m in this place where I know if I lose my job, I won’t have an easy time finding another. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t want you to know who I really was.”
“There is no need to explain.” Marcus’ voice bore the same dominant qualities it so often did in the bedroom, but tonight, it was different. Tonight it was steeped in anger rather than desire. “Your next shift is tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Lucian said. He dared glance up, studying the disciplined look on Marcus’ face. “Tomorrow at seven, just like always.”
“Then we still have some time.” Marcus held out his hand. Lucian took it, closing the small distance between them. Marcus’ scent was a promise that everything was going to be okay, and Lucian was drawn to it. His head rested on Marcus’ shoulder while Marcus stroked his hair.
He didn’t have to be afraid. Independence didn’t have to mean solitude. Marcus was there for him, and it was Lucian’s prerogative to ask for his help, or to walk away.