They reached the sleek black sedan parked under the hotel portico. The valet had already opened the rear door. David's hand was still a warm, grounding pressure on Leo's spine, urging him forward, shielding him. Leo moved on autopilot, the encounter with Silas replaying in jagged fragments – the oily appraisal, the terror, David's terrifying, beautiful defense. He focused on the open car door, the plush interior promising escape. He took one step towards it.
SUMMARY^1: Silas, terrified by David's threat, fled the scene. David regained composure and guided Leo protectively towards their waiting car. Leo, shaken by the encounter, moved automatically towards the vehicle's open door.
"Leaving so soon, Leo? And without saying hello?"
The voice cut through the night air, smooth as aged whiskey, cold as a grave. It stopped Leo dead. David froze beside him, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly on Leo's back. Leo turned slowly, dread a physical weight in his stomach.
Thorne stood a few paces away, framed by the hotel's grand entrance. Three months hadn't touched him. The impeccably tailored suit, the sharp, predatory features, the eyes like chips of glacial ice – all exactly as Leo remembered, radiating an aura of absolute, terrifying control. Silas Vance hovered just behind his shoulder, a sycophantic smirk twisting his lips, his earlier terror replaced by smug vindication. Thorne's gaze swept over Leo, lingering on the faint scar at his throat, then slid dismissively to David. A low chuckle escaped him, devoid of warmth. "I see you've found yourself a… *guardian*," he drawled, the word dripping with contempt. He took a deliberate step closer. "Tell me, little bird, have you forgotten all the *good* I did for you already? Found a new cage so quickly?" Silas snickered behind him.
David shifted instantly, placing himself squarely between Thorne and Leo. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but every line of him screamed readiness. "Step back," David stated, his voice flat and dangerous, the same lethal calm he'd used on Silas, amplified tenfold. "Now."
SUMMARY^1: Thorne appeared unexpectedly at the hotel entrance with Silas, confronting Leo and David. Thorne mocked Leo's escape and David's protective role. David positioned himself defensively between them and commanded Thorne to retreat.
Thorne's icy eyes narrowed, focusing fully on David for the first time. The predatory amusement vanished, replaced by a flicker of sharp, calculating recognition. He tilted his head, studying David's face with unnerving intensity. A slow, chilling smile spread across his lips. "Ah," he breathed, the sound almost a sigh. "I know you. Laurent's mysterious replacement. The new manager of Azure." He paused, letting the title hang in the air. "Laurent never did return after his little… indiscretion. And with my primary asset," his gaze flicked pointedly to Leo, "vanishing into thin air, I had little choice but to hand the reins to someone new." He took another step forward, ignoring David's warning, his eyes locked onto David's. "Though I must admit, I didn't realize *you* were the one Laurent recommended. David, isn't it?" The name was a loaded bullet. "How… unexpectedly intimate."
Leo felt David's hand tense against his back, a subtle shift in the coiled readiness. Thorne's revelation landed like a physical blow. Laurent. The name was a ghost from David's past, a ghost Thorne had just weaponized. Leo saw the minute tightening around David's eyes, the controlled breath he took. Thorne had found a chink in the armor, and he pressed. "Laurent spoke highly of your… efficiency," Thorne continued, his voice silky. "Though he never mentioned your taste in strays." He gestured dismissively towards Leo. "Or your penchant for collecting damaged goods."
Leo couldn't stay silent. "Leave him alone, Thorne," he said, his voice trembling but clear. He stepped slightly out from behind David, meeting Thorne's glacial stare. "Just go away. Please." David instantly shifted, his shoulder brushing Leo's protectively, his own gaze fixed on Thorne like a laser sight. "You heard him," David stated, his voice low and lethal. "Walk away."
Thorne's smile widened, becoming cruel. "Oh, little bird," he purred, his eyes raking over Leo with possessive familiarity. "Is that any way to speak to the man who *saved* you? Who took you in, cleaned you up?" He took another step, closing the distance dangerously. "Who held you that first morning when you woke up trembling? Remember how you clung to me?" His voice dropped, intimate and vile. "How you kissed me? How my fingers traced your spine… and lower?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze flicking to David's stony face. "How you wrapped your hand around my cock before the sun was even up, so desperate for comfort?" He chuckled, a low, grating sound. "Did you never tell your new keeper *all* the services you provided? Or was that just our little secret?"
Leo flinched as if struck, his face draining of color. He hadn't told David *any* of that. The shameful, desperate gratitude he'd shown Thorne in those fragile, terrifying hours after the alley – the touches, the seeking closeness born of trauma and isolation – it was a secret he'd buried deep. He risked a glance at David. David's expression hadn't changed. It remained granite-hard, focused entirely on Thorne. But Leo saw it. The slight widening of David's pupils. The infinitesimal tightening of the muscle along his jawline. Shock. Cold, controlled, but shock nonetheless. Thorne had thrown the grenade, and it had landed exactly where he intended.
Thorne savored the shock radiating off David, the subtle crack in that impenetrable armor. He took a deliberate step back, the predatory gleam returning to his eyes. "Well," he drawled, his voice dripping with false lightness. "This has been… illuminating." He turned abruptly, his expensive coat swirling around his calves. But before he walked fully away, he paused. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking directly onto Leo's pale, stricken face. A slow, knowing smirk twisted his lips. He winked. A single, deliberate, vulgar gesture that felt like a violation all its own. "Sleep tight, little bird," he murmured, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of a threat. "Dream of old times." Then he strode off, Silas scrambling to follow in his wake like a frightened terrier, vanishing into the glittering chaos of the hotel lobby.
The silence left in Thorne's wake was thick and suffocating. The valet stood frozen, eyes wide, pretending not to have heard. The city's hum seemed distant, muffled. Leo couldn't breathe. He couldn't look at David. The shame was a physical weight, crushing him. Thorne's words echoed – *kissed me… wrapped your hand around my cock…* – painting vivid, ugly pictures of his desperate, vulnerable state in those first hours after the alley. He'd been broken, seeking any anchor, any scrap of perceived safety, and Thorne had exploited it. He'd never told David. How could he? It was a stain he'd tried to erase.
David moved. Not towards Leo, but towards the open car door. His movements were precise, controlled, but Leo saw the white-knuckled grip on the roof. "Get in," David said, his voice flat, devoid of its usual low gravel. It was a command, stripped bare. Leo flinched at the tone but obeyed, sliding numbly into the passenger seat. The soft leather felt like a trap. David slammed the door shut with a finality that echoed in Leo's bones, then walked around the front of the car, his silhouette sharp against the hotel lights. He didn't look at Leo once. He just started the engine, the powerful purr unnaturally loud in the tense silence. He pulled away from the curb with controlled speed, merging into the late-night traffic. The city lights streaked past the windows, a blur of color Leo couldn't focus on. The only sound was the engine and the deafening silence between them. Leo stared straight ahead, his hands clenched in his lap, waiting for the storm to break.
The elevator ride to the penthouse was an eternity of suffocating quiet. David stood rigidly beside him, staring straight ahead at the polished steel doors, his jaw locked tight. Leo kept his gaze fixed on the floor indicator, counting the ascending numbers like a condemned man counting steps. The doors slid open onto the familiar cool luxury of the entryway. Leo took a hesitant step forward, intending to head towards the bedroom, needing space, needing to hide. David moved faster. In one fluid, predatory motion, he spun Leo around, pinning him hard against the cool marble wall beside the elevator doors. Leo gasped, the impact knocking the breath from him. David's forearm pressed firmly against Leo's collarbone, not bruising, but immovable. His face was inches away, his grey eyes glacial, boring into Leo's with terrifying intensity.
"Was it true?" David's voice was low, a dangerous rasp. "Every word Thorne said. Did you kiss him? Did you touch him?" The questions were bullets, fired point-blank. Leo couldn't lie. Not to those eyes. Not anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears spilling over. "Yes," he whispered, the word thick with shame. "I... I was terrified. Broken. He was... there. He held me. I was so lost..." He choked on the explanation. David's expression didn't change, but Leo felt the tremor run through the arm pinning him – a tremor of pure, suppressed fury. "Why?" David demanded, the single word cracking like ice. "Why didn't you tell me?" Leo had no answer that wouldn't sound like cowardice or betrayal. "I was ashamed," he breathed, utterly defeated. David stared at him for another agonizing heartbeat, his eyes flickering with something raw and wounded beneath the icy fury. Then, abruptly, he released Leo, stepping back as if burned. Without another word, he turned and strode down the hallway towards his study, the door slamming shut behind him with a sound that echoed like a gunshot.
Hours crawled by. Leo sat huddled on the living room sofa, wrapped in David's jacket, shivering despite the penthouse's warmth. The silence from the study was absolute, oppressive. He heard the distant clink of glass, once, twice. Then, much later, the muffled sound of the front door opening and closing again. Leo didn't move. He just waited, numb. Near dawn, the elevator chimed softly. The front door opened with a clumsy scrape. Leo stood up slowly. David stood swaying in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim hall light. His tie was askew, his expensive shirt rumpled and stained, reeking powerfully of whiskey and stale smoke. His usually sharp eyes were glazed, unfocused. He stumbled forward a step, nearly losing his balance. Leo rushed forward instinctively, catching David's heavy weight against his shoulder. He guided his unsteady man towards the bedroom, David leaning heavily on him, his steps clumsy and uncertain. Leo felt the heat radiating from David's skin, smelled the despair clinging to him beneath the alcohol. As he eased David onto the bed, pulling off his shoes, a profound sadness washed over Leo. The controlled fury, the silent storm, was gone, replaced by this broken, drunken desolation. Seeing David like this – vulnerable, shattered by betrayal and drink – hurt far more than his anger ever could. Leo covered him with a blanket, his heart aching with a sorrow he couldn't name.