Chapter One

Sweat rolled down Quentin's body. His muscles burned. He didn't stop. With his entire mind locked on his task, he lifted his full weight repeatedly on the parallel bars inside his home gym. He had lost count of how many times he strained against the bars, punishing his body. It didn't matter. He wouldn't stop until he felt stronger. Months of nonstop training had him walking again—for the most part. His body felt more like his than it had in a long time. Quentin had to stay focused on anything at all except the ghosts of the past. The ones that haunted him.

"You need to shower if you plan to make the charity benefit on time."

Quentin dropped his feet to the ground at Adam's reminder. His longtime butler kept Quentin on a schedule. Otherwise, Quentin would never remember anything. For a moment, Quentin held still. He didn't release the bars. It was always an adventure seeing if his legs would hold him after a workout. He breathed a sigh of relief when no spasms took out his knees. Quentin needed his wheelchair less often all the time. There had been years when he never expected to walk again. Now rage drove his every step. It was funny what heartbreak could drive a man to do.

Quentin headed for the bathroom. He tried avoiding his reflection. His dark hair still grayed at the temples. His blue eyes still looked dead. Love had done that. It had broken him. Quentin's body looked better than it did back when he wanted to believe Snow had loved him too. Now Snow was gone, and Quentin never knew what to believe anymore. Of all the betrayals he had suffered in his life, none had cut so deep.

He tried pushing Snow from his thoughts as he showered. Quentin had gone over the night he had kicked Snow from the house a million times. Half of those times, he questioned if he had been right. Except Snow had let assassins into their home. Worse than that, he had seduced Quentin that night. He had claimed to love Quentin. Now he didn't know if anything at all between them had been real… or just a distraction. That was a real blow to his pride, considering Snow was the man Quentin had secretly loved for nearly a decade. Now all those memories were tainted. Some days, it felt like he had nothing left.

Unfortunately, Quentin couldn't forget the ten years they had spent together before that horrible night. Sometimes, the good outweighed the bad, crushing his heart with the knowledge they were done. Other times, he couldn't forget the way he felt when he realized what Snow had done. His heart was still every bit as broken on those days, knowing they were done.

Quentin dressed in his finest. He only looked at himself long enough to make himself presentable. Quentin had a hard time meeting his own stare any longer. He wasn't so sure he hadn't been wrong when he'd kicked Snow from their home. That ate at him every day. He wondered if he just would have let Snow explain if it would have changed anything. Maybe. Or maybe Quentin would have spent the rest of their lives together wondering what was real. He still did that. It was a rut he didn't know how to climb. So Quentin forced his pained body to obey. He had nothing else.

On the way to the country club, where the latest round of money begging was being held, Quentin stared out the window. Adam kept his silence. Everyone did these days. Sometimes he wondered if he had died and simply hadn't noticed. Except the pains in his legs hadn't ceased. Quentin took a bracing breath as the car stopped at the front entrance. A greeter for the party opened his door. Quentin pasted on a fake if not bland smile. He didn't know why he went to these things. It just seemed expected of him. If nothing else, Quentin was boring and predictable. He did his duty by his money and station.

He nodded at a few familiar faces. People nodded back. The proper noises were made. The night moved slowly as hell while speeches were made. Mingling ensued. A flash of white hair caught his eye. Quentin stopped breathing. He ignored the man talking to him about golf. His gaze shot to every corner. He saw it again. Just for a second. The height was right. The shoulders were the right width, but he was gone before Quentin got a good look.

He shook his head at his ridiculous thoughts. It happened all the time lately. Snow had the most gorgeous white hair despite his thirty-three years. A nightmare life had bleached the color from him, but not the beauty. He was so fucking beautiful. Quentin lost himself, remembering the full lips and how they tasted. The way hazel eyes had watched him as he blew. Quentin couldn't breathe. A drink appeared in his hand. He accepted without looking at the server. Then another flash of white caught his eye. It was the last wisps of his server disappearing.

Quentin dropped his gaze to the drink he held. It was wrapped in a napkin. Quentin inspected it when he noticed ink staining the paper. His breath caught at the sight of Snow's handwriting. Quentin would know it anywhere. He had helped Snow improve it after years of captivity, and English being his second language.

It's always been my pleasure to serve you.

Quentin stuffed the note in his pocket and set the glass on the nearest flat surface. He walked away from his conversation partner mid-sentence. Quentin followed the same path Snow had taken. He didn't know why he chased him. But he also didn't understand why Snow was there. At the mouth of the hallway, leading to the restrooms and kitchen, Quentin's steps slowed. He didn't know where to look.

Halfway down the empty hallway, a large body slammed into him from behind. Quentin found himself hugging the wall with a massive body pinning him in place. He knew Snow's smell. Quentin recognized his hard body. Snow pressed fully against him, letting Quentin feel his desire. Quentin's eyes fell closed as Snow"s lips touched the shell of his ear. "You'll never meet anyone else who'll do the things I'll do. You can search. Maybe I'll allow that. Most likely, I won't. But I promise you, you'll end up on your knees begging for what only I can give you." He bit Quentin's neck just hard enough to draw a gasp. "Just because you're walking again, that doesn't make you any less mine. Stop flirting with these men, letting them think you're free. You're not."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Snow disappeared, leaving Quentin hard and panting. He clung to the wall and tried desperately to also hang on to every remnant of Snow. Fuck. It had been months. He didn't understand why Snow appeared now. Quentin couldn't breathe. He needed to get out of there before he did exactly what Snow predicted he would. There was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to drop to his knees and beg. But in the end, they would still be broken. Quentin would still be cold.

Snow tossed his server outfit in the trash and cut through a line of cars, staying low. While he wasn't technically trespassing, since he was already in the parking lot, he didn't want to be seen. He checked behind him, making sure Quentin hadn't followed. A car door popped open in front of him, blocking his path before he saw it coming.

Adam stared at him with hard eyes and a condescending smile. "Still stalking him, eh?"

"It's good to see you too. I imagine Quen will be looking for you soon. He looked ready to leave the last I saw him."

Adam shook his head. "You don't know when to quit, do you? Is it not bad enough you tried having your friends killed? Are you out to break Quentin's heart twice? I don't know how much of him is left."

Adam's thick cockney accent made every word sound twice as damning. He couldn't explain why. "Those friends you reference have already forgiven me. Now I need Quen to do the same."

Adam's phone rang.

Snow leapt over the back end of the nearest car, leaving Adam behind. "That would be Quen," he called over his shoulder. "You never saw me." He didn't wait to see if Adam agreed. Snow knew Adam wouldn't say anything. Not out of loyalty to Snow or any such nonsense. He wouldn't want to say anything that might hurt Quentin. Quentin was the heart of their ragtag family. Adam might work for Quentin, but he was every bit as important to Quentin as blood. Maybe more so, since Quentin's blood fucking sucked.

Over the years, Quentin had grown his found family by visiting several underground auctions where abused children were raised as killers and guards to be sold to the highest bidder. Every single person living under Quentin's roof had been bought from that program. They had been given their freedom and a high-paying job. Snow was one of those men. At least, he had been before the academy had threatened Quentin's life if Snow didn't do their bidding. Snow had truly seen no way out at the time. He couldn't let anything happen to Quentin.

Unfortunately, he had done what the academy asked of him and ruined his entire life. He lost the only man to ever love him. Snow had righted those wrongs. Now he needed Quentin's absolution. He needed Quentin's love. Snow slowly died a little more each day without him.

The club where Snow worked came into view. It was a brightly lit building with a bawdy neon sign of a stripping man out front. People did what they had to do to survive. Everyone under the roof of this building fought daily, paying with their souls to get by. Snow had snagged a manager position with a fake as hell resume. A place like this didn't check backgrounds. Snow worked hard, kept his head down and the guys safe. It was an existence, but that was all it was.

The moment he walked through the door, bright pink hair headed his way. Pink was the only person who knew all his secrets. Snow had rescued him from the academy and helped him set up a new life. Pink had been a pet—a sexual slave of an academy leader. Using his body to survive was all Pink knew. Sometimes shit just was the way it was. He couldn't judge.

"Did you see him?"

Pink looked so worried about Snow's issues. He was a good person. "Yeah. I can't say he was thrilled, but he didn't punch me in the dick."

Pink pressed his hand to his chest. His dark green eyes screamed his concern. "It's a start. He'll come back. I believe it."

A smile tugged at Snow's lips. Pink always seemed every bit as invested in Snow winning back Quentin as he was. "I appreciate it. How have things been here? Any problems?"

"It's been okay. We're down a dancer, but it's no big deal since we've been a little slow. I just did double the stage time. No one noticed."

Snow doubted that was true. Pink was everyone's favorite dancer. Their patrons were probably thrilled for twice the show. "Has your stalker come in yet?"

Even in the low-lit club, Snow didn't miss the way Pink blushed. "Stop."

Pink was the only person who made him smile anymore. Despite his past, Pink was oddly caring and sweet. From the day Snow killed Pink's owner, something had drawn Snow back to him. He stood out from other people in a way Snow still hadn't put his finger on. All he knew was he couldn't leave him behind.

"Okay. I'll stop teasing you. Get back to work. Your stalker just came in."

Pink's head whipped toward the door.

Snow laughed. "Be careful. You'll give yourself away."

Pink smacked his arm. "Ass."

Snow held up his hands in surrender. "Chill. You know I've never seen this guy. I wouldn't know him if I saw him."

Pink growled and walked away.

Snow laughed as he headed for his office. He had some accounting work that needed his attention. Plus, he had to plot his next move with Quentin. He didn't have time to worry about Pink's secret admirer. Snow had shown his hand tonight with Quentin. Now, he had to drive home his intentions. Quentin Montgomery wouldn't be getting rid of him unless he killed him, and Snow would rather be dead than live without him.

The ride home from the charity event passed in silence. Quentin stared out the window at the dark scenery while his mind raced. His body still burned. In all his life, there had never been anyone like Snow. While Quentin had purchased men from the academy and set them free in the past, Snow had been completely unique from day one. He had glued himself to Quentin's side, becoming his everything. His charm had been irresistible.

It had taken months before Snow talked to him about his place with the academy. Quentin hadn't known Snow had been an instructor. Snow had made the confession with so much shame, it had broken Quentin's heart, especially since he had only seen an impeccable kindness from Snow from day one. As the confessions slowly came to light, they also slowly answered so many curiosities Snow had stirred in Quentin. The other men had seemed afraid of Snow when Quentin brought him home. Very standoffish. But no one had come to him and asked Quentin to remove him from the house. No one would ever question his decisions like that.

But there were other admissions too. Heartbreaking confessions. Every boy at the academy had a different skill that was honed to perfection, giving them a selling point. Snow's was seduction. He had a very sexual air to him, one that allowed him to get close enough to kill. That revelation had also explained something Quentin had been dying to understand: his inability to stop craving Snow.

Several years ago, Quentin had been diagnosed with leukemia. It had taken him over a year to beat. Unfortunately, he hadn't walked away unscathed. Spastic paralysis had stolen his ability to walk. While several of the men had been willing to help, it wasn't until Snow came to live with him that Quentin truly recaptured life. Snow had been at his side, caring for him, sleeping beside him, and making Quentin live a normal life. Making Quentin love him. Quentin still loved him.

The country Victorian home where Quentin lived came into view. It was a huge yellow historic building, backing against the bayou. He enjoyed the quiet life. Always had. Even before his life had taken a major and unwanted turn, Quentin had lived a peaceful life. He came from a long line of old money. His parents had passed in a plane crash in Quentin's early twenties, leaving everything to him. Quentin hadn't realized how lonely he felt until Snow filled a missing piece. Now Quentin knew that piece was missing. He felt the loss every single day.

Quentin made his way inside. He passed his jacket to Adam and toed off his shoes. His gaze refused to meet Adam's. His longtime butler and friend knew him too well. Quentin wasn't ready to talk about the incident with Snow. Instead, he quietly headed for his bedroom and shut himself inside. The moment his gaze skirted the room, his heart sped. For nowhere near the first time, Quentin spotted a piece of paper in the center of his bed.

No one in the house knew how Snow kept getting inside. That wasn't surprising, since Snow had been the one to perfect the security system. Snow had always been fast and silent. It was eerie the way he moved without being seen. Quentin already knew what he would find. Still, his hand shook as he reached for the page. While he knew it would be a sketch, he never knew what Snow had seen and brought to life with his beautiful sketch work.

Quentin flipped the paper and sat. He stared at the image with his heart in his throat. Nearly a year after Snow had come to live with him, Quentin had caught Snow drawing on the sly. He had kept his sketches on tiny slivers of paper he immediately threw away before anyone saw. The academy had discouraged any type of creativity. Art gave people an escape. The academy needed to destroy their entire minds. So Snow had kept his amazing drawing skills hidden. Quentin had tried to encourage him. He had bought Snow several sketch books and pushed him to do more. Every day, he had opened a little more to Quentin. Now Quentin stared at an image of himself on the parallel bars, as he had been earlier. From somewhere unseen, Snow had watched him long enough to sketch every detail. His determined expression. The sweat beaded on his skin. The heartache in his eyes.

Quentin crawled onto the mattress and settled against the pillows. He stared at the ceiling. His mind betrayed him. Quentin unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it free from his pants. He unbuckled his belt and slid it loose before dropping it to the floor. His eyes fell closed. Images of Snow waited for him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget every minutia of that final night together. Snow was right. Quentin wanted to get on his knees and beg to have that night back. The way Snow had looked at him lived rent free in his head.

Quentin unbuttoned his pants. His hand slipped inside his underwear. He had watched Snow lick a path through his own cum on Quentin's stomach to get to Quentin's dick. Quentin stroked his cock. A shaky-sounding breath cut through the silence. Fuck. The way Snow's hot mouth had felt as he took Quentin down his throat. Goddamn. Quentin recalled every detail. He pumped his erection, trying desperately to cling to the sensations of that night. The way Snow had pressed him against that wall earlier had Quentin stroking faster. He could still smell Snow. His touch was as familiar as breathing. The weight of him haunted Quentin. His balls drew up tight. Quentin panted for air. He was desperate to recapture his only sexual encounter with Snow. That final night with him had been hell, but it had also been heaven. Quentin couldn't shake him.

The pleasure of his palm was nothing compared to Snow's mouth, but it was all he had now. His hand was all he would ever have without Snow. No one could replace him. Quentin's muscles tensed. He held his breath. The rapid beating of his cock took him closer to the edge by the second. As the dam broke and cum hit his chest, Quentin whispered Snow's name. The pain hit as quickly as the orgasm. His eyes burned with tears. Quentin had always been alone. Even with a house full of people, he was isolated. Only Snow had taken away the emptiness. Now the hollow spot inside him held Quentin prisoner. He didn't know how to escape.