I’ll talk to him when he calms down. I’ll give him some space, and then we’ll work this out. He’ll tell me what went wrong and how we can fix it…
As the car turned onto my street, I fingered the tender skin of my neck. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to be alone. What if I passed out again? If something happened, I wouldn’t be able to call Tor, because what if he didn’t answer?
No, I wasn’t walking into my dreary apartment tonight. I needed to understand. I needed to tell someone.
“Sir,” I called to the driver. “Could you take me to Breakaway Point instead, please?”
26
I blew on my tea, even though it had cooled a bit, and took another small sip as I sat curled up on Brayden’s couch. I wasn’t usually a tea fan, but the honey and lemon soothed my throat, and since Brayden had insisted, I was forcing it down.
Looking over to where my friend was busy putting together a platter of food in the kitchen, grabbing at least one of everything from the containers Charlemagne kept fully stocked for him and whatever friends dropped by, I felt a twinge of guilt. When Brayden had opened the door to see me standing on his stoop, the look on his face as his eyes latched on to what I now realized was a red stripe across my neck was one I’d never forget. And even now, as he paced across the kitchen, there was panic and worry written all over his face. I hated that I put those emotions there, that he even had to worry about me. Nothing I said convinced him that what had happened between Tor and me was consensual, especially not when he found out about the belt. Erotic asphyxiation, he’d called it. A form of “edgeplay” that was dangerous and that even someone as self-controlled as Tor should never attempt, since it could cause brain damage or even death.
That bit of knowledge had shaken me up a little, but I’d trusted that Tor knew what he was doing, and even now, I knew it hadn’t been done on purpose. It was an accident. I was fine, and it wouldn’t happen again.
Yeah, good luck telling Brayden that, I thought, as he carried out the huge platter of food and set it on the coffee table in front of me.
As if he could tell where my thoughts were, he said, “Has he contacted you?”
I glanced over at the cell phone resting beside the tray and shook my head. “No, not since the last time you asked five minutes ago.”
“Good.” He grabbed a chicken wing and flopped down on the couch next to me. When I didn’t move, he pointed at the food with the chicken. “You need to eat.”
“I’m finishing my tea.”
“And it’s taken you ten years to do that. It’ll be cold by the time you’re done with it.”
I smothered a sigh and took a couple of huge gulps of the drink to appease him, and then set it on its saucer. After scanning the smorgasbord of items piled onto the silver tray, I picked up a triangle sandwich and took a bite. Homemade egg salad. Tasty.
“Happy now?” I asked, when I’d consumed the whole thing.
“I’d be happier if you’d let me call the police.”
“Brayden, you’re not calling the fucking police. Don’t be stupid.”
“How am I being stupid? You got choked to unconsciousness, Jesse. That’s strangulation. Do you understand how dangerous that was?”
“I told him to,” I said, my defenses rising again. “He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given the okay.”
“Don’t turn this around and make it your fault. Don’t do that.”
“It’s just as much my fault as it is his.”
“But the difference is, he knows better. I can’t even believe someone like Salvatore would do something like that. He took advantage of you. Don’t give me that bullshit about you telling him you wanted it, because he knows you’re not in that world. He knows you have no fucking clue about any of this shit he’s trying with you, and what’s worse, now you’re defending him? He’s got you all twisted up, making you think you have the power when he’s had it all along.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is true,” Brayden said, throwing the chicken wing back on the tray and leaping off the couch. Then he began to pace, wearing a hole in the carpet like he couldn’t keep still. “He’s the fucking Wolfe. A guy who can do whatever he wants and get away with it, and why? Because he owns this city. Just like he owns you.”
I rubbed my forehead. “You’re overreacting. You of anyone know his world and what comes with it. He doesn’t scare me.”
“Maybe he should. He sent you away, didn’t he? Why do you think he did that, huh?”