14

Paris woke to the sound of his phone ringing.

At first, he was pissed. Of course he had every right to. Sleeping was something he cherished more than anything, but when he saw who it was, the emotions drove away to something more of surprise, causing him to sit up quickly.

Parker 😡.

Why was she calling him? She never called him. Barely ever replied his texts even. Did he do something? Had he? Subconsciously? He was such a dick that he wouldn't put it past himself.

Or was she... Was she calling to end things?

No, no, he wouldn't even take that shit. She had literally put him in a spot. He couldn't back out now.

But what if he didn't pick and got himself in trouble?

Fuck, dude, it's just a call! Stop being a sissy!

Before it could go off, he pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear, coughing a little to make himself sound a bit tougher though it eventually came out in a small voice, "Hello?"

Paris' eyes widened. What the fuck was that?! That wasn't his voice!

He waited for her to speak, probably make a jab at how he sounded but all he heard was the soft sound of someone breathing at the end before she said, "Did I wake you?"

His ears perked. She sounded... Dull, not like she usually did and he wanted to ask what was wrong, but he also knew he wasn't qualified to so just said, "No. I was— Awake, just laying down."

He heard her sigh softly. "How do you feel?"

"About?"

"Your ass. How does your ass feel?"

Paris could feel his cheeks heat up. How was he supposed to answer that?! She had never asked before! "I— Well, it's fine. Marcos helped me once with it so it doesn't hurt as much anymore. I'm totally fine actually. Like a sting but completely fine."

What was all that information for? Jesus. He even spoke about the weird kid.

"Marcos helped you out, then?"

Fuck. The boy was literally his competition and here he was, giving him brownie points with her. "Yeah,"

"I see. I was calling for your reward. Do you remember that?"

Oh.

Oh.

He did forget. "Ah, I— Well, —"

"Shower, eat up and drive to Marcos' place, I'm sure you know where he is, but if you don't, I'd send you directions. He knows what to do from there."

Wait, what?

Paris adjusted more on his bed. "I'm going to his house?"

"Yes."

The exasperation he was feeling flew out of his mouth quickly. "But I thought I'd spend the reward with you!"

"Are you that desperate for me to fuck you again?"

Why was she saying it like that? Like it was a bad thing. It really wasn't. It was her fault too. She had given him something addictive and kept dangling it to his face like he was a rabbit and it was a fucking carrot.

Her voice came out in a soft purr. "You haven't earned it, Kitten."

"What do I have to do, damnit? Tell me."

He hadn't meant to sound that way. He was just peeved. It was a normal reaction to anyone that kept being slapped with rejection as he was, but before he could apologize, she spoke, "There are times I like that tone, and other times, I do not. A slut should know it's place."

That voice. How was he supposed to defend his dignity if he liked her taking it away? "Sorry, Mistress."

"And what's the point of telling you if you can figure it out yourself? Aren't you, love? Smart, that is."

Bait. Paris knew more than anything that she was just baiting him, but he knew better than acting like a brat now.

Plus, what was the point if the punishment would just go to him?

"I am, Mistress."

"Good,"

She stayed quiet for a while and when she didn't hang up, he decided to ask the question he wanted to since the beginning of the call. "Are you okay?"

"I've been up since last night. I feel brain dead actually."

He hadn't expected her to tell him. Heck, he had thought she'd hang up for his nosiness, but the answer was unexpected too.

Reading? She was bloody reading?

He couldn't help the snicker that left his lips. "I bet those books of yours are the only friends you have."

Her reply was immediate.

"At least, they seem to love me. Guess who's all alone and has no one to love him? Even books since they obviously prefer me?"

The— The bitch.

It was her fault that they were even avoiding him! He could tell from the smile in her voice she knew that, and enjoyed keeping him that way.

"Have fun today, Hermes."

His ears perked. "Hermes?"

"Yes." She sounded like it tired her to even explain. "The god of trickery. It'd be a little inside joke of mine. Speak to you soon."

And that was when she decided to hang up.

Sighing, Paris threw his phone to the bed and raked a hand in his hair. A reward, with that guy, if he even was a guy. Why was she so adamant to even bring them together anyway?

And fuck. He just remembered yesterday.

Seriously? How was he even supposed to look at him after that? She had said he wasn't looking but it was Alex, she could have been lying if she wanted to, and Gomez...

Well, if he tried any weird shit, he'd punch his face and Alex would not be able to resist punishing him.

The thought that he had finally gotten a way around it made him smile before he mentally slapped himself.

He just smiled at the idea of a girl hurting him. What was he turning into?!

As soon as he was dressed, he walked to the dining room which was quiet, meaning Sebastian mustn't have been home.

Good riddance.

Paris ate his breakfast quietly, staring at the time on his phone before a maid walked to him, face bowed. "Sorry to disturb, Mr Holmes, but your Mother asked if she could see you after breakfast."

He turned to her so quickly that she yelped back in shock. "Now?"

"A-After,"

Paris stood, stuffing down his toast and his tea before going back up the stairs and to his Mother's room. When he got in, he didn't find her on her chair, instead she was on the bed.

Her eyes were close, her skin even looking like a deathly colour of paste with her chest rising slowly that he feared she had called to say goodbye. "Mom?"

The small form of Elise stirred at the voice before her eyes fluttered open slowly, staring at him as if she couldn't believe he was there, her voice coming out tinier than the last time. "Paris, Darling."

He held her hand, his heart pulsing at the fact she was so cold. How was that even possible? Her room felt warm right now. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold," She said in her small voice, though he could still hear the humour underneath them. "But asides that, I'm alright. I just missed you, that's all. It's boring."

Paris couldn't help the sigh that left his lips. "I was worried, Mom."

"I'm stronger than I look," She said pointedly, and he believed her. Most people would have lost their minds by now but she still had a smile for him everyday. "Why haven't you come to visit me?"

How could Paris tell her, in simple terms, that he was discovering something about his body and himself he didn't know and enjoyed the feeling?

Or he had selfishly forgot about her because he had been too busy thinking of someone else?

"It's her, isn't it?" She asked, taking the words right out of his mouth. "You and your Father have the same look on your face when you're thinking of a lie."

Paris frowned. "Don't compare me to him."

"He's still your Father, regardless," She said, a sad look on her face. "Have you ever imagined how lonely he must be when his only child keeps shutting him away?"

Right. She was thinking about him even when he was the reason she was like this.

"He should try be nicer to the Mother then,"

"It's not about me," Elise shook her head and sighed again. Paris could never understand that she wanted him to be close to his Father. No matter how Sebastian treated her, she knew they could have been worse situations. "Forget about that. Tell me. The girl you like, have you asked her to be yours yet?"

Oh, Mother, I don't know about her being mine, but me being hers has been made clear.

"Well, it's still a work in progress." That wasn't a lie either, his ass could even attest to that.

Elise gave a small laugh. "You're losing your game. Do you need me to give some points?"

"If I wanted those, I'd ask. Trust me, I have a strategy." Be obedient. Try not to piss her too much, but anger is good. Angry sex felt good. "Besides, you can't blame me. She has a boyfriend."

Elise's eyebrows furrowed as she stared back at him with a look in her eyes. "Oh. Well, that's a problem."

"Isn't it?"

"And what does he say about you?"

Well, he's nice? But Marcos is always nice. It's hard to get mad at someone like that. Doesn't matter though. I hate the kid. "Actually, I'm going to see him right now."

She looked dumbfounded. "What for?"

The same question he asked. "She signed us up for something, I'm not sure. She likes keeping secrets sometimes."

"She sounds devious." Though the words sounded like she was judging, it was obvious on the look on her face that this interested her.

I'm glad to see she's a my pain pleases her, as well.

He stood now, using a hand to brush the hair on her head. "I have to go now. Want me getting something for you?"

A calm look came on her face, as if the touch of her son was healing whatever it was that was wrong with her. "A rose would be nice,"

She missed her garden.

Still, Paris buried the pain he was feeling in his heart and kissed her forehead. "Done."

Alex did send the address and he drove over to the place. It was exactly like he remembered. Still giving him that warm, fuzzy feeling of security even though he was still in his car.

He walked to it now, sticking a hand in his pocket before the door opened, a grey haired, soft faced looking woman stood by it with a questionable look in her eyes, and when she spoke to him, she didn't speak in english, and the only thing the bloke knew in Spanish was 'como estas.'

He tried to peer over the door but it was clear the woman didn't even want him an inch closer. "I'm looking for Marcos?"

"Paris?"

Paris heard the soft voice before he saw him. Marcos stood beside the older woman wearing a blue turtleneck sweater, pink crop top that had the powerpuff girls on it and white ripped jeans with his hair in a bun, the butterfly clips placed in.

Why did he always have to dress up? Making Paris feel like he was a fucking bodyguard to a princess or something.

The older woman looked at Marcos, speaking rapidly in Spanish but the male replied in the language as well, the only thing Paris was able to catch being 'amigo'.

Did he call him his friend?

They were not friends. They were arch nemesis. What was wrong with him?

Paris could feel the older woman turn to him, looking like a bull about to go ahead and charge at him before Marcos placed a kiss on her head and walked out the house, holding Paris' hand then turning around to the road before he paused at the sight in front of it. "Why's that here?"

"You know I have a car, right?" Paris asked as he pulled his hand away from the male and walked to his lambo, snickering under his breaths. Peasants, honestly. "Aren't you getting in?"

The other male kept staring at it for a while, then looked around, surprising him, before he wrapped his hands around his body and joined Paris in the car, staying in the seat next to the driver's. "Where are we going?"

Marcos put his seatbelt on and turned to Paris. "She didn't tell you?"

Paris realized at that second they hadn't been so close before, and he hadn't actually looked at the male upfront.

He smelled like candyfloss. Why was he smelling like that?

He mentally slapped himself again and hissed, now glueing his body to his car door as he said with as much disdain as he could muster. "I think we've already established you're her favourite."

Marcos pursed his lips at the words before he brought out his phone and a card. A platinum credit card. "We're going to a shopping mall."

"What for?"

He looked at Paris and tilted his head. "I'm taking you shopping."

"Hell no."

Marcos let out a sigh. "Paris. Let's not do this again."

"Why are you the one doing it?" No, wait. That didn't come out right. Paris shook his head and said, "I mean, why is she even trying to buy me anything?"

Marcos shrugged. "You can think of it as courting you."

"Excuse me? Who calls it that?"

The male stared at him, the glittery lipgloss now glowing all of a sudden on his lips. "Seriously. She paid your hospital bills. Is this really different?"

"Yes! Guys don't really take the other shopping, unless you're gay. Which doesn't even count."

"So you believe in standard gender roles." Marcos said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can't date her when you're like this."

That, wasn't even a fair diss. "And you'd know that?"

Marcos didn't even try to hide the matter of fact tone in his voice. "Because I'm the one dating her."

Bullshit. "I'm not you,"

"I know that, but if you truly want her attention, you'd have to take her gifts. It pleases her to take care of you. Honestly, you have no idea how much, and pleasing her, is what gets you happy, if you haven't noticed that yet."

Paris did. He wasn't going to admit it to him. "Are there her gifts? The clothes you wear?"

He didn't even sound abashed about it. "Yes."

Explains why he dresses like that everyday then. How was he supposed to compete with someone, that was in other words, pleasing her by just her seeing him.

Still, it excited him. All of this excited him. It meant upping his game. Fighting harder. Heck, it was fun.

"I can feel my Abuela's gaze burn holes through the car window," Marcos stated, now playing with the ring on his finger. "Can we just leave? Please? You don't have to take the gifts."

Paris didn't answer that, instead he drove off. All through the ride, the male kept scrolling through his phone, the other hand in his mouth while he bit on his nails nervously. He had been with him many times and he knew that this wasn't how he was on his good day but said nothing about it.

As they got to the mall, Marcos walked out first, folding his hands as he stared at Paris who didn't want to come out, but when he did, plastered his frown on his face. "Why are we even here? There are other places,"

Marcos walked into the place. "She chose this."

The asshole makes it sound like he's saying the sky is blue.

Entering behind him, Paris felt his head hurt from the numbers of turns and corners Marcos took before he headed to the counter that was in the section of the mall they were, smiling at the woman behind it. "Hello, Suki."

'Suki' was a dark haired, asian female with kind eyes, and they looked even kinder when she smiled at him. Like Paris didn't even exist at the part. Right, how could he forget? He was a bodyguard. "Hi, Marcos. Haven't seen you in a while."

"School," He said with a small shrug before grabbing Paris and pulling him forward. "This is Paris. He's... A's friend."

"Oh, a friend of Alex is a friend of ours here at Allure." She said passing him a smile but he didn't return it.

Then Marcos leaned in, as if he was telling a secret and whispered loud enough for him to hear, "He's here for his reward."

Paris jerked as he turned swiftly to the male. Why was he telling her?!

"Oh," She looked at Paris, then at Marcos. "Does Mr Parker know about it?"

There are two. Could you specify?

"I don't think so," Marcos showed her the card. "She told me to bring this."

Suki took it, her face showing uncertainty as she did so. "I don't know about this. We both know she doesn't have to pay for any of it."

Marcos chuckled. "She'd have my head if that happened. Can we go up?"

"Oh, yes, let me get you tags."

When she was gone, Paris watched Marcos bring out his phone and begin to scroll through it again. The look on his face was there again, and he was about to tell him to just ignore the phone before the lady returned with two pins that held the words 'guests.' on it which Marcos took. "Thank you,"

As they walked away, she waved at them. "Have fun."

When they were some distance away, Marcos pinned one tag on the pin of his shirt before doing so on him and leading him to an elevator.

Again, as they got in, the same tension he kept having when he scrolled through his phone appeared again through their whole ride and it took all of Paris' mental strength to not slam it to the ground and destroy it.

Getting to their floor, the door opened and they walked through it, meeting two guards who stared at them before looking at the tags and let them pass through the door they were guarding.

Marcos walked in first, before Paris followed. Every single thing there looked expensive, which wasn't a big deal for him, but they weren't in a normal clothes section.

It was a lingerie section. Not just with underwear and corsets and revealing clothes. He could clearly see the whip, gags, ropes, handcuffs, dildos hanging in different places.

It was a BDSM lingerie section.

He turned to Marcos now, who was still scrolling through his phone, like it didn't matter where they were, which in that moment made Paris lose his patience and swipe it from his hand.

"Hey!" The look on his face was furious, which was almost comical for Paris considering he looked too cute to be taken serious. Like an angry puppy that could just yip at your heels. "Give me back my phone."

"This is obviously the reason you're acting like there's a stick in your ass," He said, putting it in his pocket. "So I'd be holding unto it for a while."

Marcos stared at him like he couldn't believe he'd do that. "You can't do that,"

"I just did. You brought me here and left me to deal with a three minute heart attack, all alone, I might add and was absolutely rude all day."

Marcos didn't even try denying it. He only folded his hands and stared back at him with a defiance he didn't know the male had. "You're always rude too."

"Again, we're not the same person." He said, folding his arms. "It's fine if you don't want to be here. We can just return home and—"

"No." Marcos was shaking his head. "I don't— I don't want to go home." Then he bit his lips and gave him a smile. "Sorry. I am having a bad day."

Paris rose an eyebrow. "Seems like I'm the only one you pour out your anger on when that happens,"

Marcos laughed now, brushing a hair strand that had fallen from the bun. Paris noticed he had done white nails. "Sorry," Then he looked around. "She wants you to get anything you'd want."

"And why, pray tell, would I want anything here?"

Marcos smiled at him. "It's fine, no need to be shy. I like lace underwear more actually."

Paris cringed, looking away. "I did not need that information."

Marcos laughed out now, before he grabbed his arm and began to pull him along. "Come on, I'd show you around."

He did as he said, telling him the things that Alex liked, silk underwear being one but that he didn't like it because it felt all slippery though it made his dick feel good when it slid on it.

Again, unwarranted information.

But Paris could get anything else he wanted, and asked if he'd want toys to play with when he was alone, and the lube he'd want.

"She says you use a lot of it," Marcos looked like he was trying his best not to break into a laugh. "So I should get you a lot. Is that fine?"

Paris nearly choked the life out of him.

After two hours, Marcos had been the one to pick the toys. Most of it had been floggers, dildos (the idiot had literally chased him with one), paddle, a riding crop, vibrator, a chastity belt, nipple clamps and a handcuff.

Then he disappeared for some few minutes to get them in a bag before he returned, a bright smile on his face. "What's left? The underwear, right? Would you like to try on some of it with me?"

Paris shot him a look. "No."

Marcos shrugged. "Was worth the shot,"

"What does she hate?"

They were walking through the underwear section, and Marcos seemed to enjoy looking through them than Paris did "Oh. Alex? Ah, well. I'm not sure, to be honest. The one thing she can't stand are lies though,"

"Have any reason why? Don't lie. You know. Tell me."

He paused at one pair. It was scandalous revealing, and took it out. "It's not my place to."

"Oh, come on. I know nothing about her. Nothing. I deserve something."

"Well, she shouldn't know I told you though. Um, you've met Xander right? Her Step father?"

Paris joined him now. "I met him. Yeah?"

"You see, he's her Dad's husband."

He had seen that already. "Okay?"

"You don't get it yet?" Marcos sighed. He really didn't like talking about it. "Hezekiah was married to Alex's Mother and when they divorced, he married Alexander, who... Who basically owns all of this, and some of it."

"So?"

"He wasn't bisexual, Paris. He never... Loved her mother that way. Alex was like— Like a mistake." It pained Marcos saying it. It made him imagine what would have happened if they decided not to keep her. He didn't like it. "They had her before they got married."

Paris said nothing.

"Alex lived for a long time thinking he loved Adriana, her Mama, and when they divorced, he was with Xander in like three months? Adriana went ballistic. It's like knowing your whole life was a lie, you know?"

Paris let out an hiss. "Fucking gays."

Marcos turned to him, a disapproving look on his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The bastard just basically used someone. For fuck's sake."

"He wouldn't have done that if he was scared of outing himself."

"And he was a coward too? Right."

"He was in the Army, Paris." Marcos said. "He needed the money to take care of them, and even though most people might claim to be an Ally, they really aren't. It's more of them just trying to pretend that they're good people, or for them to feel good about themselves. It's horrible sometimes."

"You sound like you know all about being an LGBT person, for a straight guy."

"I'm called a Femboy, we actually have a flag under the rainbow." Marcos said, softly. "And in a way, I think my Mother would have been happy if I was."

Paris looked like someone had slapped him. "What?"

"I can't explain it. And my Abuela— She'd be okay with it too," He chuckled. "I think that's why her and Alex clicked. They both have tragedies of some kind."

Paris had noticed. The wary look in her eyes. Like she feared he had come to hurt Marcos. "What happened to her?"

"She had— Two children. Boys. My Father, Luciano and Carlos. Carlos was born paraplegic so my Abuela had to be there for him all the time, but he found out he was gay and my Abuela was a christain, who was basically anti LGBT, you know, the whole package. She says that Carlos was a perfect child. Good boy, good grades. Just that little thing that didn't matter as much as she thought it would. I think— I think what really killed her after his suicide was that he knew he loved her, and his greatest fear was disappointing her."

"He had left her a letter. Telling her that he was grateful to her for everything that she had done for him, because most Mama's wouldn't even have kept him alive and he couldn't imagine a life where the one person who had truly loved him, would hate him. And he also said he had tried. To fight the thoughts, by hurting himself to stop them but it didn't."

Marcos looked at Paris and gave a light shrug, sighing as he turned around now to another row. "Abuela says people really don't understand what it pain means till they lose a child because they never loved them enough. She strongly thinks she's damned to hell, you know? For killing her own child. And everyday she keeps praying for his soul."

Paris put his hands in his pockets. "She still goes to the church? Thought they hated them too."

"You hate what you don't understand, and I don't go to it but I'm a Christian, at least, Alex says I am." Then he looked at Paris, a smile on his lips. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think... Well, God is love right? What if the reason why lesbians, gays, transgenders, people like me how we are, is to teach other how to love? Without boundaries? Without limits? No matter what? That'd be smart right?"

Paris was an atheist, but he decided to play along with the theory. "It'd be unfair to put them through all the pain then."

"At least, they've got themselves. I think the LGBT group are the strongest family in the world. They seem to have their back more than most straight people do "

Paris tried his best not to feel the sting of the truth in the statement. "You think of the weirdest shits. Can we go now?"

Marcos, for some reason after taking back his phone, decided to flaunt the whole thing he got and Paris made it a thing to stay away far away from the male. When they had bagged it, he suddenly turned to him, grabbed his arm and dragged it back to the woman at the counter, bouncing like Santa promised him a present. "Um, did you get it yet?"

Suki seemed to find his happiness contagious because she smiled and presented him with a red square box. "Yes. Here it is."

Marcos took it with a small giggle before shoving it to his body. "She had this customized for you."

"What is it?"

"Open it!"

From the way he was acting all hyper, Paris was sure it was nothing good. How could it have been anything but?

Better just get this over with then.

Slowly, he took up the slid, his eyes staring at a black collar with the word 'KITTEN' in white on it, while a fish bone dangled from it's middle which held a name in gold.

Hermes.

"I don't know if you know," Marcos stated, hands behind his back. "But a collar from a Dom to a Sub is literally an engagement ring equivalent. No, it's better!"

Paris kept staring at it.

"Holmes? Are you okay?"

"I—" What was he supposed to say? That he didn't expect this? That he didn't feel like he deserved it? That his heart wanted to burst from all the emotions it was currently feeling?

She claimed me.

The words sounded like magic in his ears. Unbelievable and yet, glorious.

She claimed me.

He wanted to scream but the sound wasn't leaving his mouth.

She fucking claimed me!

"Paris—"

"Yes! Fuck!" He finally got the word out and grabbed the male beside him. "Can I wear it? Right now?"

Marcos was laughing. "I don't know. You can do whatever you want?"

"You're sure? You're really sure?" Paris asked. "This isn't— This isn't a prank."

"Collars aren't playthings," Suki said from her side and gave him a nod. "Congratulations for being promoted."

"What?"

"My boss said to tell you." Was her reply.

As off as it sounded, Paris didn't even care. Instead, he grabbed Marcos. "You're taking me to Alex right now,"

The male shook his head. "I need to ask Suki something first."

"Gomez,"

"Honestly," Marcos laughed again. "I'm coming. Could you take the bags to the car first?"

Paris took his hands off the male and snatched the bags away. "Fine."

When he was out and at his car, he opened it's boot and stuffed the bags in, staring at the box.

He was feeling like he was being patted on the head. That everything he had worked so hard for, was finally being seen. Being recognized.

She claimed him.

"Holmes? Is that you, bro?"

For a second, he paused, his brain restarting before he threw the box into the boot and turned around.

Behind him were four of his friends, in their old pickup truck. Old ones anyway.

Matteo, Abel, Sinclair and Lewis.

What the fuck were they doing here?

"What were you doing in that store?" Matteo asked, tilting his head towards it.

None of your fucking business was hanging at the tip of his tongue but he decided not to get on the defensive, considering they hadn't spoken in a while. "What's wrong with it?"

He stared at him like the question was stupid. "That's a literal LGBT store. It's owner only takes in his people. Hell, the receptionist who is pretty as fuck, is a guy."

What?

He remembered her smile. The way she seemed so... Polite. And he tried imagining her as a guy.

It didn't fit.

"Alex sent you there didn't she?" Abel asked now. "She's always been the most rainbowy person you'd ever meet. Why do you keep entertaining her? It's obvious she has nothing keeping you down."

You have no idea.

Then he stared down at him, as if disgusted. "Or do you like her?"

And anyone looking at him like that reminded him of someone that did so all the time. "What?"

"She's like, super creepy, and you know her Mom's some crazy alcoholic? Right? Let's not talk about the gay step dad. Surely you know you can do better? That you have done better?"

"Aren't you tired of being second best, son?"

"I don't like her, fucktard." He snapped. The veins on his neck were all out as he rambled off. "You already know how my dad is with how she's above me. I'm only next to her so I can find some weakness and get her in trouble before graduating so that she doesn't."

"What?"

That voice.

Marcos.

Paris turned around, and saw the male who was looking at him, like he was seeing him for the first time with complete terror in his eyes. "Marcos."

He started walking backwards. "I can't —"

"Wait, —"

And he bolted.

"Shit."

Paris turned to his car and slammed the boot, making sure he locked it before he followed after the white haired boy.

As he did so, he could hear his friends calling his name, but he didn't actually give a fuck. What was he thinking? How could he say that?

He didn't mean it. Fuck, he didn't. He wouldn't—.

Paris spotted the flash of pink and blue and followed it immediately, grabbing his arm and pulling him to an alley, pinning him on the wall and putting his hand on the male's mouth. "Marcos—"

The boy shoved his knees into his stomach, causing him to grunt in pain and move back as he stared at him, tears in his eyes. "I trusted you. She trusted you. But you're all the same. You lie. You all lie!"

"Marcos, I—"

I'm sorry.

Paris didn't ever think he had felt that way before. Sorry. About anything he did, but now, his heart felt like it was being squeezed with every breath he was taking.

He wanted to keep saying it. That he was sorry. That he wanted to, at first, but it wasn't that anymore.

That he—

Marcos' always warm eyes stared down at him cold, like icicles that wished to impale him and leave him dead. "You, do not deserve that collar."

And left him Paris feeling fear.

True fear.