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in his throat dull, the vodka now a welcomed taste. The edges on his vision began to blur ever so slightly as he looked out toward the sound of the ocean. The heavy cloud coverage obscured the moon and stars, but he didn’t need to see the rolling waves; the sound of them calmed him just the same.
    “To you,” he whispered, his words only slightly slurred as he lifted the bottle and sent up a toast to Gregory. He took a big drink and raised it again. “And you,” he said a little louder as he in turn toasted Charles and once again tipped up the bottle, drinking to his men.
    “Such a good boy,” Gregory whispered lowly in his ear.
    Mason jerked his head, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus, tried to find Gregory. The space next to him was empty.
    “Gregory… I…. Please.” His pleas slurred as Mason tried to convey his racing thoughts. Where was he? Why couldn’t he see his lover’s face? “Please,” he begged again.
    Silence.
    The only sound reaching his ears was the rush of the tide, a slight breeze rustling through the trees, and crickets. A tingling sensation moved down his spine, and he shuddered as goose bumps bloomed on his flesh. Gregory was close. Mason couldn’t see him, but he could hear him, smell his scent on the breeze, feel his warmth. Mason closed his eyes and sighed contentedly when his lover’s face became clear behind his closed lids.
    “Why did you leave me?” he asked with a strained voice. “I needed you and you left me.”
    “I’m here now, that’s all that matters, and I’ll never leave you again.”
    “I couldn’t do it, I tried but I….” Mason’s throat went dry and constricted. He forced the lump down with another long swig from the bottle. “I can’t do it without you,” he finally squeaked out, the constriction of his throat muscles still not releasing their hold.
    “Shh,” Charlie murmured in Mason’s other ear.
    Mason cocked his head toward Charlie’s voice, but he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t need to. He could see him just fine. His brow was furrowed slightly, his expression gentle, just like it always was when he was concerned about Mason.
    “Where have you been?” Mason asked on a broken sob and shook his head. “I’ve missed you so much.”
    Shh , Charles repeated, his breath warm against Mason’s ear. I’m right here, boy. Just rest.
    Mason felt Charles’s fingers run through his hair, tousling the too-long strands, and he melted against his lovers. Let them calm and soothe him as he continued to take long, deep pulls from the vodka.

Chapter 5

     
    T HE overcast night made walking along the path difficult, even with the flashlight illuminating his way. Bobby had meant to try one more time to check on the sad little sub before it had gotten so dark, but he’d fallen asleep while reading and Rig had done the same. Well, Rig hadn’t been reading—the man rarely picked up a book; he was the type who waited till it came out on the silver screen or DVD—but he’d drifted off on the couch next to Bobby.
    “This is getting a little obsessive,” Rig grumbled. “We’re supposed to be relaxing, sipping fruity drinks, and being fanned by cabana boys, not traipsing through dark woods.”
    “I just need to check one more time,” he tossed over his shoulder, not slowing his steps, an unexplained urgency pushing him forward.
    Bobby had woken with a start, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath coming in fast painful gasps. He had to have been having a nightmare… something had startled him, caused him to break out in a cold sweat, but he couldn’t remember it. Whatever the dream had been about, his first thought was to check on the sad boy. Maybe he was losing his mind; more than likely the Florida sun had fried what few brain cells he had left. However, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sit still or relax until he knocked on that damn bungalow door, and even then it was iffy as to whether he would ever relax until someone actually