Ara.
“What’s wrong, umnyashka?” Georgiy asks lowly. “Is it the cage? Do you need it off?”
I open and close my mouth. It feels dry, sticky. That name. Why is that name showing up in my mind? Why is it when I’m awake and not when I’m asleep? That never happens.
It never…
“I—” I try to say, but nothing comes out.
“He needs a minute,” Anthony commands, moving toward me and handing me a bottle of water. My hands are shaking slightly as I twist the top off and take a long sip. It helps, the cold water centering me.
“What do you need?” Georgiy asks, and I shake my head.
“He needs a minute alone. Go on, Bane. Take your time. Come back when you’re ready.”
Senator Ruiz moves to stand, but Georgiy stops him by moving with me, following me to the wall. My fingers find the small, almost hidden switch, and I push it. The panel opens, and I slide inside, feeling Georgiy right behind me. He’s a silent presence in the darkness. Something I never had all those years ago. Back then I was always alone.
His footsteps echo behind me, and when I turn into my space, I feel like I can breathe again.
I inhale deeply, and Georgiy stands near the doorway to my office.
“This place is filthy,” he murmurs, and I throw him a look.
“I like it. Go away if you don’t.”
He closes his mouth and stands completely still, watching me with those eyes.
“I’m fine. I just needed a minute. Like Anthony said. It’s probably just low blood sugar. Too much coming and not enough food.”
Georgiy continues to watch me, saying nothing. It’s making me anxious. Moving toward my desk, I fiddle with a few bones I’d laid out to work on but had gotten distracted.
My fingers knock against a patella, and it falls to the floor.
“Crap,” I mumble as I bend down and pick it up, knocking a glass onto the ground, listening to it shatter, tongues slithering across the floor.
“Blyat. What’s wrong?” Georgiy asks, moving toward me and picking me up, making sure my feet don’t get sliced from the glass, and setting me on the desk. Although I don’t think I’d mind it. The blood, the pain, would help straighten my mind out a little.
Georgiy’s hands move to my feet, and he examines them, looking for injuries, but there are none.
“What do you need?” he asks.
His eyes meet mine, and my fingers curl into the edge of the desk. My eyes are wet, my throat aching.
“I need to hurt.”
He cocks his head slightly and then nods. “Whatever you need.”
My dick tries to perk up, but is restrained by the cock cage. It aches, pulling my mind farther from the fog and right into sanity. Or as sane as I can be. I don’t think I’m on the sanity scale, actually.
Which is fine by me. I like who I am. Mostly.
What I can remember anyway.
“Whatever I need?” I blink up at him, and his hand comes to rest against my cheek. I lean against it.
“Yes, chortyónok. Whatever you need.”
“Then hurt me. Make me forget. And then, when I remember, bring me back to reality.”
