He’d die if he couldn’t see Fraser. They’d been friends since he’d first arrived in Texas and signed up for college. They’d met outside after skipping the same class. It didn’t take them long to discover they shared a passion for working with their hands, which led to them taking massage therapy classes instead.
“It’s okay,” he sniffled. “I talked to Maddox. I’m going home to the ranch for a few weeks.”
Fraser threw him a startled look before pulling out into traffic.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he said firmly.
Fraser drove toward their job a few blocks away. They both worked for the same hair salon and spa. Hair styling on one side of the building, a spa and massage therapy on the other. The place was nice and attracted a higher end clientele. It was also good for Clay’s drug business.
“Good! Are you breaking up with Clay once and for all then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? I think so.” He shuddered, thinking of Clay’s threats.
“Why ‘think so’? Why do you stay with him? I don’t get it, Triton.”
“It’s complicated.” He stared down at his hands.
“Complicated in that Clay or Auto will kill you someday and you won’t be here? Do you hear me? You’ll be gone, and I’ll be here by myself.”
“It’s not that bad,” he mumbled again and winced when Fraser took the corner too fast. “He wants me to conquer my fears. I think.” He frowned with confusion.
“Oh honey, you’re smarter than that.” Fraser tossed him a quick look. “Clay can’t make you get over your fear of the dark by shoving you in a freaking closet. He’s a sadistic asshole who gets off on hurting you when he’s had a bad day.”
Triton couldn’t argue with that, so he said nothing.
Clay was sadistic. Only, he hadn’t always been like that. But things had changed after Maddox killed Damon Sued, a small time drug dealer and one of Clay’s best friends. Clay became enraged over his friend’s death. Now, he became volatile and angry over everything.
“And look what happened after I took you to that BDSM club,” Fraser growled from between his clenched teeth, pulling the VW into a parking spot at their work.
Triton sighed. Things had turned really ugly when Clay had discovered he’d gone with Fraser to a BDSM club. He rubbed at his arms, remembering how Fraser had talked him into trying to find another man. He’d been gushing over Diesel for the hundredth time.
“You’d like him, Fraser. Diesel is everything I want in a man,” he had said, going into great detail about how the big, quiet man had made him feel so safe.
“Not like Clay?” Fraser had eyed him.
“No!”
“Oh, thank god. We need to go to a party.”
“Party?”
“Yep, a BDSM one to find you another big bear.”
“Bear?”
“Okay, well, maybe not a bear, but a big Dom who can make you feel safe.”
“I can’t.” He glanced around as if just by talking about it, Clay would know.
“They have Doms, daddies, and bears in the scene. Guys much better and nicer than that asshole you’re with.”
“I don’t want someone who hits me,” he’d whispered.
“These guys only hit if you ask them and never to harm. Clay’s a fucker. The guys from the scene are different. We’ll check it out and see if there’s someone there you like,” Fraser promised.
So, Triton, against his better judgement, had lied to Clay and told him he had to work late.
Instead, he’d gone with Fraser looking for his own Dom or bear or something. He wasn’t quite sure. A baby to the scene of BDSM, Triton wasn’t even sure he wanted what they offered. He’d gone in green, but was fascinated by what he saw. It was amazing, the difference in shapes, sizes, and personalities of the men he’d found.
The only problem was that none of them compared to Diesel. Not one of them came close to matching up to the gruff soldier.
He’d left the club feeling more alone than ever, and to make matters worse, a buddy of Clay’s had seen him there and reported back to Clay.
“You like that shit? You want to be fucking beat? Well, let me help you out!”
Clay had lost his temper and had beat him severely.
Then Clay had said he was sorry.
A week later, he’d been late getting home from work and Clay punched him, then said he was sorry. The rage and following apologies were on constant repeat. He lived in terror that he’d set Clay off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he told Fraser, getting out of the VW.
This was all his fault anyway. He brought out the worst in people. If he could only figure out what he was doing wrong, he could fix it.
Triton
The laughter from the living room turned his stomach queasy when he entered the apartment after work.
Putting his things in his room, he headed straight for the kitchen.
It was a mess.
He started dumping beer bottles into the trashcan, hoping like hell the guys were drunk and almost passed out. Half eaten plates of food were scraped and the sink loaded with soapy water. He swept up the trash that littered the floor from where the guys were too lazy to throw the cans, chip, cookie, and snack wrappers into the trash can.
Sinking his hands into the water, he let the warmth calm his nerves. He ran his hands over a plate only to drop it when a body pressed into him from behind.
“What’s for dinner?” Clay murmured against his neck. Stale beer and cigarettes wafted over the side of Triton’s face, causing him to shiver.
“I’m going to make spaghetti.” He reached for and gripped the plate tightly.
“Okay, but you better put enough hamburger in it this time,” Clay bitched.
“I will.” He was quick to respond and then took a deep breath. Washing the plate, he rinsed it and set it in the drainer. “Maddox needs me out at the ranch.”
The silence behind him was terrifying, and every muscle in his body went tense.
“For how fucking long?” Clay snarled, yanking him around with cruel hands, grabbing his upper arms.
“N-n-not long,” he stammered. “Bull took a fall,” he lied.
Clay’s hand went to his hair and yanked his head back. He cried out, but the sound was swallowed beneath the laughter and television from the other room. Brown eyes with the same spider-like intensity of Auto’s glared down at him.
“Your cousin is a controlling dick.” Fingers squeezed and the pain in his scalp brought him up on his toes. “Say it! Tell me he’s a fucking dick.”
“H-he-he’s a dick,” Triton whimpered, the words ringing in his own ears.
“That’s right, and don’t you fucking forget it. I won’t ever let him come between us again. And you won’t either because if you do? Remember what I said.” Clay’s grip turned brutal. “I’ll kill that old man and his foreman too.”
Clay threatened and Triton believed he’d do it.
“They’ll pay the consequences for your fuck up.” Clay shook him. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes! Yes, I hear you.” His voice shook along with his body.