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keep him from suing the club?”
    “You really think I’m that much of an asshole?” The tightness stretched from his jaw to circle his throat before stretching down to grip his heart. He looked down, careful to keep his emotions hidden. He didn’t want to analyze why her opinion of him mattered. “We have insurance to cover that.”
    “But it would be bad for the club’s image, right?”
    He glared at her. “And having a sub assaulted and beaten beyond consent isn’t? I don’t care if he sues the club. Hell, he probably should.” Their lawyer would strangle him for saying that. But it was the truth.
    “Then what do you care about?” she asked, increasing the pressure while showing nothing. A part of him admired her tenacity even as he resented her accusations.
    Internally he seethed; externally he matched her calm. “I thought that was obvious by now.” He paused to ensure she understood. “I care about him.”
    Her eyes flickered, a second of question showing before she blinked it away. “Why?”
    “Why not?”
    “Mr. Mathews, Ms. English,” a nurse called, halting their argument.
    Allie jerked around then stood. She hurried toward the woman clad in pink scrubs and wearing a weary expression.
    Seth pulled back his anger and followed Allie’s swaying hips as her heels clicked over the tile floor. It shouldn’t matter what she thought, but her doubt in him stung. He was a Dom, not a coldhearted ass. They weren’t synonymous with each other. And damn him if he didn’t want to prove that to her.
    The nurse gave them both a glance before looking at her clipboard and gesturing to the door behind her. “Follow me, please.”
    * * *
    Tyler hugged the pillow under his chest and drifted in the pill-induced haze. Thank fuck for prescription painkillers. Their numbing effect seemed to work on his mind as well as his body. Somehow they’d managed to chase away the overwhelming embarrassment at having stitches placed in his asshole. The guffawing, belly-roll laugh of his father bounced around his brain, shadowed by the cutting dig that always followed. It’s what a queer deserves for taking it up the ass.
    He squeezed his eyes shut as if that could wipe away the ridicule. His old man would’ve never let him live this down. Thank fuck the fucker was dead. Fuck. That seemed like the best word for the moment. Yeah, he really liked that word. It pretty much summed up his situation. And his life.
    The clatter of the curtain being jerked aside, followed by the murmur of voices, alerted him to company.
    “Tyler,” the nurse said beside him. “I brought your friends. The doctor will be back in a moment.”
    He managed a small nod and barely withheld the cynical snort at her assumption. To say the two people he assumed were in the room were friends was a huge stretch of the imagination. But they were still here, and both had insisted on bringing him to the hospital. Did that mean something? Yeah, right. Must be the drugs making him think that.
    The firm stroke of a palm at his nape sent an instant string of goose bumps down his arms. “How are you doing?” The deep voice of Master Seth sent another rash of shivers over his skin.
    Why did Tyler want to sink into that touch? He flashed on the memory of the Dom helping him stand. Of being held and comforted by the powerful man, if even for a brief moment.
    “Tyler?” The soothing voice of the lawyer eased over him. There was a gentle touch on his arm, so different than the firm grip of the Dom. She stepped closer, and the light scent that surrounded her overrode the sterile order of the hospital. He inhaled, absorbing the enticing smell as his brain attempted to identify the flower. “Are you awake?”
    He exhaled, the identity of the flower lost. He should answer. “Yeah.” It sounded more like a grunt than a word. He cleared his throat and winced. How could that hurt? Oh, yeah. It was probably from the cock that’d been crammed down there before he was