When I’m done, I collapse onto his shoulder, exhausted and wrecked. My head throbs. My muscles ache. After gently cleaning my skin and his hand with the shirt from the floor, he holds me to him, cradling my head until my breathing steadies.

“Is that better?” he asks.

“Fuck, yeah,” I say with meaning. I never thought I’d be so grateful for another man’s hand on my dick. For Flanagan’s hand on my dick.

We fall silent, and he rocks me as I slide into sleep, my body slumped against him, my head resting on his shoulder.

“I hate you,” I mumble into his neck.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Rest. You can shout at me when you wake from your Haze. I promise with all my heart I will keep you safe.”

And in my Flame-drunk postorgasm stupor, I believe him.

Chapter 15

15

As I float to the surface of a dense fog, my senses meet raucous summer birdsong, soft fur against skin, and a mellow breeze caressing my nostrils with the loamy scent of woodland. I take in a long, delicious breath. Nice.

Stretching out my legs, I take hold of my morning wood to give it a few lazy strokes. Snatches of dreams chase across my eyelids: the touch of elegant hands, a velvet voice, chocolate-covered figs and warm cream, but it’s all lost to the mist.

It’s the intense heat of a large body pressing into my back that snaps me to full alertness. My wrists and ankles weigh heavy, and something drags at the cold metal banding my neck. I spring upright.

Where the hell am I?

I only catch the briefest glimpse of a bedroom before a muscled arm braces my chest to push me back down to the bed.

“Stay calm, Michael.” Flanagan.

A clinking sound has me raising both hands to check out what the hell’s behind me. I find a chain connected to the eyelet at the back of my collar. When I twist my head up to follow the snaking path of heavy metal links, I find it attached to the stone wall above the wooden headboard.

“What the f—?”

I spring to my knees and tug at the chain with both hands. It’s locked fast to a thick metal ring bolted to the stone wall. I lean back and yank on it furiously.

“Michael, calm yourself.” With an arm around my waist, Flanagan grapples me to the bed. Kicking and punching, I try for a lock, but he uses barely any effort to fend off my assault and pins me to the furs. He fastens down each of my manacled wrists with a hand and secures my thighs with his knees. Then he looms over me, strands of blond hair falling over his face.