9. The Awakening
CHAPTER NINE
THE AWAKENING
Malakai
I lean back in the chair in my private room in Inferno . Running my hands down my face, my fingers press against my temples, trying to ease the weight of the day from my mind.
“You can go,” I say, waving Adrian off.
He stands unsteadily, and I zip myself back up without bothering to offer any pleasantries.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, grabbing his coat.
I shake my head. “No. I came, didn’t I?”
Too hard.
He shrugs. “All right. See you later.”
Once he’s gone, I groan as I rest my face in my hands.
For years, I’ve pushed this down, convinced myself it didn’t mean anything. That I wasn’t attracted to men, too. But if that were true, why did it feel like I was cracking open something I’d spent years cementing shut? I told myself it was just sex, just curiosity—another experiment. But when his hands were on me, firm and certain, I knew the truth. I wanted this. I wanted him.
And yet, part of me still recoiled at the thought, as if wanting him somehow unraveled everything I’d built my life around. As if admitting this desire would rewrite my past, my identity, my faith. It wasn’t just fear of what others would say—it was fear of what I’d say to myself.
And admitting that to myself feels bigger than Julian or Sophie. It feels like finally admitting who I am.
After last weekend, I had to know for sure.
I couldn’t keep circling around these feelings—toward Sophie, toward Julian—without facing them head-on.
So I did something I’ve never done before.
I went looking for someone who reminded me of Julian—tall, broad-shouldered, blond hair that caught the light the same way his did. I found him by accident, leaning against the bar at a place in West Hollywood, and before I could second-guess myself, I invited him back to Inferno with me.
I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did.
And I definitely didn’t expect my cock to get hard, and to come down his throat while imagining that I was face fucking my friend.
It was pure euphoria… followed by extreme panic.
If I admit it to myself—if I accept it—what does that make me? Am I still the person I thought I was, or is this some version of myself that I’ve spent my whole life denying?
It feels like I’m on the edge of something big, and I have no idea what the future holds. I just know that being here— pretending— doesn’t feel right anymore.
When I got the job as headmaster of Saint Helena Academy—or rather, when Chase, my younger brother, bought the school out and handed me the job—it felt perfect for where I was in my life.
And now? Recently… I’ve felt like a fraud.
It’s not that religion is less important; it’s more that faith itself has become… complicated. The moral code I’ve spent my life enforcing feels like it’s slipping. Or maybe it’s me who’s slipping. For years, I told myself it was the scripture that kept me in line. I used to embrace the commandments and expectations without question. That the words of Leviticus, of Matthew, were guardrails. But the truth is, I held onto them like a lifeline—not to save me from sin, but to save me from myself. If I followed the rules, I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I never fit neatly into the world they built for me. They used to mean something to me. But they feel hollow now, almost stifling.
I speak to the kids at Saint Helena every day. They’re young and impressionable, and they trust me to guide them. I wonder what exactly I’m leading them toward, because I don’t even know how to guide myself.
Maybe this is part of it. All these years of feeling like I had to fit into a box—straight, devout, the man everyone expects me to be. But I’ve never let myself acknowledge how much I enjoyed that kiss with Julian seventeen years ago.
I run my hands over my face again, feeling the roughness of a day’s worth of stubble. The things I’ve done with women, even if they strayed from traditional vows, at least felt natural—still within the bounds of something forgivable. But this? The things I think about now… they feel like an outright rebellion.
I can almost hear the scripture whispering its condemnation.
Leviticus.
Matthew.
I clung to those verses, held them close—not to judge others, but to keep myself in line. I wasn’t harsh on anyone else, just myself.
Always myself.
Back then, I thought I needed them to make sense of things, to keep myself on track.
And now? I’m sitting here, drawn to thoughts of him, my friend, the man who knows me better than anyone, and yet not at all. The one I used to call my best friend. And Sophie, the picture of devotion. Together, they exist in my mind like some forbidden relic I’m compelled to touch, even as I know I’ll be burned.
But lately, what I feel doesn’t match the words of condemnation drilled into me since I started seminary all those years ago. It feels like something I’ve been missing for years but never dared acknowledge, something that only now makes sense, though it’s wrapped in shame.
I can’t tell where the lines of belief end and my own needs begin. And part of me isn’t sure I want to know anymore.
Part of me isn’t sure I care anymore.
I quickly pack up and walk out of Inferno . Guilt briefly flickers in my mind for dismissing Adrian so quickly. The thought lingers for a moment before I push it aside. It’s late afternoon, and I still have a few things to wrap up in my actual office. The walk is uneventful, and soon I’m closing the door before sitting at my desk. I let my face fall into my hands as I let out a frustrated sigh.
I haven’t even acknowledged that being with Adrian felt like I was betraying Sophie and Julian, despite not speaking to them since the housewarming party.
A soft knock on the door has me sitting up. “Come in.”
Jackson Parker walks into my office. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. Mark called. Apparently our flight next week was canceled, so we’re just trying to scramble?—”
“I understand,” I tell him, leaning forward. “You’ve got a lot going on right now. In the cabinet behind you, second drawer, there’s a bottle of whiskey. Here’s the key,” I tell him, tossing a key to him.
Jackson laughs. “Naughty headmaster.” He reaches behind him and unlocks the drawer, unscrewing the top before taking a swig. “Fuck, that’s good.”
He hands me the bottle and I sip it before setting it down. “Better?”
“Much,” he replies, sighing and leaning back in the chair. “I just want to be there for the birth of our child, you know? If I miss it… I’ll never forgive myself.”
I nod, considering his words. He and his partner, Mark, are expecting a child via surrogate due next week. He teaches preschool at Saint Helena and is one of our best and most coveted teachers.
He’s also Chase’s best friend, so I’ve known him for most of my adult life.
“Do you want to start your leave early?” I ask gently. “I can certainly arrange for that if needed.”
Jackson shakes his head. “No way. My little crotch goblins are the only light in my day.” He chuckles. “Besides Mark, of course.”
I huff a laugh. “Just let me know when I need to call in the substitute. She’s all ready and prepped to go. Your class will be in good hands, okay?”
Jackson nods. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough for helping me with the paperwork. It’s not easy being a gay man sometimes. And of course, Rod got involved last week,” he adds, rolling his eyes as a flicker of frustration passes over his expression.
I stiffen. “Did he? Doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Something about the family values at Saint Helena. He was basically asking me to keep my reason for my leave quiet. As if a bunch of three- and four-year-olds care that I’m gay. Sometimes it’s hard having to fight for every inch.”
I swallow. “I can’t imagine.”
Jackson is quiet for a few seconds, but his eyes bore into mine. “You okay?”
I clear my throat, glancing down at the whiskey bottle before lifting my gaze to Jackson. “Before you met Mark, did you ever… think you knew yourself, and then one day realize maybe you didn’t know as much as you thought?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, casual, like it’s just an idle thought.
Jackson grins, tipping his head thoughtfully. “You mean like how I never thought I’d want my own kids one day?” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “I never thought I’d marry a man. But I suppose life has a way of giving you what you need, not what you expect.”
“That’s true.” I pause, trying to find the words I’ve been wondering about since I got mixed up with both Sophie and Julian. “Were you always sure about how you felt about Mark?”
Jackson’s smile softens. “No, not always. It was quite a process of figuring it out. There was a lot of self-reflection. But then I realized I had this significant part of myself that had been dormant until I met Mark.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “After that, it sort of just clicked.” His eyes search my face. “But for other people, it can take a bit of time to come to terms with it. It’s not always a switch you can flip on command. Or at least it wasn’t in my experience.”
Maybe that’s what I was waiting for all these years—a moment when everything would suddenly make sense. But it never came. Instead, I spent my entire life compartmentalizing, convincing myself that if I just kept moving, if I kept focusing on my work, I wouldn’t have to face the fact that the things I wanted didn’t fit into the life I’d chosen. That I was only punishing myself by pretending I didn’t feel them at all.
“Right,” I murmur, my eyes drifting to the stained glass for a moment. “Guess some things take their time.”
“Is this because of Orion and Layla?” he asks, rubbing his chin as he refers to my youngest brother, who just started dating Layla, our stepsister, three months ago.
“What? No, I’m just… thinking about things. Life. My job. The future.”
“I only ask because you’re very famously the last single Ravage brother. I’m sure the pressure is on, you know?”
I trace the letters on the bottle, letting his words sink in. “Yeah,” I say finally, a soft smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “I think I’m starting to realize there’s more to life than the job. More than just keeping busy, keeping up appearances… being what everyone expects.”
Jackson raises an eyebrow, his gaze a little sharper, like he’s seeing right through the act I’ve held up for so long.
“For so many years, I thought my work here was all I needed,” I continue, “that as long as I was helping others, I’d be fulfilled.” I shake my head, almost surprised to hear the words coming out. “But maybe I’ve been selfish in my own way. Ignoring the things I want. Trying to be everything for everyone else.”
“Selfish?” Jackson laughs. “Pretty sure that’s not what anyone would call you.”
I meet his gaze. “Well, it’s what it feels like. Like maybe, for once, I should stop pretending I have it all figured out and actually… want something for myself.”
Jackson levels me with an eagle eye. “It’s okay to want something. I know your job carries a lot of guilt and heavy shame regarding certain things, but trust me when I say, as long as you’re not hurting anyone, who cares?”
The problem is… how do I explain that to myself?
I’ve spent so many years thinking I was protecting myself—protecting others—by pushing this part of me away. What happens when I stop hiding from it? I’ve always told myself it’s a sin, something unnatural. But is it really? Or is it the shame I’ve been taught to feel?
I nod. “Yeah. I wish I saw it that way.”
“Life’s too short. I’m not saying you should quit your job and join a pop band, but… people change. I’ve changed. And maybe you have, too.” He stands. “I should go. I’ll keep you updated about everything, okay? And I’ll bring a copy of the family leave paperwork tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” I stand and hold my hand out. “Thanks for this. I feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving you advice.”
Jackson laughs, clasping my hand warmly. “Sometimes we need a little advice ourselves, especially the ones who are used to dishing it out. You’re only human. Don’t forget that.”
“Yeah.”
He pats my shoulder. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, but don’t let it stop you from living, all right? You’re allowed to have a life beyond these walls.” He gives me one last encouraging smile, nodding once before he heads toward the door. “And hey, if you ever need another drink—or a pep talk—you know where to find me.”
As the door clicks shut, the silence settles back around me, though it doesn’t feel quite as heavy as before. Jackson’s words linger in the air. Life’s too short. I glance around the dim office, at the crosses and stained glass, and for once, the thought of wanting something just for me feels… almost possible.
I take another couple of swigs of whiskey before I stand and put it away. I think about how far I’ve come from the guy who used to pray away his thoughts—the guy who couldn’t look at another man without feeling disgusted with himself. Why was I scared of this? Scared of wanting someone who isn’t exactly what I’ve been told to want?
Locking up, I walk the halls of the mostly empty academy. Walking past my car, I continue down the main road in Crestwood, needing the fresh air and not wanting to drink and drive. I already know where I’m going when I enter Inferno twenty minutes later , and I’m waved inside as one of the regulars.
My youngest brother, Orion, started the kink club a few months ago, and unbeknownst to him and my other three brothers, I’ve been a more frequent client as of late. There’s an entire religious taboo section on both the Purgatory and Paradise floors, and I’ve dabbled with scenes when it was easy for me to take part in them anonymously.
And while the club rightfully doesn’t allow any edge play on the premises for safety and liability reasons, I’ve been able to make contacts here who enjoy those things in their own spaces, like me.
I came here to escape what I was feeling, but suddenly, the pounding music from Purgatory below is too loud. The flickering lights are too much. The air feels thick, weighted with things I’ve spent years trying to bury. The sound of leather slapping against skin echoes from down below.
Why am I here?
And why is it that I don’t want to leave?
At least when I’m here, I know I won’t be judged, and maybe that’s why I enter the bar area and sit down. I put my one and only drink order in—seeing as Inferno has a one-drink rule. The whiskey burns as it goes down my throat, and just as I swallow, I hear a familiar laugh. My whole body goes still as a dark gray suit comes into my peripheral vision, and I shoot the rest of the whiskey quickly, wincing as I set the glass down.
“There’s a joke here somewhere,” Julian says, coming to sit down next to me.
I don’t look at him right away. “You’re not the first to say that.”
As I slowly slide my eyes to my ex-best friend, my whole body is suddenly aware of the way the gray suit brings out his blue eyes, and how the five-o’clock shadow makes him seem a little less polished than normal.
“Do you keep the company of comedians often, then?” he says, his voice low and half amused.
“Perhaps.” I attempt to keep my voice steady. Tearing my eyes away, my fingers trace the edge of the empty glass.
Julian leans in, close enough that I catch a hint of cedar and something darker beneath it, like expensive leather and faint smoke. And bergamot— just like he used to smell growing up. It’s too familiar, and I immediately think of Sophie and her not-so-secret smoking habit. I look back at him, feeling like I’m being pulled into a whirlpool of my own making.
Julian’s eyes gleam as he watches me over the rim of his glass.
“I didn’t think this was your scene,” he murmurs, looking around. His eyes linger on my button-up shirt—I’d removed my tie earlier, and I’m sure my hair isn’t as neat as it was this morning, considering it’s been a hell of a long day.
“It’s not.”
“And yet…”
His gaze flicks to the empty glass in front of me, as if it holds answers I haven’t admitted yet. I shrug, but it feels like a weak attempt to downplay the heat curling low in my stomach. This isn’t about the drink—and we both know it.
“Nevertheless, you look like you’re here to make bad decisions,” he murmurs, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“And you’re here to stop me?” I ask, a touch too quickly, almost daring him.
He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. “Now why would I do that?” His voice drops even lower, practically a rumble. His hand brushes mine on the bar, just a featherlight touch, but it sends a jolt up my arm, something I don’t think he misses.
I pull my hand away.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, my eyes flicking to his mouth before I can stop myself.
“A business meeting, if you’ll believe it. My client appreciates the exclusivity here.” His eyes drag over my face. “The piece he’s after is very high-value, and he doesn’t want to be seen with me in public in case it attracts competitors.”
I nod. “I see. How’s Sophie?”
“Fine. Still recovering from the housewarming party,” he says casually. His knee grazes mine beneath the bar, and I tense—not from discomfort, but from the sharp pull inside of me that I can’t shake.
Which part? I want to ask, but instead, I keep my mouth shut.
And maybe it’s the whiskey that makes me want to ask the one burning question I’ve had since Julian returned to Crestwood, or maybe it’s what happened a couple of weeks ago at the party… either way, I can’t move on without knowing. I can’t help myself.
“Does she know about us? About… what happened back then?”
His jaw tightens. “Why wouldn’t she know? She knows everything else about me.”
Somehow, his answer stings more than it should, and his words linger in the air between us. His gaze holds mine with quiet passion, almost daring me to ask why she knows.
I already know the answer.
Because she loves him—and because they share a connection I can’t even fathom.
The weight of the past sits like a stone in my throat.
“Everything?” I ask again, my voice sounding hollow even to me. “So, does she know why I left?”
His jaw tightens, a flash of bitterness in his eyes that’s both unexpected and all too familiar. “I imagine you’d know the answer to that better than I would,” he replies, his voice cold but low. “You were the one who walked away, Kai. You didn’t exactly stick around to explain, so how could I explain it to her?”
I swallow, the burn of his words worse than the whiskey. “I’m sorry, Julian. I couldn’t do it. It was a mistake. I should have never…”
I can’t even admit it out loud.
I should have never kissed you. Not when I couldn’t follow through.
Julian laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Right. A mistake.” He leans in, his face inches from mine, his gaze piercing through me. “Funny how that mistake still lingers, isn’t it?”
I look down, my fingers tracing circles on the bar, unsure if I’m ready to give voice to the storm inside me.
I can feel his eyes on me, unwavering, and the confession I’ve kept locked away for years slips out.
“I don’t regret it, in case you’re wondering. I never said I regretted it.”
Julian’s breath catches, but he doesn’t reply right away. He looks away, his fingers clenching around his glass. When he speaks, his voice is tight, raw.
“I never asked, but since we’re confessing our sins… I do. I regret it. I regret thinking that kiss meant something. That maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one feeling it.”
I feel my throat tighten as his words sink in, each one hitting harder than the last. “Julian, I?—”
He cuts me off, his gaze sharp, angry. “You don’t get to explain it away now. You kissed me, and then you ran. And I don’t know what’s worse—that you kissed me at all, or that you acted like it was nothing.”
Hearing it out loud from him—how much I hurt him, how much I dismissed something that was real—felt like being gutted. But what hurt more was knowing that for years, I let fear dictate my life. I told myself I was doing the right thing, that I was protecting both of us, but all I was doing was running from a truth that refused to be buried.
His voice dips lower, rougher. “You made me feel like a fool for thinking it meant something. And yeah, maybe I should’ve been smarter than that. But I wasn’t,” he finishes, his voice cracking.
For the first time tonight, he doesn’t look at me. And somehow, that hurts more than if he’d yelled.
Memories of that kiss crash through my mind suddenly, and I feel like I’m drowning. I remember the way the kiss was hesitant at first, like he was afraid I’d pull away. I was the one who initiated it, after all. But I didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. I let it happen. And I can still so clearly remember what he looked like right after the kiss—flushed, out of breath, eyes dark with something I wasn’t ready to name.
He looked at me like I was something holy.
And that terrified me.
Because I didn’t want to be worshiped. I wanted to be consumed .
The difference between him and me, though, was that I never let myself believe I could want him. I couldn’t want him.
Not back then.
The pain in his voice is more than I can handle, and I feel myself unraveling, the walls I’ve built around this crumbling fast. “I left because I didn’t know how to handle it… how to handle us . And I couldn’t give you what you wanted. Not at the time, anyway.”
For a moment, his expression softens, a flicker of the man I used to know. But then he shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
“I think you handled it just fine, Kai. You walked out, moved on, left me to pick up the pieces.” He leans back, putting distance between us that feels colder than I expected. “So don’t pretend you’re here now looking for closure. We’re a little past that, don’t you think?”
My chest feels tight, and I don’t know if it’s the whiskey or the sheer weight of everything I left unsaid. “I thought I was protecting you by leaving.”
He exhales sharply, his face caught somewhere between anger and sadness. “Maybe next time, Kai, let me decide what I can and can’t handle.” He stands up, his gaze lingering on me for a second too long. “Was it all just an experiment ?”
“What? No. It just… happened. I can’t explain it, okay? I don’t regret it, but…”
Julian huffs a cruel laugh, and then his lip curls away from his teeth. “Well, congratulations. You seem to be doing fine. Happy to be your test subject. Have a good night.”
He walks away, and his shoulders are stiff with anger. As I watch him walk out of the bar, something inside of me snaps.
The way he said experiment…
I can’t help but think of the blond head bobbing on my cock just a couple of hours ago, and the way I rutted into his mouth as if he were someone else.
Not just anyone, either.
One specific blond.
Both the kiss in college and the scene with Adrian earlier flash and overlap in my mind. Despite telling myself it was just an experiment, it stirred something in me that I didn’t know existed.
The same feeling from seventeen years ago—a raw ache that settles inside of me.
Something I can’t explain.
Like a switch turning on.
There’s no point in denying it anymore, either.
For the first time in my life, I feel it.
Not guilt, or fear… but clarity. Like I’ve wiped the steam from a mirror. I’ve spent too long hiding, too long fighting myself. But this? This clarity feels like freedom. It’s not the end of a battle—it’s the beginning. I know who I am now. And I’m tired of pretending otherwise.
I’ve spent years trying to erase a truth I was never ready to face, but that’s not true anymore. For so long, I thought that if I ignored it, if I pushed it down, it would go away. That if I pretended I was only one thing, I wouldn’t have to grapple with being both. But that was the real lie. I was never just one thing, and I never will be. And for the first time in my life, I don’t want to fight it anymore.
It all slams into me like a freight train.
I didn’t just want him in college. I want him now.
And judging by the way he looked at me tonight, maybe… just maybe, he wants me.
And Sophie…
Fuck.
I want her, too.