"You okay. I know what I do," Lu whispered in his ear. "I look after you. Keep safe. They like when you struggle. Keep doing it."

He tried to tell Lu to take out the gag, that he'd cope with the rest but not the f.u.c.king gag, but all that happened was his mouth filled with saliva, swallowing became impossible and he thought he'd choke or drown. Swallow. Try. Do it. Lu fastened more clamps to Tyler's hips and the inside of his thighs, and he trembled in pain, anger and frustration-but fear had the strongest grip, its black tentacles sliding over his entire body.

Prescott stood smiling, drinking champagne, his arm around Jeremy, whose wide-eyed gaze was fixed on Tyler. Tyler struggled to get free, tried to yell at Prescott to keep his f.u.c.king money, fought to make Lu see he wanted out. As fear of suffocation began to overwhelm everything else, he stopped struggling. Drawing enough air into his lungs through his nose proved difficult enough.

Tyler closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in one of Rachmaninoff's pieces, imagining his fingers flying over the keys while all too aware of Lu fastening more and more clamps to his body and then b.l.o.o.d.y well flicking them. b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Every time Tyler thought he could stand this without his head exploding, the clip would fasten on some ultra-sensitive spot and send lightning wicking through his body, and when Lu tightened the attachment, he thrashed involuntarily, the rope chaffing his wrists and ankles.

When Lu attached more clips to his b.a.l.l.s and along the length of his c.o.c.k, Tyler groaned behind the gag. He opened his eyes and stared at the people watching, trying to find someone to help him, someone who understood he was going to f.u.c.king die up here. Jeremy! Panic grew to overwhelming proportions in his chest, a band tightening around his heart, restricting his lungs, blocking his throat. Music wasn't enough to keep him safe. There was no place to hide. His heart pounded more loudly inside his head and the room swam, shapes contorting, colors fading.

Tyler thought his heart stopped as the frame he hung from began to move. He tightened his hold on the straps, a.s.suming he was going to fall, but the cross lifted and tilted him forward until he hung at a forty-five degree angle above the platform, secured only by rope at his wrists and ankles, the wings drooping so they hung at his sides. The pain from the clamps intensified. He fought to keep breathing through his nose. There wasn't one part of him that didn't hurt. The overwhelming feeling of being trapped and defenseless was so powerful, he was frightened he'd throw up and choke to death. His life was literally in Lu's hands.

I am such a f.u.c.king idiot.

Chapter Four.

As Haris followed Tyler from the concert, he'd expected him to turn at any moment and spot him, but he'd been in too much of a hurry. When Tyler entered an old warehouse, Haris stepped into a gloomy doorway on the other side of the street and took out his phone. An Internet search gave no details about what might be happening at the address, but the building had a large gallery available to rent.

A steady stream of people went in as he watched. None came out. Unfortunately, they all handed over some sort of ticket at the door which meant he needed one if he was to get inside without making a fuss. He waited until he spotted a single guy in a leather jacket walking down the street and then hurried across the road to cut him off.

No point beating about the bush. "Sell me your ticket?"

The man looked him up and down. "You can probably buy one at the door."

Haris wasn't going to take that risk. "I'll give you a hundred pounds." He suspected that was far too much, but he could afford it and he didn't want to waste more time.

"Two."

"One." Haris took out his wallet.

"Okay."

As the guy carried on toward the door, presumably with the intent of paying the thirty pounds it said at the bottom of the ticket, Haris took in the rest of what it said.

BDSM Extravaganza at La Galleria Everything you ever wanted to know Everything you need to have Demonstrations Live show 30.

Oh s.h.i.t. A hard lump blocked his throat and he swallowed hard. For his own peace of mind he ought to walk away, so he wasn't quite sure why he found himself pressing the buzzer, handing over the ticket and taking the stairs to the gallery.

All I want to do is look at him. One more look so I can find some flaw, something I don't like, something that ends this.

As if one look was going to be enough.

But if Tyler was into this scene, one look was all it would be. Haris couldn't take the risk of getting trawled into this world. Not again.

Three chattering women bursting out of tight leather corsets, the sides of their short skirts laced with chains, tottered on lofty heels away from a cloakroom toward the doors of the gallery and Haris slipped in behind them. He doubted invites had been restricted to those known to the organizers, but he had to be careful not to do anything to draw attention to himself. He almost smiled at the thought. In this sort of domain, many were exhibitionists, and he'd hardly stand out in his long gray woolen coat, even with the bow tie at his neck.

The room was set out with booths around the edges and a display in the center involving a St. Andrew's cross. Haris walked past stalls selling d.i.l.d.os, elaborate c.o.c.k cages, rope, hard core DVDs, all sorts of leather items and books about bondage. There were tattoo artists doing flash work, body piercers offering to make holes in almost anything and demonstrations of j.a.panese rope work being done on naked women. Haris's heart beat faster but not with any desire to dive back into this world.

Representatives of clubs wandered around handing out flyers offering free trials and he ignored the outstretched hands, just as he ignored the Doms on the lookout for subs and the subs seeking Doms. But he was all too aware of Doms sizing him up and subs trying to catch his eye. Maybe it was easier for him to turn his back on this world than it was for this world to turn its back on him. He hoped he didn't see anyone he knew. When he spotted an area where different types of floggers were being demonstrated on a naked man, his heart pounded even harder and he turned away, glad it wasn't Tyler.

More and more people were gathering around the platform in the center of the room and as Haris watched, a heavily muscled Asian, his chest and arms smothered in dragon tattoos, hauled the St. Andrew's cross into the air until it rested at an angle. A naked guy with black wings hung from it, his wrists and ankles secured by rope. Lines of metal clips ran from his nipples to his hips and his b.a.l.l.s and c.o.c.k were smothered in them. The bound figure lifted his head and Haris froze. s.h.i.t. He sucked in a disappointed breath and turned away. Tyler wasn't the man he hoped for. No need to stay longer.

What did I think I was going to see? This is a BDSM event. That's the scene he's into.

One last look.

He swiveled round and Tyler lifted his head again, scanning the crowd with his wide-eyed gaze, a ball gag distorting his mouth. Haris released a quiet groan. Unless Tyler was a very good actor, not only was he not enjoying this, he was terrified.

Haris curled his fingers into fists. Interfering in someone's bondage play was frowned on and unwise, unless it was an emergency. This wasn't an emergency. Tyler had to have voluntarily let himself be tied and gagged, so had things gone too far or was he pretending? He seemed distressed and frightened, but didn't appear to be in immediate danger. Even so, the look in his eyes unsettled Haris to the point that he couldn't walk away. He moved closer.

The Asian rigger crouched with his back to Tyler, chatting at the far side of the platform and Haris bristled. Someone should be monitoring the sub at all times, checking he could breathe, making sure his hands and fingers weren't losing sensation. Anxiety twisted his guts. Tyler's eyelids fluttered, drool seeped from around the gag and even above the ambient noise, Haris could hear the m.u.f.fled sounds of his misery.

He pushed through the onlookers to stand in front of the rigger. "Take his ball gag out."

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d laughed. "You want me gag you instead?"

"He's having problems."

The rigger walked back to Tyler and ran his hand over a line of clips. Tyler squirmed and gave a muted anguished groan. Haris clenched his jaw.

"This BDSM," said the rigger. "This what he want. This what they want." He gestured to the watching crowd.

Tyler shook his head, more saliva trickling down his chin as he struggled. His gaze locked with Haris, his eyes desperate, his breathing frantic.

"Did you check it was what he wanted?" Haris asked. "With that gag in, he can't tell you."

"He brat. Talk too much. He give sign if problem." The man shrugged. "No sign."

What f.u.c.king sign can he give you when he's bound and gagged? Or when you've got your back toward him? Tyler was trying to speak behind the gag but Haris backed away. The more fuss he made, the more attention he'd draw, the more likely he'd be ejected and that wasn't going to help anyone. The rigger needed to think he'd given in. Haris pulled out his phone as he headed toward the entrance. "Wilson."

"I've so missed the sound of your voice, sir. I was lying here in my bed at the point of sleep, wishing I could hear it one more time today, knowing I'd rest so much easier."

"I need the car." Haris gave him the address. "Make it fast. Stay in the vehicle and wait."

He ended the call before Wilson could say anything else. Once he'd located a fire alarm inside the gallery, Haris hurried part way down the stairs. As soon as a new group came in and distracted the man at the door, he slipped down the next flight into the bowels of the building. He sighed with relief when he found the circuit breaker box, though when he opened it, he had no idea what the switches controlled. He flicked all of them the opposite way and was plunged into darkness.

Using his phone to light his path, he made his way upstairs against the flow of angry people trying to exit. At least they weren't panicking. Yet. Once he was in the gallery, he edged around the wall to the alarm, broke the gla.s.s and yelled "Fire" before he hit the b.u.t.ton. Women started to scream, and he could hear things being knocked over as people rushed to leave. Back at the platform, he was furious to find Tyler had been left hanging with no one helping him. Where the f.u.c.k is that rigger?

The Asian rigger had a responsibility to Tyler. No way should he have deserted him. Haris climbed onto the dais, his phone clamped between his teeth. Tyler looked even worse in the dim light, his chest heaving as he sucked air through his nose. Haris unfastened the ball gag, dropped it and Tyler let out a strangled sob.

"It's okay. I'm going to get you down," Haris told him.

He had to lever the cross back into an upright position and lock it in place before he could start unfastening the ropes and doing it in the dark wasn't easy. There should have been a knife nearby in case of emergencies, but he didn't want to waste time looking.

It was perfectly reasonable in these circ.u.mstances for him to be helping a sub who was tied up, though he hoped he had Tyler down before the lights came on because he preferred to avoid a confrontation. He unfastened his ankles first and after he'd freed one wrist, Tyler slumped against him. Haris supported him as he untangled the final knot.

"You're loose now."

Tyler gripped him tighter.

"Try not to faint. Is your back okay? Legs working?"

"No. f.u.c.k. G.o.d."

Tyler trembled so violently that Haris's fury with the Asian moved straight from volcanic to apocalyptic which probably stopped him getting an erection.

"That d.a.m.n rigger," Haris muttered.

Once he had Tyler sitting on the platform, he shrugged off his coat.

"We need to get out of here. Put this on."

"Clothes...underneath."

"I'll get them."

There was no time to take off the wings or the clamps. Haris stuffed Tyler's hands into the armholes of the coat and pulled it over his shoulders. He fastened a couple of b.u.t.tons and then crouched to fumble under the curtained base until he found a pile of clothes and boots. He shoved the boots on Tyler's feet with no small amount of difficulty, wrapped the clothes inside the jacket and tucked it under his arm. As he helped Tyler up, the lights came back on. They were the only ones in the room.

"Hurry." Haris tugged a sluggish Tyler away from the entrance toward a fire exit.

He pushed open the door and helped him outside. As they climbed down the metal steps, the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles filled the air and Haris felt a moment of guilt for their wasted journey. He made a mental note to make a charitable donation to the firefighters' benevolent fund. Back on the ground, he guided a stumbling Tyler away from the road and round the back of the neighboring property. Only when they were well clear did Haris risk stopping.

Tyler leaned against a wall with his eyes closed.

"Wilson," Haris said into his phone.

"I'm right outside, sir, ready to run into a blazing building to save you, despite my asthmatic lungs and arthritic hips."

"Very n.o.ble. Drive round the corner on to Curzon Street and pick us up." He stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"He f.u.c.king left me," Tyler whispered. "Christ. What a p.r.i.c.k."

"Yep."

"I thought...I was going to die. When the fire alarm went off...oh G.o.d." He shuddered.

The car slid up to the curb. Haris helped Tyler into the back and climbed in after him.

"Home, sir?" Wilson asked.

"Not yet. Just drive around here for a while."

Haris pressed the b.u.t.ton to raise the privacy screen and turned to see Tyler staring at him, a wary look in his eyes.

"Have I just landed in the frying pan?" Tyler whispered.

"No."

"I saw you staring at me in there."

Haris tensed. "You didn't look happy."

Tyler let out a short laugh.

"Are you okay?" Haris asked.

"My wings are killing me."

Haris bit back his smile.

"You didn't notice I'd stuffed my socks inside my boots."

"No wonder you couldn't walk."

"And these d.a.m.n clamps..." Tyler fumbled with the coat b.u.t.tons and dropped his head back with a groan when his trembling fingers failed to unfasten them.

Haris did it for him. He pulled the coat from Tyler's shoulders and freed his arms.

"Do you have any water?" Tyler asked.

Haris unscrewed a bottle and put it in his hand. Tyler shook as he lifted it but he drank the whole lot. Haris watched it glug down his throat, imagining himself licking his neck, sucking his Adam's apple, sucking his-Stop thinking about s.e.x. But it was impossible. The guy sprawled naked on the seat, a broken wing draped across his crotch that didn't hide his erection and Haris's c.o.c.k was diamond hard.

"Take my boots off?" Tyler asked.

Haris lifted his leg and levered off the footwear.

Tyler let out a strangled laugh. "I can't believe you even managed to get those on." He tried to free a clamp on his nipple and yelped. "f.u.c.king b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. My fingers."

"You want me to do it?"

"Please."

Haris started at the top of his chest and worked down. Every time Tyler moaned, it excited him, which alarmed him beyond belief. Haris had turned his back on this a long while ago. He'd promised himself he'd never go there or do this again.

"Oh f.u.c.k." Tyler rubbed his palm over the red lines on his ribs. "That b.l.o.o.d.y hurts. f.u.c.king Lu."

"You need the bathroom?"

Tyler snorted. "That's the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's name-Lu."

Haris made a mental note. He took the final clip off Tyler's torso and hesitated.

Tyler lifted his wing to uncover his crotch. "You missed a few. Think you could get those as well? If I try, I'll probably rip my b.a.l.l.s off."