30. Blind or Blindfolded

T ouch. What it felt like to touch him. Trace his neck to the curve of his shoulder. To breathe against his back, hold him. Soft, smooth, flawless skin. The low sheen across it from the streetlights outside. Shirtless, naked. So impossibly beautiful.

The way his fingers contacted. Caressed. So slow, gentle. Torturously delicate. His parted lips. The shape of them. The shape of him, outlined in the low light. His breath. The movement across his body as he breathed.

His eyes. Soft brown. The near-violet color at the outer rims of his irises.

Kellen startled awake and bolted upright. For a spindling moment, his mind recollected nothing—nothing but that riveting image.

And then slowly, gradually, the dark motel room around him.

Something started hurting in Kellen’s chest. He lifted a trembling hand to his face. Then both hands, like he could scrub the picture from his mind. For six seconds, he stared into the darkness across from his bed. What the fuck—What the fuck is wrong with me?

Undeniable. The undeniable desire that racked his entire body, left by what he had woken from.

“Anyone who looketh upon a woman lustfully hath already committed adultery with her.”

“I don’t know why the fuck you even feel this way when you told me you don’t believe in God, anyway.”

Cold. Piercing cold sank in under Kellen’s skin. He raised his arms around himself, fingers gripping his shoulders, brushing through his own sweat.

“Let something happen between you and someone else.”

“An abomination.”

Kellen’s eyes lifted painfully to the ceiling. He pressed his lips shut. Held his breath. I’m going to hell, anyway. For the violence. For the abandonment of faith. For abandoning his daughter.

“Kellen.” That voice. That voice Kellen knew from somewhere deeper inside than the marrow of his bones. “I’m trying to help you. You understand that, right?” The man standing in the pulpit. The man at the head of the dinner table. The man with his hand on the back of Kellen’s head, holding his face underwater. The man towering over him in the dark room tucked behind the church sacristy. “It’s okay. God knows we’re broken beings. That’s why he allows us to do penance for our sins.”

The lake. The brine water lake behind the church. Like holes had opened up within him, Kellen’s body flooded with adrenaline. Weak, useless, paralyzed—every inch of what he had felt, kneeling on the floor of that dark room, staring up at the man who had raised him.

He had been so wrapped in his own apprehension, he hadn’t heard the sound of a zipper sliding. Fabric falling. It would blindside him. He would take it silently. And take that silence with him for the rest of his life.

“Before you have a sinful thought, think about the penance for sinful thoughts.”

Kellen didn’t know how he had gotten to the bathroom. All he registered was the gut-clenching as he vomited into the toilet. The burn in his throat as he helplessly tried to swallow it back.

Kellen’s back hit the wall. He always cried when he threw up. It was involuntary. Autonomic nervous system stress. A physiological reaction to the stomach convulsions. Similar to the bone-weary weakness that crept over him. Light hit of dopamine in the wake of physical distress.

He shut his eyes and listened to the low electric hum in the silent unit. Another sound joined the quiet: soft paw steps.

Wolf padded into the bathroom, surveyed Kellen for a moment, then approached and dropped her nose to his crotch.

“No.” He abruptly swatted her away.

She stared at him for several seconds. Then, without comment, she lay down on the floor beside him and rolled her back to his leg.

Kellen shut his eyes.

And just seconds into the new-found quiet within Kellen’s mind, there was knocking.

Kellen’s eyes slowly reopened, centering on the toilet across from him. Who the fuck is that? crossed his mind somewhere beneath the subtle conclusion that he was under no obligation to answer the door at this time of the night. Maybe the knocking wasn’t even at his unit. It was hard to tell with sound traveling so easily through the walls.

The knocking came again. It was definitely his unit.

Lila? And suddenly, Kellen realized he did have to answer the door. He didn’t actually know what time it was. Lila’s shift could be over by now. But she wouldn’t come back here, would she?

Fuck, I should’ve showered. Kellen stood up and made his way unsteadily to the bathroom doorway. Then, running a hand through his loose hair, out to the front door. He leaned up against the door and looked through the peephole.

Kellen’s heart froze in his chest. In an instant, his hand was lowering to the deadbolt and doorknob, unlocking both. He opened the door. “ Alexei?”

Alexei stood outside the unit in tight jeans and a long-sleeved jacket, blindfolded.

Kellen immediately glanced both ways down the corridor. “Alexei, what the hell are you doing here?”

Alexei’s arm lifted mechanically to display a small collection of printed pages. “I told you I would meet you this morning, didn’t I?”

Kellen grabbed Alexei’s shoulder and pulled him inside. He shut the door. “I was expecting a location. Not you just showing up at my motel.” His eyes swept Alexei. For a second or two longer than necessary, his vision caught on Alexei’s lower lip and the piercing there.

Fuck. He looked away.

Alexei raised his hand slowly to his neck and gripped the zipper on his jacket. He pulled it down and wordlessly kicked off a pair of sleek ankle boots.

Clubwear. He was still wearing one of those high-neck crop tops. One that hid the tattoo below his collar bone, but certainly did not hide the riveting combination of finely toned abs, tapered waist, and pierced navel. He smelled like cologne. And alcohol. The mixture lingered in the air as he passed Kellen and entered the room.

Kellen brushed a hand across his nose. “Alexei―”

“I’ll leave. I have to get back to the apartment for June, anyway. Just give me a few minutes, alright?” He felt out the edge of the bed, but then sat down on the floor beside it.

Kellen paced uncertainly closer.

Silence.

Alexei struck out his hand with the papers. “Operating room info, like I promised.”

Kellen stepped forward and wordlessly took them. But he barely glanced over the printed words before setting them aside.

More silence.

“It’s a million degrees in here again,” Alexei murmured. His head dropped back against the side of the mattress behind him.

Kellen glanced at the thermostat, then back at Alexei. “Are you going to be here long?”

“No.” A small shrug.

“Alexei―”

“Can you sit down with me? For a few minutes?”

Kellen released a short breath. He glanced away “Alexei, that’s―”

“I won’t kiss you.” He gathered his knees against himself and folded his hands at his lips, face turned upward.

Kellen wordlessly got down on the floor beside him, a few inches of safety between them. He dropped his arms across his knees and fixed his eyes on the wall.

In the silence, Kellen’s mind drifted. Briefly back to the contents of that dream. Abruptly on to the upcoming “debrief” with Evan Danovitch. The FBI agent who acted exactly like every other FBI agent Kellen had ever crossed paths with. Self-important, entitled, absolutely certain their resources were both wanted and needed. That dream again—

“What the fuck,” Kellen murmured, half thought, half breathed into the air. His arm folded, face planting into his hand. He shut his eyes.

Kellen flinched when Alexei touched him, shivered unintentionally receptively against the pressure of his fingers. Like his body was perfectly mirroring the mixed signals jamming the clarity in his mind.

“Jay,” Alexei whispered. His hand tightened around Kellen’s arm. Then loosened. There was a moment of hesitance. Then, “You—You’re very warm.” Another moment of silence. “Is it the temperature in here, or are you sick?” His hand moved farther up Kellen’s underarm, closer to his armpit.

The urge to shake off Alexei’s uninvited, probing fingers surged up, then simply died. Kellen sat motionless as Alexei slipped his hand against the side of his chest. Let himself turn a blind eye to the soft thrills sinking through his nerves under Alexei’s touch.

“I think you have a fever,” Alexei concluded. His hand moved away. Then lifted—ever—so—gently—to Kellen’s forehead.

Kellen’s eyes opened, silently meeting the blindfolded face of the boy leaning over him. Alexei’s lips were parted. Just a little, that riveting gap like a cracked door to something Kellen knew his whole being wanted. “You have a fever, Kellen.”

Kellen’s eyes lowered away. “I’m fine.” But he still didn’t move. Didn’t move as Alexei’s hand lowered down the side of his face, thumb gently brushing the edge of Kellen’s lower lip.

Alexei couldn’t see himself. He couldn’t see how he read like a billboard, exactly what he was thinking about as his fingers finished tracing the side of Kellen’s face. How he bit his lip as his fingertip brushed the faint dimple in Kellen’s chin.

Why? It went through Kellen’s head like a broken record. Why does he behave like this toward me? Why me? Why not someone else? Why the fuck do I respond to it?

“I should get out of here so you can rest,” Alexei said. He moved away and started to stand.

“I was awake when you knocked,” Kellen spoke up with no idea why.

Alexei hesitated, half crouched on the floor a foot and a half from Kellen. “Why were you awake?”

A small shrug lifted Kellen’s shoulders.

Silence.

Kellen’s vision traced that figure. One moment. A moment longer. “Alexei.” He watched the way Alexei’s face lifted. Waited in the quiet. Kellen let out a small breath. “Alexei, are you really blind?”

There was a small movement at the top of Alexei’s forehead, like his brow had just dipped lower. “What?” Incredulity. Like Kellen’s question might be both ridiculous and offensive.

Kellen’s head tipped slowly to the side. He watched Alexei silently for several more seconds. “You said something earlier that I wasn’t sure was sarcasm. Can you see when you’re not wearing the blindfold?”

Alexei was silent for a long moment. His face lowered. “A little.”

And suddenly, Kellen felt wide awake. He frowned, a foreboding tension beginning to build in his chest. “What do you mean, ‘a little’? You can actually see something when you take the blindfold off?”

Alexei’s face lowered further. “For a few minutes,” he whispered.

“A few minutes? And then what happens?”

“I put the blindfold back on,” came the quiet response.

“Why the fuck? ” Kellen half-exclaimed. He shut his mouth. Lowered his voice. “You’re telling me you’re purposefully blind? That you could see if you stopped wearing that thing?”

Alexei’s shoulders moved in a faint shrug. He was silent for another long moment. “I—I don’t know. I don’t think it would really work like that…”

“How do you think it would work?” Kellen reached out suddenly. “Can you take it off now―”

Alexei shied out of Kellen’s reach like he had a sixth sense for it. “ No. ” He stood up, his fingers lifting to his blindfold as if to secure it. “I can’t take it off. No.”

“Why?” Kellen let his arm drop. For almost half a minute, he stared up at Alexei, dumbfounded.

“I have to wear it.” Alexei’s voice faded to a whisper.

“Why?” Kellen repeated, more softly.

Alexei said nothing for a long moment. Then, “Someone very powerful told me to.”

“Someone very powerful?” Kellen echoed. A feeling like his limbs had turned to stone crawled over his body as he stared up at Alexei. “An XI member?”

Alexei stood frozen, silent, wordless.

“The one who owns the club?” the realization suddenly clicked.

Still, Alexei said nothing.

“You talk like you’ve been in that club your whole life. You get around without sight like you were born blind. You’ve worn that thing since you were a child .” Kellen stopped himself. He shut his mouth for a second. “Who the fuck is this person? Someone who thinks he owns you?”

A shuddering breath escaped Alexei’s chest, and it was the first movement he had made in over a minute. He turned away, body rotating toward the door. “I can’t talk about this, Jay.”

The barcode. A lump Kellen couldn’t swallow past formed in his throat. There was a physical barcode tattooed on Alexei’s chest. Was there even a question? The amount of fear Alexei harbored regarding the powerful person in mention was written all over his composure.

Power. And it made sense, now. Both Alexei’s power, and his powerlessness. He was getting all his authority from someone who was actively abusing him.

“Is this the same person who has you turn tricks?” Kellen asked quietly.

Alexei turned only halfway back to face him. His posture was still rigid. But his voice was steady. “I don’t ‘turn tricks’ unless I want to. I haven’t in years.”

Kellen’s brow furrowed. “Then what the fuck was that at the Joanna Capris?”

Alexei’s lips pressed. He drew a small inhale. “I wouldn’t consider that a trick.”

Kellen’s frown deepened. “What the fuck would you consider that?”

“A favor. He doesn’t pay. I’m not talking about this anymore.”

Anger. No, something closer to rage welled up in Kellen from the pit of his stomach. His fingers locked into fists at his sides. It was something in the casual way Alexei said it. Like it were any ordinary favor to offer one’s body to be broken and abused the way Alexei’s had been when Kellen found him in that hotel.

A “favor.” Fucking hell.

Kellen drew a faltering breath and deliberately took his eyes off Alexei. He flexed his fingers against the floor, raised a hand to his face and brushed his chin. Another breath. His eyes lifted back to Alexei. “When are you allowed to take the blindfold off?”

“Only when I need to,” Alexei whispered. “For things like washing my face. Never in front of another person.”

And yet, in Kellen’s dream, Alexei had allowed his blindfold to be removed in front of another person.

“Swan.” The single syllable left Kellen’s throat in a toneless sound. “It’s this ‘Swan’ person, isn’t it.”

Alexei froze. Every fiber across his frame went silently rigid.

Kellen’s hand slipped across his forehead and into his hair, raking back the loose strands at the front. “He’s the one you get your power from. And he forces you to wear the blindfold to keep you powerless. He owns the club. At least, he controls it. And he controls you.”

Alexei didn’t say a word. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Why you?” Kellen asked out of the quiet. “Were you groomed for this? How long has he had you?”

Alexei said nothing.

“Fuck, Alexei,” Kellen breathed. His eyes lowered slowly to the floor, hand lifting across his lips. The amount of fear that man must have instilled in Alexei, that he wouldn’t even take the blindfold off when he was alone with someone completely unaffiliated with the gang. That blindfold crippled him. Made him helpless. Kept him tethered.

And it was sexual, this relationship of total control between Alexei and his keeper. Undoubtedly threaded with deceptive tastes of kindness, care, affection.

“Aspirin. It’s medicine for pain. You seemed in pain after we made our love. This will help.”

Kellen’s throat filled with the taste of bile. Sick nausea swamped his core, wiped his mind blank. He knew it. He knew what a relationship like that felt like. Total control. The façade of affection that melted so quickly under the tiniest misstep. Brutal punishment. Pain, fear, abandonment. Starving for the littlest taste of love.

“Spend the rest of the night with me,” Alexei’s voice came out of the silence.

Kellen’s eyes shot up at him.

“Come back to the apartment with me and sleep for a few hours,” Alexei whispered.

A flinch darted across Kellen’s shoulders. “Why?”

“Because the night I spent here with you, I slept like I haven’t slept in years. You make me feel safe. And I’m tired. I know you are, too.”

Kellen stared at him for almost ten seconds. He didn’t understand it. Maybe, he never would. The way Alexei wielded power and authority like he was born into both sometimes, then cut himself down to sheer vulnerability other times.

Kellen wet his lips and looked away. “What about June? She doesn’t know me. For all she knows—for all she can know, I’m―”

“If it weren’t for June, I would stay here with you,” Alexei cut him off. He sighed. “She’s had nightmares the last few weeks, and now she’s telling me she’s scared of the dark. I shouldn’t have left her alone that night I spent here. Made her anxiety worse.” Again, he was silent for a moment, one hand absently lifting to finger through his hair. “I trust you. And she’s been around plenty of strange men I don’t trust. She won’t think anything.”

Fuck you, then, Kellen thought. He sat for several seconds longer on the thought of “strange men”—before he stood up and walked around to the wall locker to get his gun and start packing a bag.