Trials and Errors by Rachel Haimowitz, Heidi Belleau Page B

soft bland foods only went so far after the way he’d abused himself. He was still hungry. Still weak. Nikolai would feed him up again, have Roger oversee his exercise routine. Make him strong like before.
    But first he’d have to earn it.

    Crawling was way harder than it should’ve been. Not mentally—he barely even felt the humiliation after all the other, bigger humiliations that’d come before—but physically. He wasn’t used to being weak this way, and he didn’t like it one bit. Couldn’t wait to get back on his feet—literally as well as figuratively. Now that he’d decided not to die, he’d need his strength. Now that Nikolai had given in and promised to let him see Dougie.
    Dougie, God. Maybe, somehow, he could convince Dougie how sorry he was, get Dougie to forgive him. He’d figure out a way. He had to. He could scarcely believe that Nikolai had given in so easily to his demand, but since he had, there was no way in hell Mat was going to waste the opportunity.
    He reached the dresser, panting a little, and lifted tired arms to open the third drawer. Saw the black case right away. It was disconcertingly large and heavy. What the fuck was Nikolai hiding in there? What would he end up having to endure to convince Nikolai he was sincere? To see Dougie again? To fix the biggest fucking mistake he’d ever made?
    “Oh, and fetch the lube, as well—the bottle next to the case. You’ll be needing it.”
    Sick fuck . Mat bit his tongue to keep from saying it aloud. There was no doubt in his mind that Nikolai would want him to keep up the argumentativeness in the long run, but not today. Today he had to prove he could be a good little slave.
    So he grabbed the lube.
    Crawling back with the lube in one hand and the case in the other proved something of a challenge. The floor was hard beneath too-bony knees, he felt tired enough to sleep for a week, and he didn’t want to do this , whatever it was. Fear was an insidious thing, and if he were stronger he’d shove it away like he always did, but shuffling back toward Nikolai now, toward the man who was no doubt about to rape and beat him half-unconscious and make him say thank you for it . . . well, he figured nobody would blame him for slowing down a little bit.
    Nikolai said nothing, just watched him, expression empty of all but a vague expectation, a ghost of haughty triumph, and a shade of doubt—not in himself, no, but in Mat. In Mat’s willingness and ability to keep playing along.
    Well, he’d fucking see. Mat would do it all, no matter how painful, no matter how depraved. To protect people weaker than himself, like Roger. To protect the only person he loved: Dougie.
    He could hardly believe he’d be seeing Dougie at all. How the hell had Nikolai agreed to that? Fuck, he didn’t care. Dougie was like a fever dream now, a memory as sweet and painful as their parents, but he was getting his brother back. He was getting Dougie back , and that was worth anything.
    Unless Nikolai was lying. Just saying what he wanted to hear. Stringing him along.
    But . . . no, If nothing else, Nikolai was a man of his word. As sick and twisted and horrible as he was, he hadn’t ever lied—not that a man in his position needed to. Besides, what would the point of it be? He knew Mat wasn’t bluffing, so why risk it?
    Nikolai snapped his fingers and said, “Give me the case, Mathias,” and Mat realized he’d stalled out, lost in his own weakened mind.
    He shuffled the last little way and rose up onto his knees. Laid the lube on top of the case and picked up the whole shebang with both hands, held it aloft on his palms, bowed his head. “Master,” he added, and managed not to make it sound too much like a sneer. Yeah, he could play along. Woof woof, look how well I learn new tricks.
    Nikolai, the fucker, left him hanging, left the case in his outstretched hands until his arms began to tremble, then outright shake, then cramp, and he gritted his teeth and locked his