28. Kyle

CHAPTER 28

Kyle

K yle expected the horrific sight would stay with him forever.

When he'd received a smug message ordering him to collect his Master from House Theta in the early hours of the morning, Kyle had allowed himself a half-second of pissiness. If Akira could leave him without an explanation and not bother to show his face at House Epsilon all night, he could bloody well get himself home.

And then sanity had prevailed and Kyle had started running. He'd anxiously paced the elevator as it slowly creaked up from Level E to C, slipping through the dawn crowds with little more than occasionally muttered apologies to excuse his impatient shoves. He'd reached House Theta in a shorter amount of time than Kyle had thought possible, and yet it was still too long.

And seeing Akira lying curled up on the floor, his tear-streaked expression distraught and humiliated, had broken something inside of him.

Fuck .

In the five years they'd known each other, Akira had never looked like that. The lacerations streaking his back and the vicious bruises that circled his wrists and ankles were startling only in that they hadn't been tended to, yet the sheer despair emanating from the man sent shivers down Kyle's spine.

In his most submissive state, Akira was glorious . Abused and wrecked, certainly, but he still held an admirable poise about him that was breathtakingly beautiful to behold. Confident, competent. A strength that told of how he'd taken it, how he'd endured it, and how he'd thrived from it.

This was...not that.

Even after Kyle had gotten him up off the floor and helped him dress, something of Akira was missing. His suit hung limply from his slumped shoulders, and his voice, when Kyle asked him questions, was dull and unobtrusive.

"What did you do to him?" Kyle had hissed at Master Theta, who'd simply given him a sly, knowing look.

"Nothing he did not consent to and get paid for. But it was not me who stole the life from him, dear boy." Then he'd laughed. "It was you ."

Unwilling to waste any further time on the prick, Kyle had dragged his man out of there.

Yet Akira had refused to supply his home address – perhaps that was a good sign, for him to retain so much of his characteristic irrationality? – so Kyle had been forced to take him back to House Epsilon using the car the other Master had so generously provided. It made his blood boil. Theta was clearly capable of properly caring for a submissive, with his clientele and Mastery being proof of that, but he'd deliberately chosen to double the abuse he'd inflicted on Akira by tossing him out like trash afterwards.

Why, by all the unseen stars in the sky, had Akira gone to Theta in the first place?

And why, asked a small voice at the back of Kyle's head, did he run from your bed only to seek solace in his ? What happened to the Robby that Akira had made promises to today? Had that been total bullshit?

It was frustrations like these that meant getting close to Akira would always be difficult. Complicated , fuck you very much, Indira.

But even though he knew he should be angry at him, Kyle was finding it hard to be, especially when he caught the concerned glance the man shot him from where he was hunched at the other end of the car's bench seat. There was no driver to overhear their conversation, but it was clear neither of them trusted that the AI embedded in the car with large glowing runes over the front console hadn't been programmed to report back to its owner, for they both passed the journey in rare silence.

Akira didn't smell like himself, Kyle noticed with a sudden sadness that pierced his heart. He stank of smoke and liquor and stale sweat.

There were few people who could rouse Kyle's rare ire, but the Master of House Theta was proving to be one of them. If he hadn't been focused on getting Akira back to the House so he could dress his wounds and support him through the rest of his sub drop, Kyle would have...well, he wasn't exactly sure, but his fantasies had definitely involved him yelling some rather inappropriate words at Master Theta, which likely wasn't at all wise. The man may be an absolute dick, but he was still Coterie, and Kyle had already used up his quota for pissing off important men this week.

So he tried to let himself relax. Sink into the faux-leather seats, enjoy the first car ride he'd ever taken, and marvel at the way the vehicle was given priority over the masses of Xerxes' citizens clamouring to get into the huge elevators on foot.

Yet the luxury was wasted on him. Kyle's attention remained steadfastly fixed on the man at his side, his heart feeling as raw as Akira's abused body.

When the car pulled up smoothly outside a darkened House Epsilon, Kyle scrambled around to the other side of the vehicle to help Akira out. But the man refused his help, brushing his hands away and striding down the street with vague references to attending to House business.

"Master," Kyle pleaded. "Please let me take care of you."

Epsilon glanced irritably over his shoulder, his expression hostile. "Kyle." His name was almost growled . "You're smarter than this."

Kyle frowned. "What do you mea-"

"Me," Akira said. "I'm not a good person."

Kyle disagreed with that statement. Vehemently.

He tried again. "Then at least let me take care of..." He rubbed at his wrist where bruising and traces of blood circled Akira's own.

"That's not your job."

"It could be," Kyle whispered, but Akira was already gone.