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and clawing, I know I only have one shot at escape. “Ari! Help me, brother! Ari!”
    Cool hands on my flame heated shoulders are my answer.
    “He’s pulled the IV loose. Hold him while I redo the line and increase the dosage. Talk to him.”
    “Nikos. Relax. Let us help you.”
    “Ari? You came for me. You rescued me. Thank God. Thank God. I can’t go back there. Please don’t let them take me.”
    Cool hands cup my cheeks, and I know it is my brother even though I can’t see his face. “I can’t see you, Ari! I can’t see.”
    “It’s the anesthesia, Nikos. Stop fighting it and rest. Give your body time to heal.”
    “Don’t leave me, Ari.”
    “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
    My brother’s voice is a comfort even though a weight holds me down. I can’t move it’s so heavy, but the flames are gone. For now at least, I’m no longer in Hell.

“There is no happiness in love, except at the end of an English novel.”
    Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers

Chapter 6
    Kitten
    It’s been a long night and a longer day. Except for Thomas’s absence there is nothing to prove the events of yesterday even happened. I don’t know where Thomas went…but then I never know where he goes when he disappears…I only suspect danger is involved. This time there is no suspicion, this time my fears are made fact, proven by his brother’s blood soaked clothes. I’m so worried my guts ache. I’ve never felt so utterly helpless.
    Garrett is just as worried. I can tell by the grimness of his expression. That and the fact we aren’t going to the club tonight. I don’t know how we could even if we had to. If Garrett is as exhausted as he looks, he should have stayed in bed, not that it would have mattered. Neither of us could sleep once we crawled under the covers. Too many unanswered questions, too many worries and fears, none of which have we discussed.
    Scotch has been his answer.
    Crossing the room, I take the full tumbler from his hand and put it on the bar top. I step into his arms, hugging him, glad when he pulls me into him. We are in the living room, not the bedroom. Except for yesterday’s exemption, the house rules are very clear. I am not allowed to talk here…only in our bedroom…but I just can’t stand the silence another minute. I try to pull Master toward the bedroom, but he doesn’t budge.
    “You know I love you, don’t you, Kitten?”
    “Meow-meow,” I murmur against his warm chest. Two meows for yes, one meow for no. Our rules are a comfort. Routine is a comfort. Closing my eyes, I inhale his scent, always the same…also comforting. His cologne invokes a feeling of peace and tranquility. I push my nose against him, trying to soak in the notes of rain and citrus, trying to push out the vision of Garrett’s blood covered gloves and Nikos strapped to our dining room table. God, what more can go wrong?
    Not even rules and routine can create reassurance in the throes of apprehension I’m feeling. I try again to pull Garrett toward the bedroom. He knows what I want. So why isn’t he cooperating? “Please, Master. We need to talk. I need to talk.”
    “There is nothing to talk about right now that is worth the punishment you’ve just earned breaking the rules.”
    It hardly matters now since I’ve already fucked myself. If I’m going to be punished I might as well make it good. I ask, “Where is Lord Fyre? What is going on with his brother? Have you heard anything at all?”
    He picks up his glass of Scotch and drains it. “If I’d heard anything you would have been the first to know. Put Thomas out of your mind until he returns.”
    Well, isn’t that an answer. I start to argue, but the look he gives me tells me I’ve pushed hard enough and it is times like these that make having two Masters impossible.
    It is an arduous path I’ve chosen, especially of late. I remind myself there is a verse of scripture my father often quoted when times seemed too