Still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, Biton leaned over Cavan. He plucked several tissues from a box on the nightstand. First wiping his hand, he then cleaned Cavan with a gentle touch and took a cursory swipe at the remaining mess on the bed.

After tossing the tissues toward the trashcan next to the bed, Biton held the quaking body of his lover. "Are you okay?"

Cavan's trembling seemed more than the aftershocks of orgasm. More like the shaking sobs of tears.

"Yes..." The gulping sound confirmed Biton's suspicions.

"Talk to me. I want to help."

Cavan shook his head. His only defiance since three months ago, when he deliberately provoked Biton to punish him, was refusing to talk. Something for which Biton couldn't, wouldn't, punish him.

Instead, Biton held him close, stroking his wavy red hair until the sobs slowed and his breathing evened out.

Once again, Biton wondered whether his course of action was the right one. Following Dr. Merten's advice hadn't worked before and he didn't think it was working now. But therapy of any kind needed more than four months to work. Cavan was abused for nine years. He wouldn't heal over night.

Although he refused to avoid sexual contact with Cavan, he'd agreed to postpone any discussion of a permanent arrangement as well as any dominant play. She insisted either would hamper Cavan's recovery. She'd voiced her disapproval of their physical relationship as well. Her theory was that any physical relationship without his full understanding could be damaging. But Biton couldn't turn Cavan away.

With a gentle kiss on his sleeping lover's temple, Biton whispered, "I love you."

Cavan climbed out of the car in front of Dr. Merten's office. The tall skyscraper with huge cold lobby intimidated him. After four months he should be accustomed to the sight. At first, Biton brought him to his sessions and waited for him. Now that Biton had gone back to work fulltime, he arranged for a car service to carry him back and forth. The sessions seemed longer knowing Biton wasn't just beyond the door.

With a sigh, Cavan marched to the entrance and pushed through the revolving door. He kept his head down as he walked past the security guards in the lobby. As the only occupant of the elevator, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd begun to hate his therapy. A measure of distrust had for Dr. Merten crept into his mind over the last couple of months.

When the elevator opened, Cavan dragged his feet toward the therapist's office. Inhaling deep, he opened the door.

"Good afternoon!" The receptionist, Anita, always smiled.

Sometimes he wanted to ask her why she was always so happy but he didn't. He couldn't find the nerve to do more than respond. "Good afternoon." He hurried across the room to a corner chair as far away as he could get from her. A few times, she'd tried to talk to him. Her attempts made him nervous.

He ran his hands down the armrests before dropping them in his lap. The cold leather chairs reminded him of the sling in Biton's playroom. A shiver of memory, of his first time with Biton, warmed him.

"I'll let the doctor know you're here." She picked up the phone and punched a couple of numbers. "Mr. Delany's here." She paused to listen to Dr. Merten. "Yes, ma'am, I'll let him know." Hanging up the phone, she swiveled her chair in Cavan's direction. "She's running a little behind. She'll be with you in a minute."

He hoped she really meant a minute. Cavan studied the tips of his sneakers. It helped keep him from making eye contact. Although he tried, looking at people in the face was something he couldn't quite do yet without a surge of panic threatening. A slave wasn't supposed to be so bold. Only with Biton and sometimes Dr. Merten. Even then, the doctor's expressionless stare stirred something close to fear. The blank look was too close to Master Wainwright.

Biton told him the doctor would only do what's right for him. Cavan was supposed to trust her but trust wasn't a concept he could wrap his head around. Besides, he didn't like some of the things she said. Especially when she questioned Biton's motives for allowing Cavan to live with him.

The buzzing phone startled him.

"The doctor's ready to see you now." Anita's cheerful voice grated on his already tense nerves.

His inability to disobey forced him to his feet and toward the closed door.

Biton stared at the deposition in front of him but his mind was miles away. His partners begged him to return to work a month ago. With an overwhelming caseload, Biton had to choose between retiring to make way for another lawyer and going back to work.

Dr. Merten didn't see any harm in Cavan remaining alone at home. She believed it would help his self-confidence.

Still Biton hated leaving him to fend for himself on the days he had therapy. The car service delivered him door to door but he preferred to be with him. The sessions took so much out of his young lover. Being there to cheer him up, treat him to something special, when therapy was over had made a difference.

The buzzing intercom brought him out of his thoughts. He punched the speaker button with a little more force than necessary. "Yes." He winced at the shortness in his tone. "Sorry, Sharon. What's up?" No sense in taking his mood out on his secretary.

"Detective Casala and ADA Luca are here to see you."

"Send them in..." He wasn't expecting them. Mario Luca was handling the case against Wainwright. Having him show up unannounced wasn't a good sign.

Biton stood up and moved around the large wooden desk as the door opened. "Come in, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

With lips drawn thin and a grim set to his dark eyes, Antonio grasped his hand tight. "There's been a development." He almost spit his disgust as he said the last word.

"What do you mean?" Biton glan.

Biton motioned the two men toward the high-backed cushioned chairs facing his desk. As he walked around to the other side, he braced himself for the worst.

Luca exhaled a sharp sigh. "Look, the DA wants the slave ring; Wainwright can deliver it. He's agreed to tell everything he knows--name names."

Easing into his chair, Biton kept his face passive. "For what?"

"A fucking walk..." Antonio interrupted before Luca could answer.

"Not a walk, Detective." Luca's guilty look hardened. "He'll get jail time." He ran his hand through his light brown hair.

"How much?" Biton asked. The flush of anger started before he heard the answer.

"The lowest the DA's willing to go is criminally negligent homicide." Luca's gaze darted down and focused on the nameplate on Biton's desk.

"One and half to four years?" A rush of anger swept through Biton. "For murder? For torturing someone to death?"

"Look, it's the best we can come up with and get the information we need. Forensics can't determine the exact cause of death. The only witness willing to testify is Mr. Delany."

A couple of seconds passed while Biton's mind processed Cavan's real name. "But he's a solid witness. And what about his assault?"

"Assault in the second degree, sentence to run concurrent." Luca evidently found his balls. His gaze met Biton's angry stare head on. "We have to stop the slave ring."

"How can you be sure his information is worth what you're giving away?" Biton ground out the words between clenched teeth.

"He can't," Antonio interjected. He straightened in his chair.

Luca sighed. "The deal won't be final until sentencing. We'll pull in every available investigator to work his leads until then. If something viable doesn't show up, the deal is dead. It's part of the agreement."

"When's the sentencing?"

"Six weeks."

As an attorney, an officer of the court, Biton understood the need to deal with scum like Wainwright. Considering the possible number of victimized children sold into sexual slavery and worse by this pedophile ring, the district attorney had no choice.

Biton had promised Cavan the man who put him through hell on earth would go away forever. How would he explain the meaning of this deal to his terrified lover? On the other hand, Cavan wouldn't be required to testify. Maybe he could put his ordeal behind him quicker if he didn't have to face his abuser in court.

Thoughts of his lover's fears brought his mind back to Cavan's therapy session. Glancing at the clock behind his guests, he noted Cavan should be at the doctor now.

"I wanted to be the one to inform you of the possible deal but I need to get back to the office now." Luca stood. "If you or Mr. Delany has any questions, feel free to contact me."

"Thank you." Biton shook his hand over his desk.

Antonio waited until the door closed behind the assistant district attorney. "I'm sorry. I don't think it's right."

"As a defense attorney, I understand the need to deal, to put away the people responsible for Cavan's torture and who knows how many others but..." He stood staring out the window, his shoulders hunched over, hands in his pockets. Cars were tiny specks on the broad avenue below. "Do you think Wainwright has anything of real value?" Biton needed reassurance.

"I don't know. He claims that all his slaves came from the same source. If he's been doing business with them all these years, he should know something."

"I don't know how to explain this to Cavan." Biton scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. "I promised him Wainwright would go away forever." Forever ... The word echoed in his mind.

He'd also promised his wounded lover that he could stay with him forever. Cavan never mentioned it after that night. With Dr. Merten's warnings, Biton hadn't either. Maybe he should get the doctor's advice before telling Cavan.

Although Biton wasn't sure Dr. Merten was working out. Rather than improving, Cavan seemed to be more withdrawn than ever. He'd considered looking for another therapist to treat Cavan but meeting new people was difficult for the young man.

"Do you want me to talk to him with you?" Antonio turned to face him.

"No, thanks." Biton sighed and glanced at his watch. "He's still at Dr. Merten's. I'll cancel the car service and pick him up myself. Maybe the doctor should be handy when I tell him."

Cavan huddled on the couch across from Dr. Merten's chair. The thickly cushioned couch swallowed him. Maybe if he could make himself small enough, he'd disappear into the furniture. Several bookshelves lined one wall, filled with books. Cavan liked books. He wondered what kind of stories Dr. Merten read.

"Michael, something is bothering you. You should tell me about it."

He fought the automatic shudder at the sound of his real name. Only Dr. Merten and the man from the prosecutor's office insisted on using it. He didn't identify himself with the child that was Michael Delany.

"It's nothing."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" She paused for a moment. "Michael, therapy doesn't work if you don't talk."

"I don't know what to say."

Her long fingernails tapped her notepad. "Do you regret having sex with Biton?"

Tightness threatened Cavan's throat. "No! Never."

"So you want to stay with him."

"Yes." Cavan pulled his legs up to his chest. He whispered, more to himself than the doctor, "I don't know if he wants me to."

"Why would you say that?" Dr. Merten leaned forward, her eyes narrowed.

Cavan glanced down, away from the intense interest in her gaze. "He..." His mouth went dry. "He hasn't written the contract yet."

"Has he explained why?"

Shaking his head, Cavan forced a swallow past the tight lump in his throat.

She settled back in her chair, almost a relieved look crossed her face. "Maybe he's changed his mind. You have to consider it. Three months ago, he offered to let you stay forever."

Cavan shook his head. As much as he wanted to deny her words, he couldn't. He'd thought the same thing too often. Panic gurgled through his stomach. "But why has he let me stay with him?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because he feels responsible for me." Cavan said the words aloud for the first time. It couldn't be true. "No, he loves me." He looked up at the doctor. "He makes love to me, lets me sleep in his bed. Why would he do that if he didn't love me?"

Her hard eyes didn't reflect the sad smile on her face. "Because men like Biton Savakis are accustomed to doing what they want. He uses people, dominates them, inflicts pain." She leaned forward in her chair. "Didn't he beat you?"

"But it wasn't the same." A different kind of shudder swept through him. The memory of the restraints binding his arms and feet, the sting of the paddle transforming to intense heat with each blow and the shimmer of emotion in Biton's eyes ... Sexual desire swirled through his body. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted it ... him."

He did then and he did now, want Biton and the things he did that day.

"Michael, what are you thinking about?"

Bowing his head, he mumbled, "Nothing." He pulled his legs tight against his chest to hide his rising erection.

"You should think about finding your own way in life." She leaned forward again. "Get away from dependence on someone else. Away from a lifestyle you had no choice in."

Anger took the edge off his arousal. She had no right to tell him what to do. Biton said it was Cavan's choice and he'd made it. He wanted what Biton offered.

As fast as his fury hit, it dissipated. Biton offered but he didn't follow through. "I don't want to talk anymore." Cavan stood. His appointment was nowhere near over but he couldn't stay here any longer.

"Michael, we're not done. Sit down."

Her stern tone almost made him obey. Almost. "No." Cavan stalked toward the door.

"Michael!" The doctor stood, her arm out, finger pointing at the couch. "Michael, sit down."

He turned to look at her. Shaking his head, he repeated the one word he'd never learned to use. "No." Grabbing the doorknob, he yanked open the door. His pace sped up through the waiting room. Anita looked up from her desk, startled as he ran by.