“I wasn’t going to leave you, Bay.”
The sound of his name sent shivers through his entire, exhausted body.
“I’m not sure if that’s because I’m fond of you or if I’ve just gotten used to having you around, but you aren’t going to get rid of me that easily.”
“The bridge,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I was trying to do.”
“No?”
“No.”
Sila held his gaze. “All right.”
“So then—”
He shoved him back down, hand instantly returning to Bay’s dick. “Come for me and then I’ll let you see to my hand, Kitten.”
“Sila.”
“Come.”
Even if he’d wanted to continue arguing, Bay didn’t have it in him. After being denied for so long he couldn’t last and after only a couple of hard pumps he orgasmed.
And promptly passed out.
Again.
Chapter 27:
The room was even darker than before when Bay woke next. This time he was tucked under the silky covers on the right side of the bed, closest to the door leading to the bathroom. There was a soft golden glow spilling from the open doorway, casting the man seated in a chair next to him in silhouette.
“Sila?” his voice was croaky and raw and he winced but didn’t dare move. There was something about the charged energy in the room that kept him lying still, his eyes searching through the darkness to try and make out anything that could help him gauge what the younger man was feeling.
Bay was under no illusions. He’d almost died tonight. Three times, in fact. The first attempt had been at his own hand, but the other two…
“Sila,” he tried again, a bit more firmly, and he saw the set of the other man’s shoulders shift slightly a second before a warm palm settled over Bay’s exposed calf. He hadn’t realized his legs were sticking out from under the comforter, but it was impossible to ignore when those fingers started dancing lightly from his knee to his ankle and back again.
Something was wrong. The touch wasn’t caring or sweet. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. Bay risked trying to sit up only to have the collar around his neck tug, digging into the bruises that already littered his throat. He sucked in a sharp breath and rested his head back, tipping it to see that he’d been secured to the bed post with black rope through the loop.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Bay asked, trying not to panic. Technically, the night wasn’t over. Was this still all part of the test? Earlier, he’d passed out then woken in the bath with Sila. The most he’d been able to do was help clean off the wound on his palm and help bandage it, but Bay was still of a mind that it needed to be looked at by a proper doctor.
“Should I break your legs?” Sila murmured, and Bay went still as a statue beneath those trailing fingers. “It wouldn’t be enough, would it. Eventually they would heal and I’d have to repeat the process, and that isn’t the type of pain you’re into.”
“No,” Bay agreed quietly, “it isn’t.”
“Would you be sad because you couldn’t race anymore?” Sila acted like he hadn’t heard him, like he was off in his own little world. “You won’t need racing if you have me. I can give you all the oxygen you need.”
“What?” This wasn’t the same Sila from earlier. Wasn’t the same person Bay had been interacting with all those other occasions either. There was something off about him, but also, there was a strange inkling in the back of Bay’s mind that he was actually getting a glimpse of the true man behind the mask.
As if the Devil he’d met already was only another layer to who Sila Varun truly was.
As if he hadn’t actually been the real Devil at all, but another smoke screen Sila had provided to throw him and the rest of the universe off.
It made Bay wonder…Did Sila really even know himself? Was he hiding even when he faced the mirror?
Had he stopped hiding because of Bay?
That was presumptuous and narcissistic of him to even consider, but Bay felt an altogether pleased sensation skitter through him at the notion. He’d never thought all too highly of himself—he didn’t suffer from low self-esteem or anything, but he was a realist, and realistically speaking, he’d always been only slightly above average in every department.
