The Flesh Cartel #6: Brotherhood

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
Chapter 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
Chapter 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
Chapter 6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
chapter one
    N
    ikolai left Douglas curled up on his side in the bed, sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted. He had to be, to be able to sleep at all with that massive plug inside him. Hopefully this particular training would end soon.
    But he’d worry about tomorrow when it came. For now, he closed and locked the door behind him, and headed down the hall to the vault-like wall that isolated one half of the basement from the other. It wasn’t exactly convenient to have to lock and unlock this door too, but it was crucial—at least for now—that the brothers never be able to hear each other or be reminded of the other’s presence. Only one last door to get through now: the one for Mathias’s suite. He unlocked it as quietly as he could, hoping to catch the man in a natural state. He could’ve checked the video feed on his phone, of course, but where was the sense of adventure in that? Besides, he trusted his leverage over Mathias thoroughly enough not to fear for his own safety.
    Mathias was on the treadmill, running flat-out, naked but for socks and sneakers and the new spandex shorts Nikolai had had delivered this morning. Sweat slicked the whole glorious expanse of his muscular body. He didn’t seem to have heard Nikolai enter—no surprise between the whir of the treadmill, the pounding of his shoes on the conveyor belt, and the loud but even rasping of air in and out of his powerful lungs. A stunning sight indeed. Hypnotic, almost. Nikolai leaned against the doorframe and simply enjoyed it for a moment.
    Such power . And soon, Nikolai would have it entirely under his control. His pet warrior. His champion. Hmm, maybe not. More like a dancing bear, beaten and kept in chains.
    His moment of quiet observation abruptly ended when Mat caught sight of him in his peripheral vision and startled so hard he nearly flew off the end of the treadmill. Instead, he half tripped onto steady ground, rounding on Nikolai with a facial expression and body language that spoke of barely reined-in fury.
    You made me beg you to fuck my ass, you fucking monster , that expression screamed. But out loud, Mathias only said— well, spat, “I was going for time on a half-marathon. What do you want?”
    Nikolai could play this game too, saying one thing and meaning another. He raised an eyebrow that admonished—I don’t respond to that tone of voice—and asked, “How far did you go?”
    Mathias glared hard at him for another long moment, then walked over to shut off the treadmill and peer at the display. He grabbed the towel he’d slung over the handlebars and wiped at his face with it, sucking down air like a man who’d pushed himself far too hard. “Eleven miles in fifty-two minutes. That fast enough to get away from this place, you think?”
    “It doesn’t matter how fast you run, Mathias. We’d find you. Assuming, of course, you were even capable of leaving the building. And then what? What about Douglas? Would you leave him behind?”
    Mathias bristled, fists balled at his sides. “He can keep up. Has since he was nine. Used to follow me on my morning run every day like a lost puppy.”
    Mathias went silent then, looking the sort of confused Nikolai had grown very familiar with over the years: that wounded, wondering expression that screamed, Why did I just tell him that?
    No matter how stubborn his charges were, they all wore that expression at one point or another.
“Even if you could both run, you realize there are . . . failsafes in place for such a possibility, don’t you?” By Mathias’s expression, no, he didn’t. He really had no idea how big this operation was, the fool. Too self-centered to understand he was just one tiny piece of a huge puzzle. “Do you really think this organization could run as long and as secretly as it has if anyone was allowed to go free? Personally, I’ve never lost a slave, but I know of other trainers and owners who’ve been careless enough to. Remember the men who first captured you? They’re the lowest on our totem pole. Slightly above them—though far below those such as myself or Madame, of course—you’ll find a