Bound and Determined (47 page)

pulled away from the curb.

“Hey,” Sterling said, frowning. “Where are we going?”

“To the moon and back,” Owen muttered under his breath. “Home,” he

said aloud. “Remember? I don't know where you've been staying, but we can

get your things tomorrow. And your car. Don't worry about it now.”

Tomorrow was beginning to fill up with tasks, but all of them could wait

until he'd spoken with Sterling and found out what had been going on. He gave

Sterling a sidelong glance. The boy was slumped in his seat, humming

tunelessly as he stared up at the roof of the car.

“You should have a convertible,” Sterling said. “No top. It'd be cool.” He

giggled. “Really cool on a night like this.”

“I'll think about it,” Owen said. He didn't want to grill Sterling, but asking

him questions while he was like this, his inhibitions down, might be easier on

him. God, he wanted to tear Kirk apart. Little pieces. Tiny. Sterling was
his
and

Kirk had
dared—

Owen slammed his fist against the unforgiving leather of the wheel and

took a deep breath, pain radiating through his hand. Retribution could wait

until he had the full picture, and really, there was only one person to blame

and that was him. Kirk had hurt Sterling, but Owen had made it possible for

him to do it; it was his fault, all of it.

“Ouch,” Sterling said sympathetically. His face brightened. “Want me to

kiss it better? I'll kiss all of you, anytime, you know that, right? Love kissing

you. Love—”

“Sterling, are you hurt anywhere else or is it just your shoulder?” Owen

interrupted. He hadn't seen any marks on Sterling's back or chest, but there

was something about the way he was sitting that told its own story. Owen was

only too familiar with the careful way a sub sat after being spanked or paddled,

and even doped up, Sterling was showing signs of having a tender ass.

Infinitesimally small pieces…

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201

The question seemed to require an awful lot of consideration. Sterling

frowned, thinking, then turned his head as a car passed them in the opposite

direction, staring after it. “Wait, what?”

“Are you hurt anywhere else but your shoulder?” Owen repeated, trying to

be patient.

“Oh. Um…not really.”

Owen sighed; he was obviously going to have to be more specific. “Tell me

what Kirk did.”

“You mean
Master
Kirk.” Sterling snorted, although he couldn't have

found the title as ridiculous as Owen did. He sounded marginally less spaced-

out now. “He strapped me to a bench—it was padded—and spanked me. With a

paddle. For a long time, but like he didn't really get anything out of it. I don't

know why he bothered. I think he just liked seeing me in that position. Or

maybe he just liked the idea of hitting me. I don't know.” His voice, still rough,

grew wistful. “I just wanted to get out of my head, but it didn't work.”

Owen tightened his hands on the wheel until his knuckles ached. He

should have been the one to take Sterling there, to lessen his emotional

distress. “Then what did he do?”

“Fucked my mouth.” It sounded like Sterling was relating a dream, not

something that had actually happened. “But I don't think he liked that, either.

He really wanted to
fuck
me fuck me, you know? He had Alex slick me up, then

he started to strap me up to this cross kind of thing, and that was when…” His

voice trailed off, head turned toward the window, his face in shadow. Owen

couldn't see whether his eyes were opened or closed.

It could have been worse. It could have been so much fucking worse.

Telling himself that didn't help, but Owen let the words repeat in his head until

he almost believed them. Okay. Now he knew what he had to deal with, and it

didn't, thank God, sound as if Sterling was particularly traumatized by

anything leading up to the injury, more frustrated because he hadn't gotten off.

Which, as far as Owen was concerned, was something that Sterling

wouldn't be getting to do for quite a while. He was willing to assume a lot of the

blame for what had happened, but that didn't absolve Sterling entirely. One

argument shouldn't have been all that was needed to send him out actively

looking for a replacement Dom, and Owen was going to point that out to him at

length.

“One last question,” he said as he turned into the driveway. “Did Kirk stop

as soon as you used your safe word?”

Kirk was culpable for not discussing physical and emotional limits in

enough detail with a new sub, but if Sterling had been so eager to get his ass

hot and well-fucked that he'd rushed Kirk into the scene, then Owen could

easily picture an equally eager Kirk going along with it. It fitted what he knew

of both men, and he knew how very tempting Sterling could be. If Kirk had

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ignored a safe word, though, Owen was going to put the word out that he was a

risk to any sub, someone to be avoided. The club would close its doors to him.

It didn't seem enough, but it would be a start.

The car stopped, and Owen put it into park, but didn't shut it off—it was

cold enough outside that the interior would lose heat very quickly, and he

wasn't sure how long they'd be sitting there. He turned toward Sterling and

waited.

Sterling sighed before rolling his head to the left, looking at Owen. There

was enough light from the one on the porch that they could see each other.

“There wasn't one. He didn't ask, and I forgot. When he strapped my wrist and

it started to hurt, I tried to tell him it wasn't going to work, and he told me he

wanted me quiet and gagged me before I could explain.” Sterling looked

worried, like he wasn't sure how Owen was going to react to this news.

Like he was afraid of Owen's reaction.

Gagged. Helpless. Hurting. His boy. Sick rage, bleak and bitter, filled him

like dirty water, swirling around until all he could taste and smell was tainted.

He wanted to hit something again, punch holes to let this out before he

drowned in it, choking, silenced, just as Sterling had been.

Sterling made a small, soft sound, distressed by what he must have seen

in Owen's face. “Sorry—God, I'm sorry. I let you down, I dis—I disappointed

you, and I—Owen, please—”

“Don't,” Owen said and put his hand up to Sterling's mouth to stop the

words because he couldn't bear to hear them join the screams he hadn't heard

but which were still echoing in his head. “Oh God, Sterling, don't. I'm not

disappointed in you. It's my fault. I was supposed to keep you safe and I didn't,

I fucking didn't—” He wanted to hold Sterling to him, hug him, and he couldn't

even do that without hurting him more.

“Please,” Sterling said. He grabbed onto Owen's hand with his left,

awkward but better than nothing. “Please, it wasn't your fault. I was the one

who took off instead of staying and working things out—that's what I do, and I

want to change but I don't know how. And I'm the one who went to Kirk. It's

not your job to keep me safe from my own stupidity. I should have known

better. I'm lucky that Alex was there to step in, but where I'm really lucky is

that you were willing to come to the hospital when I needed you, because you

didn't have to.”

“I wanted to,” Owen said. “I wanted to call you two minutes after you

walked out of the house, but I thought you needed time.”

“I needed you,” Sterling whispered.

“I should have known that.”

Sterling was shivering; they were only small tremors, but Owen was close

enough to see them plainly. He leaned in, intending no more than a brief,

reassuring kiss before he took Sterling inside, but Sterling jerked back at the

first touch of Owen's lips.

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203

“Don't. He—I can still fucking
taste
him.”

Owen narrowed his eyes. “Remind me to wash your mouth out with soap

tomorrow, but right now I want to kiss you, and when I have, the only thing

you'll taste is
me
.” He cradled the back of Sterling's head, his fingers spread

wide, the cool silk of Sterling's hair against his palm. He searched Sterling's

eyes for any hint that he was pushing him too far and, finding none, kissed

him. Sterling's lips parted for him, and he slid his tongue inside, deliberately

closing his mind to the inevitable images of Kirk. His boy to kiss and hold and

comfort. His.

He didn't want to stop, but it was time to get Sterling inside and

comfortable. The boy was wearing nothing but Owen's jacket and the sling

binding his arm to his chest on the top half of his body, and was still probably

in shock from everything he'd been through.

“All right—let's get you into the house and in bed. Do you think you could

eat something?” Owen got out and went around to the other side of the car,

where Sterling had fumbled the passenger door open on his own. “Stop that.

I'm here to help. Easy, now. Should I get you a blanket before you walk inside?”

“No.” Sterling's teeth chattered. “Just want to go. It's not that cold.”

It was, but they were close enough to the house that it didn't matter

much. Owen kept an arm around Sterling as they went up the steps, only

discovering that he'd failed to lock the front door when the key in the lock

didn't slide the bolt. “Straight upstairs with you,” he said firmly, not wanting to

chance Sterling falling asleep anywhere but where he'd be most comfortable.

“Your room? I can sleep with you?”

“Oh, you're sleeping with me,” Owen said grimly. “I'm not letting you out of

my sight.” That threat didn't seem to bother Sterling too much, going by the

wavering smile. “I need to get an ice pack. Go on up and get into bed; I won't be

long.”

“Yes, Owen,” Sterling said. He shook his head. “God, that feels so much

better to say than—”

“Don't,” Owen said. If he heard “Master Kirk” from Sterling's lips one more

time, he was going to throw up. “I'll be with you in a minute. I need to call

Alex.”

He watched Sterling climb the stairs and then got an ice pack, a glass of

water, and the painkillers, placing them by the bed. Sterling was in the

bathroom, but the toilet flushed, followed by the sound of running water, so

Owen decided not to bother asking if he could manage since it was clear he

could.

He went back downstairs to call Alex, not intending to do more than bring

him up to speed. Alex had earned his gratitude, but he wasn't entirely off the

hook as far as Owen was concerned.

“Hello?” Alex said eagerly at the first ring.

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“Alex, it's Owen. Sterling's fine. They put his shoulder back in—he'll have

to see a doctor later this week—and I've got him here at my house.”

“Oh, thank God. Thank
you
,” Alex said. “I've been so worried, you have no

idea. And Kirk—”

“Don't tell me he's been worried,” Owen said sharply. “I don't want to hear

it. If he was really worried, he could have taken Sterling to the emergency room

himself. Which is what a Dom with any decency would have done.”

“He was freaked out,” Alex whined. “He was afraid—”

“He should be afraid of
me
,” Owen said. “I thought Sterling was your

friend.”

“He is!”

“Then let's worry about him and not the man responsible for putting him

in the hospital. Sterling is fine, Alex. I'll have him call you tomorrow.” Owen

paused, then hung up without reminding Alex that he'd be calling Kirk at some

point. Let the man worry about when that might be—he deserved to.

Going back upstairs, Owen went into the bedroom, where Sterling had

kicked off his sneakers and jeans and was standing, naked, beside the bed.

The covers were pulled back, but Sterling looked apprehensive. When he saw

Owen, he said, “I don't know how to lie down so it won't hurt. I guess I was

thinking if I stood here long enough, the bed would turn into a cloud or

something. Or maybe I'd fall asleep standing up and it wouldn't matter.”

“What we can do is prop some pillows around you on that side for

support,” Owen said, glad to be presented with a problem that was relatively

easy to deal with. “If you lie on your back, we'll see how it feels. If it doesn't

work, we'll try something else. I imagine you just need to avoid rolling over onto

it when you're asleep, and the pillows will stop you.”

Sterling nodded, looking completely exhausted, as if even the smallest