by Taylor Ryan
He was fairly certain Martin had gone in yesterday, since Shawn's banging on the doors probably would have resulted in a confrontation between the two men in his life. But maybe not today.
Just his fucking luck.
For a moment, Casey debated turning around and just going back to Shawn's side and curling in against him on the couch. That sounded much more appealing than going into his own home and possibly having to face an irate uncle.
But it was technically his home too, and he had a right to go in and get his stuff. With a hand at his throat, Casey reminded himself that Martin couldn't confine him like that anymore. He was free to do what he wanted. Drawing in a deep breath of courage, he stepped up the back deck, surprised to find it locked.
Frowning, he trudged around to the front door. It was surprisingly not locked. As he closed the heavy door behind him, Casey's eyes darted around for sounds of his uncle's presence. Stepping forward, though, he almost tripped over one of Uncle Martin's suitcases in the foyer. He frowned down at it, then noted a stack of documents on the credenza next to Martin's keys.
Casey curiously picked one up. A passport? He flipped it open. Shocked. For him? He hadn't known Martin had ever considered getting him a passport. When had Martin thought about taking Casey off the island?
Better question: why were they sitting out here now?
He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Maybe it was just better to sneak on up the stairs and hope his uncle was drunk again or something. He padded softly across the hardwood floor on his bare feet and was halfway up the steps when he heard it.
"Casey!"
Damn it, he growled.
"Come in here, please. We have things to discuss."
Gripping the railing in frustration, Casey finally huffed an, "I'm coming."
Maybe if he got through his uncle's 'discussion' quickly he'd still be back to Shawn before he woke up.
He pushed open the door to his uncle's dark study/lab. It wasn't his favorite place as it seemed to spur odd nightmares and such, but it wasn't like some scary old lab in a monster movie either.
"Casey." Martin's voice came from right next to him, startling him, and he felt Martin's hand grab his bicep to steady him.
"I'm here," Casey stated, starting to pull away from the grasp. "What did you— Hey! What was that?"
He jerked under the prick of the needle injecting something into his arm.
"Oh, don't worry, my boy," Martin said patting the sore spot and causing it to sting. "Just a little something to make you feel better. Why don't you go sit on the table?"
"Thought we weren't doing tests tonight," Casey stated, as his vision shifted in front of him. "Thought we were just talking. We can do that in t-t-the ch-chairs, ri-iight?"
Damn, he felt a little out of it. Maybe the adrenaline crash was suddenly hitting him, like it did Shawn.
"Nope, the table is best. You're looking like you might want to lie down."
Casey shook his head, which only made it feel like it was going to wobble off. "No, I d-don't want to g-get on the t-table. I...I don't w-want a...ny t...ests."
He tried to move back, but his knees were buckling under him, and he couldn't understand why his muscles wouldn't obey him. Something didn't seem right. But he'd been fine when he came over.... Oh...shit...
Martin. His uncle had done this to him.
He watched the man who'd help him learn to read, to learn how to pilot a boat, who had helped, along with Thomas, to teach him all about the sea that was his second home. He watched that man stalking towards him without the glaze of family tainting his vision.
He really wasn't sure who this man was.
Chapter 31
Casey stumbled as he tried to step back from his uncle's approach. He shook his head to try to clear the fog engulfing it, but it only made him feel nauseous. Nothing made sense. His legs couldn't seem to hold his weight, and his arms felt like lead.
"W-wh...at...?" Casey heard his own voice as if from a distance. The growing fear in his gut had him wanting to run for the safety of the sea.
The odd look on his uncle's face made him nervous. It seemed almost... predatory. But that couldn't be right. Martin would never hurt him. Yet Casey felt his heart racing with the thought that something was wrong. He turned to the door, but his knees crumpled under him, and he barely caught himself with his hands before he was sprawled on the floor.
He vaguely saw his uncle's patent leather shoes step up next to him. The toe of one shoe nudged at his ribs harshly. "Now why couldn't you have been a good boy and laid down on the table?"
"W-why?" Casey managed to croak out as he fought the numbness seeping through his body.
"I wanted you on the table to keep you still until I'm finished finalizing our trip," his uncle's voice spoke from the murky haze, obviously misunderstanding Casey's question entirely.
Trip? What trip? Casey thought he'd asked but realized the words were stuck in his head. He vaguely felt hands gripping his arms and yanking him up before the darkness swallowed him.
****
Fuck, his head hurt. Casey groaned and tried to lift his hand only to realize it was stuck. They both were. Strapped down at his sides. He sucked in a sharp breath and realized there was a strap across his chest as well. His chest heaved as a spike of adrenaline chased away the last visage of the fog clouding his brain. Blinking rapidly, his gray eyes darted around in panic.
But the walls were familiar. His uncle's study. He forced a calming breath. He'd been here thousands of times over the years. It wasn't a scary place, he told himself, but images of his nightmare rankled at the edges of his brain.
And he'd never been strapped down here. Hell, since when did the table even have restraints? It couldn't have. He would have noticed them before. And why the hell was he strapped down now?
Martin. His heart started thudding again in his chest. The prick in his arm. He'd... fallen. His uncle had... knocked him out. But why?
"Ahh, you're awake, finally." Casey heard Martin's voice from somewhere behind his head, probably at his desk.
Casey opened his mouth to respond, but his mouth was so dry his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He only managed a croaked groan. He tried to pry it open, lick his lips, but a nasty taste in his mouth made him grimace.
"Oh, here, let me get you some water, that paralytic can leave an awful taste in your mouth," Martin said conversationally as if Casey were sitting with him at the kitchen table.
Casey squinted in the light, trying to make some sense of what the hell was going on. His uncle lifted his head slightly and offered some water, for which Casey was grateful. He gulped at the cool liquid even as some spilled down his cheeks and pooled on the table under his head.
When Casey was finally able to focus on the face hovering above him, he was surprised to see the wide smile. The man hardly ever smiled, at least not around him. Casey's frown must have been evident because his uncle chuckled.
"I'm sure you're wondering what's going on." Casey felt Martin's large hand patting his bare chest, and he cringed. For some reason, the touch seemed cold and unfeeling, desultory, and not reassuring like he thought it should be.
Casey nodded, working his jaw in hopes of finding his voice... and some answers. "Yeah," he rasped, "why am I...?" He pulled at the restraints holding his wrists to his side to finish his sentence. It seemed like putting it into words made it even more real.
This had to be some sort of joke. Or maybe a punishment. For removing the collar maybe?
"Well, I couldn't have you running back off to your little boyfriend while I made our plans to leave, now could I?"
Casey's heart jumped in his throat and his wide eyes shot to his uncle's. The smirk he saw there made it clear that his uncle somehow knew about Casey's relationship with Shawn.
"Yes, I saw you two on the beach earlier. Couldn't listen to me, could you? I hope he was a good fuck because that's the last you'll see of him."
"What?" Casey's head
shot off the table, worried about what the hell was going on in his uncle's head.
"I've decided it's time to make use of your ability. I'm presenting you to the scientific community... and the world for that matter. We'll make millions, be renowned throughout the world."
"That doesn't... why would you... I can't... No," Casey stumbled over words, not sure what to say to his uncle's insanity. This was contrary to everything they'd done before to keep him hidden, safe.
"I know, I know," Martin said placating, "We've always said it wouldn't be safe for anyone to find out about your ability, but I've decided it's time to stop hiding. You're old enough now, and it's time the scientific world had the chance to study what you are."
"No, no, no, you can't..." Casey shook his head, "you can't mean that. I won't go."
"You won't have a choice. I can put you in a fucking cage if I want. You're not even human; you're just a genetic marine anomaly."
"No!" Casey rasped harshly, trying to keep the words from tearing at his heart. He'd known his uncle hadn't cared much for him, but this... this was way beyond that. The man didn't even think of him as human, just an animal he could cage and dispose of.
Martin just laughed. He picked up something metallic from the counter and stood next to Casey.
"I've finalized our travel plans, and we're leaving shortly. You and your boyfriend have forced me to move up my plans."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Casey spat.
"I thought you might say that." Martin grinned, and the look scared Casey. He lifted his hand, showing the slim piece of metal in his hand. A scalpel. "I'll be calling in to the clinic to have a helicopter from Iranamadu come pick up my suicidal nephew for treatment at the hospital—'please hurry, he's delusional, thinks I'm going to hurt him, we'll have to keep him sedated'..." Martin laughed at his own ingenuity. "After we are in the city, I'll have you released to my care and on the plane I booked to England."
Casey's eyes were wide with horror as the scalpel lowered out of his view. His uncle truly was insane. "No, please..."
But the scalpel was already pressing against his wrist, and Casey hissed as he felt the sharp edge against his thin skin. Martin held up some gauze. "Don't worry, you won't bleed out, just need to make your attempted suicide look real..."
"No—" The scream tore from his throat as the sharp blade sliced through the delicate skin at his wrist.
A loud bang at the front door interrupted them, and his uncle frowned in irritation. Tears streamed down Casey's temples as he felt the slick of his blood seeping from the stinging wound. Casey's body buzzed with fear and pain, not knowing what his uncle was capable of at this moment. They both heard the front door slam open.
"Casey!" Shawn's voice called, and Casey could hear the strain of worry in it. Shawn must have heard the scream.
"Shawn! No!" Casey shouted in warning, but Martin shoved the gauze he held into Casey's mouth. Casey choked, trying to push it back out with his tongue as he watched Martin walk calmly to the side of his study door.
"Guess I'll have to deal with him now." Martin sighed exaggeratedly, picking up one of his heavy scientific awards from years ago.
Tears burned in Casey's eyes. Hearing Shawn's footsteps pounding across the foyer toward the study door, knowing that Martin was about to hurt Shawn, tore at his heart.
****
A cool chill had shaken his body, jerking him awake. Shawn jolted, unsure of why he felt so uneasy. A breeze from the open windows had chilled his clammy skin. He threw the blanket off, as he sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. He grabbed up the juice bottle from the table, his eyes sweeping across his living room and kitchen. He frowned.
"Casey?" he choked once on his raw voice, then called a second time. "Case?"
Silence.
He thought for a moment, remembering the brush of Casey's lips on his forehead. What had he said?
His eyes swung to the door. Shit. Casey must have gone back to his house. Shawn swore under his breath. "I told him to wait for me, damn it."
He swallowed down the rest of the juice. A couple of deep breaths had his head feeling much clearer and his body calmer, less jittery. Of course, now he was pissed that Casey would go alone, even if Martin was at the clinic. What if the man came home while he was packing some stuff up? What if he tried to stop Casey from leaving the house?
Shawn slipped on his shoes and jogged out the door. The fresh air helped clear out the residual effects of the adrenaline crash as well as having another focus—Casey. He picked his way through the path that he and Casey had created through the brush to the Jorss property. He halted abruptly at the sight of Martin's SUV.
Damn. Would Casey have gone in if the man were already home? Maybe. Of course, Martin could have arrived while Casey was already inside as well. He didn't have time to worry about what Martin might think anymore. He stalked up to the front door and knocked loudly.
A minute later, a scream echoed from inside, and Shawn's heart jumped into his throat, his eyes bulging in shock. Oh, God, was Martin hurting Casey? Fuck no!
He banged on the door with his fist, but then just reached for the doorknob, hoping it was unlocked. Relief swamped him when it swung open.
"Casey!" he yelled, panic evident in his voice, but he didn't care.
He heard Casey yell back, but he couldn't tell exactly what he said, as he was only focused on the direction the voice came from. He raced across the foyer, towards a partially open door.
As he crashed through the door, he stumbled to a halt, the image that greeted him causing his stomach to revolt.
"Casey, my God... what...?"
His voice failed him as he took in the sight of his man strapped down to a fucking table, blood dripping from his arm to the floor. Casey's eyes were wide with terror, and he was struggling violently against his restraints, trying to shout around the cloth stuck in his mouth.
Shawn took a step toward him, intent on freeing him, as Casey seemed to be trying to tell him something. Pieces of white gauze fluttered to the floor as Casey finally managed to spit them out.
"L-look out!" Casey yelled, and Shawn jerked around as something crashed into him from behind. Pain exploded in his skull as he staggered and grunted.
"No!" Casey screamed.
A second blow brought him to his knees and his vision wavered. He managed to see Casey's uncle standing over him with some sort of trophy in his hand.
"Stop! Please! Uncle Martin! P-please don't!"
Shawn tried to kick at the man but his reactions were sluggish.
"Fine," he heard the deep voice of Martin mumble, followed by the thunk of the stone trophy hitting the floor. Shawn felt a sharp kick to his ribs as he tried to clear his head. Casey's terrified shouts echoed in his mind. Fuck! He rolled, trying to protect his ribs from another vicious kick, only to feel Martin's heavy body kneel on his spine.
"Shawn!" Casey yelled, and Shawn could hear his love struggling against straps binding him to the table. He tried to get his hands under him to push up, hoping to flip the asshole on top of him off, but Martin yanked his arms back and his chest and chin hit the floor again.
"Get the fuck off me!" Shawn managed to shout, but by then he felt Martin wrapping something around his wrists. It felt like his belt maybe.
Shawn finally felt the pressure on his back move, but Martin grabbed the back of his hair, yanking his head up. "Just so you know, all of this is your fault. Look at him!" Martin forced Shawn's head in the direction of the table. His stomach threatened to expel what little it had in it at the sight of his love restrained like a fucking lab experiment. Finally, Shawn met Casey's pale gray eyes.
"I'm so sorry," Casey whispered, his voice sounding lost, resigned. "I never thought—"
Shawn choked at Casey's words. "No, Case, this is not your fault. It's this asshole's fault!"
"Shut up!" Martin shouted. "Because of you, I've had to change all my plans." Martin shoved his head before standing up and stalking back over to Case
y.
"What fucking plans?" Shawn grunted as he managed to roll to his side, wincing at the tightness of the belt tying his arms. He carefully wriggled his hands and wrists, testing the binding. He had a frisson of hope when he felt the belt slip a bit. It was leather, so maybe he could get it to stretch just enough...
"Casey's presentation to the world, of course," Martin smiled as he gathered up some sort of supplies from the counter.
Shawn's eyes widened. "No, you can't do that. He'll be—"
"Studied. Tested," Martin finished, as he moved to Casey's bleeding arm. Shawn noticed that Casey seemed a bit pale, his eyes a little unfocused, his thin form shaking. When Martin unstrapped his arm, though, Casey jerked, eyes wide again at the touch. Casey tried to yank his arm from Martin's grasp.
Good, Shawn thought, at least he was still conscious enough to fight. For a moment, he thought Casey had given up.
"Hold still," Martin hissed. "Unless you truly do want your boyfriend here to watch you bleed out."
Chapter 32
Casey stilled long enough for Martin to look at his sliced wrist.
"Damn it. Your boyfriend's arrival made me cut more than I'd planned."
"Maybe if you hadn't fucking cut me in the first place..." Casey griped.
Martin shrugged as he wiped away blood harshly, eliciting a hiss of pain before slapping gauze down on it and wrapping it with medical tape.
"You could use the skin glue, you know," Casey muttered.
Martin dropped Casey's arm back down, and even Shawn winced when Casey hissed, clenching his fist. "I could, but your suicide attempt here needs to look pretty gruesome to convince Dr. Buratha that a helicopter is necessary to get you some psychiatric help."
"Suicide? What are you talking about?" Shawn's eyes narrowed.