His head pounded as he came to and he looked around the strange cabin. Where was Livingston? He pushed himself to a sitting position and looked around. His head swam, and he started to push himself up, but then it all came back to him. Little’s friend. The needle.

He stumbled as he tried to get to his feet as his heart started pounding in his chest. Fear made his dizziness worse, but he had to find a way out.

“Hello, you’re finally awake.”

A friendly voice caused him to jerk his head around too quickly. Once his vision cleared, he focused on the stranger. The familiar face with deep green eyes and strong features.

“Nigel, what are you doing? I want to go home.”

“You are home—well, we’ll be going home soon. I’ll just give you a day to rest up from your ordeal.”

“Livingston’s going to find you.”

Livingston would find him. He didn’t doubt it, and he just needed to hold it together. Be smart. Be strong.

“I seriously doubt that. You don’t have to deny what you feel about me. I’ve known we were meant for each other since the first time I met you. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”

“You made fun of me with your friends.”

“I’m sorry about that, I was stupid, but we don’t have to hide it anymore.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I want Livingston.”

“Your Daddy?”

“He cares about me. He’s not—”

He flinched as Nigel’s fist connected with the wooden door, and he moved until the bed was between them. The wall held him up because his legs were still weak.

“If I scream people will hear me.”

“No, they won’t. I found a very nice cabin. Romantic for us to spend the night until we head to my home in the morning. First, we need to take care of a few things.”

He’d had a small crush on Nigel until he’d found out how cruel the then sixteen-year-old had been. Condescending and making fun of the other people on set, Nigel thought he was better than everyone else.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“We have to get you clean. You let that disgusting freak touch you. You don’t have to pretend anymore; he isn’t around. He hurt you, I saw it.”

His stomach churned with the need to throw up. “Saw what?”

“You cried after he forced himself on you. He hit you.”

Nigel had watched the first night Livingston had taken him. The spanking. He remembered every detail of that night. His first time was special, and he wouldn’t cheapen it not even to save himself. Livingston had loved him. “He didn’t force himself on me. I loved—”

“Quit lying,” Nigel yelled.

The man seemed to calm himself with a few deep breaths and then the friendly smile was back.

“I’ve got a bath ready for you.”

“I don’t want a bath. I want to go home to Livingston. Now.”

“You need to calm down. We’ll have a nice bath, and I’ll get you some food, we’ll sleep and tomorrow everything will be better.”

How crazy was this man? Did Nigel actually think that he wanted anything to do with him?

Nigel moved across the room, and he backed as far into the corner as he could get. He fought the hands that gripped his biceps. He kicked and clawed, but Nigel was surprisingly strong. He was dragged out of the room even as he dug his heels in; the hardwood floors didn’t allow him any traction for his sock covered feet.

The sounds of running water and steam filled the bathroom. He was knocked to the floor, and he grunted as his head collided with the old-fashioned tub. The pain dulled his vision. While he was distracted, Nigel snapped cuffs around his wrists and another around his ankles, the metal cutting into his skin.

“Be still I don’t want to hurt you.”

He shoved himself into the space between the toilet and tub. He stared at Nigel as the man came at him with scissors.

“Stop,” he screamed as he tried to kick, but Nigel threw his weight on top of his legs.

He struggled and tried not to choke on his fear as Nigel cut his clothes from him, first his shirt, then his pants and underwear. He curled his body up with fear of Nigel’s weight touching his sensitive groin.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“It’s for your own good, Fielding, that brute brainwashed you into thinking you liked those things. I just want to get you clean. I swear I can smell him on you.”

He bucked and fought as he was lifted then lowered into the water. Screaming in pain as the scalding water covered him. His skin was turning red. He aimed for Nigel’s eyes, but missed, his hands were forced upward, the chain of the cuffs secured over a hook. The bottom of the tub was so slick that he couldn’t push himself up far enough to free his hands.

“Now, just relax,” Nigel whispered.

It wasn’t the thought of getting hurt or whatever Nigel wanted to do to him. No, it was the utter calm in the other man’s voice. He could deal with anger. Maybe a hit or two, but Nigel actually believed he wanted that.

He yelled as the rough loofah scraped at his burned skin. Every inch of him was scrubbed. He begged for Nigel to stop when the man reached between his legs.

“You’ve gotten fat, Fielding, that won’t do. We’ll get you back into the gym. Muffin tops are not cute.”

The man clucked at him, and he slammed his eyes closed as tears filled them. He pictured Livingston. The way Livingston touched him. Loved on him. Relived every time Livingston called him beautiful. He lost himself in the memories as his body was abraded.

Livingston would find him. Livingston promised him.

He could survive this because he knew Livingston wouldn’t stop until he brought him home.