Independence: #2 Angel

by Karen Nichols

  “And you believe you’re beyond help?” He felt the corner of his mouth lift.

  “I don’t believe I need help. I came here to explore and see what else existed. I’ve had sex before…after I was pregnant. In college…” she looked down at her bare feet swinging for a long few seconds before gazing up at him again.

  “Was it any good?”

  One shoulder rose and fell. “He had a good time.” She held up her wrists. “These don’t belong to the club, do they, Sir?”

  “No, they don’t. They are mine to give to a sub I want to be with and train,” he studied her closely, the determination in her eyes one of the things that had drawn him to her. He had more questions but decided they would have to wait. “Remain here, Angel. I’ll be a few minutes. Perhaps you might review the protocols I’ve given you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Angel sat up stiffly, her hands on her thighs, palms up. She stared straight ahead, the sight of him walking off to the side in her mind as she closed her eyes, letting the ambiance and events of the day flow through her mind.

  She thought she was doing quite well until the words began filtering to her from the next scene.

  “Nothing but a school girl slut. A whore who’ll let anyone fuck her for the right price…do the boys like touching you?”

  Her head turned, her breathing slowed and the ache in her chest seemed to worsen when she opened her eyes and turned to look at the couple.

  Just a game, she tried telling herself as the man’s words became more and more clear. More and more graphic.

  Her fingers trembled, shaking as she quickly worked the buckles on the cuffs. She left them lying on the table, her body moving stealthily among the people, past the scenes to the room where her clothing had been left. She found the bin with his name on it, but Angel didn’t remember dressing.

  She kept hearing the words, over and over again.

  Keys shook in her fingers, the heat inside her making it very warm as she crossed to where she left her car. She refused to look back and it took several hours before she had the shaking under control.

  Colin stared at the empty table in shock, Jack at his side.

  “I didn’t see her leave,” Jack said simply.

  “She’s too damn stubborn to have just run,” Colin looked around, his attention on the role playing being performed in the space a few feet from them. When the man turned to make switching his partner easier, Colin swore loudly. He was dressed as a reverend. His partner as a wicked school-girl. “I know what happened.”

  Jack followed his eyes. “Your little sub has issues with the clergy?”

  “Her father is Joseph Morehouse,” Colin saw the dawning understanding on Jack’s face. The reverend was in the news on a regular basis with his claims of salvation and the trials of being the father of a daughter like Angelica. Usually stoic and capable of maintaining a straight face through most anything, Colin could see the fury in the ice chips of blue.

  “He’s quite vocal about the demons possessing his only daughter,” Jack said in quiet disgust. “What are you going to do?”

  “Make sure she got home safe,” he strode toward the door and out. He crossed the parking lot and tossed the bag he carried into the back of his car and hoped he never ran into her father.

  Chapter Six

  He waited a week.

  He held some hope that she would come to the club looking for him. Part of him wondered if he should have taken that as a sign and walked away. He wasn’t sure what word to assign to his unwillingness to quit on her. He knew he could easily visit any number of clubs and find subs trained and willing for his hand and his cock.

  But they wouldn’t be Angel. Somewhere deep in those big, dark eyes he saw himself as a child, hiding from authorities until someone took a chance on him and taught him that all humans, all feelings, weren’t bad.

  Colin stood outside the large café-bakery and just watched, letting the winds of late November whip the long coat he wore around his legs and ignoring it. She’d put a large atrium type attachment onto the side of the bakery with comfortable chairs and tables that held no rhyme or reason to style. It looked more like your grandmothers kitchen from corner to corner. Each one had a different cloth; the chairs were sturdy and almost rustic looking, but none of them matched. She’d put together a comfortable, quaint looking country kitchen where people smiled and talked and relaxed. Some had books, some had computers and still others had kids and a combination.

  One corner held a collection of thin, colorful books on shelves with small chairs and a box of toys. But what was holding him captive was watching Angelica in the center of that corner with three little kids climbing and wrestling with her.

  That was when he realized that he hadn’t seen her smile or heard her laugh during the time they were together. He went inside and ordered a large coffee, listening to the deep, happy sound peppered with girl giggles that made him smile. He stood in the doorway, sipping the rich blend of coffee and watching her. He didn’t have an explanation for himself why her; why this woman. And he’d spent most of Sunday running the beach trying to answer that question because he knew she’d ask.

  Maybe it was the fire that occasionally flared to life in her eyes or the high cheekbones and worry she’d worn on the day Bailey came home from the hospital. How she’d pushed aside the unconscious need to shove people away and stayed with her friend. Maybe it was her innocence and interest and courage and all the things she couldn’t see about herself.

  But then he listened to the soft laughter and caught a glimpse of the smile filling her eyes when she thought no one was looking. That’s when he knew it really didn’t matter why. He just knew he’d find a way to bring her into his world, into a life of affection and people.

  Angel shoved hair out of her eyes and finally got them seated in the small chairs, laughing happily when all three of them launched themselves at her at once. It was one of their regular games. See if they could wrestle her to the ground and they got a free cookie. It helped that their mother was one of her friends and she’d known the three since they were born two and a half years earlier.

  “Angel, you know you never win at that,” Carlie laughed from behind her cup of coffee.

  “I always win,” she laughed back. “I get tons of hugs and they get little cookies. It’s a great exchange…but I swear I’m getting old,” she scooped two of them into her arms and let the third cling to her calf, holding on for dear life as she managed to climb to her feet.

  He knew the instant she saw him; watched the protective shield slammed into place. He offered a slightly tipped head and a patient smile.

  “Carlie…I…uh…I’ll go get the cookies for them,” she told her friend softly, handing the little girls over and tossing the boy into the air with a burst of giggles from him before she surrendered him to his mother.

  “Angel?” Carlie took her children, carefully buckling them into the seats and handing them the toys she’d brought with her to entertain them while they nibbled on cereal and sipped their milk. “Hun…what’s wrong?” An instant surge of a protective gene took control, her shoulders back and head turning to see what her friend was staring at.

  “Nothing. Nothing, at all,” she lied, digging deep and putting a smile on.

  “Angel, who is he? You look a little pale.”

  “He’s a friend. It’s alright,” she promised and went toward her kitchen where she had the special cookies waiting.

  “That looked like fun,” Colin said quietly. “I was worried about you, Angelica.”

  “I’m sorry…” she looked around quickly to see who was close enough to hear.

  “Colin,” he prompted gently. “We’re not at the club. I’m just Colin,” he waited while she processed that and nodded. “And I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have left you like that without knowing the role-play that was going on in the next station. I’m sorry.”

  “It isn’t your fault,” she said quickly, brushing past him and continu
ing on to the kitchen. Her eyes skirted the large room and the counter. Her staff was well trained and knew she played with the kids on Saturdays whenever she could. It was barely past eight in the morning so the weekend rush crowd hadn’t really struck yet, although the holiday shopping crowd was bigger than usual. Getting their second wind through caffeinated beverages, she thought with an absent smile.

  Angel should have known he wasn’t the type to adhere to boundaries and almost jumped out of her apron when she turned around to see him right behind her. She devoted a few seconds to the idea of telling him he really shouldn’t be in her kitchen, but gave it up at the memory of him in the club. She found the small tray she wanted and went to Daria. She was a petite eighteen year old who loved books as much as she did and was always on time. She handed her the tray and sent her to Carlie with a smile.

  “You shouldn’t be back here,” Angel quickly checked the ovens and then the various timers, her hands twisting in the colorful apron she wore.

  “Why not?” Colin put one hand into the pocket of his coat, fingering the narrow box inside. “I looked for you last night at the club.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d want me back. I…disobeyed and left…”

  “Leaving and disobeying didn’t upset me as much as worry me, Angel. I’d rather you hunted me down and told me the problem, but we’re still working on things,” Colin told her quietly. “I brought you something. I’d like you to wear it tonight when you come to the club.”

  “I don’t think it would be good for me to go back. It wasn’t one of my brighter ideas,” she told him, keeping her gaze on the cookies she was arranging in the container to go into the display case. “I have a tendency to make people angry and I wouldn’t wish that on you. You should find yourself a nice girl without issues and…and…a semi-sane family and the ability to…”

  She was sure she had more to say. A lot more and she knew the words were in her brain. She’d practiced the speech for the last week. Up until his hand gripped the nape of her neck and tipped her head back. She saw him moving closer but it was kind of a really fast blur and then it was like kissing a cloud.

  It wasn’t a hard demand. It wasn’t what she’d been prepared for.

  His mouth moved softly, seductively from one corner to the other and his free hand went to her waist, not giving her room to move out of his grasp. He tasted the cookies and sugar and more on her lips, his tongue delving between them and stroking along hers. A tiny mewl broke from deep in her throat when she tried to move and found her arms trapped down her sides.

  Colin knew this had not been his intent. He didn’t intend to get totally lost in the taste of Angelica Morehouse in the middle of her kitchen on a busy Saturday morning. He had intended to make certain she was alright. Safe. He’d checked up on her the night she fled the club and had felt like a stalker, watching from the street outside her apartment building.

  Then he saw the pure joy on her face and heard her laughter and it was as if none of the things she’d told him about, had ever happened to her. That there was a safe place for her to go where she could conquer the words that wouldn’t leave her alone.

  He withdrew just enough to trace a slow line around her lower lip before tugging it gently between his teeth. She didn’t protest the touch or the kiss. The passion she returned sent twinges of hope through him. He’d dreamt of kissing her, something that had never invaded his unconscious before and something the far surpassed what his imagination had conjured.

  “I want you to come back to the club tonight, Angelica.”

  “I don’t want to make you angry.”

  “And I want to teach you there’s a vast difference between the power and control of ego and abuse versus the nurturing and compassion the flows between a dominant and his sub,” Colin stared down into her eyes. “Come to the club tonight. Please. For me.”

  The patience and honesty she saw in his face decided her response.

  “Yes, Sir,” Angel said firmly.

  His hands moved to her shoulders, turning them gently until her back was against his chest.

  “Don’t move,” he pulled the case from his pocket and opened it with one hand. He lifted the silver braided half inch band with the special addition he’d found at the jewelers before coming to her bakery. The angel was inlaid in cloisonné colors of pink, blue and gold with delicate wings and a soft halo of silver above her head. He fastened the collar and again gripped her shoulders, leading her forward to the mirror that was hung on the wall next to what he guessed was her office.

  She felt the cool, slim line being placed on her neck, her hand rose automatically, only to be gripped in his and lowered to her side as they walked. Until he stopped before the mirror and released her fingers.

  “Colin…I can’t accept this…” but her fingers rose to touch the delicate looking angel that dangled from the center and she saw them shaking. Presents. She’d never received a gift from a man before.

  Lunches in college and the occasional flower. She’d never stayed with anyone for more than friendship. When they began wanting more, she became very, very busy. Viewing the displeasure and frustration in their faces when she worked to avoid their advances hurt more than they could possibly imagine.

  “My initials are on the back of the angel,” he said quietly, very aware of the people coming and going in the large, busy kitchen. He could see them trying not to stare and smiled to himself.

  “Why?” The word whispered out and only the two of them heard it.

  “I don’t know,” Colin wanted honesty and had to share the same with her. “I just know it feels right. We’re more than what we are in the bedroom, Angel. And I want to explore that, too.”

  Dark eyes met his in the mirror and then shifted to the dangling angel. She nodded.

  “You’ll wear this all the time, except in the shower,” he winked at her in the mirror. “This and my cuffs at the club will let others know you are not available, Angel.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want you in jeans tonight, Angelica. I want you in a skirt and corset,” he watched her in the mirror, brows knit slightly. “You don’t have either of those?”

  “I have a few dresses, but…I haven’t worn them in a long time.” She held perfectly still when his hands moved to her wrists and raised them above her head before sliding slowly down her body, stopping at her hips.

  “What time do you close?”

  “Three,” she slowly lowered her arms when he once more took her wrists, turned her to face him and brought them to his chest. “I’ll be here before three with the clothing you’ll wear tonight. Would you rather I meet you at your apartment?”

  “I think that would be better,” Angel looked around. Her staff was accustomed to her taking the weekends off, so functioning while he was there didn’t have an effect on her customers. Only her. “I’m pretty sure my staff is in shock at the moment as it is,” she said with a sigh.

  “They seem to be handling it well,” Colin teased, the little smile vanishing the next instant when one of the girls that he swore looked like she was all of sixteen, came running in from the front of the shop.

  Theresa barely looked at him, her gaze on Angel.

  “Your brother’s here…” she swallowed and looked over her shoulder. “Daria just saw him coming in from the parking lot while she was cleaning up the patio.”

  “Thank you, Theresa. I’ll be right there,” Angel started moving forward, her hand suddenly going to her throat. “Oh, god, this…”

  “Angelica, that collar does not leave your throat,” Colin knew his tone, his voice would break through the momentary panic and he wasn’t denied. He met her eyes without faltering. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, though her eyes wandered to the arch that led to the customer area.

  “You take care of your customers,” he shook his head when her mouth opened. “Let me help.”

  “C
olin, please…”

  “Your customers, Angel. They are your concern. And how about getting me a really hot coffee and one of your large fruit pastries? I’m starving,” he let his palm slide to her waist, gently guiding her out of the kitchen to the larger area swarming with customers laden down with Christmas purchases. He liked the bright smiles on the faces of the four girls she had working for her even though he saw their gaze skitter to the large man just coming through the door. He spoke to her without taking his eyes off his adversary. “What’s his name, Angel?”

  “Thomas,” she said quietly, looking up to meet his eyes and turning to fix his coffee. She felt the cold metal against her skin; a constant reminder that felt it as if it burned despite the chill sweeping through her. “If you find an empty table, I’ll bring your coffee out to you.”

  “Thank you,” Colin stopped her only long enough to lean closer to kiss her in full view of everyone and anyone who chose to watch. He saw most people smile as he staked his claim. But the expression that filled the tall, dark blond haired man was far from happy.

  Colin kept his gaze on Thomas Morehouse when he took a step back and just watched his half-sister. When he looked over at Colin, Colin tipped his head and held eye contact as he crossed the room and came to stand in front of him.

  Everything pure dom shot through his system. Independence and arrogance from a past on the streets took up the remaining space.

  He’d given brief consideration to extending his palm until he saw the obvious look of disapproval and open disgust on her step-brother’s face when he looked at Angelica.

  Thomas Morehouse gave the man approaching him a passing look and moved to step aside only to find his move was matched, his path blocked. His scowl deepened.

  “Excuse me,” he said without actually looking at Colin.

  “I think you should go and leave Angelica to her business,” Colin responded, the silk in his voice holding all the strength the erotic fabric held and more.