Chapter 1
Landen
The Knot was quiet in the way it always was before a scene settled into itself.
That low hum, that breath held just beneath the surface; Landen had known it for years, felt it vibrate through his chest like a second heartbeat. The murmur of distant conversation, the soft whisper of fabric against leather, the mournful slide of a cello from speakers hidden in the dark corners.
Light spilled in golden pools from the chandeliers, catching on polished hardwood and leaving the plush seating islands draped in intimate shadow.
He stood at the center of the main floor. The low circular platform was solid beneath his shoes. Familiar. He'd stood here a thousand times. A thousand scenes. A thousand bodies laid bare at his feet.
Warm leather. Clean sandalwood. The honeyed sweetness of beeswax candles burning low.
He breathed it in.
His hand settled against the small of the young man’s back.
Leo. His name was Leo. Landen wanted to remember that. The men blurred sometimes, soft edges and eager eyes and the same trembling anticipation, but this one stood before him in simple dark linen pants and nothing else. Smooth skin, pale in the warm light. Shoulders drawn up tight, fine tremors running through him like a plucked string.
Shallow breathing. Rapid. Fear and desire, all tangled together.
This was the part Landen knew. Had known so long it had worn grooves into him.
His voice came out calm. Measured. It cut through the anticipatory quiet like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Kneel."
A hesitation, a fraction of a second, and then Leo lowered himself to the padded leather.
"Good."
He'd said it ten thousand times. He wondered, distantly, if he'd ever meant it.
"Hands on your thighs. Palms up."
He reached for the blindfold. Simple black silk, cool and liquid against his fingers. He held it up so Leo could see it. "I'm going to put this on you now. It will help you focus.”
A nod. Jerky.Desperate.
Landen stepped behind him, lifted the silk and settled it over Leo's eyes, tied it securely at the base of his skull. Leo's breathing grew louder in the sudden dark.
"Breathe in." Landen's voice was slow and close beside his ear. "And out. Just follow me."
The cuffs were next; leather lined with lambswool, soft as a caress. He buckled them snug at each wrist, clipped the short, weighted chain between them, and settled Leo's bound hands back onto his thighs.
"You look perfect."
Leo's shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.
Landen picked up the deerskin flogger. The falls were soft and supple, almost liquid in his hand. He drew the tips across Leo's shoulders, down the knobs of his spine, and felt Leo shiver beneath the touch.
He drew the flogger back. "I want you to count the strikes for me. Out loud. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
Thwap.
Soft against the meat of Leo's shoulder. Barely a sensation.