He nodded.
“I imagine so. Stay put.” He took a step back. “I mean it. You might be dizzy and I'd hate to have to explain to Master Rai why Bryan's assistant took out the hand painted Japanese screen he brought home for your boss.”
“Yeah, me either.” Her eyes drifted shut. “That man scares me.”
* * * *
Bryan was ready to climb the walls of the elevator by the time Hark returned. His watch assured him it had only been ten minutes since he’d been in, but each sweep of the second hand had seemed unending. This is ridiculous. Sharonda is probably just running late. It's happened before.
The metallic ding was followed by a swoosh of the doors that drew Bryan from his thoughts. Hark's large frame appeared in the opening.
“So is everything okay, your highness?” The smart ass in him couldn't resist poking at the other man.
“No. I found your assistant. Someone attacked her and dumped her behind the Japanese silk screen in your office.” Hark spoke calmly as if he was talking about nothing more mundane than the weather.
At the moment, Bryan was jealous of the man's calmness.
“Is she okay?” He tried to push past the other man, but was caught by the hand Hark wrapped around his elbow.
“No. But before you go freaking out on me, I need you to promise me you'll stay calm. Can you do that?” Hark seemed to be searching for something in his eyes.
He jerked his arm free, and gave a short nod. “Hell, yes. Just tell me Sharonda is okay.”
Hark dropped his hand. “She has a possible broken collarbone and concussion. We need to call an ambulance to take her to the closest emergency room. That's what I want you to handle.”
Relief at being given something to do flowed through Bryan. He moved toward Sharonda's desk. “What are you going to be doing?” he asked Hark over his shoulder.
Hark paused before lifting his cell phone to his ear. “Calling Diachi.”
Panic flooded his veins. His master was going to blow a gasket when he found out. He'd lock Bryan in their home until whoever had attacked Sharonda was caught. “I don't suppose there's anything I can say or do to convince you not to call? He's going to go off the deep end.”
Hark's eyes darkened. Whether it was with lust or anger, Bryan wasn't sure. “Whether I call him now or tell him when we return to your home, you realize either way, he's going to be upset. Probably more so if we wait. Wouldn't you rather deal with a little bit of upset, than a lot that’ll end up with your ass being lit up?”
Bryan rubbed the back of his neck. “Despite what you think, I don't deliberately act out in hopes of being punished. It's just — Master will demand I come home. And after this attack, I'm needed here. To deal with the police, the reports, liaisoning between our security and the —”
Hark gave an abrupt slashing motion of his hand. “I get it. You call the ambulance, while I'll deal with your master. It's not like he can take a paddle to my ass.”
Yet... an insidious voice whispered inside of Bryan's head as Hark turned away from him, his cell phone once more wedged between his ear and shoulder. As much as Bryan wanted to listen to how Hark managed to handle his master, he had an employee who needed medical attention. Reaching for the phone, he resigned himself to trusting Hark to do as he said, because he so didn't need Diachi coming down on him like a ton of bricks in light of this newest mess.
“Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?” a competent female voice asked in his ear.
“I need an ambulance sent to the main office at Sterling Foods.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose, as he answered the woman's rapid fire questions.
* * * *
Bryan was slumped at his desk a few hours later, staring at his computer screen but totally unfocused. Not only had the ambulance taken Sharonda to the hospital, Hark had done as he promised. He'd handled Diachi, but now Bryan was almost wishing he hadn't. He'd kill to feel his master's arms around him — to draw in the unique scent of his lover and know everything would be okay. Instead he found himself in his office, listening to the flick of magazine pages as his new bodyguard scanned an old edition of Sports Illustrated.
“Dammit,” he muttered to himself, tossing a pen down in frustration.
“What's wrong?” Hark didn't bother to look up from the magazine. He just continued to turn the pages every so often.
Bryan pushed back from the desk. “Hell, I don't know. I just feel out of sorts.” He moved toward the wet bar. Perhaps a nice hot cup of tea would settle his nerves. “I know she's in good hands, but I still can't help but worry.”
Hark glanced up at him. “Would it help if we went to the hospital?”
Trepidation crawled through him. “No, I haven't been in the hospital since Diachi's accident. After spending two months watching the man I love fight for every breath...well let's just say it'd take an act of God or Congress to get me back inside one.”
“Accident?” Hark’s tone was surprised – as if he’d expected Diachi to be invincible.
Leave it to Hark to zero on the one thing I hoped he'd overlook. But as Hark continued to gaze at him, Bryan sighed.
“Several years ago, Diachi and I were coming home from a Red Cross benefit when a guy in a semi fell asleep at the wheel and t-boned us on Michigan Avenue. I was thrown completely free of the car, while Master wasn't so lucky. I was driving, but we were hit on the passenger side. Master ended up having to be cut out of the little Mercedes. The dash had him pinned in. There were multiple fractures to each of his legs and two broken ribs. One punctured his lung.”
“Damn.” The word was uttered so softly Bryan barely heard it over the running water as he filled the small electric teapot.
“Yeah, pretty much. They kept him in a medically induced coma until they were sure he was out of the woods. They were afraid if he moved around, he'd re-puncture his lung. It was a hellacious six weeks while we waited for the rib to finally heal. Not to mention the two surgeries he had to repair his shattered ankle. If you watch Master closely, you'll notice the slight limp when the weather gets cold. He has more metal in his ankle than some simple machines.”
“I imagine so.” Hark closed the magazine. “So if it's not that, what has you on edge?” He set aside the Sports Illustrated on the stand next to him. “What do you need?” His dark eyes seemed to assess Bryan. The change in his tone sent a chill down Bryan's spine. Paired with a subtle shift in his presence, Bryan realized he was no longer dealing with the man assigned to protect him. No, Hark was in Dom mode and Lord help him, Bryan found that sexier and more tempting than any other pleasure Hell had to offer.
“What do you mean?” He tried to back pedal as Hark slowly approached him, stalking him, until Bryan found himself backed into the corner between the wall and silk screen. He didn’t even protest when Hark took the teapot from his slack fingers. He watched as Hark plugged it in to the outlet and red light began to glow. Hark had actually started the water for his tea? Bryan tried to wrap his head around the kind action. But before he could, Hark spun around quickly, his body fluid. And Bryan found himself trapped.
With his hands braced on either side of Bryan's head, Hark’s body hovered scant inches away from his. Hark's sudden nearness and the incredible amount of heat that seemed to radiate off the larger man's body was so damned tempting. It was more than Bryan expected, but less than what he needed.
“You know exactly what I mean, Bryan. Did you honestly think I couldn't feel the tension coming off you while you pretended to work? Or how you shifted in your chair repeatedly, each creak an admission of how close to the edge you are?”
Hark's coffee-tinged breath misted over Bryan's face as he spoke. More than anything he wanted to burrow closer, to wrap his arms around the muscle bound waist only a few small baby steps away. He needed to lose himself inside powerful arms that could comfort him as well as spank his stubbornness out of him. For an idle second he wondered if he refused to answer long enough if it would end with him bent over either
his desk or across Hark's knees. His dick stirred at the idea. Even as fucked up in the head as he was at the moment, he shouldn't be thinking of getting off. Sharonda was in the hospital because someone in this building attacked her. The only possible reason he could think of was because someone wanted to keep Wheaton Free from going to market. It was almost enough to make him want to abandon his affordable glutton-free line.
“Silence isn't an option, sub.”
The stress Hark placed on the last word sent a shiver down Bryan's spine. Unlike some submissives who balked at the idea of acknowledging their submissiveness any place outside of a playroom, Bryan found comfort in the word. It reminded him of his place in life. That it wasn't wrong to be submissive. To let another take control. It had him yearning to give over. But he never gave over at work.
“I...” He bit his lower lip, ducking his head to hide his eyes — a move he'd never have been able to get away with his master. Hark tipped his head up with one finger under his chin.
“Before you say another word, or even try to protest, remember your master gave you to me during business hours.” Hark's gaze seemed hungrier. “To protect. To punish. To hold even — if that's what you need.” Hark drew a deep breath, the muscles on his chest expanding. “All you have to do is ask, little one.”
Chapter Ten
Hark found the patience he'd been taught in the military was sorely lacking as he waited for Bryan to decide whether or not to trust him. It was true Diachi had given Bryan to him during business hours, but that didn't mean the man before him felt comfortable enough to take what Hark had to offer. Hark found himself hoping Bryan would balk at the idea and push him away. It would only reconfirm how Hark viewed himself as a Dom. But a small part of him — one he’d thought had died, wanted a chance to live again — to experience the pleasure that came from having another soul depend on them. But now as Bryan wrestled with his options, Hark could only wait. Diachi may have had the right to give Bryan to him, but only Bryan could be the one who followed through.
Time seemed to stretch for an eternity with him hovering over the slightly smaller man with his hands braced against the wall, until Bryan stepped close enough to wrap his arms around Hark's waist.
“Hold me?” He shyly looked up at Hark, the need apparent in his gaze.
“With pleasure.” The words had barely passed his lips, when Bryan’s face found the crook of his neck.
A shuddering sigh that could’ve been a mumbled ‘thank you’ reached Hark’s ears as he gathered Bryan closer with one arm. How long they stood like that, with Bryan's breath teasing his collarbone while Hark offered him the only comfort he knew how, was hard to say. It wasn't until the clearing of someone's throat followed by a brisk knock on the doorframe of Bryan's office that the man in his arms reluctantly released him.
Hark had to fight the urge to pull Bryan back inside the shelter of his body. Especially when Bryan’s gaze met his. The stark need was still there, but slightly muted as Bryan pulled himself together. It made Hark want to scowl in frustration. The sub in front of him needed more than just a hug.
Fuck!
Diachi had warned him earlier on the phone that Bryan might end up needing a good old fashioned paddling to find his center once more. But he resisted the idea of striking Bryan. It was too intimate – too soon. Even holding Bryan was pushing the boundaries Hark had set in his head. This was supposed to be temporary. He couldn’t risk getting involved. So he reluctantly stepped to the side, letting Bryan escape.
“Bryan?” The man’s voice reminded Hark that they were no longer alone.
“Sorry, I was starting some tea. What did you need, Easton?” Bryan’s tone was nonchalant as if the other man hadn’t caught his boss in an intimate hold with another man.
Turning, Hark caught a glimpse of the man. Tall, dark-haired, he wore a pair of dress slacks and cream colored polo shirt. In his hand, he held a paper take-out cup of coffee, while an attaché case dangled from his other. To Hark he looked like the average executive starting his day, but there was something familiar about him. It would take time but Hark would eventually place him.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I just heard what happened from Marius downstairs. I thought I’d stop by and check on you.”
“Thanks.” Bryan sank into the chair behind his desk. “Easton, you remember Hark, don’t you?”
Easton glanced toward him. “Of course. He looks different out of military fatigues. How’s it going, Captain Akula?”
The turn of his head as the man faced him, along with the first name, jogged Hark’s memory. The young soldier from Korea. “Fair to middling, Lieutenant Kinga, is it?”
“Still have an iron trap memory, I see.” A forced smile crossed Easton’s face, before he turned back to Bryan. Hark had to suppress his smile. Years ago the man had been in awe of him, so the subtle snub tickled him. It was good to see the young man had grown into the potential he’d seen so many years ago.
“I can’t believe someone would have the audacity to attack Sharonda, Bryan. Then to leave her inside your office like some twisted warning…” He shook his head. “That takes a lot of balls. Everyone knows your inner sanctum is off-limits without an invitation.”
Or knows there are no security cameras in the office. It was a struggle, but Hark kept the comment to himself. He planned on talking to security before he left to see if they had found anything after examining the video tapes.
“So does Sharonda have any idea who it was?” Easton propped his hip on the corner of Bryan’s desk.
“No. Not really…we’re hoping the surveillance cameras from the outer office will give us some idea.”
As the men continued to talk about the attack, the teapot behind Hark started to whistle. Figuring the man was safe enough, he turned off the pot and began to prepare the loose Irish breakfast tea blend for Bryan. Memories of doing the same for Diachi tried to swamp him, but he forced them aside. Now wasn’t the time.
Once the tea was prepared, Hark poured it into the small cast iron Tetsubin teapot. After arranging it and its accompanying tea cups on a small wicker tray, he stepped from behind the screen and approached Bryan’s desk. The men were still talking about the attack.
“So what happened? I heard from your uncle, when we were in the elevator, he'd been drawn out of his lab by the sirens.”
“My uncle was in his lab?” The confusion in Bryan's voice sparked something inside of Hark as he set the tray down on the opposite corner of the desk.
Easton nodded before moving to the chair across from Bryan. “Yeah. Said he came in early to run some more tests on the new line.”
As Hark poured the steaming brew into the handleless Asain cup, he turned over the Easton’s reply. Is he the same one Diachi told me Bryan was having issues with?
After placing the tea in front of Bryan, he poured one for Easton before resuming his previous position – pretending to be entranced with the outdated Sports Illustrated. Like any magazine would distract me enough to make me oblivious to my surroundings. He had to admit however, after all his years in the service, the art form of looking bored while being alert was second nature and came in handy. It gave him opportunity to eavesdrop on the men without raising any red flags. Even with his size, he faded in to the background well. Still pretending to read the magazine, Hark listened intently.
“Really? I didn't think he had any tests scheduled today. I'll have to check with my files.”
Hark tucked the little tidbit of information in his mental file for later. He’d definitely be having a discussion with the elder Sterling.
“Yeah, kinda of surprised me too. I thought we were all done with phase two testing. So what exactly happened with Sharonda? Is she going to be okay?”
A quick glance over the top of the magazine showed the sudden stiffness in Bryan's shoulders. It was faint, but there. Hark’s gaze narrowed. Bryan was forcing himself to relax. It was obvious when he took a sip of the tea, then rolled his shoulders.
&n
bsp; “I hope so. They wanted to do x-rays and I called her sister. She said she'd meet the ambulance at Highland Park Hospital. Told me she'd call me as soon as she knew something. I'm hoping for the best. She was awake and talking before they wheeled her out of here.”
Easton nodded. “That's good. I hope she's back soon. What are you going to do without her guarding your lair?”
Bryan chuckled. “Not to worry. Diachi lent me Hark. Damned if my master doesn’t take his job of protecting me seriously. I'm pretty sure Mr. Akula could give Sharonda a run for her money in intimidation.”
Inwardly Hark flinched at Bryan's words. He should have a thicker skin when it came to his appearance. And he normally did, but somehow his former master's sub managed to crawl inside his head. It had to be a side effect of being close to the other man. Or that's what he'd keep telling himself. He'd be fine once he returned Bryan to his master. Then he could go hide out in the basement — away from temptation.
“Dammit, Easton! That was uncalled for!” The ire in Bryan's voice drew Hark from his thoughts. His gaze went to Bryan. His back was up and if Hark wasn't mistaken there was true anger in his expression. What the hell had he missed while he'd been wool gathering?
“Well what did you expect? I walked into find you wrapped around a man I once respected.” Easton's posture was just as rigid as Bryan's. “I've known you forever, man. I'm just concerned you're throwing away the most solid relationship you've ever had to jump Hark’s bones. I get it...the same old song and dance can get old, but to fuck around on Diachi...with a guy he hired to protect you? That's just messed up.”
Bryan's jaw flexed. “It's not what you're thinking. How long have we been friends? Have you ever known me to even look at another man without my master’s permission?” He raked a hand through his short blond hair. “Hell, you've even been over to my house. Had dinner with Diachi and me — and you honestly think I'm capable of doing something to betray my master.”
Healing Hark (Doms of Chicago) Page 9