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It was Mason’s turn to lower his eyes, not able to meet Rig’s gaze and see the admiration in them. He wasn’t so sure he deserved it. He cared deeply for both Bobby and Rig; he just wasn’t sure he could be what they wanted him to be. Mason reached up and touched his collar. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t give everything he was to someone or someones again. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t replace Gregory and Charles’s collar. He couldn’t even call them sir because he knew if he did, knew if he gave that much of himself, they would eventually leave him and…. What if…?

Mason shook his head and blinked rapidly till his glazed eyes cleared. “I don’t think I deserve it,” he admitted, his voice cracking as the pain in that statement hit him.

Rig stood and moved to Mason, pulling him into a tight embrace and running a hand up and down Mason’s back as he spoke. “Yes, you do. Bobby doesn’t want to replace your Doms. He simply wants to care for you as long as he can and in that, you make him happy. Will it hurt if you decide to leave us? Hell yes, it will hurt, but it won’t be the end of the world, Mason. We won’t ever regret having you in our lives, just like we never regret Stephen, even with how much pain we had to endure when he left.”

Rig kissed the top of his head, then pulled back slightly so he could meet Mason’s gaze. Rig touched Mason’s collar. “I was thinking I wanted nothing more than to replace this with my own, but I was wrong. This belongs here.” Rig tilted his head and studied Mason for a long drawn-out moment before brushing his fingers gently against Mason’s cheek. “Will you tell me about them?”

Mason took a step back, frowning as the thought of discussing his Doms with Rig caused Mason’s heart to stutter, and he could only stand there and stare as the stutter went to racing.

Rig didn’t push. Instead, he took his seat again and picked up his spoon and pointed it toward Mason’s bowl. “Your breakfast is getting cold.” Then he dug into his oatmeal.

Mason wasn’t sure what Rig had seen in his eyes. In all the time they’d been together, neither Bobby nor Rig had really asked him personal questions about his Doms. They were always focused on Mason and what he needed. But Rig must have seen something that made him finally ask the question, because Mason found himself taking up his seat, picking up his spoon, and asking, “What do you want to know?”

Rig smiled around a bite. “Anything you want to tell me.”

“Well, they kind of swooped into my life much like you and Bobby did when I was broken.”

Rig and Bobby knew how his relationship ended, but for the first time since his men died, it was as if a floodgate opened. Mason allowed himself to remember. Over breakfast he told Rig how Gregory and Charles had found him in a club when his first Dom had cast him aside. About Gregory surprising him with the bungalow on the gulf he’d wanted so badly and how it was Charles who had taught him to paint. It felt so fucking good to talk about them, all through breakfast and cleaning up, and he continued when he and Rig curled up on the couch.

Through his twelve-year story, Rig never asked a single question, just allowed Mason to take a walk in the past that wasn’t tarnished by death. Then Mason finally went silent, stopping at the special dinner he, Gregory, and Charles had shared the week before their death to celebrate their twelve years together. Mason didn’t want to go any further. Not today. He leaned his head against Rig’s shoulder and started to doze off with a smile on his face. Before he slipped into sleep, he felt Rig press his lips to his forehead and whisper, “You were never broken. Maybe a little bent, but never broken, Mason.”

Chapter 25

H
E
SAT
with his back ramrod straight on the too-soft leather couch, wringing his hands nervously. The house with its warm welcoming colors and scents was becoming familiar, and after two weeks he was finally able to relax a little. Seeing Max earlier in the day, getting a chance to talk to the psychiatrist about his feelings and concerns, had been great. Mason loved their talks and was growing stronger with each visit. The viselike grip around his chest had eased into a dull ache, and he finally felt as if he could take a full, deep breath, and the nightmares no longer haunted his sleep.

Like the new surroundings, Max was becoming familiar. Mason no longer tensed at the thought of seeing him or chatting with him as he had all those months ago. But he still hated talking to strangers. Worried himself sick about making the perfect first impression and then stressed for days after the meeting, trying to work out if he had left a bad impression, what he could have done differently, what he should have said. The grief his nervous head put him through afterwards just wasn’t worth meeting new people.

As Mason heard Rig answer the door, Mason tensed further. Ty Callahan was here, and Mason knew he was going to be spending the next couple of days sick to his stomach and totally freaked out. It was inevitable.

“Ty,” Rig said cheerfully. “So glad you could make it. Come in.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Ty responded seconds before Mason heard the big oak door shut.

Ty and Rig entered the living room, and Mason’s first impression was that Ty was shorter than he’d expected. Rig and Bobby had talked about him a lot, and for some reason, Mason had figured someone who was strong and confident would be taller. He couldn’t say bigger; Ty was a very broad, muscular man, stocky. He was also extremely handsome. His blond hair was longish, brushing the collar of his shirt. Ty looked as if he should be tending bar in a cabana back in Florida rather than in a New York City BDSM club. He even had a great tan, Mason noted. Mason’s eyes settled on the silver metal band around the man’s neck, and absently reached up and ran the pad of his thumb along the soft, frayed edges of his own leather one.

“Can I take that for you?” Rig asked, holding out a hand to take the bag from Ty.

“Nope,” Ty told him, waving the small bag just out of Rig’s reach. “Sorry, sir, this is for Mason.” Ty’s eyes went wide when he spotted Mason sitting on the couch, his playful smile growing larger. “You must be him.”

Mason frowned, the fluttering in his belly increasing as Ty moved toward him.
Shit!
Did he stand up or stay where he was at? A gift?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He hadn’t thought to have anything for his guest. Mason’s pulse started pounding in his ears, and he clutched his collar as Ty walked in sure, measured, and confident steps, his smile never waning. Mason could only stare, dumbfounded at the man’s confidence, and try not to pass out.

“I have heard so much about you. So, so glad to finally meet you,” Ty said in a carefree manner and plopped down on the couch next to him. “Here,” he said and held out the paper bag. “You can’t come to New York without experiencing real New York cheesecake.”

“Umm… uh…. Well,” Mason stuttered, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coherent coming out of it.

Ty tilted his head and studied him for a moment while Mason struggled to get his fool mouth to actually work. “You do like cheesecake, don’t you?”

Mason nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t get you anything,” he finally muttered.

He waved Mason’s statement off and set the bag on the coffee table, their shoulders brushing together as Ty sat back. “So how do you like New York so far?”

Mason looked to Rig, who was still standing, leaning against the wall near the foyer. “I like being with Rig and Bobby,” he said, smiling slightly at Rig, and then turned back to Ty. “Not so sure about the cold though,” he admitted. Not that he’d been out of the house much.

“You won’t ever get used to it, so don’t even try. Trust me on this.” Ty laughed and bumped his shoulder again. “I’m from Oklahoma. I feel your pain.” Ty then turned to Rig. “No disrespect, sir. But this is a sub-only party. Shoo,” he said and waved a hand dismissing the Dom.

Mason coughed into his hand, hiding his snort of laughter. He’d never heard a sub talk to a Dom like that. Ty really was as confident and feisty as Rig and Bobby said he was. Mason instantly liked him and envied his easy demeanor around a stranger.

Rig shook his head at Ty’s dismissal, but he was grinning fondly at him. He then walked over to Mason and leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “You going to be okay?” he asked quietly.

“He’ll be fine,” Ty answered for Mason. “It’s not like I’m going to steal him away or anything.” He bumped Mason’s shoulder again. “Don’t get me wrong, you are absolutely adorable, but it just wouldn’t work between us. The whole we’re-both-subs thing might be an issue,” he said teasingly.

“Not to mention the fact that you have a very possessive Dom with a very big paddle,” Rig reminded Ty.

“Yeah, and there’s that,” he laughed. “Now shoo. Go do Dommy things, and let me and Mason get to know each other.”

Rig placed one last kiss to the top of Mason’s head and strolled off toward the front, more than likely to pace and worry in the library. Bobby was at the club in some kind of pow wow or whatever with Ty’s Dom, Blake, and Rig had promised Mason he wouldn’t leave him alone. Now looking at Ty, his smile so warm and welcoming, his easy demeanor, Mason felt foolish for even thinking he’d need Rig to protect him from the guy.

Ty grabbed the bag back off the table and opened it. He pulled out a small Styrofoam container and fork and handed them to Mason. He mumbled his thanks as Ty pulled out another for himself. “So have you lived in Florida your whole life?” Ty asked conversationally.

“Yeah, born and raised,” he murmured.

They made small talk while they ate their cheesecake, Ty doing most of the talking, asking about Florida, the beach, and other generic topics. Ty was right about the dessert; it really was the best cheesecake ever, and Mason devoured it happily.

When they finished, Mason took care of the garbage, grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, and rejoined Ty on the couch. “Your collar is very unusual, beautiful,” he told him honestly, feeling comfortable to take over the conversation a little and ask a few questions of his own.

“Thank you. Blake had it special made,” Ty said and ran a finger over the metal surface, his expression one of pride. “You know, it’s funny, I never thought in a million years I’d ever wear a collar.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were new to the scene.”

“I’m not, been in the lifestyle since I was eighteen,” Ty explained easily. “I always loved the idea of being owned, but for other people.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I had some major issues with trust, but Blake helped me overcome them.”

“A good Dom can do that,” Mason said knowingly. Gregory and Charles had taught him that firsthand. Mason had balked at the idea of taking on two Doms when he’d first met them. He’d always worried about pleasing one; having two masters had seemed an impossibility. But it hadn’t taken them very long to convince him otherwise and made it easy to trust them with everything he was.

“Blake wasn’t a very good Dom when I first met him. Or rather, he had no desire to be a full-time Dom when we first met. I guess you could say fate intervened and here we are nearly two years later and I’m sporting this sexy and very permanent accessory,” he boasted and flicked the collar.

“Wow,” Mason said in awe. “I’ve never seen or even heard of a permanent collar.”

“Given my past with trust issues, Blake felt it necessary that I know I am his forever. He has a matching band on his wrist so everyone knows he is mine forever too.”

Mason turned to the hangnail on his thumb, now needing his full attention. His heart was hurting, and he suddenly couldn’t meet Ty’s eyes, not wanting him to see the sadness and hurt Ty’s words had caused. His weakness.

“Hey, what is it?” Ty murmured and put an arm around Mason’s shoulders.

Mason swallowed down the lump in his throat. Most of the time he was happy, very happy, but sometimes his grief had a way of popping up, and when it did it still took his breath at how raw and painful it was. “I used to believe in forever,” he whispered, his throat still too constricted to speak clearly. “But not anymore.”

Ty’s hand was gentle, soothing, as he stroked it along Mason’s shoulder. “How long has it been since you lost your Doms?” Ty asked gently.

“Four months, four days, and….” He looked up at the clock briefly. “Ten hours.”

“I’m so sorry, Mason. I know this probably won’t help much, but it does get better. The pain will never go away, but it will dull a little, I promise.”

“Not much of a life to look forward to, is it?” he responded meekly. “Always missing what is lost. I don’t know if….” Mason squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his temples.

“You don’t know if you can what?” Ty encouraged gently, his hand coming to rest on Mason’s thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

Mason was shocked at how quickly Ty could disarm his nerves, but Mason found himself telling the man things he hadn’t even told Max. “I’ve started submitting to Bobby and Rig and….” His heart began to beat painfully, and he had to swallow before he could continue. “I want to, but I can’t seem to let go of the past, the guilt. I don’t know if I can trust them not to leave me,” Mason whispered.