The Edge Read online

  “Long enough to create another burn apparently.” He chuckled, then winced as his tongue throbbed.

  Joshua grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, scooped out some soup, and took it to the table. He was actually in a pretty good mood, something he should be experiencing a lot more of than he had been of late. Oh, he’d settled in at Nash’s home, one of the finest places he’d ever lived. Nash was nicer than most people Joshua had ever dealt with. He should love it. The good vibes should be a daily thing. Hell, he should be feeling that way twenty-four seven. If he was normal, he would be, but Lord knew he was beyond the range of normal. Like the sting in his ass, his good mood was temporary. It was the crash after the high that was the real bitch.

  He wasn’t even sure if the high was worth it anymore.

  Chapter Two

  LEANING BACK in the butter-soft leather chair, Nash brought the brandy glass to his nose and sniffed the deep fruity and woody aroma. He took a sip, the flavor smooth like a liquid flame. It was no shock that the ever fashionable and refined Malcolm had introduced Nash to the delight. What was surprising was that after an hour and a wonderful meal of baked salmon and rice pilaf with Malcolm, Nash was no closer to figuring out what the hell was going on with Joshua.

  Malcolm settled farther into his chair and studied Nash. “I do not doubt your instincts. I only wonder if you’re looking at this situation with Joshua objectively.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Only that I know you care deeply for the boy, and given his difficult past….”

  Malcolm swirled his brandy around in his glass, staring at the movement of the dark liquid. He’d left his words hanging in the air, and Nash knew Malcolm well enough to know that he was searching for the right words and it would do absolutely no good to interrupt him or push him. He’d speak when he was ready and only when he was ready. Nash took the opportunity to enjoy his brandy, although his anxiety over Joshua and wanting to get to the heart of the problem did make it a challenge. Of course he cared deeply for Joshua. Nash had never been drawn to anyone like he was Joshua. He also had never felt as protective or possessive over anyone. Nash would do anything for his boy, and it was frustrating as hell not being able to figure out what he could do to help.

  After what felt like an eternity, Malcolm finally finished his sentence. “Do you think that perhaps you’re seeing and feeling things simply because you feel sorry for him?”

  Nash considered Malcolm’s words for a moment. Sure, he felt bad for the way Joshua’s life had started out and continued to spiral down as he grew. He’d been bounced around from one home to another, never knowing peace and security as a child. As a young adult, it only became worse. One man after another betrayed him, used him. But was Joshua’s hard life the reason behind Nash’s unease? Was he really making something out of nothing?

  When Nash didn’t respond, Malcolm added, “Let me ask you this. Are you afraid of giving Joshua what he needs because you fear becoming one of the abusers?”

  The outrage that rushed through Nash caused him to sit up so quickly he nearly spilled his drink. “How dare you? I would never abuse him,” he said defensively.

  Malcolm glared at him. “I suggest you adjust your tone. I am not the enemy here. I merely asked if you were worried about it.”

  It took a couple clicks of the clock for the anger to seep from Nash, but finally, he slumped back in his chair. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. I’m so goddamn frustrated that I can’t figure this out. Still, it was unfair of me to lash out at you. It’s more proof of how out of sorts I am.”

  “I know you would never abuse him, but sometimes our subconscious thoughts can derail even the best of intentions,” Malcolm pointed out. “Perhaps you’re soft on him, worrying about things that aren’t an issue because you feel sorry for him.”

  This wasn’t the first time Malcolm had asked him this. Nash’s reaction was the same as it had been the last time, outrage. That, in and of itself, was telling. The fact that such a question could anger him so quickly meant there was something behind it. At least it was worth considering. Taking a deep breath, Nash worked to let go of the anger and find some calm. It took several more deep breaths and finishing his brandy before he achieved it. Only then did he dare speak.

  “I can see why you would think I feel sorry for him. Poor guy was dealt a shit hand from day one. But honestly, Malcolm, I don’t think that is what has me all in knots today. However, I will concede that I may be too soft on him.”

  “And if it isn’t you feeling sorry for him that is driving this reaction, do you have any ideas as to what may be causing it?”

  The tension Nash had created between them cleared, and once again they were two equals searching for a common solution.

  “Curiosity? My consuming need to know everything. My lack of a clear-cut plan. Take your pick.”

  Malcolm thrummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Let’s start with the first one. Curiosity?”

  “Each time Joshua sees Cedric, I ask him how it went and he says fine, then shuts himself in his room. It’s driving me crazy not knowing. Even worse, I hate that he doesn’t trust me enough to share it with me.” Nash pointed a finger at Malcolm. “And before you say it, yes, I know I have to earn his trust, and I’m trying. It’s just frustrating that it seems to be taking so damn long.”

  “And patience has never been your strongest attribute,” Malcolm said slyly.

  “No, but I have kick-ass organizational skills,” Nash grumbled.

  “I’ll give you that. Okay, on to the next concern. Your obsessive need to know everything.”

  Nash set his empty glass down on the coffee table, then sat back and crossed his legs. “I don’t really see that as a problem. I’d say it’s a good attribute to have in both my professional and personal life. The difficulty lies when I don’t know.”

  “And when it comes to Joshua, that, like the trust, will come in time.”

  Nash clamped down on the urge to roll his eyes. Malcolm made it sound sensible and easy. It was neither. Malcolm was correct on one thing so far—Nash’s patience was not the best. It was definitely something he needed to work on. Having some would be no doubt invaluable in dealing with Joshua. However, it wasn’t like he could run down to the corner store and pick up a bottle of instant patience.

  “You should try yoga and meditation. It might help you with that grumpy disposition you’ve been sporting lately.”

  This time Nash did roll his eyes, but he hid the evidence by tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Ha-ha.”

  “I’m serious,” Malcolm insisted. “It may help you find some balance within yourself.”

  Nash dropped his head and gave Malcolm a skeptical look. “And you know this how?”

  “It’s all the rage. The boys talk about it all the time. They say it helps them with their focus and find calm in between sessions.”

  “If they had a good Dom, they wouldn’t need all that mumbo jumbo,” Nash countered.

  Malcolm didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked at Nash with a serious expression. “And sometimes it’s a tool that could help a sub and a Dom who are struggling.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, think about it.”

  Nash’s first inclination was to dismiss the idea. However, if it could help, he’d try to keep an open mind. “I’ll think about it.”

  Malcolm nodded toward Nash’s empty glass. “Would you like more?”

  “No thanks. It was good, but I better keep my head.”

  “Good idea. So we come to the last item on your list. Your lack of a plan.”

  “And right back to the main reason for my visit.” Nash sighed. “How can I come up with a plan if I don’t know what the hell is wrong? I just want him to talk to me.”

  “Hey, I may have a solution. Didn’t you say Joshua had no friends or family?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then maybe the problem lies in his social skills.”

  Nash
cocked his head. “I’m not following you.”

  “Joshua has spent his adult years being told what to do, and he does so in order to get something in return. He’s basically going to do what you tell him, and for that gets a reward. He’s not going to discuss something that may upset you or that he’s not sure how it will play out. He’s jeopardizing the reward.”

  “Okay, so how do I make him realize talking will be rewarding?”

  “You can’t. At least not by simply telling him.”

  Nash laid his head back and blew out a heavy breath. “Great. Back to square one.” He jerked upright when a heavy hand landed on his thigh. “What the hell, Malcolm?”

  “Now that I have your attention, would you mind if I finish speaking without interruption?” Malcolm arched a single brow.

  Nash rubbed his leg, kept his mouth shut, and nodded.

  “As I was saying, you can’t make him see the reward in opening up to you, not when he’s so conflicted. What he needs is someone who is an equal and has experienced many of the same things or at least has had difficulties with the whole reward system. He needs a confidant. A friend.”

  “I’m his friend,” Nash insisted.

  “No, you’re his Dom, provider, and lover who wants to be his friend.” Malcolm shook his head. “But you’re not. Perhaps one day you will be, but again, that will come in time.”

  Nash doubted he could find a friend for Joshua on the shelf sitting next to Nash’s can of patience at the corner store. He also couldn’t say, Hey, Joshua, go get yourself a friend to bring home. Friendship took time to develop and was based on a connection. “Okay, so where do you suggest I look for this friend and confidant?”

  Malcolm pushed to his feet with a large satisfied grin on his face. “I just so happen to have one you can borrow.”

  “I’m serious, Malcolm.”

  “As am I. Now get up, and we’ll go talk to the boy and see if he’s interested.”

  “Joshua has an appointment with Cedric this afternoon.” Nash checked his watch but went to his feet as instructed. “We’ll have to wait till later.”

  Malcolm slung his arm around Nash and patted his back. “Not Joshua, the friend.”

  Nash allowed Malcolm to lead him out of the room. Malcolm did things on his own terms and at his own pace. So Nash simply followed. He’d find out soon enough what this big plan was. He only hoped it was one of Malcolm’s better ones. Nash’s nerves depended on it.

  “YOU SEEM especially quiet today,” Dr. Hobson pointed out.

  Joshua continued to stare at his hands, picking at a hangnail on the side of his thumb. “I’m just tired.”

  “Physically or mentally?”

  “Does it really matter?” Joshua asked. He wasn’t in the mood to talk or be analyzed like a goddamn science project. If he’d any sense, he would have feigned illness or some such excuse to skip his appointment today. But it was too late. He was already under the microscope and Dr. Hobson’s scrutinizing gaze.

  “Of course it matters. If you were simply up late and didn’t get any sleep, that is one thing. However, if you were unable to sleep because of something weighing heavily on you, then we need to address it.”

  Joshua crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  Joshua lifted his head and glared at the shrink. “Because I didn’t have any choice.”

  “Sure you do,” Dr. Hobson said calmly, not reacting to Joshua’s angry demeanor. “You are a grown man. You have a choice in what you do.”

  “I’m a fucking sub. I don’t get a choice. I do what I’m told, period.”

  “Is Nash forcing you to be his sub?” Dr. Hobson inquired calmly.

  Joshua gawked at him in utter surprise. “Of course not!” What a ridiculous question. He’d been elated when Troy had given him to Nash. The only thing he missed was Troy’s heavy hand and sadistic ways. However, having to live with him and his preferred boy in such a small space had been beyond trying.

  “I’m sure you’re aware then, in choosing to be Nash’s submissive, you hold power. Same as you hold power as to whether you want to be here or not.”

  “I have the power? Yeah, right.” Joshua laughed bitterly. He sure didn’t feel like he was in control, and he certainly felt powerless. If he had any, he’d be able to stop the old memories from creeping in. They showed up whenever they wanted.

  “Joshua,” Dr. Hobson said gently. “Look at me.”

  Joshua hadn’t even realized he was once again staring at his hands. Only this time, they were curled into tight fists. He tentatively lifted his gaze and met Dr. Hobson’s.

  “No one, and I do mean no one, can make you do anything you don’t allow. Each time Nash binds you, it’s because you allowed him. Each time he takes a crop or flogger to you, he does so because you allowed him. You service him, care for him, and give him your submission by choice.”

  Joshua started to protest but snapped his mouth shut before he could. Dr. Hobson was right. Joshua had chosen to sign the contract with Nash. He had agreed to sever his ties with Troy as long as another Dom took him on. He had his safeword. He could stop any scene at any time he wanted.

  Then why do I feel so goddamn powerless?

  Was it merely the past producing those feelings, or was there more to it? The moments stretched out as he considered the questions, but the only thing he got for his efforts was a throb in his temples.

  Joshua leaned his head back against the soft leather chair and stared up at the ceiling. “I feel even more fucked-up than I did when I walked in here. You’re not doing a very good job, Doc,” Joshua said, trying to tease, but he failed miserably. He sounded sad even to his own ears.

  “I’m simply trying to make you think about your choices and—”

  “That’s the problem right there.”

  “Meaning?” Dr. Hobson asked.

  “I don’t want to think. Thinking is dangerous. I just want someone to set up my day, tell me what to do, and do all the thinking for me.”

  “You’re not a robot, Joshua.”

  No, he wasn’t. Joshua understood he was made of flesh and bone and given free will. Only he wished it were programs and software that controlled his day. Maybe then he could pray for his circuit board to fry or his battery to run out.

  ~*~

  Today was another frustrating day with dear old Doctor Headshrink. He didn’t ask me about what I wrote since the last time I saw him. I’m shocked. I’m even more surprised that I’m actually sitting here writing to myself again. I still think it’s really fucking stupid. Then again, I’m really fucking stupid, so why not write in this journal? Doc brought up something today that I’m having a hard time swallowing….

  I’m in power.

  Even thinking it or writing it makes me want to laugh. Only, it’s not the least bit funny. I do have a choice. I am the one who gives Nash the permission to do to me what he wants. Yet I’ve never felt more powerless than I do right now. It makes me question my conviction that all the old ugly memories I’ve been dealing with are Nash’s fault. How can it be if I’m in power? Fuck, I hate that word.

  Why doesn’t anything make sense anymore?

  Why am I even here?

  Chapter Three

  WHEN JOSHUA walked out of Cedric’s office, Nash instantly knew it hadn’t gone well. Joshua’s shoulders were slumped, head down, and he stiffly slid into the passenger seat of the car. Of course, when Nash asked him how he was, Joshua had answered, “Fine.” Nash was beginning to really hate that word. Fine described china, silks, and dining, not sessions with a psychiatrist.

  The minute they’d arrived home, Joshua bolted for his room, and the sound of the lock being engaged was like a dagger to Nash’s heart. Now, with Joshua still hidden from him, Nash sat on pins and needles, waiting for his boy to emerge.

  The heavy cloud that had descended upon his home a week ago thickened further with each passing day, each passing hour.
It was so thick Nash was practically choking on it. He couldn’t take a deep breath, couldn’t seem to relax the tension in his muscles, nor could he release the vise that was squeezing his chest. It was driving him nuts.

  Nash pushed up off the couch and started to pace. That tension in his body made his movements awkward and jerky, so much so that he misjudged his step and tripped over the side table next to the recliner. Pain radiated from his left big toe all the way up to his gut.

  “Son of a bitch!” he growled under his breath and limped into the kitchen.

  He snatched open the fridge. His first thought was to grab the bottle of Wild Turkey he’d stashed in the freezer. The next second he thought better of it. He needed to keep his head. Joshua was going to need Nash to be sober when he finally opened the door. If he opened the door today. Ugh! He took a bag of frozen peas for a pain reliever instead and hobbled back to the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and placed the veggies on his throbbing toe.

  Dammit!

  Now he was confused, grumpy, and in pain. He hated being so screwed up. Somehow, he had to come up with something. He and Joshua couldn’t keep going like this. The problem was, Nash had no idea how to help either of them. The helpless feeling was the worst to deal with.

  Since he’d first started dabbling in the lifestyle, he’d been confident in who and what he was. Even while submitting to Malcolm all those years ago, Nash had known he was dominant. He’d had a clear-cut plan, a vision as to where his life was headed and how he was going to live it. And with that plan, he’d found much success, both personally and professionally as a financial advisor. He’d done so by being able to get inside the heads of other people, especially submissives. To know what they were feeling and what they needed. Joshua changed all that.

  For the first time in his life, Nash had no idea where he was headed, and the uncertainty was shaking him to his very core. It was ironic that the one man Nash wanted to be the best for, the one man he was falling in love with, was also the one man Nash couldn’t read or know how to help.