Make Me Soar Read Online Free Page A

Dorian didn’t want to go.
    Fuck . Why can’t I forget those bloody scenes? Two fucking months since Master Andrew had agreed to do that second scene with him, and still he couldn’t get it out of his mind. And it wasn’t Andrew that was the problem. What plagued Dorian was the way he’d responded to something as simple as Shibari. Then again, maybe “plagued” wasn’t quite accurate.
    It had scared the hell out of him. Not the scene, but its implications. It had forced him to take a long look at himself, his goals and everything he’d believed until that moment. And the fact that he might have got it all wrong scared the shit out of him.
    What worried him was how angry he’d got when he thought about the club. He’d always thought no one had noticed him, that no one truly saw him. At least he knew that first part wasn’t true, and he’d given up hoping for someone to see beyond the facade he put up for everyone. Except how could he expect them to see him when he didn’t let anyone get close enough?
    He groaned inwardly.
    God, I am such a fucking mess .
    “Hey, where’d you go?” Pietro’s voice was soft, his eyes full of concern.
    Dorian met Pietro’s gaze and pushed aside his inner turmoil. Come on, think of the plan . Because there was one, now.
    “I need to do this, okay? That’s all you need to know.” Then something occurred to him. He knew how Pietro got when he got his knickers in a twist—he ran straight to Leo Hart. “And you can’t tell anyone , you hear me? I’m only telling you because I trust you.” And maybe because he had to tell someone .
    Pietro bit his lip. “Are you going there on your own?” Dorian nodded, and Pietro’s frown deepened. “I don’t like this.”
    “You don’t have to like it,” Dorian retorted, immediately regretting his impulse. I should have known better than to tell him in the first place.
    Pietro’s expression grew stubborn. “No, I don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to make sure you’re safe. How long are you thinking of spending there? And do you even speak German?”
    “Maybe a week. And my German is rusty, at best,” he admitted.
    Pietro scowled. “A week, on your own, in a country where you don’t speak the language? Okay, it’s official—you’re nuts.”
    Dorian chuckled. When Pietro put it like that, he had to agree it sounded like a crazy idea.
    Then why was his heart hammering at the mere thought?
    “So if you are going to do this, I want some assurances.”
    Dorian shook himself. He arched his eyebrows. “Oh, you do?” In spite of Pietro doing his usual mother hen routine, it warmed him that his friend cared enough to look out for him.
    “Uh-huh.” Pietro dipped his chin. “One, you text or message me regularly so I know you’re okay. And two, if you get into any trouble whatsoever , you call me.”
    “And what could you do from here if I was?” Dorian wanted to know, mildly amused.
    “If you needed help, I’d bloody well think of something, all right?”
    The expression of grim determination on Pietro’s face robbed him of any humor he’d found in the situation. Pietro was deadly serious.
    Dorian placed his hand over Pietro’s. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I promise to keep in touch, okay?” It wasn’t a big thing to ask, after all. A quick one-line message via WhatsApp every now and again would suffice, surely.
    Pietro studied him, as though trying to see into his head. Finally he nodded. “That’ll have to do, I suppose.” His expression relaxed a little. “I’d better get dressed before Miles comes looking for me.” He winked. “You know what Doms can be like.” Pietro stood, whipped off his towel, and reached into his locker for his clothes. He paused in mid-action. “When are you going?”
    Dorian’s heartbeat raced. “Thursday morning, if there’s a flight.”
    Pietro stilled. “So soon?”
    He shrugged. “Why not? Strike while the iron is hot, and all that.” And before I