The cane landed again on her legs in quick succession. It wasn’t too hard, not enough to even leave the ghost of a mark, but enough to know she’d been hit. She bit her lip and danced in place, her shoulders beginning to ache and her hair sticking to her damp skin. The flexible rod whistled through the air before delivering one hard crack.
Odalia squealed, and her eyes went round.
That’s a bruise.
She loved bruises. Always had. They were badges, marks of a life lived, adventure taken and seizing the moment. Nothing good ever left you unscathed.
As a little girl she’d poked at her bruises for the sheer amusement of it.
“Hmm.” Jacques transferred the cane to his other hand and rubbed the growing welt. “Do you like my marks?”
“I don’t like them, Sir.” She shivered at his narrowing gaze. “I love them.”
Jacques’ cheeks sank in, and she felt his swift intake of breath.
Odalia didn’t even wince preemptively as the cane whistled through the air again, but she hissed when it smacked her opposite thigh. She’d seen the flash of lust in his eyes. The jealous streak was still there. And he’d cared enough to drag her kicking and screaming out of the worst decision of her life.
“Like that?” he asked, running his knuckles over the spot.
“Yeah, like that, Sir.”
He might not be ready to name this thing growing between them, but she was. It was a genuine regard for each other. She wouldn’t call it love, not yet. They were strangers in many ways, but like called to like. They were cut from the same cloth, and with her defenses stripped away, laid bare at her most visceral level, floating on the tide of subspace, she saw him for what he was.
Her new beginning.
Jacques stepped back, his gaze raking over her. His free hand flexed, and he swished the cane back and forth. She watched the dance, wondering where he would lead next. He slid to her right and brought the cane in fast, across the front of both thighs. He popped her several times in quick succession, from the knees all the way up to her pelvis.
She sucked in a breath and wiggled in place. He varied the strength, some lighter, some harder. She never knew which.
Odalia gritted her teeth and dug her nails into the board.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Ow.” She laughed, despite the pain, adrenaline and lust twirling and twining together.
“That’s funny to you?” In the darkness, Jacques’ smile was a brilliant gleam of white, almost like the Cheshire cat. Where would he take her next?
“No. Ouch.”
He nailed the tender outer portion of her knee. She hoisted the leg up in a misguided attempt to protect herself.
Wrong move.
Jacques grabbed her arm and turned her in place so she faced the pole. He planted a hand between her shoulder blades and started going to town on the backs of her legs and bottom.
She stomped her feet and hugged the pole. Heat radiated from her body, intensified by the fiery passion in her breast.
The cane licked across her upper back. Not hard, but enough to massage and beat the muscles into submission. Her whole body was super sensitized and each touch, every pop of the toy, ratcheted her higher.
Jacques’ rhythm broke for a few beats. She rested her forehead against the pole, clinging to it to keep her upright.
Arms wrapped around her from behind, hugging her. Jacques was a hard, hot wall of muscle, big enough to shield and protect her. But he’d shown her today on the street that he respected her ability to take care of herself. Hell, he’d probably never even second-guessed her, which did odd, warm and fuzzy things to her. She was used to men thinking that just because she had a vagina she was somehow incapable. But not Jacques.
She leaned her head back against his shoulder and kissed his neck, or near enough to it.
“Come here, bébé.” He bent and lifted her into his arms.
“Where we going?” she muttered, wrapping her arms around his neck. It took a big man with strong muscles to lift her, much less carry her through a crowded room.
A spanking bench, she hoped. At least then her poor legs wouldn’t have to support her.
“Couches.”
“We just started.” Had she reacted wrong? Did he not like her outbursts?
“I know.” Jacques sat on an empty end of one of the couches.
“Did I…?”
“You did nothing wrong.” He smoothed her hair back off her face. “We’ve had a rough couple of days. You needed this, and I needed—I don’t have words for it. I needed this.”
He needed an anchor. A connection. So did she.
Odalia nodded and relaxed, letting him cradle her to his chest, savoring the beautiful moment. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Somehow, she’d done it all right.
JACQUES LAUGHED AS ODALIA JUMPED out of his Jeep before they’d even rolled to a complete stop in her driveway.
“Hey, you can get a ticket for that,” he yelled, but she was already sprinting up the stairs to the porch, her keys clutched in her hand, wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a thong.
When he caught her, it was on. He’d spend the rest of the night lost in that pussy, making her beg for mercy. He’d intended to explore how many times her body would respond.
Jacques killed the engine as a sound rent the air, stopping his world.
Odalia’s scream.
He flew out of the Jeep, skidding to a halt at the foot of the stairs, heart hammering in his chest, blood rushing through his ears. He could make out Odalia’s figure against the light, barely over the threshold of her condo, but anything else was hidden from view. She had her hand behind her, signaling for him to stop. Everything in him said, Go to her. But getting caught in a bad situation with her wasn’t the answer either.
“Please, Chuck, let me look at him,” she begged, tears in her voice.
Him?
Creature whined.
Shit.
“Fuck yo’ dog,” Chuck spat.
When he got his hands on that bastard, he would break every bone in his face. Jacques’ vision hazed red, and he dug his fingernails into his palm.
Rushing in there wasn’t the answer.
Jacques backtracked to his Jeep, opening the passenger door while keeping one eye on the front door. He could hear Odalia’s voice loud and clear.
“Put the gun down, Chuck. Please. Creature is hurt. We can talk about this.” She paused. “No, it’s just me. I—I went out by myself.”
Hell, the little cop was feeding him information the best she could. He couldn’t help but respect her ability in the field that much more. Chuck had to know she wasn’t alone. They both might drive Jeeps, but they weren’t the same and they’d been in his Jeep, leaving hers here.
Jacques retrieved his gun from the glove box and double-checked that there was a bullet in the chamber. He’d lived the bounty hunter life long enough that he never went a moment unprepared. Odalia’s phone was still in the cup holder. By some chance of fate, it was unlocked, and he brought up her contacts as he skirted the condo, keeping to the shadows. Mouton’s name was the most recent call. He jabbed the number as he let himself through the gate into the back yard and peered around to glimpse the back stairs. The same window he’d jimmied to get in stood open, and so did the back door.
“Odalia, you’d better have a fucking good reason—”
“Chuck has Odalia pinned in her house with a gun, and Creature’s hurt,” he said low. “Bring the cavalry. I’m going to give her cover.”
Mouton rattled off a string of questions Jacques ignored and hung up. He’d done that much. There was no time for questions when his little cop was in danger.
ODALIA EDGED CLOSER TO THE SOFA. Adrenaline sharpened her senses, making her hyper aware of everything. The smell of gunpowder, urine and blood was enough to make her nauseous in this state. She shoved emotion and her physical response to the side. She had to think. Act.
Creature continued to whine from where he’d collapsed on the
floor in front of his crate, the place he retreated to whenever there was a storm because it was his safe place. Blood streaked the wood from where Chuck must have scuffled with the pit bull. Creature had never liked Chuck; ultimately it was why they’d broken up. If her dog didn’t like a man, he wasn’t worth her time.
Where was Jacques?
Creature beat the ground with his tail, grinning up at her as he panted for breath.
“I know it hurts. You’re such a good boy.” She sniffled, hating to see her baby in pain.
“Where’s your new man at?” Chuck demanded. He’d remained sitting at her kitchen table, one arm across his stomach. She didn’t know if Creature had injured him, if he were inebriated or what.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“I saw what he did to you.” Chuck’s face contorted into a mask of rage and hate.
Odalia opened her mouth to refute his claims, but what would that do for her?
“You’re right,” she said, nodding. “He did horrible things to me.”
“He took those pictures.” Chuck glanced at the camera on the table beside him.
“I know. I hate them. Please delete them? I’d die if anyone saw them.”
Chuck’s gaze narrowed, and he patted a pocket on his shirt with the hand holding the gun. “I’m going to keep them.” The light from the lamp on the kitchen counter fell on his other mangled, bloody arm. Creature had gotten a pound of flesh. Good for him.
“As long as you have them,” she replied.
“Only me, baby. I take care of you.”
Chuck was a thug. A thug with a badge and a gun who’d charmed her with jokes and a smile.
Come on, Jacques.
“I’m going to look at Creature now.” She took a step toward the dog.
“No.” Chuck stood, swaying on his feet, and held the gun out. “You leave that damn dog alone.”
“He’s hurt.” Red hazed Odalia’s vision, and she dug her fingernails into her palms.
Creature struggled upright, growling at Chuck.
“Fuck you, dog.” Chuck limped toward her, the gun pointed at Creature.
She stepped between the gun and Creature. “Chuck, no!”
“Get back.” Chuck thrust the gun toward her, and she raised her hands again.
Creature surged to his feet, snarling and swaying as he struggled to protect her.
“Lie down, Creature.” She hated how her body trembled, how she wanted to wrap her arms around Creature and cry. Would this be Katrina all over again?
“Get away from the dog,” Chuck yelled. He swung his arm, aiming at Creature instead of her. “I said get back.”
The back door crashed open, and Odalia threw herself at Chuck. She hit him square in the chest as the gun discharged. Pain shot up her leg, and she screamed as the sensation tore her to pieces. They were hit by something else—Jacques—and Chuck roared in rage.
“Get back,” Jacques snapped at her.
She rolled, grunting as her injury was jarred. Creature barked, and the two men grappled in her kitchen. By the time she got upright, Jacques was on top of Chuck, his knee in the man’s back. He yanked out the standard-issue cuffs from Chuck’s belt and used the man’s own cuffs to restrain him.
“Oh fuck me,” she spat out between clenched teeth. Her calf was torn and bloody, from what, she couldn’t tell.
Creature dragged himself over to her, whining and licking her hands.
Outside, the night lit up with red and blue lights.
“Odalia?” Mathieu called, a frantic note in his voice.
“Suspect is restrained, officer down,” Jacques yelled to the people outside.
Oh, shit. The SD card. It was in Chuck’s front pocket.
Before Odalia could get a word out, officers entered, guns in hand. Creature stood over her, growling, too many people talking at once.
An officer she didn’t recognize pointed his gun at Creature.
“No, he’s not dangerous.” Odalia wrapped her arms around her dog, glaring at the cop.
“I’ve got him.” Mathieu shouldered through the crowd and went to a knee by her side.
Creature strained toward the man, whimpering. He swung his head and growled at another officer who got too close.
“I’ll ruin you. I’ll ruin you!” Chuck howled as the officers read him his Miranda rights and hauled the struggling cop out of her house.
She watched him leave, knowing he had all the pieces of the puzzle on his person to make that happen. Her life as a cop—it was over. He’d reveal everything about her side job, her lifestyle and that was it. She’d be off the force.
Chapter Six
Odalia limped to her Sergeant’s office after a long morning. It was about to get longer.
Philip Soulier-Rouge was a man of few words. Had he been a Dominant in the dungeon, Odalia would have avoided him whenever possible. She respected him, but there was an intangible, intimidating quality about the man.
“Sarge?” She tapped his door with her knuckles. “Got a minute?”
Rouge, as they called him behind his back, was bent over paperwork, a cup of coffee sitting nearby. He glanced up at her, his expression shuttered.
“Wondered when I’d see you.”
“Yeah. Mind if I close this?” She shut his door before he nodded. This was not going to be an easy conversation. If she had the choice to stand or sit, she’d have stood, except the pain shooting up her leg made that uncomfortable, so she chose one of the chairs.
“How’s the leg?”
“I think ricochet hurts worse than getting shot.” She winced as the muscles twinged.
Rouge nodded but didn’t speak. Of course he wouldn’t. He’d let her dig her own hole.
“Okay, here’s the thing.” She blew out a breath. “Chuck is going to say a lot of stuff about me. And Jacques Savoy. What our personal relationship is. I want to be straight with you—”
Rouge slashed his hand through the air. “Your personal life—is your business. Not mine. Internal Affairs is handling Officer Douglas.”
He leaned down and picked something up from the ground. Rouge set a large evidence bag on the desk. The camera. Except when she’d last seen it, the camera had appeared to be in working order. Now it was broken, the display screen cracked.
Odalia stared. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Her mind was a little muddled. She licked her lips and glanced at Rouge. “There was a SD card in Chuck’s pocket.”
Rouge spread his hands and shrugged. “All the electronics we recovered from the scene were broken. There’s a SD card in here, but it’s in tiny pieces.”
She remained still, running his words over in her head. The camera had not been broken at the scene. She’d seen it. She had to take on faith the SD card was the one in the evidence bag. Broken.
“Douglas is facing hefty charges. He took items out of evidence. His record of harassing female officers is long, and works against him considering what happened last night. He used impounded cars for personal use. There’s reason to believe he’s taken drugs somewhere between patrol cars recently, which they were already looking into quietly. On top of all that is breaking and entering, cruelty to animals and attempted homicide. We stand by our own, Foucheaux. In this case, it’s you.”
Rouge’s gaze seemed sharper, as if he were trying to communicate without words while saying all the right things.
“I understand, sir.” She licked her lips. At least she hoped she did.
“Good. You’re on leave for a few days. Get some rest. How’s your dog?” Rouge’s expression eased, and he showed genuine concern.
Tears prickled, and she sucked in a deep breath. Her baby. “Mathieu took him to an emergency care clinic. He got out of surgery half an hour ago. There’s some internal damage, but he’s going to be okay.”
“Let us know if you need anything.” Rouge rose to his feet and extended his hand.
Odalia hoisted herself up, using the arm rests, and clasped hi
s hand. “Thank you, sir. I will.”
She hobbled out of the office, ready for a pain pill, her dog and a nap.
Jacques leaned against her desk, waiting. Tension radiated off him.
“Let’s go,” she said.
They left the station, not a word spoken until they got in his Jeep.
“Well?” Jacques asked.
“He destroyed the SD card and camera.”
“Who did?” Jacques turned toward her.
“Rouge. He’s protecting me. Almost spelled out, I’m covering your ass.” She shoved a hand through her hair. She didn’t understand it, but she’d take it. Sometimes it was better to not ask.
Jacques shook his head. “Where to?”
“Mathieu’s. Food along the way, if possible.” She leaned her head against the seat, the tension that had been riding her for days leeching out. It wasn’t really over, not until Chuck was charged, put to trial and found guilty, but for today, it was over.
JACQUES STEPPED INTO Midnight Ink and pulled his sunglasses off.
“Hi, sexy.” Sassy smiled. She was attractive, but she was no Odalia.
He nodded. “Looking for Odalia. She here?”
“She’s with Rosie.” Sassy thumbed over her shoulder, and sure enough, Odalia sat with her back to the front of the shop, hands clasping the headrest of a tattoo chair.
“Thanks.” He moved past Sassy and approached the little cop he couldn’t shake.
Twenty hours, thirty minutes and some change, that’s how long since he’d seen her.
After wrapping up at the station, Jacques had driven her to Mathieu’s apartment where she’d piled cushions on the floor next to Creature’s bed and passed out. While everything in him had said to stay, Mathieu told him to leave. Jacques had spent the last miserable twenty hours thinking about what the other man had said before he’d left.
Odalia’s eyes were squished closed, and her face scrunched up. Rosie saw him first. She smiled and lifted the machine from Odalia’s thigh. Her legs were on full display in a short pair of shorts, combined with a pair of fashionable combat boots. Her tank top was plain, but all the better to set off her natural beauty and the ink she wore.
First Taste: A Collection of Hot Alpha Doms Page 18