The blatant anger in my voice caused the receptionist to stop his actions for a moment and glance up, questions obvious in his eyes. But that only lasted for a moment, a breath at best. In the next second the man was back to looking through the appointment book and digging for my key.

"Yes sir, the Blizzard Key. Mr. Ralston made the reservation months ago. Does that not meet with your approval? I could look and see if there's an alternate Key that would better suit you."

The receptionist looked and sounded bored and annoyed, even through the professionalism he was attempting to exude.

Better suit me? Something about those words hit a nerve.

"No, the Blizzard Key will suit me just fine, thank you very much."

"Very well, sir. Here is the key to your suite. The page there," he pointed to a pretty young boy who was attempting to pick up my suitcase, "will escort you to your room. Enjoy your stay."

It took every fiber of my being not to tell the receptionist to fuck off.

As the page led me to my suite, all I could think about was Mark Ralston and how much I currently hated him. Of course I had always hated him, I just tended to forget that little fact until I was put into a situation such as this where I was being made to suffer because of him... again. And to think I had been looking forward to this. A chance to get away from it all, to have a pretty boy around me at all times whose job description was to do whatever I want him to do. But in one fell swoop Mark had ruined my vacation. I couldn't help but picture the asshole smirking over my situation right now. He knew I would be arriving today.

"Here you are sir. Would you like me to bring your things in?"

The boy had large eyes and a pleasant smile, not like the receptionist we had just left.

"No. Leave them right there. I'll take them in myself."

My voice had suddenly lost all of its normal confidence.

As I stared at the door, the page hopped away, happy to be done with yet another job. I turned my eyes toward his retreating figure until I could no longer make him out. At that point I was once again forced to stare at the door. White marble with what looked like crystals inset greeted me, like snow and ice. I reached my hand out to touch the marble door and was relieved to find that it wasn't freezing, only comfortably cool as all marble was to the touch. I hadn't even realized that my heart rate had increased until I took a deep breath to steady myself. There was clearly nothing to fear. It was a whore with an unfortunate theme and that was all. Nothing more. Forcing myself the entire way, I shoved the key in the keyhole and opened the door before I had a chance to back out. I did it quick, like ripping off a Band Aid.

A laugh escaped my lips due to the flood of relief I felt upon looking at the room. No snow drifts, no fiercely blowing winds. Only a room and a boy. I could handle a room and a boy.

Possibly to the boy's dismay, I looked right past him and studied the surroundings. Sparse was the word for it. There were white marble statues around the parameter and a fancy sort of bath in the middle. Why anyone would want a bathing pool in the middle of a main room I wasn't sure, but at least it wasn't a huge pile of snow. Walking to the back, I peeked into the bedroom and couldn't find anything of particular interest. The bed's canopy had snowflake patterns on it, but that I could handle.

Turning back I eyed the boy, my Key. He looked nothing like the winter. Red hair, blue eyes, and freckles. It was almost laughable. Not that he wasn't pretty, but a blizzard he was not.

"I'm your new master," I stated with clear amusement in my voice. Actually owning someone was a thrill I was anxious to live out. "Tyler Silva." I stuck my hand out for the boy to shake, a very fair move in my opinion. After all, this Key was my slave, not my equal, and I had been raised to think that you shook the hands of those equal to you.

All the boy did was stare down at my hand, unimpressed.

"Mathieu," he said in response, still not interested in shaking my hand.

Well one thing was for sure, the Key himself was cold as ice. But I could deal with that. This Mathieu was no different from any other guy that walked into the boardroom. "Well Mathieu," I smirked, starting a slow circle around the boy as I inspected my merchandise. "You were given to me by my brother, half-brother actually, but that really doesn't matter. Apparently my half-brother thinks I need to kick back for a while and enjoy myself. Or at least that's what I assumed he thought. Technicalities really don't matter at the moment though." I reached a hand out and stroked the Key's arm, feeling the skin. The boy was slender, more than skin and bone, but not at all muscular. "So, why the Blizzard Key? Does the theme have anything to do with your less than sunny personality?"

"It's the theme they gave me. I had no objection to it." Mathieu was staring ahead, allowing for the treatment but not looking as though he cared either way.

"Hmmm," I said in response. To be honest, my lips were a bit busy at the moment, lightly rubbing up and down the Key's neck. I wanted to taste him, to shed his clothes and make him mine. Well, more mine than he was already. My hands were busy snaking under his shirt, feeling everything I could.

"You're warm," I breathed against his neck, as though the Blizzard Key was going to be ice cold to the touch. He was slightly taller than me, thus allowing me to perfectly nuzzle his neck.

"Off," I stated while pulling his shirt off. I suddenly needed more of him, completely forgetting my earlier hesitancies or the fact that I had only entered the suite a few minutes ago. All that mattered now was feeling every inch of the Key, getting to know his every contour.

Leaning up, I grabbed his lips in a hungry kiss, feeling that I had to possess him. It had suddenly become a necessity. I could feel his arms wrap around me, could sense him start to do his job. But at the same time, I felt beyond myself. I was there yet I was somewhere else. My mind went white, giving itself over to the feelings, to what Mathieu was doing to me. Everything seemed so intense, so real. Bright white, unable to breathe, no control...

My eyes snapped open and I found myself staring straight into Mathieu's ice cold blue ones. My arms snapped out, hands on the boy's chest, keeping him arm's length away. I was breathing hard, shaking, trying to figure out what had just happened. The Key still had no real emotion on his face, he just stared at me as though waiting for his next order.

"I'm stepping out for a while," I managed to stay with an almost steady voice, my mind still whirling. "Unpack my things. I'll be back later."

With that I turned toward the door, my legs not completely steady. I reached into my pocket to make sure the key was in there, not entirely sure I really wanted to use it again.

It was.

Without a glance behind me I walked out of the door, letting it close heavily behind me. On instinct I somehow found my way outside to a garden of sorts. The air was warm, very warm. The humidity made things sticky, exactly the way I liked it. Without thinking, I collapsed onto the first patch of grass I found, allowing the warmth of the air to warm my chilled body. I didn't care if it looked odd to anyone to see a grown man in a business suit sprawled out on the lawn. I simply needed something that would bring me back to sanity. Without fully realizing it my eyes began to creep closed.

White, blinding white. Oh there was light, but when mixed with the blanket of white all it served to do was blind me further. I was yelling, screaming, trying anything to be heard. But my voice was always drowned out by the white. It was everywhere. I couldn't see anything but white. I never knew a color could terrify. Pushing through, doing anything and everything I could to move. To where? All I could see was white. There was no destination, just more and more white. It went on forever. "Mark," I screamed. "Mark, where are you," but all I could see was white, no familiar warm body. "Mark..."

"Sir, master sir, are you okay? Sir?"

Opening my eyes I could hazily make out the form of a little page. He looked confused, trying to figure out what I was doing and whether or not he would get in trouble for waking me up.

"Sir, you kept calling out for someone. Do you want me to find them for you?"

I smiled ruefully. I actually did want him to find that missing dream brother for me, more than anything. Maybe the nightmares would stop if he did.

"No, thank you. I was just having a dream. Thank you for waking me up." I sat up straight and looked around, seeing that the sun was in a completely different place in the sky than it had been when I first came out to the little garden. "I'm staying in the Blizzard Key suite and will soon be needing some dinner. Can you come to the suite in about a half hour and take our order?" The little page nodded happily and soon ran off, leaving me to find my way back to the dreaded suite.

Upon returning, I found Mathieu sitting quietly, reading a book.

"Master, I have unpacked your bags," he stated simply as I walked further into the room. Nodding, I walked back into the bedroom and began to inspect his work. "This is all wrong," I snapped, seeing that things that should have been hung were folded and vice versa. There was a way to do everything and Mathieu had done everything the wrong way. "I should have known you couldn't even do a simple task correctly." As I started to remedy all of Mathieu's unpacking mistakes, I could feel his ice blue eyes boring into me, his silent presence louder in my mind than any screaming person ever could be.

"Don't you ever talk? Babble. I want to hear you babble. It can be about anything, but by God you will say something." I'd lost my patience. I'd lost my patience and I'd been around the Key for a grand total of maybe thirty minutes.

The request seemed to take Mathieu back a bit, his cold eyes registering shock for a few short seconds before they took on their normal iciness. I reveled in those few seconds, knowing it wasn't something that normally happened.

"Yes master," he stated in his usual monotone tone of voice. "I normally am not purchased for my conversational skills so I hope I'm able to please you. If you require any assistance in finding your way around the Palace I'd be happy to take you on a tour or you could pull for one of the pages or a...," I was only half listening to the boy as he was saying nothing of substance. It simply felt good to put things away in their correct place while the Key did something for me.

It wasn't too long before a knock was heard at the door. Mathieu, being the consummate professional he was, never stopped talking, simply raising an eyebrow and waiting for my signal. Almost wearily I nodded my head for him to stop. The history of the Palace that the Key was reciting had started to give me a headache.

"What day is it," I asked myself, trying to remember. "Tuesday. It's Tuesday." I looked at Mathieu who simply stood there, waiting to see how what day it was would impact whether or not I finally answered the door. "As it is Tuesday, that means it's pork chop night. That is what I will be having for dinner, as always. Tell the page at the door to bring me pork chops and steamed vegetables."

Mathieu simply nodded and did as ordered.

The rest of the night went about uneventfully. When bedtime came I looked at the boy, not at all wanting to relive my earlier experience with him.

"I will be sleeping in the bedroom tonight. You will sleep anywhere else in the suite that can be set up as a bed of sorts for you." He agreed far too easily. Apparently the situation made him a bit too happy. Of course that fact annoyed me, but my annoyance was trumped by my need to hold him at arm's length, to not relive what had happened when he got any closer.

I could feel the blowing snow hitting my face, the only exposed part of my body. The rest was encased in various layers of protective clothing, snowsuit, boots, gloves, hat, scarf. Earlier on in the day I had waddled. It was an unforgettable experience, having all of that clothing on and waddling. My earlier laughs at my new found waddling rang in my ears as did the sound of the blowing wind and the harsh sound of the snow hitting my face and snowsuit. I wanted to waddle now, but I couldn't do even that. I tried to push my way through the mounds of snow, to make it move so I could walk or waddle away. I pushed and pushed, trying anything to get anywhere but never got very far. There was too much of it. Too much white. Alien, cold, hard, horrible, making it so I couldn't even breathe. I wanted to cry but it didn't work. My eyes couldn't do it. So I screamed, screamed until my throat was as raw as my windblown face.

"Mark," I yelled, my scratchy throat not allowing for a very loud sound. "Mark, help me. Where are you? Mark? Mommy, Mark, help me."

It had become a habit of sorts. I'd wake up alone in the bedroom, shaking, not sure if it was from the fear or the imagined cold. My heart would be racing and I'd struggle to catch my breath. I hadn't dreamed about it for years. Nope, instead I had successfully repressed that one. At least until now. Looking over to the bedside table, I picked up the steaming cup of coffee Mathieu had begun leaving me for when I awoke. I must have become obvious with my dreams. He'd figured out on his own that I needed something to comfort me as soon as I came to. At first it had annoyed me, as though he were rubbing in my weakness. But I had come to appreciate the action. Nothing like coffee to melt the ice between two people.

Another habit that had formed between the two of us was Mathieu's sword training. He practiced every day. At first he had avoided me, doing it whenever I wasn't around. But soon enough I discovered him and found I liked watching him. Blizzards didn't sweat. Mathieu did. He was damn near brilliant at it, of course this opinion came from someone who knew nothing about fencing and swordplay. But to my untrained eyes he was fantastic.

"Have you ever been to Hawaii," I asked him one day while watching him practice.

"No," he replied, not stopping his actions. It seemed that the only time we had real conversations was while he practiced. For some reason both of our guards seemed to be down at that time of day.

"That's where I'm from," I explained, looking for any sort of reaction. Mathieu merely nodded. For the rest of that session I described my home to the Key, the warm weather, the water, the colors. It was my favorite place on Earth, and I had seen a lot of places through my business travels.

"Who's Mark," Mathieu asked, interrupting my Hawaiian train of thought.

The question left me speechless for a few moments.

"Mark Ralston's my brother, my half-brother actually." I knew Mathieu had heard me calling out his name at night, during my nightmares. "He's my mother's child. I lived with my dad. She had him after me, with her new husband and formed a new family." My voice had a bitter tone as I spoke. "She moved away after leaving my father. To Colorado. Stupid place." I shook my head. "Mark is an asshole."

I could feel Mathieu eyeing me, his movements stopped.

"Dinner. Now," I said then, attempting to change the subject while standing up. Mathieu merely nodded.

"It's Friday master, steak night. Shall I order as usual?"

The boy had learned quickly.

"Yes," I nodded, stretching. It was a bit early for dinner, but I was done talking about myself.

At dinner we had steak, baked potato, and white wine. I had been too busy downing glass after glass of wine to notice that Mathieu had barely touched his. I was attempting to wash away the memories the Key's earlier question had brought up. Nothing like alcohol to purge all thought.

After dinner I was feeling good. Very, very good. I wasn't drunk, per se, but I was happily buzzed. Well, what can I say? When I get alcohol into my system I want to have sex, and seeing as I was in a place specifically made for sex I saw no reason to hold back any longer. Why had I been skirting the issue? There was nothing to fear about the Key.

With that in mind I started walking toward the bedroom and called for Mathieu to follow. He reacted instantly, ready to fulfill his duties as Key. Once I had entered the bedroom I felt him behind me, taking charge. His lips found my neck as his hands reached around and began unbuttoning my shirt. I leaned back against him and let him do as he pleased.

He was an absolute expert. Soon enough we were both on the bed, my shirt off and my pants about to follow. My eyes were closed and I was just enjoying the feeling of the Key's mouth on my skin, getting lower, lower...

"Wait," I suddenly came back to the moment, "Your clothes. Off. Now."

He'd been expecting that, straightening up, staring at me with those ice cold eyes. He slowly stripped, allowing me to sit back and enjoy the show. I was surprised to see just how low his freckles went. Very, very nice.

Once he was naked, he resumed his position and I closed my eyes once again. His mouth felt amazing, taking me where he wanted me to go.

I felt glued to the bed, unable to move, unable to do anything but feel what Mathieu wanted me to feel.

Suddenly I was back there, back to that moment in my childhood that I've spent the rest of my life trying to avoid. In Colorado, seeing my first real snow. I had been amazed, enthralled. My mother had actually let me stay with her and her new family for a few weeks, something she had never seemed too excited about. I later realized she would have rather forgotten about the part of her life that included my father and myself.

I couldn't wait to get outside and play in the amazing white blanket. It looked gentle and warm, even though I knew it was very cold. Mom sent Mark and I out to play together, and I was so excited to get out into the snow that I was willing to forget the fact that my little half-brother was a huge jerk who was no fun to play with. Knowing the area, Mark led me away from the house. It wasn't until it was too late that I realized how far we had gone. We threw snowballs at each other, tried to make a snowman, did everything kids normally did while playing in the snow. The entire time more snow was falling, gentle little white flakes falling to the ground, led by a gentle wind. It was picture perfect. Norman Rockwell would have been pleased.

It all seemed to happen so suddenly. The little snowflakes that had been so pleasant a moment before suddenly multiplied. It seemed like there were millions of them coming out of nowhere. And their size increased. They went from little and cute to huge and wet. And no one had warned me that wet snow is almost impossible to walk through when it starts piling up. Plus the wind, the gentle wind that had played with Mark and I suddenly turned ferocious, blowing the millions of huge snowflakes all over, straight into my eyes.

"Mark," I yelled, unsure of what to do. "Mark?"

I found out later that Mark had gone back to my mother's house as soon as the weather had started to get bad.

"Mark? Mommy? Anyone?"

Of course no one could hear me, my little voice completely drowned out by the blowing wind.

And snow drifts... no one ever told me about snow drifts. I would push through, actually thinking I was getting somewhere, then I'd hit a pile of snow almost as tall as I was. The light bouncing off of the snow on the ground blinded me when the snowflakes in my eyes didn't.

It went on like this for what seemed like forever.

The next thing I knew I was back in the house, laying on the guest bed. Apparently my stepfather had actually gotten worried when Mark came back and I didn't. He eventually found me and brought me back.

I was sent back to Hawaii as soon as the blizzard cleared up, my mother completely disgusted with me.

"Get off," I screamed, pushing Mathieu off of me, off of the bed. "No one controls me. No one and nothing. And especially not some stupid slave such as yourself."

I'd completely lost it. I was hitting him, pushing him, not stopping even when his naked back was against the wall, my fists making contact with his face, stomach, anywhere on him they could. I kept hitting him blindly until the Key finally let out a moan of pain. It was only then I realized what I was doing, how Mathieu had taken my abuse silently, letting me do what I needed.

I stared at his slumped form. He looked like shit. He looked like shit because of me.

"You look like I feel," I said softly, finally breaking the silence.

Mathieu raised a hand to his lips, wiping away some of the blood that had started to trickle down.

"I hate him. I hate him for leaving me there to die. I hate him for making me feel so weak, for making me look so weak in front of all of them."

The Key merely nodded, watching me silently, as usual.

I knelt down in front of him, using my hand to try and wipe away any blood I could, trying to erase what my shame had done.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I said to him, shaking my head. I wanted to close my eyes so I couldn't see what I had done, but another part of me had to continue staring, forcing myself to see.

"I'm sorry too," Mathieu whispered, "for what happened to you."

The words were thirty years overdue and from the wrong person, but they astonished me.

I nodded my thanks, unable to speak for a few moments. Standing up, I leaned over and helped Mathieu do the same.

"Let's get you down to the infirmary," I said, grabbing a robe for him and helping him put it on. I could tell the boy was in pain. After grabbing something for myself to wear as well we took off for the infirmary.

Once Mathieu was comfortably in the hands of those that could help him I went back to the room and hastily packed. I had to leave. There was nothing else to do.

As I walked toward the front door, I stopped at the receptionist's desk. The same man was on duty that I met my first night in the Palace. Handing him the key to Mathieu's suite, I spoke up before he could say anything.

"When refunding Mr. Ralston his money, tell him I'll see him in Colorado this winter."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry your stay had to be cut short," the man responded.

I simply nodded and turned to leave, not sure how I felt about anything that had transpired during my time with the Blizzard Key.

As I walked out of the door into the humid warmth, I noticed for the first time the heat didn't wrap around me like a comforting blanket. It was simply there, hot and humid as summer often was.

At that moment I don't know what I expected of my upcoming visit with Mark. In many ways it didn't even matter what happened. The simple fact that I was willing to try again, to face my fear head on for the first time in my life was more than I ever could have asked for.

Thanks for that Mark.