“You want to know how we know you’re not fine? You growl at all the female employees for crossing a room on their own. You’d probably follow them into the ladies’ room if it wouldn’t get you arrested. An employee forgets one swipe of their access card at any door, Michael included, and you threaten to fire them on the spot. Ryleigh went to change a tap line the other night instead of the barback, and you yelled at her.”
When he said it like that, it did sound like he was up for the Asshole of the Year Award.
“You practically live on the couch in the control booth at Elysium. Your landlord called Tripoli to ask him to do a welfare check on you because he thought you were dead since you haven’t used your security code in so long.”
He remained still, eyes locked on the activity below. Activity he only pretended to watch.
“I knew you weren’t there, but I went anyway because I knew he wouldn’t be appeased otherwise.”
Triple fuck. If Cosmos went to his apartment…
“Your house cleaner obviously hasn’t been there in weeks, probably more like months, because everything’s covered in dust. The food in your refrigerator all went bad. Panama would have been orgasmic over the science experiment going on in there.” He paused. His voice held the barest tremor. “Tilly’s room is untouched. You never even made the bed from the last time she slept in it.”
“I’ve been busy.” Deny, deny, deny.
“Too busy to come to Francesca’s birthday party last night?”
All the fucks.
His jaw muscles twitched in his effort to remain silent and appear unaffected. “I forgot about it. I’ll apologize to her next time I see her.”
Cosmos shifted on the rail so their shoulders were centimeters apart.
“She’s more worried than pissed off. We all are. The Triumph we know wouldn’t have forgotten.”
He couldn’t keep it inside any longer. “Maybe I’ve always been this way, and you all never noticed before.”
“Fuck that noise. Of course we’ve noticed. Shit, we all have our demons in the dark. But yours? They’re scorch-the-earth motherfuckers, feeding off you. Let them eat at you much longer, and they’ll drag you back to hell with them.”
Cosmos stood, his hands gripping the rail in front of him, knuckles white, arms just past shoulder-width apart, elbows locked. “We are a product of our experiences,” he continued quietly. Triumph could still hear him, though, over the music and noise from below. “The six of us all have our own damage. Trip’s PTSD. Elyx’s abuse. Panama’s neglect. Fereh’s trauma. Your protection fixation. My abandonment issues. We cope as best we can. Admittedly, some of us are better at it than others. But you, my friend, are spiraling. We aren’t just worried, Mase. We’re fucking terrified we’re losing you like we lost Tilly.”
His jaw hurt from clenching it so hard, doing everything in his power to keep the fear inside. Once he spoke it, there would be no holding it back. It could not get out.
He was the shoulder others unburdened themselves on. If he opened the floodgates, who would they go to? They’d have no one to anchor them when their seas got rough. They’d have no shelter when the storms shook their worlds.
“Look. I’ve known about this”—he gestured to the club as a whole—“for a while now. Fine. Everyone has their kink. I certainly am no one’s judge, given my own proclivities. But you’ve been searching for a ‘pressure valve release’ as long as I’ve known you. Looked in some pretty dark places too. If this is where you finally landed, and it brings you peace in your head, have at it.
“But I’m going to say two things. One, based on how wound up you’ve been, it doesn’t require Nostradamus to tell us exactly what brought this spiral on.”
A black, rectangular box standing upright in the center of the main stage at Elysium. Swords piercing its sides. A pool of red at its base.
The pain. The sheer, heart-wrenching, head-pounding, gut-spilling pain.
“Two, nothing erases what we saw. Nothing. Not alcohol. Not drugs. Not sex. At best, you find a temporary respite here. This may quiet the beast inside for a while, but eventually it will raise its ugly head again, and its rage will be even greater. More intense. More destructive.”
Who did Cosmos think he was, telling him this bullshit? He was fucking fine! They were friends, nothing more. And why did friends always think they were entitled to get all up in each other’s business?
He sighed.
It was one thing to pretend everything was normal with everyone else, but he had never been good at doing that with himself. And it wasn’t fair to push his anger at Cosmos. If anything, when it came to his friends, he was the guy who knew shit was going down and sat back to watch the disaster happen, letting you figure out how to get out of your own mess until you asked for his help. Interfering was more Tripoli’s style—Mr. Caretaker.
But for a split second, it felt good to pretend the concern was unwanted.
Or unwarranted.
A woman with golden, shoulder-length hair caught his attention. Huge tits, a tiny waist, and a curvy ass, all encased in a simple ruby-red sheath that barely covered the basics. When she glanced over her shoulder at a Dom giving instructions to his sub about taking care of another man in their section, he finally caught a glimpse of long, dark lashes, a straight nose, and ruby-red lips.
Cosmos’ voice came from over his shoulder. “Get the anger you’re feeling tonight out of your system with her, if that’s what it takes to sleep tonight. But mark my words, Triumph, the beast will rise again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. It will never, ever end unless you use your safe word and renegotiate your life.”
