“You drugged me,” Ben rasped. He knew it had to be true because sleep had hit him too quickly.
“I know. They weren’t illegal drugs.” Dante’s jaw visibly tightened.
Ben tried to sit up but nausea hit him and his head spun, so he fell backward onto the bed again.
“You needed to sleep. You wouldn’t have otherwise.” Dante didn’t move from his position.
“So you drugged me?”
“And hit you. You forgot that part. You were looking for that though, weren’t you? Looking to be hurt because you don’t know what the fuck else to do. I guess that means you should be thanking me.”
Like hell he would. Ben had to force himself not to try to sit up again. He couldn’t handle it. He knew it but then his stomach clenched. He rolled to the side just as Dante shoved a small trashcan at him. It was perfect timing as Ben emptied his stomach into the can.
It hurt, he vomited so hard. Dante didn’t pull back. Ben tried to grab the trashcan from his hand but Dante continued to hold it as Ben lost the alcohol and stomach acid in his gut.
He remembered being sick as a child. So sick he ended up in the hospital with dehydration. His father had left. Hadn’t cared. His mom sent the nanny in. She couldn’t handle the smell or sound of vomiting.
The nanny took care of him. Cleaned him up after he vomited until Bonnie arrived and took over. The nanny did it because she was paid. Bonnie did it because she loved him. Those were the only two people to ever take care of him when he was sick, until now.
What he didn’t get was why Dante would do it and what he’d want for it.
Finally the vomiting eased up, turned to dry heaves before he was done completely.
“I need to go home.” Ben wasn’t sure why those were the first words out of his mouth.
“You need a shower and food.”
He did. Ben couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He’d thought the same thing while speaking with Jeremiah the day before...he thought it was only a day. He didn’t even know. Still, he hadn’t eaten after his conversation with the man.
And the thought of a shower, if he could even stand, made his body feel something closer to pleasure than he’d felt in a long time.
He hated the man standing across from him though. He’d done nothing but insult and try to control Ben the few times they’d spoken. Why would he do this now, and how could Ben let him?
“What do you want? Change your mind about the sex?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want anything.”
Everyone wanted something. Tristan had wanted Ben for sex and colleagues wanted Ben for who he was and who his father was. “Why?”
Dante sighed. Stepped away. Walked away but only set the trashcan outside of the bedroom door before he came back. “All of the reasons we’ve discussed before. We’re alike, you and I. We hate ourselves and everyone around us. I know what it’s like to have no one. I know what it’s like to want no one—no matter what we want, it’s not always what we need though. Sometimes we need someone. I can do that for you in a way no one else can because like you, I’m too detached to let anything like questions, friendship, attraction or even wanting something in return, get in the way.”
Dante held out his hand. Ben closed his eyes, and realized a lot of the sandpaper was gone. Drugged or not, he’d slept when he’d so badly needed it. He could have been killed in that alley but he wasn’t. All of those things were because of Dante.
Opening his eyes, Ben sighed, and grabbed the outstretched hand, letting Dante help him up.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He let Dante help him stand but Ben was determined to take it from there by himself. His legs shook, as though he’d been sick for days and had to learn to rework them again, but he managed to follow Dante from the room, out the door and down the hall.
He could tell how small the apartment was. The place wasn’t anything like Ben was used to—not much lighting, old carpet, and a shower stall with no bath in the restroom.
“I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes to change into. Go inside,” Dante told him and Ben found himself walking the rest of the way into the microscopic bathroom.
There was a glass jar on the counter with one toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Shaving supplies sat next to the single sink. Those were the only things he saw beside a shower and toilet, and a small mirror on the wall.
He was a mess. His right eye was black with a cut in the brow. It had obviously been cleaned up. He also had a bruise on the other side of his forehead, and a cut by his lip. Ben didn’t have to take off his shirt to know his ribs were black and blue as well.