Spliced: Part 5 - Chapter 2
TITLE: Spliced 5-2
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m. some graphic violence.
WORD COUNT: 2,735 (this chapter), over 200k so far
SUMMARY: In a world where clones are made and sold as commodities, Matt Muldane can't resist purchasing an intriguing slave.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Special thanks to aurila and to tuawahine . Don't know why the formatting is being uncooperative.
Chapter Two
Two nights later, Alex watched another man flirt with Matt.
This was the third drink the Monlean politician had brought to Matt since they’d arrived at this party. Each time he’d sat down beside him, his leg intentionally brushing Matt’s, there’d been an inviting look on his face that couldn’t be mistaken as he offered him the glass.
And Garthen wouldn’t be a slimy old politician of course. No, instead he was young-about Matt’s age-and charismatic, with a boyish face that was universally appealing. Matt certainly can't seem to stop looking at it, Alex thought sourly.
While Garthen had joined Matt on a sofa, Alex was stuck a few paces away, kneeling on the floor like the good slave he wasn’t. Following etiquette, he hadn’t kneeled against Matt’s legs because it would block other people from using the sofa, and this party was pretty crowded. He regretted not doing so now.
Of course Garthen had noticed him with Matt, but then immediately dismissed him. That alone was enough to irritate Alex; no matter how many times it happened, he always hated it when people didn’t look past the collar. The reminder that in their eyes he didn’t matter pissed him off.
But Garthen’s gaze fastening on Matt with unmistakable interest had sealed his hatred. The fact that Muldane kept smiling back at the bastard, showing every sign of enjoying their ridiculous conversation, filled with some of the most poorly constructed innuendos he’d ever heard, frayed Alex’s temper further. Add to it all his own yearning to be able to speak with Matt in public as an equal, and he was livid.
“I thought you'd be at Tolverton's the other night,” Garthen said now, his hand on Matt's knee.
“Sadly I wasn't able to make it,” Matt said, his regret too sincere for Alex's taste. “But I'm here now.”
“Yes, you are,” the politician purred, his hand sliding upwards along Matt's thigh. He leaned in closer, smiling as he whispered something into Matt's ear. Alex longed to remove that smug smile with his fist. The bastard's hands would be too busy holding his bloody nose to feel Matt up then.
A satisfying image, but one he couldn't make a reality. Sadly.
As Garthen continued stroking Matt’s thigh, Alex bowed his head, his hair long enough now to help conceal his scowl from view. Normally he hated its current in-between length, bangs constantly sliding forward instead of staying tucked behind his ears, but at this moment it proved useful.
If Matt had given some sign that the politician’s advances were unwelcome, Alex wouldn’t have hesitated in moving over to Matt and distracting him. It had certainly worked very well in the past. But interrupting them now would show Matt that he was jealous-something he had no intention of proving to the man.
Normally he wouldn’t let stupid crap like this bother him-much-but he’d argued with Matt on the way here. Nothing major, but enough that neither of them was happy with the other at the moment, and he wouldn’t put it past Matt to encourage Garthen just to piss him off. Especially when he knew there wasn’t anything Alex could do about it in public.
Or maybe there is, he mused. He surveyed the room, searching the attendees for a useful target. He knew many of the guests here; Matt tended to stick to certain circles for his business. Some of them he recognized from previous parties, while others had met with Matt in his office. Sometimes prodded by Matt, sometimes voluntarily, Alex had given his opinion on several of them before-opinions which Matt had listened to at times.
But he wasn't paying him attention now, too busy flirting with the obnoxious politician. If he showed half as much interest in anyone else, Matt would drag him away within a minute at most, an endless interrogation following it. Yet he expected Alex to watch and do nothing? Hypocrisy.
He finished his survey of the room. Lofton should do nicely, he decided.
Rising, he was pleased when Matt’s eyes shifted instantly from Garthen to him. Muldane hadn’t forgotten about him-not that Alex had expected him to. Months together hadn’t diminished the man’s obsession with him at all.
Keeping his face blank, he cocked his head in the general direction of the slaves’ section. A mansion like this had its own slave quarters on the back side of the building, and of course Alister society’s upper class wouldn’t share facilities with lowly slaves.
Oh what I wouldn’t give for brown hair and my real identity right now, he thought. Having to ask to go to the fucking bathroom grated at him, but it was expected that a slave couldn’t leave his master’s side without permission. If he just left, it would reflect badly on them both. Not that I mind Muldane losing face at the moment, he noted, seeing Garthen’s hand still on his thigh.
Matt nodded in acknowledgment, amusement lighting his eyes. Alex realized he thought he was making up an excuse to leave so he wouldn’t have to watch for a few minutes. It was true enough, but Alex’s fury rose all the same. Bastard. Knows it's pissing me off, yet he's still doing it.
He headed to the bathroom, skirting around the various guests and slaves in attendance. There were some Andorians present, but more Ginaros and Vedas like Nuit were easily recognizable amongst the crowd. The same representation of clone breeds that he’d seen at any of the parties he’d been to with Matt the past few months.
The chance to stretch his legs was welcome; he’d been kneeling for a while. The hallway was crowded with servers moving back and forth from the kitchen carrying large trays, but he soon got past them and found the lavatories.
Once done, he returned to the party area. He paused in the doorway, and seeing Matt still engaged with Garthen, Alex deliberately took a detour towards where he'd last seen his target. If he could have simply flirted with someone, he would have done so, but no guest at this party would deign to flirt with an Andorian, and none of the other clones would dare to reciprocate any advance he made.
Spotting Lofton, drunk as he always quickly became at these parties, standing near the wall on the opposite side of the room, Alex approached him carefully. Waiting until the man’s glass was empty-he'd rather avoid getting anything spilled on him, thanks-Alex bumped him on purpose as he walked by.
Irritated at being jostled, Lofton turned on him, grabbing the front of his shirt. “Watch it, slave!”
The man’s breath stank, and Alex didn’t even have to fake the grimace. “I’m sorry, sir,” he forced himself to say.
Lofton was a man past his prime, his hairline receding and his hair graying. Some wrinkles lined his face, prematurely aged by too much drink, and there was a petty arrogance in him that Alex had seen displayed before. But most importantly, he had a reputation for not keeping his hands to himself.
The man didn’t disappoint in that regard. His annoyed expression quickly became a leer as he got a better look at Alex. “You’re a pretty piece, aren’t you?”
Getting into his role, Alex made his eyes widen as if in terror. “Sir?”
Lofton pushing him backwards, Alex stumbled back until the man had him pressed against the wall. Lofton was tall, much taller than Matt or himself, and he curled one hand in Alex’s hair, pulling his head back to look at him.
When the man's other hand shifted to grope Alex’s crotch, it took effort for him to remain passive. He'd expected some touching to happen, but Lofton's hands wandered much farther off course than he'd have preferred. Even though he’d instigated this, it didn’t mean he enjoyed any of it. When enslaved he’d always loathed not being able to fight back; being forced to accept whatever treatment he was given enraged him, especially when he was capable of defending himself.
Lofton's hand was cupping his balls now, and Alex’s stomach felt queasy. He didn’t want anyone other than Matt touching him like this.
“I’ve seen you around before. Whose slut are you?”
“He’s mine.” Matt’s growl came out of nowhere, rising above the noise of the party. “Get your fucking hands off him.”
The rage behind those words filled Alex with satisfaction, and he looked past his captor. There was Matt stalking towards Lofton like some Stellvian warrior from the old war vids, his eyes boiling with fury. He grabbed the back of the man’s jacket, pulling him away from Alex.
Feet fumbling, Lofton turned to face him, and Alex slumped against the wall with relief. From his position behind Lofton, he watched the man’s shoulders stiffen as he realized just how pissed Matt was. The fact that the man could sense the danger even through his drunken stupor said a lot for how scary Matt looked at that moment.
“Sorry, no harm meant. Just wasn’t thinking clearly,” the man blubbered, obviously not wanting to antagonize Matt further. He moved aside, sidling away while keeping a wary eye on him, as if afraid Matt would jump him as soon as he turned his back.
Getting another clear look at Matt’s face, glaring at the disappearing drunk, Alex decided Lofton wasn’t being overly cautious. Matt really did look mad enough to rip his balls off.
Then that rage was turned on him, and Alex’s gut tightened. I didn’t think this all the way through, did I, he realized belatedly.
Matt was suddenly right there, pressing him against the wall, his hands gripping Alex’s arms. “I saw you,” Matt whispered furiously in his ear, “you went out of your way to walk over here.”
So much for Matt not seeing him come back in. Alex shuddered at the deep rumble of Matt's voice, but he wasn’t cowed that easily. “You were still flirting with Garthen.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching you.”
Closing his eyes, Alex let that sink in for a minute. He knew Muldane was obsessed with him, but infatuation didn’t preclude the man from having some fun on the side if he wanted to. And no one would think twice about it; owners had zero obligation to be faithful to their bedslaves. Of course, this was Matt, the man who refused to have sex with anyone other than slaves. So what was he worried about?
It’s this pretense. It’s really getting to me, he realized. He hated being in this powerless position, looked down on by other people. And while Matt had been more considerate lately-well, in general, not tonight with the flirting in front of his face and all-it still wasn't the progress Alex truly wanted, and the compromises he was making in the meantime were wearing down on him as much as the pretense. He understood that it would take more time for Matt's mindset on slavery to change, if it ever completely did, but he was no saint himself, and couldn't help feeling impatient sometimes.
Especially when Matt did something like this. He couldn’t handle both Matt’s presumption that he had the right to ignore Alex's feelings if he wanted to, and the disdain of everyone else. It was too much.
He didn’t voice any of these thoughts aloud though. “You’re making a scene,” he told the man softly, knowing it would prevent any retribution-at least for the moment.
Matt stiffened, glancing at the interested crowd around them, his attention diverted away from Alex. But he still kept a firm grip on him, and leaned in after a few moments. “It’s your fault there was a scene at all.”
“Garthen’s fault, actually,” Alex murmured shortly, sliding away from him.
Matt let him go, the clutch of his fingers loosening. Stealing one last glimpse of Matt’s furious expression, Alex let his face go blank. Changing his posture, he gracefully lowered himself to the ground the way he’d been taught at Kristech. Kneeling before Muldane, he pressed his face against his hands, lying flush against the floor, concentrating on appearing to everyone in the room like a typical contrite slave.
He heard Matt curse under his breath. Lately, the man always grumbled when he turned up the dial on his pretense like this. Unhappy to see him do it? Flame all, he hoped so. If Muldane disliked it with a quarter of the intensity that Alex himself hated it, he’d consider it a victory.
“I’m sorry, master.”
Alex kept the words empty, knowing Matt would hear the lack of meaning to them. It was a fine line, making the pretense believable for the public, while ensuring his real audience knew it for the lie it was. But he managed it more often than not, which was enough to gratify him. These days, he had to take what amusement he could get.
“Get up.” The command was harsh, but it wasn’t only anger that roughened it. Alex could hear frustration too; the knowledge that he didn’t mean it when he called him master. So close, yet so far.
Alex followed Matt back across the room. Several people paused to watch them walk by, amused by the scene they’d caused. Muldane met their gazes, daring any of them to comment, but Alex kept his head bowed as was expected. At least it made it easier to hide his expression again.
Matt showed no inclination to leave; to do so now would imply that he was embarrassed by the attention he’d drawn earlier. No, he’d obstinately stick around even if he was too irritable to be civil to anyone now.
At last they reached the couch again, and the annoying politician was still there. Garthen shifted over, making more room for Matt. Muldane hesitated, his finger pointing down by his feet for a moment before directing Alex to kneel a few paces away again.
Interpreting the way Matt kept glancing at him moodily, keeping a wary eye on him, Matt clearly wanted him closer after that little incident. It was only pride-and stubbornness-that held him back; being possessive of one's property was socially acceptable, but seeming overly attached to one's slave was something else altogether.
Matt spoke with Garthen a while longer, but it was as much a show now as Alex’s own public behavior. To drive the man away quickly would be to let Alex win, so Matt didn’t do that of course. But he no longer demonstrated much interest in the politician’s comments, and ignored the man’s flirtations. Soon enough Garthen made his excuses. From his manner it was clear that if Muldane wasn’t interested anymore, there were plenty of others at the party he could seek companionship with.
A familiar snap of fingers drew Alex’s attention away from the departing politician. Resentment flared; he’d seen Kate’s stepfather use the same sound to call his dog over. But he kept the blank mask firmly in place-Alex knew just how to annoy the asshole in return.
Rising, he approached Muldane and then knelt again by his feet, facing him with his gaze lowered. “Yes, master?”
Matt didn’t miss the ‘fuck you’ tone. “We’re leaving,” he growled.
Chapter 3
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m. some graphic violence.
WORD COUNT: 2,735 (this chapter), over 200k so far
SUMMARY: In a world where clones are made and sold as commodities, Matt Muldane can't resist purchasing an intriguing slave.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Special thanks to aurila and to tuawahine . Don't know why the formatting is being uncooperative.
Chapter Two
Two nights later, Alex watched another man flirt with Matt.
This was the third drink the Monlean politician had brought to Matt since they’d arrived at this party. Each time he’d sat down beside him, his leg intentionally brushing Matt’s, there’d been an inviting look on his face that couldn’t be mistaken as he offered him the glass.
And Garthen wouldn’t be a slimy old politician of course. No, instead he was young-about Matt’s age-and charismatic, with a boyish face that was universally appealing. Matt certainly can't seem to stop looking at it, Alex thought sourly.
While Garthen had joined Matt on a sofa, Alex was stuck a few paces away, kneeling on the floor like the good slave he wasn’t. Following etiquette, he hadn’t kneeled against Matt’s legs because it would block other people from using the sofa, and this party was pretty crowded. He regretted not doing so now.
Of course Garthen had noticed him with Matt, but then immediately dismissed him. That alone was enough to irritate Alex; no matter how many times it happened, he always hated it when people didn’t look past the collar. The reminder that in their eyes he didn’t matter pissed him off.
But Garthen’s gaze fastening on Matt with unmistakable interest had sealed his hatred. The fact that Muldane kept smiling back at the bastard, showing every sign of enjoying their ridiculous conversation, filled with some of the most poorly constructed innuendos he’d ever heard, frayed Alex’s temper further. Add to it all his own yearning to be able to speak with Matt in public as an equal, and he was livid.
“I thought you'd be at Tolverton's the other night,” Garthen said now, his hand on Matt's knee.
“Sadly I wasn't able to make it,” Matt said, his regret too sincere for Alex's taste. “But I'm here now.”
“Yes, you are,” the politician purred, his hand sliding upwards along Matt's thigh. He leaned in closer, smiling as he whispered something into Matt's ear. Alex longed to remove that smug smile with his fist. The bastard's hands would be too busy holding his bloody nose to feel Matt up then.
A satisfying image, but one he couldn't make a reality. Sadly.
As Garthen continued stroking Matt’s thigh, Alex bowed his head, his hair long enough now to help conceal his scowl from view. Normally he hated its current in-between length, bangs constantly sliding forward instead of staying tucked behind his ears, but at this moment it proved useful.
If Matt had given some sign that the politician’s advances were unwelcome, Alex wouldn’t have hesitated in moving over to Matt and distracting him. It had certainly worked very well in the past. But interrupting them now would show Matt that he was jealous-something he had no intention of proving to the man.
Normally he wouldn’t let stupid crap like this bother him-much-but he’d argued with Matt on the way here. Nothing major, but enough that neither of them was happy with the other at the moment, and he wouldn’t put it past Matt to encourage Garthen just to piss him off. Especially when he knew there wasn’t anything Alex could do about it in public.
Or maybe there is, he mused. He surveyed the room, searching the attendees for a useful target. He knew many of the guests here; Matt tended to stick to certain circles for his business. Some of them he recognized from previous parties, while others had met with Matt in his office. Sometimes prodded by Matt, sometimes voluntarily, Alex had given his opinion on several of them before-opinions which Matt had listened to at times.
But he wasn't paying him attention now, too busy flirting with the obnoxious politician. If he showed half as much interest in anyone else, Matt would drag him away within a minute at most, an endless interrogation following it. Yet he expected Alex to watch and do nothing? Hypocrisy.
He finished his survey of the room. Lofton should do nicely, he decided.
Rising, he was pleased when Matt’s eyes shifted instantly from Garthen to him. Muldane hadn’t forgotten about him-not that Alex had expected him to. Months together hadn’t diminished the man’s obsession with him at all.
Keeping his face blank, he cocked his head in the general direction of the slaves’ section. A mansion like this had its own slave quarters on the back side of the building, and of course Alister society’s upper class wouldn’t share facilities with lowly slaves.
Oh what I wouldn’t give for brown hair and my real identity right now, he thought. Having to ask to go to the fucking bathroom grated at him, but it was expected that a slave couldn’t leave his master’s side without permission. If he just left, it would reflect badly on them both. Not that I mind Muldane losing face at the moment, he noted, seeing Garthen’s hand still on his thigh.
Matt nodded in acknowledgment, amusement lighting his eyes. Alex realized he thought he was making up an excuse to leave so he wouldn’t have to watch for a few minutes. It was true enough, but Alex’s fury rose all the same. Bastard. Knows it's pissing me off, yet he's still doing it.
He headed to the bathroom, skirting around the various guests and slaves in attendance. There were some Andorians present, but more Ginaros and Vedas like Nuit were easily recognizable amongst the crowd. The same representation of clone breeds that he’d seen at any of the parties he’d been to with Matt the past few months.
The chance to stretch his legs was welcome; he’d been kneeling for a while. The hallway was crowded with servers moving back and forth from the kitchen carrying large trays, but he soon got past them and found the lavatories.
Once done, he returned to the party area. He paused in the doorway, and seeing Matt still engaged with Garthen, Alex deliberately took a detour towards where he'd last seen his target. If he could have simply flirted with someone, he would have done so, but no guest at this party would deign to flirt with an Andorian, and none of the other clones would dare to reciprocate any advance he made.
Spotting Lofton, drunk as he always quickly became at these parties, standing near the wall on the opposite side of the room, Alex approached him carefully. Waiting until the man’s glass was empty-he'd rather avoid getting anything spilled on him, thanks-Alex bumped him on purpose as he walked by.
Irritated at being jostled, Lofton turned on him, grabbing the front of his shirt. “Watch it, slave!”
The man’s breath stank, and Alex didn’t even have to fake the grimace. “I’m sorry, sir,” he forced himself to say.
Lofton was a man past his prime, his hairline receding and his hair graying. Some wrinkles lined his face, prematurely aged by too much drink, and there was a petty arrogance in him that Alex had seen displayed before. But most importantly, he had a reputation for not keeping his hands to himself.
The man didn’t disappoint in that regard. His annoyed expression quickly became a leer as he got a better look at Alex. “You’re a pretty piece, aren’t you?”
Getting into his role, Alex made his eyes widen as if in terror. “Sir?”
Lofton pushing him backwards, Alex stumbled back until the man had him pressed against the wall. Lofton was tall, much taller than Matt or himself, and he curled one hand in Alex’s hair, pulling his head back to look at him.
When the man's other hand shifted to grope Alex’s crotch, it took effort for him to remain passive. He'd expected some touching to happen, but Lofton's hands wandered much farther off course than he'd have preferred. Even though he’d instigated this, it didn’t mean he enjoyed any of it. When enslaved he’d always loathed not being able to fight back; being forced to accept whatever treatment he was given enraged him, especially when he was capable of defending himself.
Lofton's hand was cupping his balls now, and Alex’s stomach felt queasy. He didn’t want anyone other than Matt touching him like this.
“I’ve seen you around before. Whose slut are you?”
“He’s mine.” Matt’s growl came out of nowhere, rising above the noise of the party. “Get your fucking hands off him.”
The rage behind those words filled Alex with satisfaction, and he looked past his captor. There was Matt stalking towards Lofton like some Stellvian warrior from the old war vids, his eyes boiling with fury. He grabbed the back of the man’s jacket, pulling him away from Alex.
Feet fumbling, Lofton turned to face him, and Alex slumped against the wall with relief. From his position behind Lofton, he watched the man’s shoulders stiffen as he realized just how pissed Matt was. The fact that the man could sense the danger even through his drunken stupor said a lot for how scary Matt looked at that moment.
“Sorry, no harm meant. Just wasn’t thinking clearly,” the man blubbered, obviously not wanting to antagonize Matt further. He moved aside, sidling away while keeping a wary eye on him, as if afraid Matt would jump him as soon as he turned his back.
Getting another clear look at Matt’s face, glaring at the disappearing drunk, Alex decided Lofton wasn’t being overly cautious. Matt really did look mad enough to rip his balls off.
Then that rage was turned on him, and Alex’s gut tightened. I didn’t think this all the way through, did I, he realized belatedly.
Matt was suddenly right there, pressing him against the wall, his hands gripping Alex’s arms. “I saw you,” Matt whispered furiously in his ear, “you went out of your way to walk over here.”
So much for Matt not seeing him come back in. Alex shuddered at the deep rumble of Matt's voice, but he wasn’t cowed that easily. “You were still flirting with Garthen.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching you.”
Closing his eyes, Alex let that sink in for a minute. He knew Muldane was obsessed with him, but infatuation didn’t preclude the man from having some fun on the side if he wanted to. And no one would think twice about it; owners had zero obligation to be faithful to their bedslaves. Of course, this was Matt, the man who refused to have sex with anyone other than slaves. So what was he worried about?
It’s this pretense. It’s really getting to me, he realized. He hated being in this powerless position, looked down on by other people. And while Matt had been more considerate lately-well, in general, not tonight with the flirting in front of his face and all-it still wasn't the progress Alex truly wanted, and the compromises he was making in the meantime were wearing down on him as much as the pretense. He understood that it would take more time for Matt's mindset on slavery to change, if it ever completely did, but he was no saint himself, and couldn't help feeling impatient sometimes.
Especially when Matt did something like this. He couldn’t handle both Matt’s presumption that he had the right to ignore Alex's feelings if he wanted to, and the disdain of everyone else. It was too much.
He didn’t voice any of these thoughts aloud though. “You’re making a scene,” he told the man softly, knowing it would prevent any retribution-at least for the moment.
Matt stiffened, glancing at the interested crowd around them, his attention diverted away from Alex. But he still kept a firm grip on him, and leaned in after a few moments. “It’s your fault there was a scene at all.”
“Garthen’s fault, actually,” Alex murmured shortly, sliding away from him.
Matt let him go, the clutch of his fingers loosening. Stealing one last glimpse of Matt’s furious expression, Alex let his face go blank. Changing his posture, he gracefully lowered himself to the ground the way he’d been taught at Kristech. Kneeling before Muldane, he pressed his face against his hands, lying flush against the floor, concentrating on appearing to everyone in the room like a typical contrite slave.
He heard Matt curse under his breath. Lately, the man always grumbled when he turned up the dial on his pretense like this. Unhappy to see him do it? Flame all, he hoped so. If Muldane disliked it with a quarter of the intensity that Alex himself hated it, he’d consider it a victory.
“I’m sorry, master.”
Alex kept the words empty, knowing Matt would hear the lack of meaning to them. It was a fine line, making the pretense believable for the public, while ensuring his real audience knew it for the lie it was. But he managed it more often than not, which was enough to gratify him. These days, he had to take what amusement he could get.
“Get up.” The command was harsh, but it wasn’t only anger that roughened it. Alex could hear frustration too; the knowledge that he didn’t mean it when he called him master. So close, yet so far.
Alex followed Matt back across the room. Several people paused to watch them walk by, amused by the scene they’d caused. Muldane met their gazes, daring any of them to comment, but Alex kept his head bowed as was expected. At least it made it easier to hide his expression again.
Matt showed no inclination to leave; to do so now would imply that he was embarrassed by the attention he’d drawn earlier. No, he’d obstinately stick around even if he was too irritable to be civil to anyone now.
At last they reached the couch again, and the annoying politician was still there. Garthen shifted over, making more room for Matt. Muldane hesitated, his finger pointing down by his feet for a moment before directing Alex to kneel a few paces away again.
Interpreting the way Matt kept glancing at him moodily, keeping a wary eye on him, Matt clearly wanted him closer after that little incident. It was only pride-and stubbornness-that held him back; being possessive of one's property was socially acceptable, but seeming overly attached to one's slave was something else altogether.
Matt spoke with Garthen a while longer, but it was as much a show now as Alex’s own public behavior. To drive the man away quickly would be to let Alex win, so Matt didn’t do that of course. But he no longer demonstrated much interest in the politician’s comments, and ignored the man’s flirtations. Soon enough Garthen made his excuses. From his manner it was clear that if Muldane wasn’t interested anymore, there were plenty of others at the party he could seek companionship with.
A familiar snap of fingers drew Alex’s attention away from the departing politician. Resentment flared; he’d seen Kate’s stepfather use the same sound to call his dog over. But he kept the blank mask firmly in place-Alex knew just how to annoy the asshole in return.
Rising, he approached Muldane and then knelt again by his feet, facing him with his gaze lowered. “Yes, master?”
Matt didn’t miss the ‘fuck you’ tone. “We’re leaving,” he growled.
Chapter 3