Succession (27 page)

Sy thinks about it for a moment. “Don’t come down on Sascha because of it. I didn’t take his place so you could punish him later.”

I’m glad he has his face turned away from me, because I doubt he’d be pleased with the look of irritation on my face. He must sense it, somehow, because he continues.

“You must know as well as I do that it was harder for him to watch me being hurt than to suffer the same fate himself. I’ve seen the scars on him, heard some of the stories from his time at that brothel. He would have taken ten times what you did to me without putting up a fuss, but it destroyed him to know that he caused it to happen to me. Let it go. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I sigh, resigned. If this is his request, I’ll grant it. I wish he could be bought by things or privileges, but it seems Sascha is his only concern. I can relate to the sentiment.

“All right,” I agree, and Sy turns his head, giving me an approving smile.

I’m careful as I attend to the damage I caused, applying antibiotic cream and bandages. It’s more than is necessary, but I’m glad to have something to do, something to occupy my time. I let him rest when we’re finished, spending a few hours looking up footage of today’s event. The beating is as horrible as I thought it would be, but it has been well-received. I have unintentionally strengthened my position as an avid supporter of the Demoted system.

Somehow, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

I can’t help but notice Sascha’s absence. He’s silent, hiding away in his room, and the more I think about it, the angrier I become. I’ve promised Sy I wouldn’t punish Sascha for his actions at the event today, but I can’t just sit here and be disrespected by my own slave in my own home. It’s been a few hours; he should be ready to talk to me by now. I need him.

I get up and make my way down the hallway, telling myself I’m just going to talk to Sascha.

Sy has other plans, because he meets me in the hall. He doesn’t say anything, he just places himself in my path.

“Get out of my way, I’m going in there!” The thought of being denied makes me angrier, and the fact that Sascha hasn’t even opened his door only makes it worse.

“Just let him be, sir,” Sy pleads with me. “You’ll regret going in there right now.”

“The hell I will!” I snap. I brush past him, pounding on Sascha’s door.

“He’s upset and scared,” Sy points out, his voice still calm. “What happened today was hard for all of us, and you won’t make it better by terrifying him. Just give him some time to calm down.”

“Give him some time?” I snap back. “He’s had time. He’s my slave, this is my house, and if I want to talk to him about his attitude, I’m going to do so! Sascha, get out here this instant before I come in there!”

“Cash,” Sy’s voice cuts through my anger, soft, but still insistent. “Don’t. Please. Let me talk to him. You’ve said I could protect him. I did that today, let me do it again.”

I stop pounding and turn to glare at Syrus. I told him that Sascha doesn’t need protection from me, and I intended to make that true. But the way he’s looking at me tells me he’s afraid, not for himself, but for Sascha. I hate that I’m the only one who can’t see how harsh I’m being. I am embarrassed by my own actions, but just as desperate to feel some sort of control again, even if it is only over my own slaves.

“Get him to straighten up. He gets a pass for what happened earlier, but this attitude can’t continue in my house!”

“Of course, sir,” Sy says, conciliatory.

Chapter 23
Resentment

I retreat, humbled by Sy’s quiet acceptance. My childish temper tantrum was just as bad as Sascha’s. I make myself a drink, go to the dining room, and look on my tablet for a while as I wait for Sy and Sascha to talk. I’m a little surprised when they come out a while later, Sascha almost hiding behind Sy.

I take a moment before addressing them so I don’t start yelling at Sascha.

“I take it you’ve talked some sense into him?” I ask, looking at Sy.

“Yes, sir.”

I look at Sascha, noticing the way he cowers, just slightly, as though he’s trying very hard not to. It’s a little amusing that I intimidate him this much, especially when his loyal bodyguard would probably rip me in half if I really hurt him. “Come here, Sascha.”

He hesitates for half a second, probably wanting to stay where Sy can reach him. Eventually he walks over, standing next to me and looking like a child about to be chastised.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” I ask, adding to the mood.

“I’m sorry, master.”

He looks as startled by the sudden formality as I am, and I can’t help but laugh a little. He always reverts to formal titles when he panics, but it’s been so long since he’s panicked with me. Then again, I haven’t been doing much better. I respond to guilt with anger, he responds to his with fear. It’s good to keep this in mind as I try to deal with him.

“Sascha, do I really intimidate you that much?”

He looks at me, guarded, and then looks at Sy. I can’t figure out their communication, but maybe he just likes the reassurance that Sy is there, keeping me from doing whatever horrible things he’s imagining. I grab him by the hips and pull him close, holding him tightly when he tries to get away. After a moment, he relaxes against my chest. I can still feel his heart racing.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I was angry because you were acting like a spoiled pet. I might have overreacted. But if you can move past that, then so can I.”

“I can.” His tone and the look he barely gives me are wary, still resentful. But his arms have crept up to wrap around my waist.

I’m not trying to demean him, but he was acting like a child. I don’t need a child, I need a partner who I can trust, who will talk to me. I know he needs the same from me. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He nods, leaning into me a little more. I see him look from me to Sy. Sy is smiling at him, taking a seat now that he’s assured that I won’t hurt the boy. The slight wince that crosses his face as he sits makes me feel guilty, and Sascha must notice it too. He pulls away from me and shoots me another dirty look.

“Sascha, I hope you know that I wasn’t being arbitrarily cruel earlier,” I remind him. “I didn’t want to have to do that, but I wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on if I protested.”

“I guess I realized that when Sy explained it to me,” Sascha mumbles.

“I know it upsets you,” I admit, wishing he would just see my point. “But, as I’m sure Sy explained, we were okay with it. And if he and I are okay with it, you don’t get to throw a fit about it later.”

“I know, I just wanted—”

“Sascha, it doesn’t matter what you wanted!” I snap, banging my fist down and making Sascha cringe away.

Sy casts a glare at me, the likes of which I’ve never seen from him before, much less directed at me. As his master, it should incite me further, but it makes me feel guilty instead.

“Regardless of what you want, I need to keep you safe, and Sy. I need to try to keep up the image of master for this business.”

“Then maybe you should have arranged for more security,” Sascha reminds me. “You want to keep us safe? If you had arranged a safe way for us to get out of the rally, this wouldn’t have happened!”

I resist the urge to remind him of his role in this. If I start blaming him, we both lose, and this is about so much more than logistics. Sascha wants someone else to blame for what happened to Sy; as the person who beat him without a second thought, I am the perfect target. “I made a mistake. Sy did what he needed to do, and so did I. It was the most expedient means of solving the problem.”

I glance at Sy, and he nods, approving of my tone this time. I tell myself I’m not doing it to please him, but I am.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell Sascha, conciliatory. “But Sy and I have an agreement. All either one of us asks is that you go along with it and refrain from causing problems.”

“All right,” Sascha concedes, glancing from me to Sy and back again. He has no chance of winning against both of us.

We have a quick dinner and Sy announces he’s going to bed. I don’t blame him, today had to be exhausting. I know he’s got to be sore from the damage I caused earlier, although he does his best not to show it. I offer him some painkillers, which he rejected earlier, and he accepts this time. I can’t tell if he really wants them or if he’s just placating me. Sascha promises to check in on him in the morning, change bandages or anything, and I offer as well. Sy’s smile tells us both that we’re worrying about him too much. Given his choice, Sy would probably rather have dumped a bottle of straight rubbing alcohol over his back to disinfect it and gone about his day.

Once Sy is gone, Sascha and I are left alone. There is more that we need to talk about, and I can tell that Sascha isn’t really looking forward to it. He’s not terrified like he was earlier, he’s just anxious. It’s like a difficult conversation with a lover.

“Come here,” I order, after he’s cleared away the plates and wiped down the table.

He comes to me, rather reluctantly, standing in front of me and trying not to tremble. I don’t want him scared.

I catch his hands, pull him over so he’s straddling my legs, resting tentatively on the tops of my thighs. I pull him close and kiss him, calming him with my touch. Even when I break the kiss, I keep him close.

“I beat your friend today,” I state the facts. “I beat Syrus rather severely, and I didn’t say a single word to try to help him, and it angered you. I understand that. Please don’t think I missed it somehow, or that I missed how unfair it was to both of you.”

Sascha is silent for a moment. He’s looking away from me, not in fear this time, but in what I can only imagine is disgust. “You didn’t even try. You didn’t say a single word to defend him.”

I want to get angry again, but I feel guilty about the same thing. Both at the rally and once we get home, I agonized over the decision, reaching the same conclusion each time. “If there had been another solution, I would have tried it, but there wasn’t. If I hadn’t acted quickly enough, Sy would have been taken to some sort of holding facility. He would have been hurt worse there. It’s part of the job description, Sascha, and he knows it.”

“You still could have said something,” he reminds me. “You acted like it didn’t matter.”

“It did matter, but no protest I made would have stopped it from happening. You’ve let yourself get hurt enough times in the line of duty to know what it’s like. I regret that it happened, and I’m doing what I can to make it up to him. We all make sacrifices; you and Sy just make more because you’re slaves. If the occasion rises again, I will ask him to do it again. Is that clear enough?”

“Yes.” Sascha nods. While I can see that he understands my point, I can also tell that he isn’t too happy about it.

“The second part I want to address is your bullshit attitude when we got home,” I continue, looking at him hard. He tries to shrivel away, but I don’t let him. I take his face in my hands and gently turn him to look at me. “You can’t do that, Sascha.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I know better, and I need to obey you, and even if I’m upset—”

I press a finger against his lips, stopping him. I can’t hear him acting like this is about obedience. It’s so much more. He looks at me nervously.

“Not as a master, Sascha, but as…” I pause, thinking of how to continue. “As a lover. As a friend. You can’t just run away and refuse to talk to me. It doesn’t make anything better; not for me, not for you, and certainly not for Syrus.”

Sascha looks ashamed at the mention of Sy, but his eyes narrow in anger again. He pulls out of my grasp and glares at me. “What was I supposed to do? I saw what you did, I heard what you said—how was I supposed to know it wasn’t going to be me, next?”

“Because I wouldn’t do that to you!” I’m appalled at the very thought. Even when I first bought Sascha, I would never have torn him apart like that.

Sascha just stares at me, challenging me. “You acted like I shouldn’t have been upset about it. You made it very clear that your public image was far more important than anything else. What the hell else was I supposed to think? You took off from that parking garage like it was on fire, you slammed the door when we came in the house… I’ve never seen you beat anyone like that. It was too much.”

Sascha has never seen me that scared; the last time it happened, my mother had kidnapped him and I was being arrested. He was spared my violent outburst. “I risked losing you. That would have been too much for me. I apologized to Sy for the way I acted, and I owe you an apology, too. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more understanding, and I’m sorry that I didn’t at least try to explain to you what was happening. Sascha, I realized later that Sy knew the whole time what was going on, and so did I, but you didn’t. You were kept in the dark through this whole thing, so I understand why you were so angry. You deserved to be.”

“That’s not how you made it seem when we got home,” he reminds me, a look of distress on his face. “I fucked up at the rally; Sy took care of that, but I was trying to do what you’ve always asked and save my attitude until we got home. I couldn’t talk to you at the event, I didn’t even want to risk talking to you in the car. I didn’t trust anything I was going to say.”

“And then I got home and I terrorized you,” I finish. “I’m sorry. I knew you were upset, although I have to say that it took me a while to figure out what you were even angry about. I’m not the best at reading you, and the fact that you hide so well doesn’t make it any easier. Sy plays mediator quite well, though.”

“I didn’t know how to deal with you,” Sascha admits, moving close again and allowing me to run my hand across his back. “I didn’t think to talk to you. I was just so angry, and it seemed like you had no idea why.”

“I realize that, now,” I say, smiling at him. “But do you think that in the future you could help me figure it out instead of storming off? You know I need you. It’s not a one-way street. I need you as much as you need me, if not more.”

He smiles, his face making my heart beat faster. I need him so much.