Love in the Land of Fire (10 page)

The next clip comes from two years after the last one; Rafe would have been twenty-three and tied to Frisch.

Josiah’s gut clenches and he almost doesn’t bring it up, almost doesn’t want to watch it, but he doesn’t really have a choice. He needs to know for sure what Gar thought was so important in these files even though he suspects from Gar’s warning that what he’ll find will be far from pleasant.

Frisch’s face is older when it comes on the screen; there are lines that weren’t there before, signs of age and wear. It’s the almost maniacal gleam in his eyes that sets Josiah on edge, the way his voice is teetering on the edge of hysterical.

“He’s still so beautiful even after so long. I love to watch him scream, watch him bleed. He actually tried
to use his safe-word last night but I put a stop to that. He’ll know better next time; he’ll know that what he
says doesn’t matter, that he’s mine. She gave him to me.”

Feeling sick Josiah closes out the clip and pulls up the next one and then the next one. Each one gets progressively worse, showing Frisch’s downward spiral into cruelty. They show how he ignored Rafe’s attempts to end a scene by his own admission, how he abused a submissive under his protection in ways that he should have never even thought of.

It’s the last one that he pulls up that does him in.

Frisch comes on screen, his skin flushed and chest heaving with exertion, eyes blown wide in pleasure. The hand he wipes across his forehead is red to the wrist and leaves a smear of crimson blood in its wake.

“That bitch still won’t agree to him living with me, says it’s not in the contract, that it’d be a bad idea. She
thinks I’ll end up killing him if I have him all the time. Maybe she’s right…maybe I would. But I just can’t
help it; he’s just so pretty when he screams. Especially when I cut him, God I love to cut him. He’s a strong
fucker though; I’ve got to get better restrains, maybe some help in here. Still I’ll never give him up…”

Frisch trails off and in the background Josiah can hear Rafe, and he’s screaming. The screen goes black, the file ending, and Josiah has to stop himself from snapping the flexible tech in half. Instead he walks away from it, stumbles into the kitchen and pours himself a finger of liquor, downs it in one burning swallow and then pours another. He’d wanted to be completely sober but after that, after hearing Rafe scream in the background and knowing that it had already happened, that he couldn’t help, he needed something to steady his nerves.

He hears the floorboards behind him shift and squeak and he whirls around, hand reaching for the pistol that 4he’d actually forgotten in the living room, and comes face to face with Rafe. Rafe’s face is ashen, his eyes wide and breathing shallow, and Josiah knows in startling clarity that he’s been there for longer than Josiah is comfortable with, that he’s heard everything. Shaken, Josiah tries to speak with him.

“Rafe…Rafe, I…”

“How long…how long have you had that? How long have you had proof of what he did to me? How long have you known that she
sold
me?” Rafe cuts him off sharply and there’s something wild in his voice, in his eyes, that Josiah doesn’t like. It reminds him too much of the way he’d looked when they’d first met face to face.

“Not long, Rafe, I swear.”

“Is this a game to you? Some sort of sick fucking game where you string the poor pitiful submissive along while you get your rocks off over all of the horrible shit that’s happened to them in the past? Is it?” Rafe screams the last bit and Josiah sees the hysteria in his face, knows that he won’t be able to reason with him, not now, but knows that he has no choice but to try.

“Rafe, it’s not like that. You know it isn’t like that. Just calm down and let me explain.” He starts forward to lay a hand on his shoulder, needing the contact, but withdraws, stung when Rafe actually flinches back from him.

“Don’t touch me. Not after you’ve been watching him, not after what you’ve seen. We both know you shouldn’t touch me.”

It slams into Josiah then, slams into him with the force of a blow, exactly what the problem is, why Rafe’s so desperate and wild-eyed. He steps forward determinedly ignoring the way Rafe flinches back from him again and wraps his arms completely around him. He holds on despite the way Rafe struggles, uses his strength to clamp his arms to his sides so that he won’t hurt himself and simply waits him out.

When Rafe finally seems to tire of the one-sided fight, he goes limp in Josiah’s arms. The dominant simply gathers him closer, strokes a hand through his disheveled hair and speaks quietly into his ear, his voice low and steady and completely sincere.

“What happened to you, what you’ve been through, is terrible and you came out of it so much stronger than you realize. You didn’t give up, Rafe, not really; you kept fighting even though you didn’t have to and when you couldn’t fight anymore you still took control over the situation. Nothing that happened was your fault, Rafe. You’re beautiful and good and nothing that happened to you is your fault. It’s not your fault, Rafe.”

Rafe shudders in his arms and Josiah feels it when his shirtfront begins to grow damp. He realizes that finally, after everything that’s happened, Rafe is letting himself cry. He gathers Rafe closer to him, rocks him slowly back and forth where they’re standing, and croons sweetly in his ear.

“You’re going to be alright, Rafe. I swear you will.”

For the first time since all of this started, for the first time since Josiah met Rafe, he actually believes that it might be true.

4
Chapter Twelve

They end up on Josiah’s bed, curled around each other on his wine colored sheets, Rafe’s head nestled safely on his chest and Josiah’s hand stroking lovingly through his hair. They lay there, comfortable with one another and yet there’s still something between them, something hanging in the air and keeping them apart that Josiah’s almost desperate to fix.

“My mother died when I was seven.” He speaks almost without realizing it, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can call them back. He feels Rafe go still against his side and knows that he’s listening intently.

This is an important instance; Josiah recognizes it as an opportunity to show a sign of trust, of openness. He knows so much about what Rafe went through during his time with Frisch so it’s his turn to share, to even the score between them. If he has to pick open old wounds to show Rafe just how serious he is then he’ll do it no matter how much it might still pain him.

“Her name was Nicolette and she was beautiful. I still remember her a bit, mainly small things like the way her hair looked, so blonde it was almost white, or the way she smelled like cinnamon and sugar.”

“What happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking?” Rafe’s voice is carefully casual, and Josiah knows that he truly wants to know, wants to hear about his past, to know him. Josiah takes a deep breath and plunges on.

“Draxon, my father, Disavowed her when I was five. He claimed that she wasn’t properly skilled, that she couldn’t perform her duties as a proper submissive should. Then as if that wasn’t good enough he accused her of infidelity, swore that I wasn’t his.” Josiah snorts in remembered bitterness at the pain he’d felt when the father he’d adored from afar had refused to even acknowledge him. He’d been young but not stupid and he’d always paid attention.

“It was an obvious lie and everyone had to have known it. I’ve seen old pictures of him and I’m practically a carbon copy of the man. Still in the end it didn’t matter. The accusation was enough to destroy any standing she’d had in society and within the week he’d Disavowed her and disinherited me. Nicolette, my mother, had nothing after that, no friends, no credits, no family and no reputation to speak of. Draxon was old fashioned and believed that her duties should revolve only around him and his household so she had no skills either.”

Josiah feels the way Rafe tightens his arm around his stomach, the way he burrows his head further into the warmth of his chest. He knows that Rafe’s a strong and fierce man, but he also knows that he’s fragile now in a way he’s never been, that his fire and flash are buried under pain and depression, and Josiah doesn’t want to upset him. Rafe squeezes him tightly then, a wordless plea for him to continue so he puts his reservations aside and goes on.

“We lived on the street for a while, and then in a few run down apartments that barely deserved the name.”

Josiah smiles slightly, the memory of peeling paint and chipped plaster, of sour smelling air and patched curtain floating across his mind.

“I remember that she was too proud to go to Sanctuary, too proud to consider herself in need of that kind of help. Then when I was six the men came, muscle from a local thug I found out later, and we both ended up in one of the less reputable pleasure houses. Looking back on it I’m amazed that they let her keep me at all, but I guess it didn’t really matter anyways because the place was a nightmare. She…she tried her best but she didn’t make it a year there before some out of control dominant without any limits went a step too far. She held me while she cried and I remember her apologizing and I was so confused about why. It took her two 4days to die and when she wouldn’t wake up no matter what I tried I ran away.”

“Josiah…” Rafe’s voice is soft and sorrowful and Josiah just presses a kiss into the crown of his head and keeps talking.

“I ate out of dumpsters and avoided the enforcers for as long as I could before I was dragged kicking and screaming into the orphans program of the armed forces. Marx isn’t my real last name; it’s the name the people in my barracks, the ones who eventually became my family of sorts, gave me since I didn’t actually have one. They even designed my crest for me. Draxon took even that from us both, had our names stricken from the records so we couldn’t claim relation. After that I didn’t really have any other options. I stayed there, eventually joined Crimson Elite and then retired when my last tour was over. I just wanted out after that, wanted to find some way to make an actual difference. So I became an enforcer instead.”

Josiah tightens his grip in Rafe’s hair, uses it to tilt the submissive’s head up so that he can look him in the eye.

“I know what it’s like to be hurt, Rafe. Not in the same way you were but I’ve seen other horrors. I would never do anything like that to you. The information I got, the files I was going through, a friend of mine from my old unit sent it to me. He’s always watched all of our backs and even after we disbanded he never stopped. He sent me things he knew would help, things he knew we’d need to settle this. None of it was to hurt you.”

He sees the embarrassment and shame in Rafe’s eyes at his words and wants nothing more than to be able to erase it. He knows that it’s something Rafe will have to conquer on his own, but Josiah intends to help him as much as possible.

“I know that, Josiah. I knew that when I offered you a contract between us. It’s just the thought of you knowing what he did, and now knowing that I was given away without being consulted; the thought that you might look at me differently…it was too much to bear. I snapped.”

He loosens his grip on Rafe’s hair and pushes his head back down to its place on his chest and resumes his calming petting.

“We’ll deal with that later, Rafe; we’ll deal with it all later. For now let’s just enjoy this, enjoy this moment of peace, while we can.”

They end up drifting off to sleep together, despite it still being early afternoon. The comfort and peace of sharing a bed lulls them both into rest almost against their wills.

Josiah wakes first again, too many years in the armed forces preventing him from getting an overabundance of sleep. He untangles himself from Rafe and crawls off of the bed, careful not to wake the submissive up.

He needs a few moments on his own again, just a bit of time to get his head on straight and form a plan of action.

He wanders back into the living room, bending over to absent-mindedly pick up and refold his previously forgotten p.a.t.c.h before he drops down on the sofa. His mind runs over the new developments in their situation, going over what he knows he needs to do before he pushes it all to the back of his mind and instead focuses on the here and now, on Rafe.

Josiah thinks that maybe it’s time to change the way he’s been dealing with the submissive, that maybe what Rafe needs is normalcy instead of being awkwardly coddled. They are both fourth tiers and they need the scene, the lifestyle more than most. Perhaps after being trapped in an unhealthy relationship for so long what Rafe needs is to be treated normally, like a submissive should be. If Josiah can show him that he wants that 4type of relationship with him, and that their future contract will be everything they have both dreamed of, maybe it will help. Mind made up, Josiah’s mind starts outlining a plan for when Rafe wakes up.

4
Chapter Thirteen

Rafe wakes up a couple of hours later and wanders sleepy-eyed and tousled into the living room. Josiah’s heart skips a beat from his place on the couch at the sight of him looking so soft and vulnerable, and he almost doesn’t want to go through with what he has planned. Almost. Instead he hardens his resolve and pushes forward. Rafe wanders over to him, bending down to kiss him sweetly, and Josiah forces himself not to respond, to sit cold and still in the face of Rafe’s affection, one hand carefully gripping the unfolded screen of his p.a.t.c.h.

The submissive pulls back with a frown, green eyes troubled as they lock with Josiah’s stern gaze.

“W-what’s the matter, Josiah?” Rafe sounds small and insecure and Josiah hates it, hates seeing him so quelled even though he knows that this is what he needs to do.

He needs to show Rafe that this thing between them, the contract that they
will
be forming in the future, will be healthy and good. He gathers himself and reaches out a hand and gestures to Rafe, watching the way his face softens in relief as he moves to settle on the couch only to fall in confusion when Josiah stops him. Face blank Josiah motions towards the floor silently and sees the moment that understanding washes across Rafe’s face even as he sinks to his knees between Josiah’s splayed legs.