by Eden Bradley
Sanctuary
By
Eden Bradley
Sanctuary
Copyright 2012 Eden Bradley
Edited By Casey Lynn
E-Book Formatting By IRONHORSE Formatting
Cover Design By R. G. Alexander
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table Of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Other Titles By Eden Bradley
Author Bio
Bonus Excerpt: Dark Garden
Bonus Excerpt: Pleasure’s Edge
Bonus Excerpt: Bloodsong
CHAPTER ONE
Lights pulsed, music pounded, and Devin’s heart hammered faster than it ever had in her life. How had she let Kimmie talk her into coming here, to the Ring, on fetish night? She’d never seen anything like it.
She’d never imagined she would love it.
Hundreds of club-goers pressed against the sturdy metal railing that surrounded the Ring, the loft section of Club X, one of the hottest dance clubs in San Francisco, where unusual and wicked things happened every Friday night. Things she had heard about, maybe even dreamed about, but had never seen. Until now.
She had to get closer.
Devin followed Kimmie’s sleek, dark head as she pushed her way through the crowd, somehow finding her way, even though at just over five feet tall she couldn’t possibly have seen where she was going.
All around them multicolored lights flashed against dark red walls and into the shadowed alcoves where club-goers rested on velvet-covered couches and couples were locked in erotic embraces, oblivious to the crowd and the noise.
They were almost up to the front. All around her people writhed and bounced to the beat that reverberated through the club, making the floors tremble until she could feel it in the pit of her stomach.
When they reached the railing, Kimmie pulled on Devin’s arm.
Devin shook her head. “It’s okay. I can see from here,” she yelled.
“What?”
“I’m fine right here,” she repeated more loudly.
Kimmie grinned, shook her head and shoved Devin in front of her.
“Kimmie!” Devin shouted over her shoulder, laughing. Then she felt the metal rail press against her stomach as the crowd surged forward.
In an instant her eyes were riveted to the scene before her, the strange, compelling scene within the Ring.
Chains dangled from somewhere high in the ceiling, ending in leather cuffs with big metal buckles. Against the back wall stood three enormous wooden crosses, each in the shape of a giant ‘x’. And bound to these crosses were two women, one man. The man had his shirt off, and a woman dressed all in black with hair dyed an impossibly bright scarlet was hitting his back with a small, multi-tailed flogger, raising fine red welts on his skin. With every slow, even stroke of the flogger the crowd called out, urging her on, making goose bumps rise on Devin’s arms, on the back of her neck.
But what really interested her were the women.
The two young blondes were stripped down to their underwear, both in black bras and g-strings. They faced the crosses, their arms raised high over their heads, their wrists cuffed and attached to eyebolts embedded in the wood. A pair of men spanked them with paddles in perfect synchronicity, moving with the beat of the heavy techno music.
Something in her stirred, awoke with a sharp cry of need as she watched. Amazing. Amazing that seeing this happen could make her body respond in this way. Amazing that she had never thought about this sort of thing before.
Or had she? She knew what the floggers were called, and she’d agreed to come here with Kimmie easily enough. A night out at a club, her friend had said, with maybe a little extra thrill. This was thrilling, alright. Even more than the erotic novels she’d read. But that was just fiction, wasn’t it? It didn’t mean she actually wanted to do those things any more than reading a mystery novel meant she wanted to be a cop hunting down a serial killer.
Except that she was there, on the edge of the Ring, and her pulse was racing, her legs trembling as heat gathered between her thighs.
Maybe…
She pulled in a deep breath, exhaled slowly as she watched.
The two men, dressed entirely in black, wore leather pants and snug T-shirts. Their attention was focused on the pair of women, their backs to the crowd. And when they smacked the women’s flesh a cry rose from the wild group of onlookers. The music shifted and the men worked faster, in time with the new rhythm. Devin saw the ripple of muscles beneath their tight T-shirts as they lifted their arms and swung. The sound of the crowd became one long, continuous arc of noise. She could feel the aura of excitement all around her as the crowd fed it, fed her, making her pulse hammer in her veins. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the scene before her.
Kimmie yelled into her ear, “What do you think?”
All Devin could do was shake her head. What could she say? It was too loud in there to try to explain to Kimmie everything going through her mind.
“Do you want to go?” her friend asked.
“What? No!” She wasn’t going anywhere.
“Really?”
She turned for a moment, and found a wide grin on Kimmie’s face, her gray eyes sparkling.
Devin smiled, shook her head a little. “Yes, really.”
Kimmie shrugged and Devin focused again on the action in the Ring.
The two men finished and released the girls from their restraints, rubbed their arms, their wrists, took them to a back corner and sat them down on a bench. A girl with short, dark hair and dressed in a red leather corset wrapped the women in blankets and gave them something to drink. Devin watched, mesmerized by the entire process. One of the men disappeared through a side door. The other turned around and a shock of heat roared through her.
He was beautiful.
Even in the flashing club lights she could see the honeyed shade of his skin. His hair was a short, spiky shock of brown tipped with blond, as though he’d recently been in the sun. His close-shaven goatee, a few shades darker than his hair, made him look purely devilish. It was too dim and he was too far away for her to see his eyes, but from where she stood they were dark, glittering. His gaze roved over the wild crowd and he gave them a crooked grin and a saucy wink, as though he was very much aware that he was performing—he probably was. And then he pulled his shirt off over his head.
She only had a moment to take in b
road, muscled shoulders and tight six-pack abs, heavy tattoos around both biceps, before he turned around and started to pick up some items scattered around the floor, setting them on a wooden rack: a crop, the two paddles he and the other man had used, a variety of multi-tailed whips and canes, a few small metal tools. Devin wasn’t sure what everything was called. All she knew for certain was that this man made her entire body surge with need.
If only he would turn around again.
When he did, he looked right at her. Even among a crowd of hundreds, she knew it immediately. He watched her, and flashed that small, cocky smile he’d given the crowd of revelers before. But this time it was for her alone.
He moved forward toward the front of the Ring until he stood right in the center of it. He stopped there, stared at her, locking his gaze on hers. Her stomach filled with butterflies, wings fluttering madly. She couldn’t believe he was looking at her, but the line of his gaze was perfectly clear.
Want…
She licked her suddenly dry lips. Her nipples went hard beneath her tight, stretchy top. It seemed his dark gaze traveled there instantly, to almost caress her skin before returning to her face. That self-assured smile appeared again, quirking just one corner of his mouth. Unbelievably sexy. Lust sang in her veins. She could hardly believe that having him look at her—just look at her!—was making her go wet.
The tattoos, the wicked goatee, him standing in the middle of this place, shirtless and beautiful…he was the ultimate bad boy, a satyr come to life. She’d never before been so attracted to a man. The hot flood of music and the colored lights only seemed to add to the sensual aura as he stared her down, daring her somehow.
He beckoned with his head, his grin quirking a little more. Yes, daring her to join him in the Ring.
She couldn’t do it, of course, no matter that every cell in her body screamed at her to go to him, to have this man touch her.
Touch me…
He moved toward her, approached the railing and put his hand out to her.
She blinked, offered her hand to him before she had a chance to think about it. He took it in his, turned it and laid a soft kiss in the center of her palm. A wave of raw desire rushed through her body like liquid fire.
He leaned in and yelled over the music, his deep voice booming over the noise of the club. “I’m Shaye. Tell me your name.”
God, he was talking to her.
“Devin.”
“Come play with me, Devin.”
She pulled back and saw that evil grin on his face. He had perfect white teeth, and she could see now that his eyes were a dark, smoky hazel, with long, thick lashes.
“No, I…I can’t.”
“Of course you can. Just say yes.”
He still held onto her hand. His was large and warm, the contact like an electrical current running up her arm and straight to her sex. But she couldn’t bring herself to do what these people did in the Ring.
Could she?
She felt dizzy suddenly with the possibility. This wasn’t her. She was no innocent virgin, but this was too much. Too intense, too wild. And she couldn’t do what those girls had done—give up all control to another person. Control was how she kept her life together, on track. Control was her strength. She’d come to watch, not to participate. And she wouldn’t even be there if it weren’t for Kimmie dragging her along tonight. She glanced around. Where was Kimmie?
But he was leaning in again, until his mouth was warm against her ear. “Come and play with me, little Devin. You know you want to. I can feel it from here.”
His voice was a low purr. Sexy as hell, like everything else about him. And he was close enough that she could smell him: a little bit of clean male sweat mixed with some earthy fragrance. Sandalwood? She allowed herself to take one long inhale, savoring the scent of him. It made her shivery and hot inside. It made her confused.
“I can’t. Really. I’m…I’m here with my friend. I have to go find her.”
“Come back, then. Later tonight. Any night.”
She started to shake her head. He tucked a card into her free hand.
“This is my cell. Call me if you’d ever like to play. Here. Or wherever. I want to see you.”
She looked up at him and the grin was gone. His gaze was hot, burning right through her. He lifted her hand and kissed it again, sending a lovely shiver through her system once more, and she had a moment to glance at the heavy tribal bands around his biceps—Maori work, from the look of it. She did love a man with tattoos. And tattoos on this man…
The woman with the bright red hair came and tapped him on the shoulder, said something into his ear. He waved her off.
“I have to get back to work. Call me, Devin. Come and see me here. Promise me you will.”
“I don’t know…”
“Promise, Devin.”
He hadn’t let go of her hand. He gave it a small squeeze. Her pulse raced, hot and fast as lightning.
He scared the hell out of her.
She wanted him so much it hurt.
“I’ll…maybe…”
“You will.” His devastating grin spread across his face. He took a step back, dropped her hand, took another step before turning around and walking to the back of the Ring.
She was left breathless, shaken. Who the hell was this guy?
She looked down at the card he’d given her. Shaye Vincent. No title, just the name and a phone number in silver on a sleek black card.
When she looked up again he was already binding another young woman to the big wooden cross. She wanted to watch, yet at the same time she couldn’t bear it.
It’s because you want to be the one bound and helpless.
When had she ever wanted to be helpless? Helpless like her mother had been all those years…
She shook her head. This place was really getting to her.
This man was really getting to her.
It had to be the novelty factor. She’d never seen anything like this, any place like this. And he was unspeakably gorgeous.
Her eyes went back to him, to the sight of his strong, still shirtless back as he bent to bind the woman’s ankles into what appeared to be leather shackles chained to metal loops in the floor.
She spent a brief moment letting herself imagine what it must be like to be bound in that way. To be rendered helpless. To give over all control to someone.
To Shaye.
Her body began to shake all over. She had to get out of there.
The club had filled up since she’d arrived. It took some work and a few carefully placed jabs of her elbow to make it to the edge of the crowd where she could breathe again. She hadn’t spotted Kimmie anywhere.
She made her way down from the loft that held the Ring to the enormous main dance floor, but even there the club goers were practically on top of each other. People gyrated to the hard-hitting beat of the music. Go-go dancers on platforms, dressed in skimpy black leather and thigh-high boots for the evening’s event, writhed and twined their bodies around poles.
She’d never find Kimmie there, and she really didn’t want to wait. She needed some fresh air. She needed to be gone. She’d go outside, catch a cab and call her friend later.
She got her leather jacket from the coat check, then made her way to the front door and shoved it open, letting herself out into the chilly San Francisco night. The damp air made her shiver as she stood beneath a street lamp while the club’s bouncer flagged down a cab for her. She got in and slammed the door behind her, grateful for the heat of the car. She smoothed the hem of her short skirt down.
“Where to?”
“Eleven-fifty Capra Way.”
“Ah, the Marina. Nice down there, huh?”
Why did she have to get the rare chatty cab driver tonight? She didn’t want to talk. She had too much to think about. But she didn’t want to be rude, either.
Always the good girl.
“Yes, it’s very nice.”
Luckily, he got a call before he could re
ply and spent the rest of the drive arguing with someone on his cell phone while she tried to organize in her mind all the jarring images of the evening: the Ring itself, which was intimidating, fascinating. The people who went there to be spanked and paddled and flogged by the professional dominants who worked there. Yes, she knew what they were called—dominants and submissives. Knew what much of the equipment was called from the erotic novels she’d read. She simply hadn’t ever put it all together before. But she’d had no idea that this sort of extreme sensual play—BDSM—interested her this much.
She was suddenly very interested.
In Shaye Vincent. In the things he did in the Ring. In the idea that he would do those things to her if she allowed it.
Mostly she couldn’t get the image of Shaye out of her head. Of him standing there with that swaggering, crooked grin on his beautiful face. She knew men didn’t particularly like to be described in those terms, but she couldn’t think of another word that fit him as well. He was beautiful. And wicked-looking in the most luscious way.
The cab raced through the dark night, down Lombard Street now, with all its restaurants and bars, brightly lit neon signs whizzing past the windows in a blur of yellow, blue, pink. The streets were still lively at…she checked her watch. It was already almost one in the morning. How long had she stood at the edge of the Ring watching him? No wonder Kimmie had taken off.
Crap. Kimmie. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and pulled up Kimmie’s number. Her friend’s voice mail picked up.
“Hi, Kimmie. I’m sorry I left, but I had to get out of there and I couldn’t find you. I…just call me tomorrow, okay?”
She stuffed her phone back into her coat pocket. She didn’t want to talk about the club tonight, even to her best friend. She needed some time to absorb her feelings, her reaction to the Ring.
The cab pulled up in front of her building, a classic San Francisco-style stucco built in the twenties, like so many of the other buildings in this part of town. She paid the driver and went inside. Too edgy to wait for the elevator, she jogged up the four flights of carpeted stairs and let herself, breathless, into her apartment.