Chapter Two

Present day…

The houses in this area were all beautiful, imposing, and too ancient for Charon’s liking. In truth, he adored historic homes. Charon simply had no desire to deal with the upkeep. This home had no worries. The sprawling yellow and white mansion had obviously been well loved. Sitting on a large piece of property backing against the Mississippi Bayou, its bright lights illuminated the night, casting a beautiful glow across the landscape. The entire property screamed money and safety. It was an exact picture of what Charon hoped for Paine. Unless there was a monster living inside and there very well might be. Charon needed to be prepared for that possibility. That was why he was armed to the teeth beneath his five-thousand-dollar suit.

Charon had done his research. The owner, Quentin Montgomery, was old money. That afforded him and his reputation some protections. While Quentin was only thirty-nine, his money went back to the aristocrats. No one knew for sure what the man did with his time. From what Charon gathered, his reputation was as white as snow. That didn’t mean much, except Charon had dug deep. Quentin truly seemed to be the quintessential rich man, living the quiet country gentleman”s life.

As Charon made his way from his car to the front door, he straightened his jacket. He needed to look his best. Charon couldn’t risk having the door closed in his face. Not when he was so close. As he pressed the doorbell, musical chimes floated throughout the house loud enough to be heard through the door. A full minute passed before a beefy man with hard eyes opened the door.

Charon passed his card to the man. “Please let Mr. Montgomery know I’m here.”

The guy accepted his card but closed the door in his face. Charon stared at the white wood grain and fought the urge to fidget. He had been trained to show no emotion. While Charon had worked on correcting the wrongs foisted upon him, occasionally, those lessons worked in his favor. He needed his coolest head tonight. Charon focused on the sound of crickets and frogs, filling the night with sound. He had never understood why people thought country living meant silence. Nature was loud as hell.

Finally, the door opened again, pulling Charon from his musings. The same man in an uncomfortable-looking suit waved Charon inside. Charon’s pulse pounded in his ears. He didn’t know what he would find here. Charon only knew what he hoped to find.

The obvious bodyguard slash butler led Charon to a sitting room. The man Charon recognized from his investigation sat on the couch with a blanket over his lap. He wore a sweater even though it was too warm in the room. While he didn’t look old, Quentin obviously wanted to appear fragile. Or maybe he was. Charon couldn’t get a clear read yet.

Quentin tapped Charon’s card. “Mr. Nikolaou, collector of antiquities. To what do I owe the honor? I don’t recall insinuating to anyone that I wish to part with any of my pieces.”

Charon pasted on his most friendly smile. “This isn’t about my business. It’s about yours.”

Intelligent blue eyes followed him. Quentin motioned toward the loveseat across from him. “Sit. You have my attention.”

As Charon moved toward the loveseat, his gaze made a quick sweep of the room on the sly. Two guards blocked the door. They were armed. He bent to sit and froze. In the back corner, hiding in the shadows, was Paine. Charon’s heart rate kicked up. He fought not to run to him. Those purple eyes. The face he loved. Coldness stared back. Then other details sank in, forcing Charon to swallow his fury. Paine wore only a collar and fuzzy pajamas.

Charon forced himself to return to his task. Paine was there. The information he had been given was good. Negotiations could begin.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Before Charon could continue or Quentin responded, Paine silently crawled across the floor, reminding Charon of all the nights Paine had crept into his cage. He hopped onto the couch as if he was an actual cat. From there, he put his head on Quentin’s lap, turning his face from side to side, as if marking his territory or begging for pets.

Quentin stroked Paine’s head and body as if he really petted a cat. “What is your proposition?”

Charon’s heart broke. He had known he wouldn’t find Paine whole, but this was another level. Paine openly ignored him while batting at a vase on the coffee table, sliding it closer to the edge.

“I’ve come to buy your cat.”

Paine pushed the vase from the table like a misbehaving cat. It bounced on the thick, expensive throw rug.

Quentin stroked his hair. “It’s okay, kitty. I would never sell you.”

With a sniff, Paine slunk from the couch and moved back toward an enormous-looking dog bed in the corner. He turned his back to the room, as if pouting. Charon’s gaze followed his every move. Every breath came harder than the last. He wanted to kill everyone and snatch Paine from this ridiculous situation. How had this happened?

“He isn’t for sale.”

Charon’s gaze moved back to Quentin. “You just haven’t seen enough zeros.”

Quentin’s gaze moved over Charon’s face. He wore an expression Charon couldn’t describe. It was somewhere between kindness and fear. “You know him.”

It wasn’t a question. Still, Charon gave a sharp nod. He locked his back teeth, trying not to lash out at the situation. He had been searching for Paine for two years. Paine had stalked him and turned up too many times to count, but he always escaped Charon’s grasp. He couldn’t fuck this up.

Quentin’s shoulders relaxed. “You’ll stay for dinner.” Quentin snapped his fingers and a third guard appeared with a wheelchair. Another guard lifted Quentin from the couch and gently placed him in the chair. Once he was settled, Quentin met his stare again. “You’ll be shown to the dining room at eight. Until then, feel free to roam. We have nothing to hide here.”

It was the oddest fucking situation Charon could recall in a long time. But once Quentin and his guards cleared the room, Charon was on his feet. His gaze shot to the corner. Paine was gone.

With his gaze locked on Aron, Paine easily maneuvered the rafter hideaways Quentin had built for him. With the hidden maze of pathways and secret ceiling level doors to nearly every room in the house, he had access to follow Aron anywhere he pleased. Instead of snooping, the way he expected Aron to do, Aron reclaimed his seat on the loveseat. He eyed the corner where Paine’s play area sat. It was obvious he tried working out where Paine had gone. Paine didn’t give himself away.

For several minutes, Paine simply stared at him. He was so big. Always had been. That was why he had been chosen for the academy. But now, Aron had a manliness to his size. He had filled out in all the proper places. Aron looked polished and… rich. Paine didn’t know how else to describe the way he carried himself. He knew he was better than everyone else, and it showed. Aron belonged in Quentin’s world.

Paine supposed he should start thinking of Aron as Charon, since that was what he called himself now. He would try, but that name brought back painful memories for him. Paine wondered if that was why Aron had chosen it. Maybe Aron was addicted to hurting him. If so, Paine was equally addicted to letting him. From the first whisperings of Aron’s rise in the world from hell to the top, Paine hadn’t stopped stalking him. He couldn’t let Aron forget him. Paine couldn’t let him fall in love with anyone else. In life and death, Aron belonged to him. No matter how much they destroyed each other.

As always, a panic attack hit from nowhere. Paine’s heart raced too hard for him to breathe. Paine brought his hand to his mouth and licked it until the pressure in his chest eased. He curled onto his side and watched Aron. The way he sat so completely still was eerie. Paine wondered if he strained to hear any hint of Paine. More likely, he was a robot, unfeeling and powered down. That would explain a lot, honestly. Mostly, how he could hurt Paine so fucking much, even as he claimed to love him.

Adam appeared in the doorway. The stiff butler wasn’t always so hardened. It was obvious he didn’t trust Aron. “Please follow me to the dining room.” Thankfully, Adam didn’t look up, including him in the statement and giving him away. Aron stood and followed Adam to the dining room. Paine quietly followed, stalking him from above. As Aron sat where he was told, Paine leapt from the rafters into his swinging bed at the edge of the room. Aron’s gaze shot to him. His laser focus never budged as Paine settled in to rest and observe.

“I hope you like lamb. It’s the chef’s specialty.”

Aron’s gaze finally moved away from Paine to focus on Quentin at the head of the table. “I’m not a picky eater.”

Quentin nodded, as if satisfied with his answer. Chef John appeared below his bed. His kind brown gaze turned upward, meeting Paine’s stare. He lifted a plate of chicken for Paine to take. Paine carefully took the food and sniffed it before retreating to the darkest corner of his bed. John hadn’t poisoned him yet, but he couldn’t be too careful. After all, Aron had been kind once too. Now, Paine’s mind wasn’t what it used to be since Aron broke it.

“Have you had time to consider my offer to buy Paine?”

Paine’s attention was drawn back to the table at Aron’s question. He ate as he watched the pair interact at the table.

Quentin’s back was to Paine, so Paine couldn’t read his expression, but he heard the disinterest in his voice when he responded.

“As I said earlier, my kitty isn’t for sale. He isn’t an object I own. From day one, he’s always been free. This is just his home. He chooses to stay and roam as he pleases. In fact, he disappears quite often. There are weeks when I don’t see him, but he always comes home.” Quentin took a bite of his food before saying anything more. “You called him Paine.”

Aron hadn’t touched his food. Smart. He gave Quentin a sharp nod. “That’s his name. Did you not know that?”

“I know next to nothing about him, even though he’s lived here ten years.” Aron looked confused. Quentin kept talking. “A decade ago, I was on holiday in Greece. I found him in an alley, bleeding and an inch from death. Despite my staff’s warnings, I brought him home and nursed him back to health. I couldn’t leave him there. He wasn’t much more than a child. If you know him, then explain how and why I found him there.” The accusation in Quentin’s tone couldn’t be missed.

Paine laughed. “A tisket. A tasket. Aron will put me in a casket.” Another chuckle escaped Paine.

Aron didn’t look up again. He kept his gaze locked on Quentin, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. “The short version, he was there because of me. The longer version is… much longer.”

“We have time.”

That was very true. Just because Aron had freely walked into Quentin’s lair, that didn’t mean he could leave. Paine laughed again.

A low chuckle escaped Quentin at Paine’s maniacal laughter. He knew what Paine had thought.

Aron didn’t look worried. That was a mistake. He had wandered into a devil’s trap. Aron took a sip of wine and seemed to relax deeper into his chair. “You’re a man of means and certain circles. It also seems you enjoy Greece. Have you ever heard of the Devil’s Academy?”

“No.” Quentin kept eating.

Aron’s eyebrows rose. “No? How about the Society of Demons?”

“Still no.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that.” Aron sounded tired. “Or you should be thankful for that. Either way, whatever the place calls itself, depending on the country of origin, it is an organization that—unfortunately—exists. Paine and I lived there. Not by choice.”

Aron took another drink. His hand shook as he set his glass aside. Paine moved closer, curious to know if it was an act. Aron didn’t show weakness. He had to know why he did so now. Paine pushed his plate away and settled onto his stomach. His arm hung from the bed as he rested his chin on it. He intently studied Aron’s every nuance as Aron continued.

“We were both born in Greece, but whereas I lived in an orphanage, Paine lived on the streets. These men would find orphans, boys who fit specific parameters—big, tall, etc. They would promise a better life. So each of us walked willingly into hell. Unfortunately, Paine was spotted doing some amazing parkour by one leader. He didn’t fit the parameters, being smaller than the rest of us, but he impressed the wrong people and ended up right alongside us.” Aron toyed with his napkin. “We were kept in cages and tortured until we had no souls. I thought they wouldn’t count me among those numbers because I had Paine. He was my soul.”

Paine’s throat swelled. He sounded so genuine. That was how Aron had destroyed him. Just like that. With false love and broken promises.

Aron cleared his throat. “Our cages were connected by nothing but bars. There was zero privacy. One night, I was on the edge of death. Honestly, I welcomed it. Paine had discovered, in his attempt to escape, that one bar between our cages could be twisted away, leaving just enough room for him to join me. He thought, maybe one day, when they took me for my daily punishment, he could slip into my cage and straight out the open door. Instead, he used the hidden opening to slip into my cage and nurse me back to health.” A small smile played on Aron’s lips. Paine snuggled deeper into his covers. He still remembered being in Aron’s arms. It still hurt.

Aron’s smile disappeared, along with the light in his eyes. “From that night on, we kept each other going until we were caught.”

Ice filled Paine’s veins. His mind shied away from the memories.

“They had come to take Paine to the killing fields—a place where people who failed the program went to die. Instead, they found his bed empty and mine doubly full. They gave me two choices: I could be the one to kill Paine or I could become one of them. I could take up the whip and finally break Paine. If I couldn’t, then he’d die, and I would be the one to do it.”

Aron stopped talking as if there were no words he could utter past that point in the story. If it wasn’t an act, then Paine understood. Nothing happened after that night that he could ever say.

“How did he end up in the alley?”

Aron shrugged, looking more like the Aron he loved before the devils broke them. “One day, I woke up and headed for the torture room where he was kept, to start my work for the day. It was empty. They said he hadn’t made it through the night. I didn’t make it through the next.”

The last few words were spoken like a dead man. Paine buried his face in the covers. As always, he felt like an empty shell. He wished he hadn’t listened. There was so much Aron either didn’t know or hadn’t said. Paine knew, though. He couldn’t forget.

A soft brush of fingertips ran down Paine’s arm. His head shot up. Aron stood beneath his bed. He looked broken. It was an act. Paine had to believe it wasn’t real.

Aron turned away and focused on Quentin, who now too stared in Paine’s direction. “Now, tell me why he’s a cat, and you didn’t know his name after ten years.”

Quentin wheeled toward the door. “Tomorrow. Adam has made up a guest room for you.”

Adam stood in the doorway, waiting for Aron to follow. Paine curled into a ball and licked his hand where Aron had touched him. “A tisket. A tasket. Aron will put me in a casket.” He quietly sang the words to himself, reminding himself of the danger. Paine had to cling to what was left of his sanity. He knew how easily Aron could take it.