by Raven Dark
Bear’s fingers lifted my hair, moving it over my other shoulder out of his way. He cupped my nape. “I want you all to myself. How about I take you some place where we can be alone, hmm?”
The first bite of panic, real, bone-deep panic—took a healthy bite of out me. The idea of being alone with him… The blood left my cheeks so fast I felt it drain while my eyes stung. I looked over at Pretty Boy and Steel. Silently begging them to change their minds.
Almost as one, I saw the looks on both men’s faces change. Pretty Boy’s smirk slid away, and Steel’s lazy, casual expression turned hard. They looked at each other and something intense passed between them.
“Mm, nope,” Pretty Boy shook his head.
“Yeah, no,” Steel said at the same time.
They got up as one and strode over to me.
“Excuse us, boys.” Pretty Boy took my wrist and hauled me up.
“Sorry, Bear. Crank, Dozer, you’ll have to find your own entertainment,” Steel added.
Bear laughed. “Oh, so that’s the way it is, huh?” But his tone teased.
Shock struck me dumb, so that all I could do was stare up at my two masters. What was going on here?
“Let’s get her out of here, brother.” Pretty Boy went back to where we’d been sitting earlier and picked up my dress.
“Agreed.” Steel reached for me.
“Leaving so soon, you two?”
Steel turned and glanced at Patch, who stood between us and the path through the club that led to the doors out of the cavern. Tattooed arms crossed, Patch’s eyes looked playful, but there was a slickness to his smile that made me uneasy. Like he thought I was a toy he could take from them.
Before either of my masters answered, again I saw something in them both change. Steel’s giant shoulders rippled with a tension I had never seen before, and Pretty Boy stood straighter. All casualness left them until all that was left was pure alpha male.
“Yep, we’re taking off.” Pretty Boy’s calm tone didn’t fool me. “Step aside, pal.”
“Diamond is right over there,” Steel added, nodding to the woman Patch had been with earlier. Diamond sashayed over and leaned on his shoulder, persuasive. He shook her off.
“Why leave? I’ve never seen a true Violet before. Let’s have some fun with her.”
Pretty Boy shook his head. “You’ve seen her. Out of the way.”
“Oh, come on.” Patch stalked a pace forward. “It’s not like you to pussy out. You’re never stingy with the entertainment, Pretty Boy.”
“Sorry, Pal. Not tonight, we have plans for her.”
But there was something different in his voice when he spoke of what they’d do to me. The words lacked the usual menace.
Patch broke the space between us and reached up, rubbing a lock of my long hair between his fingers. He stare bored into me, imprisoning my gaze. Never had a man’s looked so cold, so dark, even while he wore a smile. “When they’re finished with you, I’ll swing by and we’ll have some fun. I’ll show you what a real man does with a woman like you—”
Pretty Boy reacted so fast I didn’t even see his fist clench before he threw it right in Patch’s face. He hit him so hard, the other man’s head snapped back. Blood squirted from his nose and he went sprawling on the floor, his eye-patch slightly skewed to reveal part of a white, sightless eye.
“Nice,” Steel grunted.
I stared at Pretty Boy, shock coursing through me. A strange warmth suffused my blood, making me feel as though my muscles were melting. But I hardly had time to process what Pretty Boy had done before Patch was on his feet. He ran at Pretty Boy and punched him in the head. Pretty Boy stumbled. There was a cut on his brow, blood trickling down into his eye.
“Are you braindead?” Pretty Boy snapped. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His fist tightened, like he was going to throw it. Patch tensed, and I could tell he was going to weave, but Pretty Boy got him with his other fist right in his good eye.
Patch lunged, but Bear and his friends jumped up from the couch and were suddenly behind him. Bear had him around the shoulders from behind. “Hey. What’s up your ass, Patch? Let’s go.”
“Get him out of here,” Steel said when Patch didn’t go with them.
Bear nodded, and he, Crank, and Dozer headed with Patch out toward the barbeque, talking about getting him a drink and a smoke.
“I want him in Sheriff’s office in the morning,” Pretty Boy called out.
“He will be,” Bear promised over his shoulder.
When they were gone, I turned my attention to Pretty Boy. His left eye was covered in blood, dripping from his cut brow. Before I’d thought about it, I hurried over to him.
“Master, you’re hurt.” Aware of the room full of men watching us, I lowered my voice, but I couldn’t stay silent and do nothing. I reached for Pretty Boy’s face. “There’s a lot of blood, your eye looks bad.”
“I’m fine, I’ll deal.” His voice was pitched equally low. He pushed my hand away, but it held no force, and I thought I saw appreciation in his eyes before he looked at Steel.
“Come here, petal. Let’s get out of here.” Steel swung me up into his arms.
We left then, Steel striding out of the club behind Pretty Boy, holding me like I belonged to him. Every head in the place turned, all eyes watching us.
“You don’t have to carry me, Master,” I said when we were away from the clubhouse and watching eyes.
“Fuck that. I won’t have you falling on those damn heels out here.” But Steel’s voice sounded unnaturally gruff as he picked his way along the walkway that led to Pretty Boy’s cave.
Pretty Boy laughed. I glanced up at Steel. He averted his eyes and focused too hard on the cave entrance ahead of him. I couldn’t help a smile, feeling like my insides were turning to mush.
A short time later, we arrived at what turned out to be another cave, not Pretty Boy’s like I expected. This one was much simpler, without all the lavish artifacts and jewels. Simple polished furniture occupied a large, casually messy living room. Clothes were strewn on the couches. In one corner, a large punching bag hung from the cave ceiling, and in another corner, a speed bag.
This definitely wasn’t a room belonging to Pretty Boy.
After so long in Steel’s arms, his body heat made me feel comfortably sleepy. I put my head on his big shoulder. At some point, he’d strode ahead of Pretty Boy, carrying me across the living room and into an equally disarrayed bedroom with a huge unmade bed of rumpled plain white linens, and overflowing drawers.
“Fuck, Steel, you live like a pig.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. He set me down on my feet with a gentleness that took me by surprise. Then he started picking up his clothing, tossing it into drawers and shoving them shut. “Wasn’t expecting anyone to see it.” When he tried to straighten a drawer, the handle snapped off in his large fist. He gave a lopsided smile and pushed the handle into a pocket on his pants.
I was just trying to figure out how to tell him not to worry about the mess when I noticed Pretty Boy’s eye still bleeding. Maybe it was foolish of me to think so, but I couldn’t help feeling like he’d defended my honor back there with Patch. I cleared my throat.
“Master, forgive me…” I stepped toward him. He looked at me, and I stopped, waiting. Something was happening between us, but I had no idea what it was or where the boundaries between all of us now lay. They were being nicer, but I was still a slave.
When Pretty Boy didn’t look angry with my speaking, I took his hand carefully. “Your eye is bleeding heavily. Let me take care of it.”
“I’m fine…Princess.”
I distinctly heard a long pause before he’d used his chosen name for me. I tried not to think too much about what that could mean and forced myself to press on.
“You need stitches. Allow me.” I gestured to the couch pushed against one wall of Steel’s room. He still didn’t move, so I looked at Steel for help.
Steel cocked his head for a moment, looking
at me like he was trying to figure me out. “Don’t be a dumbass, P.B. I’ve seen a lot of cuts like that in the gladiator ring. That one’s bad, let her take care of it.”
Pretty Boy growled but backed up and dropped onto the couch.
I knelt on the sofa beside him. He handed me the dress he’d carried from the clubhouse.
“Thank you, Master.” Setting the dress aside for now, I placed my hand on Pretty Boy’s chin, turning his face toward me and looking closely at his eye. The wound wasn’t severe, but Steel was right, it was bad enough to need stitches. Patch had hit him right on the brow bone, splitting the skin in such a way that the smallest cut bled more than it might have if he’d hit him in the jaw. It wouldn’t stop bleeding without help.
“Master,” I said, turning to look up at Steel. “I need a needle and thread, water, clean cloths, and something to sterilize the wound. Would you bring them to me please?”
Steel looked at me like I’d grown two heads. A small smile pulled at my lips. I didn’t blame him; he’d never seen me talk this way before. I thought he wasn’t going move, but he nodded and left the room. While I waited for him to return, I knelt and removed Pretty Boy’s boots. Then I found a jar of brandy on a table and brought it to him. It was half-full, more than enough for my purposes.
“You’ll want to drink this, Master.” I handed him the alcohol.
“Well, this part I can get used to.” He unscrewed the lid and downed a quarter of the jar.
Steel still hadn’t returned, so I quickly dressed. Did he have to go all the way to the bathing or laundry hole for water? It occurred to me that, except for a well Cherry had shown me in the slave’s caverns, I didn’t know where the men got water for cooking and whatnot. On the bright side, the time Steel took would give the alcohol time to take affect.
I was just tying the string on the dress at the back of my nape as Steel retuned. He set a pail of water down, then handed me the cloths and other items I’d asked for.
“The cloths are sterilized,” Steel said before I could ask. “I keep them for when I work out.”
“Perfect. Turn your face this way, Master.” I turned Pretty Boy’s chin toward me again.
Eyes finding mine, he let his head fall back against the couch. I picked up one of the cloths to wipe the blood from his eye, but his hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me. I froze.
“Why are you helping me?”
I considered that question carefully. I shouldn’t have wanted to help him. Not after what he’d done to me last night. It probably sounded sappy, but I’d always hated seeing others hurt. And yet there was more at play here. For some reason, I felt connected to this man in front of me.
I decided on a partial truth. “Because you helped me. Who knows what Patch would have done to me if you hadn’t stopped him.”
When he looked at me like he didn’t believe me, I added, “Besides, your face is so beautiful, it would be a shame to leave it such a mess.”
I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my humor, but he chuckled, a husky, pleasant—and very real—sound.
Steel snorted. “That’s all he needs, a bigger ego.”
I cleaned the wound with the sterilizing alcohol Steel gave me, then started threading a needle.
Pretty Boy downed some more brandy.
Steel said nothing at first, watching me with interest as I began stitching his friend’s cut.
“How do you know how to do that stuff?” Steel asked quietly. “You’re not a doctor.”
“No. Damien insisted on educating me in anything he could manage. I don’t know nearly as much as a doctor, but his personal nurse trained me in some of the basics. If I ended up with a soldier or a fighter, Damien wanted me to be able to treat my master if he had a minor injury.”
He nodded and continued watching me as though he’d never seen me before.
I made the last stitch and bit off the thread, then covered the wound with a liquid bandage. Then I cleaned up the rest of his face and neck. “How’s your head, Master? Is it sore?”
Pretty Boy shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“He wouldn’t tell you if it was hurting him.” Steel shrugged when Pretty Boy scowled at him. “Just saying.”
“Is it hurting?” I pressed, running my fingers over Pretty Boy’s forehead soothingly. The idea that it was hurting him more than he let on bothered me far more than I was comfortable with.
Pretty Boy’s mouth tightened, but then his eyes softened. “Ignore him. It’s not bad.”
I didn’t press anymore, but I nodded to the brandy. “Please finish that anyway, Master.”
“Women. Always making such a fuss.” But he emptied the jar in two swallows.
Unsure what to do with myself now, I shifted so that I sat on the couch beside him. Steel got up and set aside the medical supplies and pail, leaving me to focus on Pretty Boy. Pretty Boy’s letting me tend to him had shifted the balance between us so that I no longer knew how to react to him. Steel’s acceptance of it created the same uncertainty for him. I decided to take a chance.
“Master, may I ask you something?”
Pretty Boy looked at me.
“Why did you guys stop me from being with Bear?”
He put his head back on the couch again, mouth turned down. I thought I might have asked the wrong thing until he spoke. “Because I didn’t want him to have you. It’s obvious Steel didn’t either.” His hand lifted, his fingers caressing the side of my shoulder. “Do you have a problem with that, slave?”
I licked my lips. His voice sounded dangerous, but it was a tad too quiet, and his eyes had a heat in them I’d never seen before.
“No, Master.” My voice shook, but not with fear.
He leaned in towards me, his thumb now tracing my lips. They trembled under his touch; he’d never been that gentle before. “It isn’t fair what you do to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Men like us…we share women. Not just three or four of us like other zones do. We pass them around like house whores.” His fingers pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “But the moment Bear put his hands on you, something in me snapped. I couldn’t stand the idea of him or Patch touching you. Steel looked at me like he was going to murder someone if we didn’t get you off of Bear’s lap, so we did. Neither of us wants another man taking what’s ours.”
I glanced over to Steel who, I was surprised to see, was making his bed. He’d stripped it and started putting clean sheets on it. Watching such a huge guy doing something so domestic, something usually tasked to slaves, made me smile.
“What about Hawk?”
“Hawk is different. So is Sheriff.” Pretty Boy paused long enough for his lips to caress my temple. “Having me and Steel as your masters means accepting Hawk. And Sheriff, if he chooses.” Now his lips brushed my cheek, my jaw, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.” He licked the side of my neck, hot, possessive. My head fell back, inviting his kiss. “No other man will have you, Princess.” The last he growled in my ear, “If they try, I will kill them, and I know the others will do the same.”
Oh, Maker. Just the greedy, possessive sound of that made my sex tingle all over again. After seeing what he’d done to Patch, I had no trouble picturing Pretty Boy pounding any man who touched me outside of the three he allowed.
I didn’t know if I liked him giving me to Sheriff or Hawk, but that sort of sharing was part of life, and as my masters, his and Steel’s will was law. I loved that he loathed letting anyone else have me.
“I will keep you from any other man, but no one will keep me from you now.” He drew back. “Strip.”
Only when I stood up did I notice that Steel had stopped working and now lay on his bed, watching us. My face flamed as I untied the dress at the back. Why I blushed after all I’d done with these men was beyond me.
“You gonna play the creeper and watch again, Steel?”
He grinned at the label. “Of course.”
Pretty Boy took my waist and
turned me to him, pulling me onto his lap. “Let’s give him a show, shall we?”
I nodded, straddling him so that my knees were at his hips. Our foreheads touched, his hot breath mingling with mine.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I bit my lip, the conviction in his words warming every ounce of my blood in a way that went deeper than any lust or desire. Eyes fixated on my mouth, he slid his hands down my arms, putting them around his neck. “Hold on tight and ride with me.”
I didn’t know what he meant until I felt him reach between us for his belt. Anticipation heating me, I lifted my hips up to give him room, watching him undo his pants, watching that long cock of his bounce free. One of his hands dove into my hair, his lips devouring mine, while the other hand stroked his cock and then slid the head through my folds.
The kiss he delivered wasn’t any gentler than the ones he’d given me thus far, and it wasn’t sweet. Pretty Boy didn’t do sweet—I doubted any of my masters did—but there was a need in it, a giving that made my muscles melt. I opened my mouth for him without being told.
With every stroke of his tongue over mine, the ache that had started in my core intensified until it became a throb. His fingers reached between my legs, slicking up and stroking my clit until I wriggled against him and panted against his mouth.
When I started rocking against his fingers, he took my hips, slowing me. Then his jaw muscles flexed, and his hips shot up, driving him deep.
The single upward stroke sent a jolt of pain through me, but also pleasure, and an unfamiliar pressure deep in my womb. The pressure was almost uncomfortable, until he helped me move, meeting his thrusts, each movement bringing a new wave of pleasure-pain.
I lost myself to the rhythm, and in moments, we fell into sync. He leaned me back, one hand supporting me by the hip, the other sliding up between my breasts, palming each, tweaking my nipples until I gasped. I rocked faster and he groaned, speeding up.
My muscles began to tighten as I came close. Pretty Boy grinned that panty-melting grin. He stood up easily with me, pants dropping. He stepped out of them and walked with me to the bed, cock still sheathed in me the whole time.