Page 76 of Hard to Judge

“Many members were devastated when Master Kido stopped playing last year.” She looks over her shoulder. “You must be very special to have earned the honor of his time.”

I feel special. Like the pig invited to the luau.

Maybe I offer a passable facial expression. Perhaps she’s used to all manner of insanity. Either way, she turns away,rounds the corner, and stops at the only door at the end of the hallway.

“Enjoy.” She places a key in my hand and retreats.

I stare at the skeleton key’s black metal for too long, then eye the lock at the center of the door. Its ornate design eats up half the solid-stained wood.

Fingers trembling, I lift the key, slide it inside the lock, and twist. Metal squeaks on metal. The door opens slightly. No light shines through the sliver. Tentatively, I push it open and peer into the abyss. The dim lighting of the hallway does nothing to illuminate the interior.

“Hello?” I take a half step inside the room. “Hota?”

My voice pings off the walls and comes back empty-handed. In all the times I’ve been here, they’ve never screwed up my rooms or lost my partner. But there’s no one in here.

I turn around, intent to call upon the concierge, when I hear the slightest rustling from within the room.

“Hota?” I jerk around and take another half step inside, straining to make out the outline of anything within the darkness. Nothing materializes. I slide my hand along the wall, seeking a switch.

A flat, cold wall meets my fingers.

“In,” he barks.

I jump a solid three inches off the ground but manage to bite back my scream.

Hota’s voice is loud and demanding, whereas Arlo’s is raspy and coaxing. Legs quaking, I step fully inside the envelope of night.

“Close and lock the door.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

A part of me wants to call out my safe word and be done with this madness. The other part, the part I don’t often acknowledge, yearns for the unknown.

I turn and close the door. Any hint of light is stolen from my eyes, making the world around me inky and blank, save for the fear clawing its way up my spine. My fingers seek the lock and find it mirrors the other side. I stick the key inside, twist it, and the metal snicks back into place.

My pulse whirrs in my ears.

“Turn around.”

When I do, I may as well have my eyes closed because I can’t see a damn thing.

“Throw the key.”

“Bu—” I clamp my lips shut while simultaneously gripping harder to the only thing that will free me from the darkness.

Somehow I know where this is headed. Hota wants Arlo to face his fear before he’ll let him be topped. It stands to reason that Hota also wants me to face mine.

Bloodplay.

My lungs rattle against my ribs. The blood.

Oh god. Oh fucking hell.

The diameter of my chest seems to be shrinking. I place my hand over my dragon and feel my heart tossing itself to meet it. With the beast under my palm, I think of Arlo and I think of Hota.

This is Hota.

I trust him. I trust him to push me to my limits. I trust him to care for me when they tumble down around me. I throw the key.

---