Part One - Haven

 

Haven looked at the dining room table. Two places set with expensive linen, china, crystal, and silverware. Candles flickered at the center of the table. The house redolent with the scent of roasted meat and succulent vegetables. Haven had gone all out on dinner for his master. Even now, a bottle of his master’s favorite cabernet sauvignon sat on the counter waiting to be uncorked.

Dressed in thin black leather jeans, boots, and a skin tight black mesh t-shirt Haven appeared ready for a night at Darkness, the leather club his master liked to frequent. He tugged at his collar. For eight months now he’d worn it, ever since the night he’d met Kellen at Darkness. New in town, new on the scene, he’d quickly been snatched up by the most beautiful dominant in the club. They had played for hours in a private room and as dawn broke, Kellen had offered Haven a collar and a place in his life. Haven had gone home with Kellen and had been at his side ever since. Later, his friend Micah, who was married to Kellen’s brother Nick, told him that Kellen hadn’t spent more than an hour with any submissive from the club in nearly four years.

Four years. Haven shivered as he thought of the sad story Micah had told him. Kellen had collared young Cristophe St. Bord in much the same way he had Haven. But from the story Micah told Haven, Kellen’s relationship with Cristophe was very different than the one he had with Haven. Cristophe had been the light of Kellen’s life. They laughed a lot together and Cristophe was very outgoing. He had no fear of public scenes, something the introverted and shy Haven could rarely tolerate.

According to Micah, Kellen had been happy to share his emotions with Cristophe. Haven could hardly credit that his master had been so forthcoming since Kellen kept to himself almost all the time and his emotions never surfaced. Jealousy nipped at Haven until Micah told him about Cristophe falling ill with cancer. Kellen had nursed him for over a year before Cristophe took his own life in a single car accident instead of going to hospice where he was expected to die within weeks. Micah said Kellen blamed himself for the manner of Cristophe’s death and he had rarely left his house in the four years since.

Haven’s heart ached for the bright young man Cristophe had been and for his master’s loss. Having an explanation for why his master was so gruff and unforthcoming with compliments or affection helped Haven feel a little better about himself. He had been worried that Kellen wasn’t happy with him or his submission even after almost a year. He determined to show Kellen as much love and care as possible and maybe someday his master would be happy again.

He stared at the perfection of the table and realized it lacked only one thing…a centerpiece. He ran to his dresser and pulled out a porcelain Christmas tree. His mother had given him the tree ten years before on his sixteenth birthday. It was a strange gift for a teenager but his mother had wanted him to always hold the spirit of Christmas in heart despite the holiday being his birthday.

The small green tree had white snow and multicolored lights on it. It stood about six inches high and ran on batteries. Haven popped in two new batteries and turned on the little tree. It glowed brightly, making the table look festive and warm.

Hugging himself with excitement, Haven could barely wait for Kellen to return from work. He bustled around the house making sure everything was spotless as he waited. Finally, Kellen’s SUV pulled into the drive and Haven ran into the living room to wait for him.

Keys jingling, Kellen opened the front door and stepped into the foyer. His boots showed signs of dampness from the light snow that had begun to fall and a few flakes dusted his dark blond hair. Haven tingled with excitement. His master would be so pleased with the perfect dinner and beautiful table.

Kellen pulled off his parka and hung it in the closet by the door. He turned and his green eyes locked on Haven standing in the living room near the dining area of the open floor plan. His brows drew together in a fierce frown.

“What’s with the lights? Why are they off?” He spied the elegance of the dining table with the roast and vegetables arranged neatly on a platter surrounded by side dishes. “What’s going on, Haven?”

Haven scooted toward his master, his head tipping back as he looked up at the taller man. “It’s Christmas Eve, master. I made us a special meal.”

Kellen’s face darkened and Haven’s stomach quivered as anger began to flare in his master’s eyes.

“I told you before, I don’t do holidays. Any holiday. Take this crap into the kitchen and turn on the lights,” he ordered. “I’m not even hungry. I’ll grab a sandwich later on. I have work to do.”

Haven blinked. No! How could his master resist such beautiful fare? The food and the elegant table? A sick feeling wormed its way into his stomach. He felt tears rise to his eyes, but he lowered his head and shuffled toward the table, preparing to take everything into the kitchen.

As he reached the table, a growl came from behind him. Haven looked up in time to see his master dash toward the table and snatch up the little lighted Christmas tree. Fear flickered within him and he felt his eyes widen as Kellen made another angry sound.

“I thought I told you, no fucking Christmas decorations!” he roared.

Before Haven could whisper, “I’m sorry, sir” the little tree flew through the air toward the fireplace, shattering in a thousand pieces as the fragile porcelain met the granite of the hearth. Frozen with shock and pain, Haven stared at the remains of the only thing he had left from his former life. A wave of coldness came over him. He glanced up at Kellen and saw his master’s muscular body held in tight lines of blackest rage.

“No Christmas! No holidays! It’s just another goddamned day!” Kellen yelled.

Haven flinched. He didn’t know what to say or do. His heart ached not only for his master but for the loss of the tree from his mother. He had nothing else from her, not even a photo. Everything had been stolen from him and destroyed in the two years he’d spent in foster care after his mother’s death.

“I—I’m sorry, sir,” Haven whispered as he began to shake. He’d never seen his master so angry and forbidding.

“Oh, you are, are you?” Kellen sneered. He strode over to the table, grasped the edge of the linen tablecloth and yanked. Silverware, food, china and glassware all spun into the air and then came crashing down.

Shocked, Haven stared at the mess. Kellen stalked toward the roast and kicked it. It hit the glass sliding door to the patio with a wet thump.

“Clean this the fuck up and then present yourself for punishment within one hour,” he snarled as he started toward his office at the back of the house.

“But, sir—,” Haven whispered, trying to hold back tears of anguish.

Kellen cut him off. “But nothing. Clean it up and present yourself for punishment. I told you, no fucking holidays. If you can’t deal with that take your collar off and get the fuck out of my life!”

Haven gasped, his hands automatically going to the plain black leather collar Kellen had put on him eight months before. He began to shake with fear.

“Leave?” he asked, his voice shaking. “But I—”

Kellen let out a sound of rage and swept a lamp off a side table. It shattered on the wood floor. “You know, just get the fuck out. I don’t know why I collared you in the first place. I don’t need a damned submissive.” He stormed toward his office, his angry words echoing back toward Haven. “I release you. Now, just get the fuck out and leave me alone!”

A door slammed and Haven jumped. He shook so hard he could barely walk. In a stupor, he shuffled toward the door. His trembling fingers fumbled with the buckle of his collar. After several tries, he got it undone. The leather fell to the floor and Haven stepped over it, opening the front door. The instant the snow swirled around him, tears began to slip down his cheeks.

He stood on the front step for a moment, shocked and unable to think. He closed the door behind him. As it clicked shut, separating him from the only happiness he had known since his mother’s death, his tears began in earnest. He didn’t feel the cold. A kind of numbness settled over him, fogging his mind and his body. All he could feel was the breaking of his heart as he stepped onto the sidewalk and began to walk away from Kellen’s house.

As he walked down the street, Haven realized that what he’d thought of as home for the last eight months had been nothing more than his master’s house. He’d been fooling himself to think of it as his home. He’d been insane to believe that if he loved his master enough, one day the man would love him back. His collar had meant nothing to Kellen while it had meant everything to Haven. But now it was gone and he was dismissed into the cold on Christmas Eve. It would be his birthday in a few hours and he had nowhere to go. No one would miss his presence. His place in the world had vanished.

Stumbling as the cold increased, Haven walked the mile and a half to Darkness, the leather club where he’d met Kellen. He had the vague notion that if the club was open, maybe he could sell his body in order to rent a motel room. Or maybe some Dom would take pity on him and take him home for the night.

Haven shuddered at the thought. Even in his numbed state, he knew he couldn’t let another man lay hands on him. He belonged to Kellen whether Kellen wanted him or not. And since Kellen didn’t want him, that left him with very limited options for the future.

When he reached Darkness, he found the club closed. He walked to the main entrance and banged on the black doors for a few minutes. No one answered. The wind howled and snow swirled around him thickly. Staring up at the club’s large doors, Haven’s emotional numbness began to recede a little. In its place came a great dark despair.

Slumping down against the door, Haven wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees and rocked, hoping the motion would bring some heat back to his frozen limbs. It didn’t. His tears still came, but they were no longer a flood. They froze as they dripped from his chin, but Haven no longer cared. He couldn’t feel his feet or fingers any longer and his mind retreated from the certain death he courted in the exposed doorway. His icy fingers pressed against his neck, searching for his collar. When he remembered that he no longer had a collar, he squeezed his eyes shut and slid completely to the ground, lying on the icy cement, curled into a ball.

He would die on his twenty sixth birthday. On Christmas. How ironic that he would leave the world on the same day he came into it. He tried to think of things he’d done that would leave a mark after he was gone, but nothing came to mind. He’d been nothing while he was alive and his death would mean nothing to anyone. Kellen didn’t care. Kellen didn’t love him or want him. He had no reason to stay in a world where he could no longer be with the only man he’d ever loved.

With a whimper, Haven’s eyes closed. His heartbeat became slower and as it did, his despair seeped away. As he fell asleep, he accepted the consequences that came with it, glad for a release from the pain that had shattered him the moment Kellen had told him to take off his collar and leave his house. Without his master, he had no reason to fight for his life.