by Zoey Marcel
“And you saved it for Chanel?”
Brad nodded, feeling his heart stir at the mention of her name and the image in his head of her wearing it. His groin heated when he thought of the jewels shimmering against her bare skin while she stared up at him and kissed his cock in worship just before going down on him.
Dakarai stood near him now and eyed the fancy collar with a fond smile. “The last time I saw that collar was during the great purge of seventy-six.”
“Is that when they ran all the vampires and demons out of town—in 1976?”
He shook his head. “1876.”
“That long ago, huh?” Something Dakarai said suddenly occurred to Brad. “Did you say you saw this collar back then?”
Dakarai smiled and nodded. “I’m the one who made it.”
“Are you pulling my leg, or are you some kind of supernatural being?”
“I’m immortal, yes.”
“Vampire?”
He nodded slowly. “Not the same species as Joaquin, though. I don’t recommend that you tell anyone.” A subtle smile crept up his face. “I know where you live.”
Brad grinned. “Your species doesn’t matter to me. It’s who you are that counts. Until Lucius showed up in town, I hadn’t heard of any murders or people getting turned into undead beings, so I’ve got no quarrel with you.”
Dakarai fell silent. “I know how to kill Lucius. Joaquin told me.”
Brad snapped to attention, his focus darting to the other Dom. “How?”
“He told me to tell you.”
“A few minutes ago he said he wouldn’t. How did you get him to change his mind?”
Dakarai smiled. “It’s an effective card called ‘what if that were Claire and someone wouldn’t tell you how to save her.’”
Brad grinned. “You clever bastard.”
“He became angry.”
“At you or me?”
Dakarai smiled. “At the imaginary man trying to kill Claire in the ‘what if’ realm. He finally agreed to help you.”
“Tell him I appreciate it.”
Dakarai nodded. “Because Lucius is half vampire and half werewolf, he must be killed as both of those creatures would.”
“Chanel shot him with a silver bullet before and it didn’t work.”
“It is not enough. You must drive a silver bullet or dagger into his heart simultaneously or in succession with a wooden stake. That or you must ram a stake made of pure silver into him there, or he can be beheaded or set on fire and then the silver can be used. However, because he is a higher form of vampire who has also mastered the art of shape-shifting to a small degree, there are myths that they can sometimes come back, but that is not always the case.” Dakarai opened a box that contained what looked to be a silver stake.
“That’s a pretty specific thing to have on hand. Where’d you get it?”
“That is not important,” said Dakarai.
Brad glanced down at the collar in his hand and took in the sparkling glory of the pink diamonds that resembled the smooth fullness of Chanel’s soft, kissable lips. Lips he wanted against his for the rest of his life. The polished jades reminded him of the breathtaking clarity of her green eyes. He wanted those priceless eyes locked with his forever. He would pay any price to have her.
“I’ll take my chances,” he said quietly. “She’s worth the risk.”
* * * *
Chanel felt lighthearted and happy when she saw Claire heading toward her in the library. She liked the perky blonde and they got along pretty well. It was nice to have another female friend in addition to her closet girlfriend, Sally.
“Claire, it’s good to see you.”
Claire’s face was exuberant and bubbling with life. “You, too. Listen, I’m having a naughty party this weekend for women only and I’d love for you to come.”
“That’s sweet of you. It’s not a play party is it?”
She giggled. “An all-woman play party, huh? No, it’s not one of those. It’s more of a lingerie and sex toy party where you can buy things. It’ll be lots of fun and your men can’t say no because they’ll get to have fun later because of it.”
Chanel snickered. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate my attending. When is it?”
“This weekend.”
“I’ll have to see which of my men is free to escort me now since they insist on acting like my bodyguards.” She rolled her eyes a little. “I hope they are. Otherwise they probably won’t let me go.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. They’ll be busy tracking him down anyway.”
Chanel felt a tingling sense of dread on the back of her neck. “Tracking who down?”
The color drained from Claire’s face. “Oops.”
“Claire, what’s going on?”
“Oh crap, I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“What aren’t you telling me? Is it about Lucius?”
Claire’s pretty face twisted in regret. “Yeah, but don’t say anything. Your men are planning to track him down this weekend.”
“Why didn’t they tell me?”
“Maybe they didn’t want you to worry. Don’t tell them I told you. My Masters won’t be happy if they find out I accidentally spilled the beans.”
“I won’t tell him it was you, but I have to stop them before they get themselves killed because of me.”
“They’re not children, Chanel. They’re grown men going up against one man. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Except Lucius wasn’t a man. He was a demon and a werewolf. He had powers beyond their capabilities, as impressive as they were.
“God, I’m so stupid. I didn’t mean to slip like that.”
“It’s all right, Claire. For all they know, I overheard them talking about it.”
Claire sighed, trying to get cheerful again. “So will I see you at the party?”
“I’ll be there. Thank you again.”
It seemed like forever until her shift finally ended. Why did this freaking library have to be open so late?
Brad would’ve just clocked in at work. He was likely the mastermind behind this “let’s all be morons and go up against a homicidal fiend” scheme. Well, she wouldn’t stand for it. She wasn’t going to sit back and watch her men get killed because of her, nor did she want this baby to grow up without his fathers.
Chanel made a quick stop to the bathroom before she left. Not that it really mattered what she looked like right now. She wasn’t going to an event or planning to seduce Brad. She merely wanted to knock some sense into his big, crazy skull.
Still, she made a fetching picture in her flared, gray pants that hugged her ass and legs like nobody’s business. Her snug, white peasant blouse added a flirty flare to the mix and the V neckline made a seductive dip into her cleavage. Her black stiletto pumps gave her a boost of several inches, which would prove helpful in aiding her during an attempt at intimidating a man who towered over her. She fluffed her hair and headed out.
The bouncer, Nex, let her in at the door to the club. It was a weeknight, which meant that only members were allowed in, but being with Brad gave her certain perks since they just assumed she’d agreed to be his submissive. Ha! Yeah, right.
Chanel stormed in, scouring the room for him. She spotted Brad across the large room talking with Dale Havarti about something. She was going to wait until he was done, but smoldering indignation coiled inside her when she saw Trish Albright on a table with her arms bound behind her. The petite redhead wore a mere camisole and matching lilac thong as she lay still while her Dom, Dale, stood and observed Brad showing him how to tie a particular type of knot as he bound her ankles and wrists together.
Chanel knew Brad was only doing his job and that he would never fuck another woman now that he had her, but something died inside her when she saw his hands on Trish, even in a platonic manner.
Chanel felt her inner bitch surfacing. She needed to teach her man a lesson. Embarrassing him at work wasn’t exactly nice, but right now she just
didn’t give a damn.
She marched over to him, wishing the table wasn’t in the way so she could see whether or not he had a hard-on.
Brad’s eyebrows arched in slight surprise, but his smile was sincere and full of love. “Hello, darlin’. What are you doing here?”
“Don’t ‘darlin’’ me, you...you bastard!” Why did her shriek have to betray imminent tears? “You expect me to be your stupid, faithful robot while you’re feeling up hos for a living? No offense, Trish.”
Brad blinked, appearing caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“No, I won’t. Why didn’t you tell me you were planning on hunting down Lucius this weekend?”
The entire room fell silent. All conversation ceased and the former cracking of a whip in the background had completely dissolved.
Brad’s face darkened. “Where did you hear that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m asking the questions.”
His eyes flashed with warning. “You are way out of line.”
“No, you’re out of line if you think I’m going to just sit back like an idiot damsel and let you get yourselves killed.” Her heart skittered in alarm when he strode swiftly around the table, face blazing with anger. Something told her she was going to get it for verbally attacking a Dom in the middle of a BDSM club. That was probably about as smart as entering a bear’s den and tickling it while it hibernated.
Her eyes swept down to his groin, pleased to see he wasn’t sporting any signs of arousal. He’d been completely professional and unaffected when he had his hands on Trish. Of course, in light of this, Chanel realized it meant there was the slightest chance that she’d overreacted.
Nonsense. That never happened. She was passionate, not irrational.
Brad took hold of her arm, securing it with the steellike confinement of a handcuff. His lethal tone reeked of her impending doom when he got her alone. “We’re not having this conversation right now. Now turn around and walk out of here before I yank your pants down and paddle your ass in front of everyone.”
The threat scared her, but she mustn’t give him a threshold. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
His firm grasp on her arm became a death grip that brought her a slight edge of pain as he effectively curtailed her struggling. “Slave or mate, Chanel.”
“Are you kidding me? Not here.”
He jerked her chin up so her eyes became trapped by his steaming ones. “Yes, here. Right now. Make your choice or I’ll make it for you.”
My god, he’s serious. Curse the infuriating, hot bastard for this.
The hush that had fallen over the members was thick enough to slice a knife through.
“Sub,” she mumbled.
His jaw tightened. “Funny, I don’t recall throwing that plate onto the table. I said slave or mate.”
Her knees felt like they might give out beneath her. It would be spineless to simply give in to him when she was still mad at him, but failure to do so probably wouldn’t end well.
“Slave,” she whispered reluctantly, hoping Lucius wasn’t drowning in his wrath and plotting some kind of hateful vengeance for her decision. Being collared, while serious, could always be undone. Mating a shifter couldn’t.
“Say it,” Brad ordered in a hushed, deadly timbre. “What are you?”
Chanel glowered up at him as she ground the words out. “I’m your slave.”
Her breath caught and she felt her pussy moistening when he led her roughly by the arm, pulled out a chair from another table, and forced her into it. “Sit here until I’m finished over there. I’ll deal with you in a few minutes.”
Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound very good.
Her cheeks heated under the disbelieving stares and scandalized whispers as the conversation and actions of the members gradually resumed.
Why was she sitting there like he wanted her to? She didn’t have to. She was an adult, damn it. She could flip him off and walk right out of this club if she wanted to. Well, she’d probably have to run like hell out of there if she was crazy enough to give Brad Taylor the bird after she’d just verbally agreed in front of witnesses to be his slave.
Chanel peeked up over to where Brad stood with Dale again as he demonstrated the knot. Her Dom acted so calm and collected as though she hadn’t just humiliated him in front of his boss and clients. It wasn’t fair. She was blushing like a naughty child’s ass beneath a wooden spoon and he was going about his business as though nothing had happened and he was in complete control of her.
Trish lay on the table still. The strap to her camisole slipped down her shoulder inadvertently. Her boobs, while uncommonly small, were enough to keep the garment on. That and she was facedown on the table, which helped to keep her decent, though it didn’t look like she wore a bra. Trashy ho, acting all cutesy and innocent while she had the majority of her ass exposed and let another woman’s man touch her limbs.
Chanel gritted her teeth. Brad was taking his damned sweet time over there explaining things to Dale, though he still didn’t look turned-on in the slightest by the skinny cutie that was half naked in front of him.
“Fuck this,” Chanel muttered under her breath as she got up and left.
* * * *
Brad finished with Dale and Trish, but when he looked up, Chanel was gone. His eyes closed and he exhaled his aggravation through gritted teeth. She was in deep shit now.
“Follow me,” Joaquin murmured, expression bearing the evidence of his displeasure. He approached the bar and demanded Claire follow him as well. She obeyed and Dakarai took over behind the bar.
Brad followed Joaquin and Claire into a back room and shut the door.
“Would one of you mind telling me what the fuck just happened out there?” Joaquin folded his arms, face stewing.
Claire hung her head. “It’s my fault.”
“I know it is. You obviously told Chanel about the Taylors’ plans after I told you in strict confidence. And for it you’ll be punished.”
“Yes, Master. I’m very sorry.”
“You should be.” Joaquin turned to Brad. “Do you want to tell me why you have no control over your so-called slave? I only allowed her to come in here during the week without a membership because I thought you were training her to be your submissive.”
“I didn’t know she was going to do that. She has a bad habit of topping from the bottom.”
Joaquin snorted. “No, no. There’s topping from the bottom and then there’s crazy queen bees wielding blunt axes. You got castrated out there. I suggest you go redeem your balls before you lose the respect of every Dom and sub in this building tonight.”
“She’ll be punished when I get home later. I can promise you that.”
“That’s not good enough. She publicly humiliated you in your place of employment and disrespected you in front of clients. She needs to be publicly disciplined. You have my permission to clock off now and bring her ass back here.”
“I appreciate that.”
Joaquin stepped over to Claire, whose head was still bowed apologetically. “For your careless disobedience, your little party will be postponed to a later date. Reinstate your usual good behavior and I’ll schedule the new date for a few weeks from now. When your friends want to know why you’re changing the date of the party, you can tell them it’s because you disobeyed your Master and are being punished for it. And, slave, even if they don’t ask you the reason, I want you to tell them anyway. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Master.”
Joaquin looked from her and then over to Brad before walking out. “We’re done here. Go about your business.”
Brad went to clock out. The humiliation of his snotty woman chewing him out at work was bad enough, but he was pissed off more than anything. He had no problem disciplining Chanel in front of an audience, and now that she’d just agreed to be his slave, his hands were finally untied.
Chapter Nineteen:
Owned
Chanel shivered when she heard Brad’s
irate voice coming from the living room when he got home. Why was he home so early?
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“She’s in her room,” Cory told him.
She gulped nervously. Brad sounded utterly furious. The rapid sound of his footsteps had her cringing with dread inside and she sat up on her bed, hands trembling with apprehension. What would he do to her?
She’d dressed provocatively in an ultraromantic sage-green corset with a black lace overlay and green ribbon interwoven through the lace near the top. She wore a black lace G-string and garter, both of which had sage-green ribbon interwoven through them. The bedspread felt sensual against her bare legs and the black, sandal-like stilettos made her feet look exquisite.
It had been her intention to seduce him as a peace offering when he got home, in hopes that she would appease his anger, but now she wasn’t so sure that doing so when he sounded this mad was going to be the cakewalk she’d originally expected.
Brad startled a little scream from her when he kicked the door open. It might’ve gotten her to laugh if he hadn’t looked so feral and upset with her. The aggressive act reminded her of something Rhett Butler would do, except that her man would probably spank her rather than ravish her right now.
Don’t show him any vulnerability.
“Hi,” Chanel squeaked.
You moron! What was that?
Brad stormed toward her, radiating with fierceness. “Don’t ‘hi’ me. Why are you dressed like a tart?”
She wanted to slap him for insulting her, but something about the way his aura boiled with hostility told her that wasn’t a very good idea. “I thought—”
“What? You thought you could appease me with sex?”
His overbearing demeanor at the moment had her wishing she were a turtle with a shell to hide in. Why had she gotten the genius idea that he could be bullied and manipulated with sex?
If only she were bundled in layers of clothing instead of lying on the bed half naked in lingerie. Her breasts seemed like beacons heaving to grab his attention. The thin scrap of lace between her thighs barely covered her pussy, and her legs and shoulders were entirely exposed to him. Even having her strappy heels on and revealing her feet to him made her feel vulnerable when he looked at her like that.