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The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences

The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences

Titel: The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Rachel Haimowitz , Heidi Belleau
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that justa save my ass.
    But for him? Yes. For Dougie. A laugh, too loud, as boorish as the bulk of the outside world. It made Nikolai’s upper lip curl in disgust. For Dougie’s ass.
    He hit pause again. Tapped his thumb against the desk, but then stopped himself. Forty-one years
    old or not, his mentor would’ve rapped him across the knuckles if he’d still been alive to catch him
    fidgeting like that.
    “What am I going to do with you?” he asked the frozen image of Mathias on his computer screen.
    He couldn’t lean on Douglas forever to keep Mathias in line. Not unless he could convince his client
    to buy them both, and that aside, the thought rankled . To be bested by some . . . some animal without the first hint of culture or refinement or higher education. Oh, he could break him, sure. But breaking a man was no great challenge for him, not anymore. Controlling a man without breaking him . . . Well,
    maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew, after all.
    He leaned back in his chair, pressed his fingertips to his temples and rubbed. Childishly, he
    allowed himself to wish his mentor were here. His mentor would’ve known what to do. Would’ve
    been able to show him how to handle this.
    But his mentor was dead, and wishing things were different was pointless, sentimental tripe (and
    dangerous besides). Perhaps he could continue to rely on threats against Douglas a while longer yet,
    until he’d worn Mathias down by strain and time and routine, and then slowly wean Douglas out of
    Mathias’s life. Perhaps he needed to turn Mathias against Douglas as surely as he was turning
    Douglas against Mathias. Except, without breaking Mathias, how could he fill the hole Douglas
    would leave in the man’s life? Where would his new purpose come from, his new will to live? More
    carrot and less stick, perhaps. Find what else mattered and give it to him.
    But just in case that wouldn’t work, just in case he failed —and oh, how that thought made him
    nearly physically ill—he’d best call his client and try to talk the man into buying both brothers.
    Perhaps he could even offer to throw Douglas in for free; he’d certainly be making enough on the sale
    of Mathias to absorb that. Besides, if it came to that, then he’d have failed in his own obligations, and wouldn’t deserve to make a profit anyway.
    Nikolai sighed and shoved away from the computer. He’d go to see the boy now. Do what he did
    best. He wasn’t above soothing his own ruffled ego with a healthy dose of forward momentum on that
    pretty little project.
    Douglas was still asleep, curled up on his side and wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, when
    Nikolai arrived.
    Nikolai stood at the foot of the bed. Cleared his throat.
    Nothing. Interesting . A boy only slept this deeply when he felt—on some subconscious level, at
    least—safe. Though Nikolai supposed nearly anything would be safe by comparison to Madame’s.
    Still, he’d managed to avoid the need for physical harm with the boy so far, and for all of Douglas’s
    protestations of his misery, the technique was clearly working. A good thing for Nikolai, too, because
    the light hand he used with Douglas balanced out the cruel one he used with the brother.
    “Wake up,” he said, projecting his voice, and this time Douglas jolted awake. Turned and, seeing
    Nikolai, fell startled from the bed.
    He looked rather like he was about to be sick. Nikolai hoped he wouldn’t; it would put him off
    his morning plans.
    But Douglas didn’t get sick. Just knelt there, still wrapped in his blanket, blinking and panting.
    Shivering? Yes, that too.
    “Do you think this is an appropriate way to greet one’s master?” Nikolai asked. “Hiding yourself
    like this? If your master comes to you in the night and wishes to use you, he should not have to fight
    the bedsheets for access.” Nikolai shook his head, stern, fatherly. “I think it’s about time I taught you some basic etiquette. Start by making the bed. Then kneel beside it when you’re finished, and we’ll
    go from there.”
    As it turned out, the boy was pin neat. Though he unwrapped himself reluctantly and with
    trembling hands, he made the bed with all the speed and precision of a high-end hotel maid. For a
    moment when he was finished, though, he looked sick again, lost, as if wishing he’d not finished the
    chore so quickly. After all, that left him nothing to do but fall to his knees at Nikolai’s feet—a task he’d not learn to

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