Page 93 of The Cartographer

My chest feels tight, like I can’t quite get air all the way down to the bottom of my lungs. I don’t care for the shallow inhales and exhales it forces. Makes me uneasy.

“I wouldn’t say throwing you away. I’d never…”Never throw you away. Never discard you. I want to keep you locked up for my own self, but I can’t. I’m not what you need, and I’m trying to give you that because you’re wonderful and you deserve that. I don’t say any of that, though. “But setting you up? Yes. I think perhaps we’re done here, and I’ve made some arrangements. I think you’ll find Julian to your liking. In fact, you seem to already.”

His face crumples in anger and incomprehension. He’s livid and confounded, and it’s not a good combination for him. Noxious, in fact, because he resorts to his fists instead of his words, pushing me again with palms at both my shoulders. This time I’m prepared and I don’t move an inch.

I let the emotions rage on his face, biting my tongue and fighting the urge to grab him by the collar, drag him past Julian to whom I’d offer a “Sorry, made a mistake, this one’s mine,” but I can’t. This is the right thing to do, and in a few days, perhaps a few weeks, we’ll all see it was true. Except maybe Allie, who looks as if I’ve ripped his soul out and am stomping on it. I’m a sadist to be sure, but soul-stomping is not one of my kinks. Nor is the devastated look on his face.

I’m expecting cutting words when he opens his mouth again, and I get them. Oh, do I ever.

“Do you not have feelings? Or do you not feel emotional pain, either, you freak?”

This is the other shoe. Usually I expect it to drop, but this one’s kicked me in the face. Or someone else’s whom it would actually pain. As it is, it would injure my vanity.

The tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but I clench my jaw and hold my voice steady. “I have feelings. I feel things very deeply. The only pain I’ve ever felt is emotional pain. Those are the only tears I’ve ever cried, the only ache I’ve ever felt, the only anguish I’ve ever experienced. So fuck you, Hart.”

Never do I lose my temper. Ever. I’m always patient, always in control. Whether it appears that way or not, I am always getting my way. This…this poking of holes in the walls of domination I’ve built, the complete and utter lack of being able to handle him… It’s nothing short of infuriating and confirms for me what I’ve long known to be true but put off because I was enjoying myself so much. I have to let him go. Have to send him away to be with someone who’s better suited.

Will they have the same volume of raw passion? I almost hope not, but what they will have is something more than I can ever give. Julian is a good choice for him. They’re well-matched in their kinks and intellect. They have a good shot at being compatible in the long-term, and Julian is willing and able to give Hart a family. Julian can make him happy. I’ll find my next project. And the one after that. Until my chessboard is cleared, until everyone is settled down and satisfied—however that might look for them—and I’ll be able to watch from on high and enjoy it all.

Who am I kidding? There will always be someone else in need. I’ll just have to help them all until the day I draw my last breath. Because helping people is the best, most important thing I can do. This is what I’ve chosen to be faithful to instead of whom.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a few seconds to settle myself, find that more comfortable mantle of managing pieces. That’s all Hart is—another project for me to manage—and my work here is done. It’s time to send him on his way. Not like this, though.

“Look, Hart. It’s been fun. I’ve enjoyed you. But…that’s all it’s ever been. I told you from the beginning I don’t play for keeps. I play for pleasure and for helping people reach their full potential. We’ve done that here, so there’s nothing more I can offer you. You have my word Julian will take excellent care of you, and if he doesn’t, call me. I’ll find you someone new.”

“At your regular rates, I suppose?”

The sharp offense in his tone strikes me at my center, and I nearly suck breath through my teeth at the impact. I hide my tell and go on because I need to go before the shell of my composure cracks. I give him my most charming grin. “Don’t be silly. For you? Gratis. Always.”

Foolishly, I reach out my hand in the hopes I’ll get to touch him one last time, feel his skin on my skin, steal one last memory of the strength of his touch. He looks at my invitation as though it’s poisonous. As if it’s hurting him by being offered. He doesn’t even snap at me again, but his mouth tightens as he turns away, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t.

I watch him as he walks back to where Julian is waiting for him. They do make an awfully handsome couple, Julian all golden and slight, Allie so dark and powerful. Knowing behind closed doors, Julian’s dancing eyes go flinty and hard and he’ll have Allie at his feet, panting and begging to be hurt more.

The bloom of jealousy in my chest is surely for that—the feeling of having a man like Hart submit to me. Nothing more. When Allie reaches him, Julian lays a hand on his biceps, his slim fingers looking strange against Allie’s bulk. They talk for a few minutes, Julian stroking him all the while over the worn cotton of that goddamn Henley. Then they’re turning, Julian’s touch going from the relative innocence of Allie’s arm to the intimate small of his back to lead him away and back into the inner sanctum of Elouisa’s den of iniquity. Julian looks over Hart’s shoulder toward me right before they turn a corner, his expression asking in silence,Are you sure about this?

Though I can’t quite breathe normally, I give him a raise of my chin and mouth, “Godspeed.”

He smiles back like the cat who got the canary before they disappear out of sight.

As for me…I slip out to the long drive to find my car. I’ll call Elouisa tomorrow and thank her for having me and to apologize for not saying so in person. For now, I start my car and drive off, feeling as though I’ve left something behind.

*

When I gethome, Matthew is there. He’s on the phone, and he’s laughing. Something I’d rather not call jealousy alights between my shoulder blades because it must be Peter. Peter’s made my Matthew happy in a way I’d never be able to, in a way I’ll never make anyone happy, and it all suddenly seems unfair.

I didn’t make this choice. I was born the way I am, and I’ve fulfilled the role I’ve been assigned. Sometimes, though, I’d like to trade. I would give up this superpower if I could have a normal life, a normal love. If I could come home at the end of the day to someone I could call my own. Someone I wouldn’t have to give up and send away.

Allie’s face flashes across my memory, the pain in his eyes when I nudged him into Julian’s firm grip. It’s better this way. Better to give him up now before he gets too attached and convinces us both this is something we’re allowed.

Matthew’s hung up the phone with whispered goodbyes. When he turns to me, the easy smile on his face disappears.

“Are you all right, sir?”

No. I’m not all right. I’d guess this is what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest. Or to stub your toe really hard. Or get a paper cut and then touch a lemon slice or a pickle. Maybe a kidney stone. Perhaps childbirth. All of those things people seem to know are excruciating. Maybe that’s what this would feel like if I weren’t a freak like Allie said.

“Nothing for you to trouble yourself with, Matthew.”

“Yes, sir.”

---