Serenity's Key

by Charlotte E Hart

  “What. Did. You. Do. Wrong?” He closed his eyes and longed for the answer to come, searching his mind for anything else that he’d done to rattle the man, but there was nothing. Not once had he dishonoured the man. Never had he relinquished information or let others into private matters. He’d been the perfect submissive, apart from the blow to the head.

  “I don’t know.”

  The pressure around his neck tightened immeasurably, causing his senses to merge into each other and blur beautifully. There was a damn clock ticking somewhere, signally his possible demise, he assumed, as it counted down the seconds until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

  Never place yourself in the hands of…

  His own words rattled around his brain, scattering thoughts and images of splendour, devastation, destruction. Blue eyes, the sea, sailing. Smiles, stunning smiles and acceptance of who he was. The man was always there. Never once had he challenged his decency. Never once had he chastised the raucous activities they had endured together. Every time he’d called for help, Alexander had answered. Every time there had been feral activities required, Alexander had answered. Every fucking time he’d needed to cry, Alexander had answered. Love.

  “Open your damn eyes and answer me,” the man whispered, licking his tongue up the side of his face and squeezing his hand tighter still. The movement was enough that all rational thought abandoned him, turning his legs to liquid regardless of the fact they were not holding him aloft. Just the two of them and he was touching him? His eyes opened to gape at the man, exploding his heart at the same moment. “Don’t make me do this. I need you to answer.”

  He had no damn answer. There was nothing he could think of. Nothing. He squeezed at the man’s hand, hoping for a release or death, he didn’t care which.

  “Pascal, please!” He barely registered Elizabeth’s voice yelling over the silence, but heard the sound echo through the room nonetheless. “Lilah, do something. He’ll kill him.”

  Kill him? There would be no killing here. Only love. A love that transcended time irrespective of whether he remained living or not. He would wait on the other side if necessary, linger there and hold the gates to hell wide open until Sir came for him again. He’d honour that thought, wait on his knees and chastise the devil should he object. He’d do that.

  He’d do it for Sir.

  Chapter 22

  “Not yet,” I murmur, regardless of Beth’s constant whining. Over and over, she screams into the room from her caging. Please, please, please. Apparently, she’s begging me to stop what’s happening. I won’t—not until I’m ready. Definitely not until Alexander’s wound himself up enough to get on with his job, which is making love to Pascal as far as I’m concerned. I can see it in the way he’s touching him, sense it in the room with us. It’s all fucking love. Especially between those two. The more I watch Alexander’s body tensing, the more I can see the hesitation in it. Why? Idiot. He should just damn well get on with it, preferably before he kills Pascal and enters into necrophilia territory.

  I stroke my fingers along the leather plaiting of my whip again, letting its ridges remind me of Pascal’s scars as I continue watching the performance unfold. It’s quite majestic in its own way. Brutal, obviously, but careful in some ways, precise. That’s what needs to go, on Alexander’s part, anyway. He needs to let loose, forget about whatever it is that’s stopping him and get involved in fucking. Oh, and he’s so close to it. I can see the bulge in his jeans, see the tension in his backside, and hear the sultry whispers coming from his mouth regardless of the aggressive tones.

  “Please, Lilah.” Beth again, interrupting my viewing pleasure with whimpering and small sniffs. I glance at her, inspecting the rope work she’s tugging at and looking for possible escape routes as she twists. There isn’t one. Alexander’s made sure of that. Presumably, he knew she’d try to stop this. That’s obvious by the tightness of the bonds crisscrossing her skin. Beautiful intricate weaving, just as he did for me. It’s interesting that he’s made her watch it really, given her reaction.

  “You’re being fucking weak,” I spit out at him, as I turn from her reddened eyes. Fucking idiot.

  Blue eyes immediately swing to bore into me, trying to show his displeasure at my statement. Whatever. Those eyes need blackening, dirtying. There’s no way he’ll do it in a good mood. He needs riling up or deadening down to no thought at all. One of the two. Pascal said as much. “He is not enraged enough. Hmm?” And he’s still not.

  “Why don’t you get on with it and prove your worth?”

  I’m rewarded with a glare and a growl. How exciting. My high heels drop onto the grimy floor as I slide down from the barrel, ready to help him along a little if needed. He’s being too loving, kind even in his own way, I suppose. It’s not getting us anywhere as he tries to get Pascal to admit what he’s done wrong.

  “Let go of him, for fuck’s sake, or get on with it.”

  Why Pascal’s not answering, I’m not sure. He should know what he did wrong. Even I know. It’s not the fact that he didn’t trust the man. It’s the fact that he didn’t trust the love Alexander feels for him. But then, he didn’t trust mine either, did he? Perhaps he hasn’t worked that out yet.

  “I thought more of you than this, Alexander. Perhaps I was wrong? You’re clearly not man enough to fuck successfully.”

  That strikes a chord. His hand drops Pascal like a dead weight as he turns his whole body to face me and steps forwards. I scan his torso, unfortunately licking my lips at him and then glancing at the open doorway for my own escape route if needed.

  “Lilah, what the fuck are you doing?” Beth questions nervously.

  “You should shut your–” It takes me two strides to get in his face before he finishes whatever threat was coming. I stab my finger into his chest, possibly stupidly, but I couldn’t care less. This needs doing. Now.

  “Why? Because you’re going to what? Hurt me?” He’s not going to hurt me. He brought me in here for this. He might have asked me to stop him hurting people he loves, but that’s not what he wants me for. He wants someone to question him, to push him forward or haul him backwards when needed. “Get.” One jab to the chest as I smile serenely, attempting pleasant although I’m feeling anything but. “On.” Another jab into his shoulder as I round his body, shivering with the need to come. It’s fucking exciting in here. Exhilarating. I glance down at Pascal, who seems to be recovering, breathing reasonably successfully. I blow him a kiss for good luck. He’s going to need it by the time I’m finished with scared boy here. “With.” Another jab into his back, tracing the pattern of his tattoo as I spiral on my lovely merry go round. “It.”

  I finally land in front of his face again, enjoying the darkening of his eyes. I widen mine in response as he grows in size, his muscles on display for the world to see. He’s all male and getting more irritated with me by the second, it seems. Good. Although I’m still wondering how much further I need to prod.

  “Is it the thought that you’re gay that troubles you? Didn’t daddy like that? Did he call you names? Queer? Homo?” The sudden shove directed at my shoulder propels me backwards, and I almost trip over my feet as I go. Fuck him. “Daddy issues, hey? Poor Alexander. Did he taunt you?”

  “Lilah, for God’s sake.” Beth actually sounds a bit scared, panicky even. Fuck her, too.

  I scowl back up at the monster who seems to be appearing as I grab hold of the wall, once again glancing at Pascal to check he’s alive. He is and has a rather concerned expression starting to wash over him.

  “Be careful,” Alexander growls at me, taking another step towards me and glaring so harshly devils could weep. But no, I won’t be careful. The man I love is on the floor because this dick can’t fucking admit something.

  “Then get on with it. Stop being such a pussy,” I snarl back, walking into him again and poking. “Shall I wind you up more? That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? What did daddy do? Beat you? Hurt you? Did he lock you in small cupboards? Is
that why you’re scared?” His hand grabs mine, crushing it instantly to stop my poking. “Did you cry, Alexander? Did he make you feel weak? Poor little boy locked in cupboards and–”

  “FUCK YOU!” The bellow of his voice is enough that I rear away from him, now slightly concerned by his strength as he continues crushing my hand. It doesn’t stop my other hand lashing out at his face so hard it stings my palm. Fuck him. He’s weak and childish. Forward, that’s where we’re all going, and if we need to take a step back to get there, fine. My nails embed themselves in his skin, dragging downwards towards his chin and causing nothing but a deepening frown as he lets me do it.

  “No, you can’t fuck me, Alex. You will never fuck me, or with me. But you will prove to me you’re worth my time and effort.”

  There’s a gasping sound in the background somewhere as we stare each other down. I’m not sure if it’s Beth or Pascal. I don’t really care. I just move myself closer into him, trailing my hand around his body then moulding myself into him.

  “You brought me here for this, Alex, didn’t you? Admit it. Don’t let yourself down.” I don’t even know if he’s heard me as I bury my head into his neck, nuzzling a little and waiting for a reaction. His fingers are still bruising my hand, grating the bones in them and showing me what he can do. I can’t say I’m scared, apprehensive maybe, I suppose. That’s primal and there’s no denying it. But whatever happens here, he is my friend. Always will be. And he needs my help. He asked me for it.

  I rest into him, letting the moment go on as long as it needs to, letting him think and find his own way before I have to attack him again.

  “Remember what you said,” I murmur into his ear, kissing the spicy skin around it and getting turned on in the process. “You said I was the key.” That’s what I am—his route, his guide to a new place with the people he loves. “You need to do this, Alex. Get the fuck on with it.”

  Minutes pass. They’re timeless again; everything’s timeless with these people, but not like they are with Pascal. There is nothing serene or quiet here. Nothing whimsical. No, with him I can literally feel it building. I feel his heart rate rapidly increasing, feel his tension amassing tenfold, and his strength grows, muscles pulsing and flexing beneath my cheek. He rumbles inside his chest, muttering under his breath, arguing with himself no doubt, and threatening his own lucidity as he does. Love does not conquer all, it seems. It will here. He will do this.

  I pull away, readying myself for the problem at hand and hoping he just gives in.

  “Fuck him, Alex.” Beth inhales again, then cries more, causing me to smile at her dramatics. Maybe she didn’t know this was what was going to happen. “You have to do it. Prove yourself.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Pathetic. Weak and fucking useless.”

  “Don’t...”

  “Fuck you. What worth do you have here? Get on with it.”

  “Lilah. It is prudent that–” I glare at Pascal and he halts his words without need for more.

  “If you don’t get on with it, I will take him away from you,” I bark out as I stalk my way around his frame and stand by Pascal instead. There, suck it up, big boy. He turns to face us, his lips eventually turning up into a small smile. Those eyes, however, tell me everything I need to know. I will not be taking Pascal anywhere, certainly not from Alexander. They’re darkening more by the second, flashing hatred at me and reminding me of the ranking system. One more hesitation from him and I’ll show him exactly where my ranking is—outside this room, with Pascal in tow.

  “Tick tock, Alex. Tickety Tock.” Somehow, I’ve managed to remove my whip from around my neck, and it’s swinging in time with my foot tapping. I’m getting bored if I’m completely honest. I reach for Pascal’s hair, tugging it to me and then dragging a nail across his cheek.

  “You’re so pretty. Look at you all scared and flustered. He fucks well, you know? You’re the one missing out. Tick tock, tick tock. What say you, Pascal? Two minutes more for the frightened boy to think it over? Or should I just take you away now? Tick tock, tick tock. Perhaps he should just GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT!”

  The rush of prime male coming towards me takes me by surprise, making me back up rapidly until I’m thrown against the surface. Nothing hurts as I collide with it, nothing at all. I know real pain, and this isn’t it. No, I just bounce off of it, smiling at his frustration and twirling myself back into a superior stance. I could whip him into it, I suppose. That could be fun. His heavy breathing and ever blackening holes quickly remind me that perhaps that won’t work. I could try, though, amuse myself with this merry little dance we’re playing.

  “You poor little thing. Look at him, Alex. He loves you, needs you, and you can’t love him back, can you? You don’t know how. Shall I show you? Shall I teach you how to fuck?” He flicks his eyes to Pascal, who simply stares at the floor, presumably waiting for pain. Brave soul that he is. It makes me smile all the more. Love, such a wondrous thing amidst this wickedness.

  “It’s all there waiting for you to embrace, if you’re man enough, that is? Are you? Tickety Tock.” I can’t stop the laugh that comes out as he glares back at me. His annoyance at his own ineptitude is funny, hilarious really given the killer he is.

  “Get out,” he mumbles, barely keeping his fists from flying at me as I watch them clench and unclench.

  “Why? Are you going to do it now? Ready for being a man, are we? How exciting. I think I’ll watch and give pointers.”

  “Get out and take Elizabeth with you,” he snarls out, hovering his feet around Pascal and grabbing at his hair. The groan that leaves Pascal’s mouth is devastatingly erotic. My thighs tighten in response. Fuck, I need to come. Maybe Beth can do it.

  “GO!” Mmm. I narrow my eyes at him, hands on my leather-clad hips as my foot taps away. This is not a beat on Pascal fest. He fucks him, or this finishes, now. “Go, Lilah, before you get some, too.”

  I sidestep over to Beth, watching his every move as he begins unbuckling his belt and keeps looking at me.

  I keep moving, wondering which way they’ll do it. Not that it matters. It only matters that I won’t be here to fucking see it. I could be really angry about that if I thought about it. In fact, I am. Fuck him and his secrecy. My fingers yank at the rope caging Beth in, not worrying about how she feels as the coils begin to give way around her. She’s dreary with her tears. No fucking use to anyone. Pretty, yes, but not useful in this scenario. I wish she wasn’t here really because it’s not me that he wants to leave. It’s her.

  “I love you,” Alexander says sharply to her, with about as much feeling as a dishcloth as she collapses at my feet. Still, it’s sweet, I suppose, making her feel better about herself so she doesn’t feel left out. She shouldn’t need that. She should know this is part of the plan and be fucking happy about it. I don’t know why he wants her gone, but it’s something I’ll damn well be finding out about for next time. I want to see.

  “Alex, I–”

  “No. Shut up.” My voice rings out loudly across her protest as my hand points at the doorway. “You stop this and I’ll kill you. Out.” I shove her when she doesn’t move, hauling up her body weight and transferring her to her feet. I’ll damn well drag her out if I have to. This is happening, regardless of her dispute.

  Eventually after much huffing, she does go, her naked body ascending the steps slowly and giving me the time I need to keep watching the man I love. His fame is pushed around harshly at first, as if Alexander doesn’t know what to do with him—tugged and shoved like a piece of meat. It makes me frown, considering how much pain Pascal can actually take from the beast that’s emerging.

  Then something happens as my left foot hesitantly hits the stairs, something so beautiful it halts me in my tracks. I don’t know who instigated it or how it changed, but the moment their lips meet, I’m mesmerised. Hands grasp and fingers entwine. Bodies collide, softly. Well, as softly as Alexander can given the mood I put him in. It’s not violent anymore. It’s m
agnificent really, making me smile quietly and feel slightly embarrassed to witness it. I hover some more, my hand holding me up on the wall as my knees weaken at the vision. Having never seen two men kissing so passionately before, I want to linger in it, sense it inside me maybe. There’s so much love there between them, so much need. And the tightening of fingers, the way Alexander’s grip seems to falter occasionally, and then the way Pascal coaxes him back into it, slowly, carefully, preparing him, it’s… I don’t know, spellbinding. It’s a dance of their own—one I’ll never be a part of, never understand even, and I don’t want to. It’s not my dance to dance. Not my song or symphony. It’s theirs. Just for them until they’re ready to share it.

  I smile once more as I see Pascal pushed back to the far wall, light cascading off the pair of their naked torsos from the moon filtering through the window, then turn and leave. It’s done. There is nothing else for me to do here. Not tonight.

  The stone steps pass quicker than I thought they would. I assumed the climb out of here might be torturous. Maybe I thought I’d question what they’re doing, but what is there to question? Pascal will hurt, just as he wants to. Alexander will hurt because he’s never done it before and will probably hate himself for it, regardless of his need. And they will both be more in love with each other than they already are because of that. There will be blood to deal with. Blood and a sore Pascal. One who will smile fancifully for days and lie in my arms, talking of love and dreams. He will glow beneath his bruises, relish the scars more than he already does, all the time asking me to accept this as normal. He doesn’t need to. It is normal as far as I’m concerned.