Page 46 of Body and Soul

But even as I reveled in my small victory, I knew that this was only the beginning. Ezekiel was still out there, a looming threat that cast a shadow over everything we held dear. And if Valentine and the FBI couldn't stop him, then it would fall to us—to me—to find a way.

I settled back into Shepherd's chair, my fingers steepled once more as I stared at the diplomas on the wall without seeing them. My mind was already racing, sifting through possibilities and discarding them just as quickly.

I sat in contemplative silence, my thoughts churning. The threat of Ezekiel and his depraved cult loomed over us, and yet, there was another matter that gnawed at me, an irritant that I could not shake.

Shepherd's relationship with Eli.

It was a complication we could ill afford, a weakness that could be exploited by our enemies. Eli, with his needs and his fragile emotional state, was a liability. His presence in Shepherd's life distracted him, dulled his edge. It was a luxury we could not afford, not when our survival hung in the balance.

I leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight as I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts churning like a tempestuous sea. Shepherd's feelings for the boy were a hindrance, a chink in his armor that could prove fatal. And yet, I knew that any attempt to sever that bond would be met with fierce resistance.

Shepherd was a man driven by his emotions, his compassion and empathy, both his greatest strength and his most glaring weakness. He saw in Eli a kindred spirit, a lost soul in need of guidance and protection. But what Shepherd failed to realize was that his own need to save others often came at the cost of his own well-being.

I rose from the chair, my footsteps echoing in the empty office as I paced. The situation with Eli would need to be handled delicately. A direct confrontation would only serve to push Shepherd further into the boy's arms, and that wouldn’t be good for either of them.

No, a more subtle approach was required. Perhaps I could appeal to Eli, make him see that Shepherd was better off without him. There had to be a way to do that without causing undue damage to Shepherd. If only I could think of it.

I paused before the window, gazing out at the city skyline, the glittering lights a stark contrast to the darkness that lurked within. In the reflection of the glass, I caught a glimpse of my own eyes, cold and calculating. It was a look I had seen before, in the eyes of men like Ezekiel. Men who were willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goals, no matter the cost.

But I was not Ezekiel. My actions, however ruthless they may seem, were born of necessity, not cruelty. I did what I did to protect everyone in our system, to shield them from further damage. Dex and Bryce were still innocent, and Shepherd had seen enough trauma. Keres and I, we were the front line of defense against all the cruelty and pain of the world.

I turned from the window, my jaw set with grim determination. The weight of responsibility settled heavily upon my shoulders, a burden I had borne for as long as I could remember. It was my duty to protect the others, to shield them from the harsh realities of the world, even if it meant making difficult decisions.

With measured steps, I returned to Shepherd's desk, sinking into the worn leather chair. The scent of old books and polished wood enveloped me, a familiar comfort in an uncertain world. I ran my fingers along the smooth surface of the desk, tracing the grain of the wood as my mind wandered.

Shepherd's love for Eli was a double-edged sword, both a source of strength and a potential weakness. The boy brought out a softness in Shepherd, a vulnerability that could be exploited by those who wished us harm. And yet, I couldn't deny the profound impact Eli had on Shepherd's life.

Before Eli, Shepherd had been a man adrift, haunted by the ghosts of his past and the weight of his own guilt. But Eli had given him a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than his grief. Eli made him feel whole. Even I couldn’t deny that. Asking him to give up Eli would be like asking him to give up a part of himself.

I sighed, massaging my temples as a dull ache began to throb behind my eyes. There were times I was glad I wasn’t weighed down by small things like romantic attraction and sexual desire. Shepherd and Keres could keep those things.

As for me, it was time for me to get back to where I belonged, on the inside, looking after Dex and Bryce.

I stared at theclock, sucking hard on the cherry candy in my mouth. Shepherd would be home from his private practice soon, and another evening of domestic servitude and sexual frustration lay ahead.

I'd just returned from my tattoo apprenticeship. My hands ached from hours of inking practice on synthetic skin, but the pain didn't distract from the throbbing between my legs. It had been almost a week since I rubbed against Keres’ thigh to get off, the longest I’d gone without a hookup. I wasn’t used to this dry spell, let alone not being able to jerk off at least once a day.

Pushing aside thoughts of my aching cock, I turned to the list of chores Shepherd left me. As part of our service submission agreement, I had to keep the house spotless and prep dinner. I didn’t particularly enjoy cleaning, but focusing on the repetitive tasks helped keep my mind off sex.

I started in the kitchen, putting away the clean dishes and wiping down the counters until they gleamed. Then I moved to the living room, fluffing throw pillows and vacuuming the plushcarpet, ensuring I got into all the corners. Dusting came next; I lifted Shepherd's psychology textbooks, running a microfiber cloth over their spines before placing them back in order.

By the time I scrubbed the bathroom until the chrome fixtures shone, it was nearly seven. My muscles burned from the exertion, but my mind felt clearer. I headed to the kitchen to lay out the dinner ingredients and start prep. The familiar routine of chopping vegetables and seasoning the steaks he’d selected calmed my nerves more than I expected.

I was slicing bell peppers when I heard the familiar creak of the front door. My heart raced, thumping against my ribcage. I set the knife down with a clatter and wiped my hands on a dish towel. Pivoting, I hurried to the foyer, my bare feet padding on the hardwood.

Shepherd stepped inside, his broad shoulders slumped and his handsome face drawn with fatigue. Deep lines creased his brow, and shadows smudged the skin beneath his dark eyes. His hair looked mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in agitation. Clearly, he’d had an exhausting day at his practice. A twinge of sympathy pinched in my chest at his haggard appearance.

“Welcome home, Sir,” I murmured, falling into my submissive role. I took his leather briefcase and set it carefully on the bench by the door.

I slid the charcoal wool overcoat from his shoulders, hanging it neatly as Shepherd toed off his shoes with a soft groan. The tang of his cologne—a dark, woodsy scent—teased my nose, and I yearned to lean into him, but I stopped myself. I needed to see to his needs first.

“Would you like scotch, sir?” I asked, keeping my eyes lowered.

Shepherd sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Make it a double tonight.”

“Right away, Sir.” I padded into the kitchen, pulling out a cut crystal tumbler and reaching for his favorite Macallan single malt. I poured a generous measure, watching it catch the light.

As I turned to bring Shepherd his drink, he called from the living room, “Eli, I’m too tired to cook tonight. Put away the food you prepped. We’ll order takeout later.”

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