Episode 1 #3
Inside was a hallway, grayed-out blue walls and brown carpets.
Old books were stacked up against where baseboards should have been.
Bins of glass were to the side. He shut the door and dropped his bag by the books.
Down the hallway, past a galley kitchen toward the back work space, he paced, tread slow and sure.
The place smelled dank and old. Traces of ink and solvent were in the air.
He opened the last door on the right.
Rei knelt in the middle of the workroom, knees spread, hands resting on his thighs, palms down. He was dressed in stained, heavy-canvas cargo pants and a dull red long-sleeve shirt, a rip near the neck. Ink tinged the edges of the sleeves. Work clothes.
He met Sevastyan’s gaze, the long fringe of his hair half falling into his eyes.
His ears were fully visible in the clean sides of the fashionable cut.
Except for the scars showing on his cheek, a slim line on his neck and the outside of his finger, he still looked like the Korean idol he was trained to be, dressed for a drama. “Master, you returned.”
Sevastyan’s lips tugged up in a smile. “Rei.”
Rei smiled back.
Sevastyan gestured with his fingers, and Rei flowed to his feet with all the grace that had been trained into him.
He approached. Sevastyan lifted his hand, cupping the right side of Rei’s face, the parts marked by flames.
He rubbed his thumb across Rei’s nose and under his eye.
Rei’s lashes fluttered, falling closed. He leaned into Sevastyan’s touch.
His average stature was more than ten centimeters beneath Sevastyan’s height.
“你好不好?” Sevastyan whispered in Mandarin. Nǐ hǎo bù hǎo . . .Are you well or not? It was neither of their native tongues, but it was the first one they had ever spoken to each other.
“好.” Hǎo . . . Good. Rei’s body swayed toward Sevastyan. “You were gone longer than expected.”
Sevastyan stroked Rei’s cheeks, his fingers passing over the burns.
Expensive surgeries by doctors in Turkey who asked no questions had smoothed out the original angry marks and lines, giving Rei’s cheek a fair appearance.
Here and there the skin was darkened. Maps of survival.
Sevastyan traced over them with the surety of ritual, caressing the edges of Rei’s ear, the bottom lobe rounded off where the tissue had been seared away.
What the fire had not marked was Rei’s wide brown eyes and thin, delicate lips.
There had been a period when he had struggled to move his face, but time and practice had earned Sevastyan Rei’s smiles once more.
With makeup, Rei could have gone back to the stage.
“Something unexpected came up. I had to go to the USA.”
Rei nodded, his hands stroking over the front of Sevastyan’s shirt. “I’ll cook.”
Sevastyan nodded in return. He followed Rei to the galley kitchen and leaned against the wall, watching his slave begin to prep. Rei started with washing fresh vegetables.
“The deliveries have been on time?” Sevastyan asked.
Rei inclined his head in assent. His hands moved deftly under the running water, spreading the leaves of the fresh green and white qīng bái cài to clean them. “Every three days. They leave it in the bin. I open my side after dark.”
Sevastyan leaned against the wall behind Rei. If the Merchari suspected he allowed his slave free rein, the price would be high. Career crushing for him, terminal for Rei.
Rei set the qīng bái cài to the side to drain. “Where did you go in the USA.?”
“Chicago, a city in the northern center, on the Great Lakes between the USA and Canada. One of their larger centers between the coasts. They held a world fair there, a hundred years ago. Think skyscrapers and parks overlooking a lake so large it should be called an inland sea.”
Rei smiled as he peeled garlic. He would be imagining the images Sevastyan painted with his words. “You’ve mentioned Chicago before, but not in a long time.”
“Things change. I’m going back.”
Rei’s hands paused, fingers tightening. Am I going with you? He didn’t have to say the words, Sevastyan could read them in his body. It was hard on Rei to be alone for days or even weeks at a time when Sevastyan traveled.
“Your papers from your last trip with me to Hawaii are still good.”
Rei’s hands loosened, picking up their work again. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. We have to close this place down.”
“We’re not coming back?”
“Not us. Not for a while.”
Rei pared the ends off the garlic cloves and set them aside. He said nothing because there was nothing to say. He would do as Sevastyan directed.
Sevastyan’s chest ached. Rei deserved more. He deserved the world.
An impulse that had plagued Sevastyan on the flight across the Pacific returned.
It had been years since he’d lied to Rei.
The words were stuck behind his teeth, but if they were going to Chicago, Rei would have to know.
He would need time to prepare. And leaving Rei behind so long when he’d already spent weeks alone would be torture.
His training would falter and so would his mind with the isolation.
Sevastyan rubbed his collarbone and folded his arms. “Put down the knife,” he said softly.
Rei obeyed. He stayed at the counter, back to Sevastyan, hands palms down against the battered metal surface on either side of the wooden chopping board.
“I saw Gang Junseo. Face to face. We spoke,” Sevastyan said.
Rei did not move. The only sign that he’d even heard was the fact that his breath stopped.
Sevastyan straightened slowly. “I was called to Seoul. A deal going wrong.”
Rei’s fingers curled inward but still he didn’t move. The product of decades of training. Sevastyan’s own mother would be satisfied with such a level of self-control.
“Bak Gyeong sold him. Gang killed his buyer.”
Rei’s right hand curled into a fist.
“I arrived right after.”
“Did you kill him?” Rei whispered.
“No. Gang Junseo is in Chicago.”
“You saved him?”
“I gave him a chance. He has friends with deep pockets. They got him out of the country. But the Merchari aren’t finished.”
“This is why we’re going to Chicago.”
“Yes.”
“Geun, Su-jin, Jaewoong, Yohei?” Rei whispered the names of the rest of Gang Junseo’s K-pop group like a half hopeless prayer.
“Safe. And in Chicago as well.”
Rei leaned on the counter and closed his eyes.
Sevastyan moved the single step between them, leaning against the counter beside Rei but not touching him. “Either I take you with me to Chicago, or I take you to Alexi.”
Rei lifted his head, a line between his eyes. Alexi wasn’t to be trusted, but he did value a well-trained slave. Rei was the epitome of one. Alexi would grab the chance to own and train Rei if Sevastyan was ever removed. He wouldn’t let lesser owners have his treasure either.
Sevastyan answered the unspoken question. “There are those who might be questioning my loyalty.”
Rei lowered his eyes, his body subtly shifting toward Sevastyan. “You promised.”
Sevastyan pressed his lips against Rei’s hair, closing his own eyes against the pain of that oath. “I promised.”
Rei nodded. His hand reached out, grabbing Sevastyan’s belt, anchoring himself to Sevastyan.
Sevastyan gathered Rei in against his body. “We’ll fly west in the morning, first to the Yadro, then a stop in Kazen to see Anton, maybe others, drop by Moscow, and then south to Germany to deposit a delivery. From Berlin we’ll go on to New York.”
“How was Jun?” Rei whispered.
“Wild, like a wolf,” Sevastyan whispered. “He took out his buyer with a table and the enforcer with a bottle of soju.”
“Did they . . .”
“I don’t think so. He fought back.”
“He must have been scared.”
“Angry.”
Rei huffed, not quite laughing, but nodding.
Sevastyan held Rei tighter, rocking a little, keeping his slave focused on where their bodies touched. “Gang has an arsenal. His lover threatened to shut down major shipping deals to South Korea, among other contracts. He has the power to fight.”
“Bak only sells those who have no connections.”
“Bak didn’t know.”
“Can we kill him now?”
“The Merchari are calling in his debts and we won’t take any of his trainees as payment for the moment. Too hot. Bak may hang himself with his own rope.”
Rei drew in a slow breath. “And in Chicago, what are we doing?”
“Watching. Intervention as necessary.”
“And if they tell you to kill Jun?”
“That’s why we’re speaking to Anton.”
“Anton . . .” Rei’s voice trailed off. Disapproval colored his tone.
Disapproval and lack of hope. His shoulders sagged and he looked towards the qīng bái cài where it sat drying.
His fingers twitched toward the knife, asking permission.
Tidings such as these required time to feel, to absorb, to find a place to store inside the body.
Sevastyan’s fingers tightened on Rei’s waist for just a fraction of a moment. He bent his head, touching his forehead to the top of Rei’s, then stepped back. “Airport food is rubbish. Feed me.”
Rei picked up the knife. “You should eat before you fly.”
“Why would I, when I have you?”
Rei’s lips edged toward a smile. “How did you survive before you found me?”
“By begging for scraps from Baba Yaga.”
Rei laughed.
Sevastyan leaned against the wall, watching Rei slice the garlic and start water boiling.
He didn’t move until Rei placed two bowls of noodles, fish, and qīng bái cài on the counter with chopsticks and a deep spoon for each.
The knife never once moved toward Rei’s wrists. But Sevastyan watched just the same.
Rei