Lover Enraptured toa-2

by Jodi Redford

  Chapter Sixteen

  What had she been thinking, agreeing to this farce? No amount of making Jerrick grovel was worth pretending she called the shots over him when clearly she didn’t.

  Scowling at her reflection in the looking glass, Avily smoothed her hands over her hips, the wicked dominatrix dress of Mistress Scarlett only making her feel like a bigger fraud. Just because she wore the garb of a cool, confidant woman didn’t mean she wielded control with the flick of a whip and the mere power of her command. No matter how much she wished it was the case.

  Maybe she should have agreed to act his sub. The role might not be to her liking, but it was closer to reality. He’d always held the reins on their relationship—if you could call it such. Regardless, when he snapped his fingers, she came running like a happy pup seeking the approval of her master.

  Bitterness sat sour on her tongue. The unpleasant sensation didn’t dissipate when a motion behind her drew her focus to Jerrick standing in the bathroom doorway. She scowled. “Is it completely impossible for you to enter a room the normal way—invited?”

  “I knocked downstairs. You didn’t answer.” He glanced impatiently at his com. “Traffic is going to be a bitch. We need to leave soon.”

  “Trust me, I’m as anxious to get this nonsense done with as you are.”

  He stepped behind her and secured the laces on her dress. “I see twenty-four hours hasn’t improved your mood.”

  “I’m sorry if my bitchiness is cramping your style,” she replied acidly.

  “I suspect your bitchiness will only add to our cover. I only hope my delicate derriere can withstand the spankings you relish dishing out.”

  Damn him for cracking a smile from her.

  His gaze drifted to her mouth, and he traced his thumb over the bow of her bottom lip. It took everything inside her not to sweep her tongue over the passing digit.

  He lowered his head until his jaw brushed her ear. “I adore your smile. If only you bestowed it on me more than once a year.”

  “I wouldn’t want you becoming addicted to it.” She’d deliberately goaded him with the statement, well aware that he’d be reminded of his own words from the other night when he’d professed to enjoying the way she begged.

  There would be no more damn begging from her. Now or ever.

  He finished tying off the top lacing, and his fingers lingered for a second before slipping from her skin. She felt the absence of his touch all the way to her empty soul. It was ridiculous to mourn the loss of something—someone—she’d never have.

  “We need to discuss tonight, Avi.”

  “We’ve already been through it a million times. I know my cover. I’m not going to blow it.”

  “Not purposely, but the truth is we have no idea what we might be walking into.” His expression remained pensive. “I’ll do my best to avoid any awkward situations for us, but I can’t promise we won’t be tested. In fact, I’m expecting it. We’ll be a new rarity to them. Likely I’ll be the only male fae submissive who’s walked through their doors. It’ll draw attention to us. We can’t avoid it.”

  She hadn’t given much thought to it before, but what he said was bound to be true. A human calling the shots over a fae? Much less an inconsequential woman such as herself?

  Oh gods, they were never going to pull this off.

  Jerrick must have intuited her panic because he turned her to face him and cupped her cheeks. “Breathe. You can do this.”

  “Are you nuts? They’re going to see straight through this crock of shit.”

  “No, they won’t. But this is why we need to be prepared for anything.”

  She mentally replayed his warning from minutes ago. “What did you mean by a test?”

  “They’ll want to feel us out. See how we play, fit into the scene.”

  She didn’t like where this was going. “Can’t I just smack you on the ass a few times and be done with it?”

  His smile was crooked. “Much as I’m looking forward to that, I suspect it won’t be that easy.” The wariness slipped back over his features. “We might find ourselves in a more sexual position.”

  There was no way in hell he was discussing sexual positions with her. Not after last night. “Want to run that by me again?”

  “It is a sex club first and foremost, Avi. It would be odd and highly suspicious if their members didn’t actually have sex within the boundary of its walls.”

  Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

  “We might have to fake having sex.”

  Okay, not what she’d thought. A bothersome spear of sorrow lanced through her. Only to be replaced with anger a moment later. Clearly the notion of making love to her, binding their life threads, was so abhorrent to him he would avoid it all costs. Hell, why share their hearts when they could damn well fake it instead?

  “Fine,” she bit out flatly. “Not like I can’t fake an orgasm with you.” A spark of pettiness taking root, she tossed him a challenging stare.

  He returned it calmly. “You didn’t fake it any of the times I made you come. I know the difference. But nice try.”

  Son of a bitch. “Can we just get on with this? Standing here discussing what might happen is doing nothing to relax my nerves.”

  He left her for a moment and returned a second later with a fur-trimmed cloak. It had the disturbing power to remind her of the tormenting mitt he’d used on her last night. She shivered at the memory, her pussy growing damp. Desperately willing away the tantalizing recollection, she caressed the silk lining while he draped the luxurious garment over her shoulders. “When did you get this?”

  “Earlier today. It suits you.” His irises holding a wicked sparkle, he snapped the jeweled closure resting at her collarbone. “You’re dying to ask if I stole it.”

  “Did you?”

  “You know I never reveal my secrets.”

  Irredeemable tease. After a final inspection in the looking glass, she followed him from the room and down the stairs to the store.

  He held open the rear service door. “Tonight we have a meeting with Francesca. If there’s anyone we most need to gain the confidence of, it’s her. Since she vets all members, she’d be the prime source of intel on Casper Winston.”

  “Then I shall lay my charm on extra thick in an effort to befriend her.”

  He rewarded her with a devastating grin that reduced her knees to jelly. “There’s my girl.”

  She would give anything for that statement to be true. To indeed belong to him. Pushing aside that delusional pipe dream, she secured the lock, and after bundling the skirt of her cloak to safeguard dragging the hem through the dirty alleyway, she made her way to the Air Racer.

  The imposing gothic-style building housing Club Rapture stood in the teeming epicenter of Tul’dea. Strategically spaced spotlights cast an eerie red glow on sections of the structure’s stone edifice, leaving the rest in shadow. Massive twin Borasha trees bordered the filigreed gate that held sentinel outside the entrance.

  There was no signage marking the establishment. If not for Jerrick’s unwavering confidence, Avily wouldn’t have been certain they were in the right spot. He helped her from the Racer and escorted her to the gate before pressing a button located beneath an embedded compu-screen.

  The monitor lit up, and a masked face appeared in the middle of the screen. “State your business.”

  Jerrick squeezed her elbow, a mute reminder that she was the one in charge from here on out. Steadying her nerves, she approached the device. “I’m Mistress Scarlett, here with my sub. I’ve an appointment with Mistress Dominitri.”

  “Hold please.”

  Jitteriness threatening to get the best of her, she stared at the blank monitor, her entire body shivering. Jerrick wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Deep breaths,” he whispered into her ear.

  She managed to suck in a solitary gulp of oxygen before the masked face reappeared and the gate swung open. “Mistress Dominitri bids you welcome.
She’ll be with you shortly. In the meantime, you may avail yourself of the downstairs refreshment bar.”

  “Thank you.” Squaring her shoulders, Avily started toward the waiting entrance. Jerrick stalled her with a firm squeeze on her arm. She glanced at him, confused.

  He discreetly placed the end of his leash into her hand.

  Great. Not even through the doors yet, and already she was fucking things up.

  Apparently sensing her distress, Jerrick rubbed her nape. “You’ve got this. There’s no one I’d trust more by my side. Remember that.”

  As always, his precious praise tore through her doubts, dispersing them to the wind. They gazed at each other for a long moment before she slipped the leash loop around her fingers and led the way to the steel-reinforced doors. With a minimum of fuss, they were ushered inside, and a woman dressed in a sheer black mesh body stocking that revealed more than it concealed took Avily’s cloak. Shifting her focus to Jerrick, Avily raised her eyebrow, fully prepared to bust him ogling the female’s nipples. He barely glanced at the girl as he passed her his jacket, his attention instead drifting around the cherry-paneled vestibule.

  “I hope you enjoy your stay, Mistress.” The female dropped her gaze demurely and backed away.

  Another club member approached, this time a man garbed in a leather outfit similar to Jerrick’s. “Mistress Dominitri wishes me to show you to the bar in her brief absence.”

  Avily peered at Jerrick again and noticed that unlike with the girl, the male had captured his undivided attention. Judging from the glint in his narrowed eyes, he was sizing up the competition.

  The instant the male turned his back, she jerked on Jerrick’s collar, earning his scowl. “You’re supposed to be a sub. Somehow I doubt one would visually pummel their competitor the way you’re doing right now,” she whispered in a fierce undertone.

  “I wasn’t doing anything of the sort.” Jerrick’s jaw remained rigid. “And he’s nowhere in my league. Let’s make that clear.”

  “True. He’s actually civil and obedient.” Ignoring Jerrick’s growl, she followed the man into a large room tucked in a corner of the main level of the club. Despite the vastness of the space, the illusion of cozy intimacy had been created with the judicial use of dark wood wainscoting and lush fabrics in rich jewel tones. Even the lighting was dim, adding to the welcoming ambiance.

  The male stopped beside an unoccupied tufted leather chaise. “Will this suit, Mistress?”

  Avily opened her mouth, ready to request a seating arrangement for two, but one glance at the neighboring members quickly sealed her lips. All of the subs sat at their master’s feet.

  Close call number two. Nodding, Avily lowered onto the proffered seat. She waited for Jerrick to balk or scowl at being relegated to the floor, but he only folded his big frame beside her legs and kept his gaze glued to the arched entry leading into the bar.

  “Shall I bring you some refreshments, Mistress? A glass of wine and grapes for your sub to feed you?”

  “That would be lovely. Thank you…?” She waited for the male to supply his name, but he only cast his gaze to the floor.

  “It is unnecessary to thank me, Mistress. I live only to serve you.”

  A rumbling sound rolled from Jerrick, and she tugged on his leash again. Fortunately the other male was too busy rushing off to do her bidding to notice. She leaned down and combed her fingers through Jerrick’s hair, using the gesture to hide her not-so-gentle tweak on his ear. He met her glare, his expression saccharine. “Yes, my Mistress?”

  “I’m doing my part. Stop being a complete dunderhead.”

  “Of course, Mistress. After all, I live only to serve you.”

  Where was that damn flogger when she needed it?

  A rustling noise broke through her surliness, and she glanced up as a statuesque redhead in a skintight emerald silk gown approached. Avily knew the woman had to be the club’s proprietress, Francesca Dominitri. No one could glide into a room, the picture of grace and power, without the supreme knowledge that she owned the place and everything within it.

  Avily automatically rose to her feet, and Jerrick followed suit. The woman swept them with an assessing look and extended her hand to Avily. “Welcome to my club. I’m Mistress Dominitri.”

  Wasting no time, Avily introduced herself and Jerrick. Francesca’s beautiful features adopted an almost hard quality as she inspected Jerrick before holding out her hand again, her gaze challenging. Avily sucked in a breath, unsure how Jerrick would respond to the antagonism wafting from Francesca. His posture dutifully submissive, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the woman’s pale hand.

  The tension eased from Avily. “I appreciate your gracious offer to host me and my sub, Mistress. I was just admiring your club’s beautiful scenery.”

  “I take that as a compliment.” Francesca’s focus flicked to Jerrick as he straightened. “Particularly since you already have such extraordinary scenery to regularly enjoy.” Although there was no denying the appreciation in the woman’s eyes, a definitive note of derision laced her words.

  She has something against faes. If there was one thing Jerrick had taught Avily well, it was how to read people. And the bristling hostility pouring off Mistress Dominitri was unmistakable.

  It wasn’t the first time Avi had encountered a human who held no love for the fae. Given the rotten treatment most of her kind received from the native populace of Aurion, it was rather a miracle that there weren’t more card-carrying members of the fae-hater club out there. Still, how much would Francesca’s prejudices hinder this mission?

  Francesca stepped aside as the male servant reappeared bearing a tray of refreshments. After depositing the goodies on the small end table, he bowed deferentially at Francesca’s feet, earning an affectionate stroke on his head before she ushered him off. She returned her scrutiny to Avily. “Would you care for a tour of the club? Your sub is free to follow, or you may leave him here.”

  Avily didn’t need to look at Jerrick’s face to know he’d kill her if she ordered him to stay behind. Besides, that certainly wouldn’t meet their purposes. “I’ll have him come.”

  They left the bar, but instead of venturing into the main anteroom, Francesca led them down a narrow corridor. “We’ll start on the top floor. It’s a favorite amongst the members, and one I’m sure you’ll be anxious to avail yourself of soon.”

  Uncertain what to make of that cryptic remark, Avily trailed Francesca to an ornate brass elevator. Once they were all inside, Francesca punched the button that had the 6 beside it. The conveyance rolled upward with a hydraulic hiss, and Avily anxiously watched the slow tick of numbers flashing on the wall. Before she could give herself a minor stroke fretting over what possible strangeness the sixth floor might claim home to, the heavy brass doors slid open and Francesca waved a hand, indicating Avily should vacate the elevator.

  Bolstering herself with a fortifying breath, Avily stepped out onto the marbled entry. A cavernous ballroom surrounded her, draped floor to ceiling with burgundy velvet drapes. Couples in various stages of undress packed the space—some slithering their bodies together in erotic and entirely inappropriate dance moves. Others were blatantly screwing.

  A shocked noise threatened to blurt from Avily’s throat but was instantly saved from ratting her out by Jerrick’s thigh nudging hers. She snapped her mouth shut just as Francesca turned to face them.

  The woman’s close scrutiny disconcerted Avily, until she recalled Jerrick’s assumption that they would be tested. Undoubtedly that had been the motive behind Francesca insisting they start the tour on this floor. Hit the suspicious newcomers with the kinky orgy room right off the bat and see if they’d go racing for the exit.

  Well played, scary dominatrix lady. Well played.

  “This is the Lust Ballroom. It takes up the entire floor. Or most of it, anyway. There are two supply closets that aren’t remotely interesting.” A wicked twinkle accompanied the dry humor in Francesca’s tone. Sh
e guided them deeper into the pit of depravity, blithely chattering away the whole time as if they weren’t penned in on all sides by a sexual smorgasbord of writhing bodies. “I painstakingly researched the history of the mansion and picked out the fabric and furnishings myself. I believe in keeping the authenticity of the period true to the smallest detail. Take for example the Artur’ak chandelier. Cost me an absolute fortune, but worth any price.”

  Sidestepping a couple immersed in the throes of rapture, Avily lifted her gaze to the object in question. “It’s a beauty.”

  “You can bloody say that again.” There was no mistaking the unabashed coveting in Jerrick’s voice.

  It took everything she had not to smack him upside the head. Leave it to him to be surrounded by debauched sex and only have eyes for the priceless artifact. No doubt he was mentally calculating how to scale up there and unbolt the damn thing. Yeah, good luck with strolling out of here with that tucked under his jacket.

  “You’re familiar with antiques?” It was the first time Francesca had spoken directly to Jerrick, much less without the heavy condescension radiating from her every pore. When Jerrick hesitated, Francesca looked to Avily. “Please tell your sub he’s free to speak to me when I address him.”

  Avily suspected the real cause for his delay in replying was due to him fumbling for an answer that didn’t involve grand larceny and black market value, but going along with Francesca’s erroneous theory was infinitely safer than fielding the truth. “You may speak, sub.”

  “I have a faint knowledge of them,” Jerrick admitted wryly.

  “That chandelier holds greater value than anything I own.” Francesca’s smoky eyes glimmered with calculation. “It must displease you, seeing one of such lowly stature—a human—possessing the grandeur so rightly belonging to your people.” And just like that, the underlying hostility was back with a vengeance.

  Jerrick calmly returned Francesca’s cold stare. “Not at all. I believe everyone is entitled to the pleasure of fine things. DNA is inconsequential.”