The following afternoon, he cut a six-foot section from a skein of rope and carried it to her. His long, dexterous fingers displayed the offering.
“Hold this.”
The piece of rope was nothing compared with the look in his eyes. So dark and mysterious, she wanted to float into their depths and discover the man inside. He stood patiently waiting as she finally managed to tear her gaze away and look down at the rope. She felt he was offering a piece of his soul.
Her fingers traveled the braided fibers. The texture mesmerized her and she looked up to see him watching her hands. Without a word, he took one end of the rope and intricately tied it around her upper arm, weaving a pattern down the length until the end rested in her palm. His intimate smile made her clench her thighs together. She wanted, so badly, to reach out and trace the curve of his lips. He seemed to know her thoughts and a low chuckle came from under his breath before he turned and walked away.
Angel forced herself to look away from his backside. She glanced down, and using her opposite fingertips, traced the strands as they wove their delicate pattern on her skin. It was similar to the henna tattoos painted on her hands and feet to ward off evil spirits before her first wedding. A piece of rope—such a small simple thing, but in Nathanial Monroe’s hands it came to life.
When he finished with the design he’d been working on, Mistress Melody took photographs. Master walked over and held out his hand. Angel tentatively placed her fingers in his. He turned her wrist up and slowly removed the rope. Placing the now-coiled length back in her hand, he curled her fingers over the center.
“Bring this with you tomorrow.”
Becoming his model was a continuation of that first piece of rope. He adjusted to her modesty by making their time in the studio private. Removing her clothes was part of his art and her shame floated away as the strictures of rope told a story on her flesh.
The journey to their Master/slave relationship evolved quickly and became as vital to her as breathing. He saw deep into her consciousness and fulfilled needs she didn’t know she had. He bound her tightly and then sexually tortured her. The confines of the rope set her desire free until she experienced the most mind blowing orgasms of her life. Her guilt and shame drifted away with the lull of subspace. The simple touch of rope against her flesh took her to a world where the memories of degradation, suffering, and death had no power over her. Master’s weave healed her soul.
She wanted nothing to invade the peace in their small world, but one afternoon, deep in subspace, Master asked her about Zachary. She knew he was one of Master’s most talented models and also that Master apprenticed him in Shibari. She’d had dreams of him and was worried Master would know she lusted after another man. She’d seen Master’s exhibits of Zachary bound in rope, which didn’t help the dreams. Her thoughts of destroying the only happiness she’d found in years caused her to panic when Master told her he was going away and leaving her in Zachary’s care. It was the first time she rebelled. Master’s disappointment left her feeling insecure and brought up old memories of shame and degradation. He asked for her trust in his decision to leave her in Zachary’s care, but she stubbornly refused.
The night before Sir’s arrival, Master secured her facedown on his bed. She kept her body limp and non-resistant.
“I found you for Zachary. He never forgot about you. He will watch over you while I am away. He may take you to the playroom, and he likes pain mixed with pleasure. The women he enjoys accept this. He will not force you and you will promise me to be truthful to him. I have seen your muscles screaming for release, but you say nothing. I believe you will welcome more pain than I give you. Zachary’s proclivities are different than mine, though no less intense.”
He was breathing deeply now and began placing kisses along her shoulders.
“There are many sexual practices we haven’t explored, and Zachary will take you on a new journey.”
Angel couldn’t see his face, but his words held no jealousy. She refused to agree and Master took the choice away from her. She was so wrong to fear Master’s decisions, because when Zachary entered their world… her love didn’t shift, it blossomed to encompass both men.
She snapped out of her thoughts of the past and focused on the men lying next to her.
She continued to hold Master, but shifted slightly so she could see Sir’s face and give her rebuke. “You should have told me. But he… should not have asked this of you.” The stark shadows beneath his eyes and his haunted look broke her heart. “He’s with us now and I shall speak to you both when he’s completely out of danger. It’s time you stop sheltering me.”
Chapter Twenty
Monroe
Home… Angel, Zachary, Marguerite, and Stephens. He remembered Angel’s fingers resting against his chest and Zachary’s low voice assuring her that everything would be okay. For a short time he didn’t think he’d make it. The anguish of leaving Zachary and Angel again was unbearable and what kept him moving in their direction.
The pain was finally at a bearable level, but the past hours, or maybe days, were a blur. He tested his limbs to see that everything worked.
Dull, throbbing pain, but manageable.
He needed the bathroom first, then food, then… rest. Just the thought of getting up made him want to close his eyes again. But, the pressure on his bladder could no longer be denied. He rolled to his side away from Angel’s warmth and realized he was attached to an IV line.
He attempted to rip out the needle.
A large hand, very un-Angel, grabbed his wrist. “I don’t think so,” Zachary said.
Monroe turned his head and saw Zachary lying next to Angel.
“Then how the hell do you expect me to get to the bathroom?”
“Hmm, foul language and grumpy sickbed behavior all in one sentence… you are human.”
“Obviously you pumped me with enough fluids to sink a ship. I dare say they need to come out and fairly quickly.”
Zachary’s laugh made Monroe’s lips tip up slightly. He had not heard the sound of Zachary’s laughter in much too long.
“I’ll help you to the bathroom, but the line stays in. Stephens will have my hide if it’s removed. Seriously, that man has a stockpile of medical supplies worthy of an Armageddon survivor.”
Monroe felt Zachary rise from the bed and then he was standing next to him with his arm circling around his back.
“Sit up first, find your equilibrium and then we’ll attempt standing.”
Sitting up was not easy, but he managed with Zachary’s help. He turned and looked at Angel, who was sleeping peacefully.
“She wouldn’t sleep, so I asked Stephens for something to help her along. She won’t be happy when she wakes up.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Twenty-four hours. I was beginning to think you might wet the bed.”
His grumbled laugh hurt. “I might if you do not stop talking and get me to the damn bathroom.”
“Up you go.”
Zachary pulled upward and then waited for Monroe to stabilize his footing.
“I’ll carry the bag, but I want your arm around my shoulder. If you need to stop and sit down, we can do that.”
“I will crawl if I must.”
“No crawling yet. You might need to kiss Angel’s feet in apology when you’re feeling better, but I doubt she’ll make you crawl.”
They made it slowly to the bathroom. Monroe dripped sweat while his entire body shook.
“You’re doing this sitting down. I’m not holding your cock… yet.”
Cheerful mood… uninhibited laughter… cock jokes. This was not the Zachary he knew. But, he was right. Standing to do his business was out of the question. The burning in his abdomen was getting worse. Zachary lowered him to the toilet seat and then held him upright while Monroe managed to hold his own cock.
The relief from emptying his bladder gave him added stamina. By shuffling one foot in front of the other, and with Zachary hal
f holding him up, he made it back to the bed.
“I was hungry before my trip around the world, but now I need sleep. If I take even a slight turn for the worse, put a bullet through my head and end my suffering.”
“I’ll bring some broth up in an hour and wake you.”
“Please do not bother waking me for broth. See if you can kill a cow or something. I need red meat.”
He closed his eyes, just talking sucked the energy from his body. He let the sound of Zachary’s laugher lull him into sleep.
***
Zachary
Jokes had never been Monroe’s strong suit, but Zach felt things were going to change on many levels. He added crackers to the tray holding beef broth and iced tea. It was the middle of the night, twenty-four hours after Monroe came back into their lives.
Stephens assured Zach that Angel would sleep until morning. When she woke, Zach planned to bed down in Angel’s old room for a few hours.
He carried the tray back upstairs. Monroe lay curled slightly on his side with Angel tucked in close. Since the bandages needed to be changed, Zach included ibuprofen on the tray to hopefully take the edge off Monroe’s pain before they got started. Zach rested the tray on the end table and took a long look at his friend. His color was better, though there was a gauntness in his cheeks that had never been there before. Overall, though, he looked much better than he had the day before.
Zach rested a hand on Monroe’s shoulder and squeezed. Monroe’s eyes popped open and he looked at the hand touching him and then at Zach.
“You brought broth.”
His voice was so forlorn that Zach laughed. “We were fresh out of killable cows. It’s beef, so you’re halfway there. I have several saltine crackers to add to the mix so you don’t gnaw your fingers off. Let me help you sit up first.”
Zach pushed several pillows behind Monroe’s shoulders and then rested the tray on his lap.
“Say something if you think you’re going to pass out.”
“I think I can manage, though lack of food might make a liar out of me.”
“Eat.”
Monroe’s hand shook as he crumbled the crackers into the bowl and lifted his first spoonful of broth to his mouth. The soup wasn’t hot, but Zach watched more land on Monroe’s chest than between his lips.
“Do not try it.”
Monroe always had the ability to read his mind. Zach resisted the strong urge to force feed the stubborn man. “I’ll get more crackers from the kitchen and bring them up. Maybe you can soak them too and get more into your mouth.”
Zach received the “look” Monroe usually reserved for bratty subs. He was sure Monroe didn’t even know he did it, but an electrical zing went straight to Zach’s cock. He fled the room before the great and powerful rope god knew the effect he was having on him.
When he returned, Monroe was almost nodding off again. “Here, try these and then we’ll give up for now. I need to change your bandages and check for infection.”
“I am achy and weak, but I do not think I am in danger.”
Zach raised his eyebrows; he had his own look he gave naughty subs.
Monroe didn’t say a word, just ate the crackers, took the ibuprofen, and then sank further into the pillows. Zach removed the tray and then lifted the bandages. The bullet wounds had a slight puffy redness around them, but looked much better than they had the day before.
The knife wound was a jagged mess and not a clean puncture or slice. Stephens stitched the wound but it would leave a nasty scar.
“It was a damn kitchen knife.”
Three cuss words in one day was a record. Zach waited for him to continue.
“Uday, the man I was after, went down easy. One of his wives did not.”
The government might have made Monroe a killer, but Monroe drew the line at women and children. Until now.
Zach could see what he thought was a haunted look on Monroe’s face and knew his friend did what he had to do. “How many wives did this Uday character have?”
“He brought three. The other two will spread the word that if I ever see anyone connected to Uday, his entire family—parents, children, and grandchildren—will die.”
“Do you think it will work?”
Monroe met his eyes and Zach realized he misread Monroe’s expression.
“If not, then they will die.” Monroe’s cold deadly intent was clear.
“So be it.” The two men were on the same page. If their family was threatened, they would go to any means to protect them.
Zach put ointment on the wounds and re-bandaged them. Monroe’s eyes closed as soon as Zach finished. He took the tray downstairs, came back, and then crawled into bed beside Angel. Monroe was out of the woods and he needed sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Monroe
The next time he woke up, the world was a little clearer and his pain had ebbed slightly. His stomach growled loudly and Angel’s hand traveled down to where the grumble came from.
“Do not stop there.”
Her hand snatched away and she sat up. Her eyes were so incredibly large and the tear that slipped down wasn’t unexpected.
“No tears.” He reached up and slid his finger over the wet streak.
“You’re in no position to stop me.”
“Ahh, you have become the bratty sub Zachary tells me about.”
“When you’re better, I fear you will be seeing an even brattier sub. I can’t lose you again and I may need to beat you to prove my point.”
“Come here.” He reached out.
“I don’t wish to hurt you.”
“Never.”
He pulled her into his chest, feeling a twinge where the bullet struck his abdomen, but the pain was a small price to pay for having her in his arms. Dipping his head, he inhaled her scent.
Zachary rolled and leaned over Angel’s shoulder. “I’ll hold you still while she beats you.”
Angel’s laughter rumbled against Monroe’s chest.
“I believe our next session with the rope will be rather interesting.”
“We’ll tie you up if we must.” Angel’s words preceded several small kisses.
“Humph.”
He knew they both laughed because it was not a sound he usually made, but he did not care. Having them beside him was what he dreamed about while sludging through river water and then crossing the hot, barren desert. He had not made the pickup point in time and worried, if caught by the Mexican authorities, he would not be home for weeks or even months. Getting home was the only goal in his pain-racked mind. Stephens would patch him up, Marguerite would cook his favorite foods, and Angel would soothe his soul.
Then there was Zachary’s kiss.
***
Angel
A short time later, Marguerite brought scrambled eggs and toast. Master ate each bite like it was the last food on earth. He required assistance to the bathroom and then grumbled loud and long that he couldn’t take a shower or bath. His growls didn’t faze Stephens in the least. Angel barely contained her laugher when the stodgy man offered Master a bed bath. Stephens left the room before Master could get creative in his word usage. She couldn’t hide her smile and actually burst out laughing when Stephens winked at her on his way out.
They were seeing a side of Master that she would swear didn’t exist. The man was completely unflappable at all times. But, here he was in need of care, and he became a typical man, which equated to a horrible patient.
She gave him a bed bath with Zachary threatening to hold Master down if he didn’t behave. The god of rope shot daggers from his eyes while Angel cleaned him from toes to ears. Marguerite provided oatmeal, an old family remedy, that she said removed oil from dirty hair. Angel couldn’t help breaking into a fit of giggles at the look on Master’s face.
He grabbed a large chunk of her hair and brought her slowly toward him.
“You will pay for that at a later time. I will bind you for so long you’ll beg me for a bowl to pee in.”
Her giggles turned to full laughter.
After the bath, Monroe looked exhausted and soon fell asleep. She took her own shower and then ran downstairs and ate a huge lunch. For the first time in two months, she was starving. Sir joined her and then went to take a nap of his own. She’d decide later if she wanted to bring up the fact that he drugged her. She was just too happy for that discussion at the moment.
Angel went back upstairs and looked at the covers Master kicked off. She used just the sheet and covered him before lying down just to be near him.
An hour later, he smoothed hair from her face and gave her a sleepy grin when she opened her eyes.
She frowned. “I’m married to two men.” She watched his smile grow. “I believe the laws of this country deem it illegal.”
“You married him?” he asked without regret or anger.
“I tried.” She made sure the angst she felt sounded clearly in her voice. “There’s the simple fact that even though I didn’t know it, I’m married to you.”
He ignored her chiding. “Your protection came first and the document will disappear from the records exactly as it appeared.” His smile became playful. “Did you need to hit him over the head or did he realize he needed you like he needs air to breathe?”
She looked deep into his liquid brown eyes. “We need you to breathe. Please don’t leave us again.” She pressed further into his warmth, snuggling against his shoulder.
The tender kiss against the top of her head caused her insides to melt.
“We must discuss something important, but sleep seems to come upon me even when I fight it.”
She didn’t lift her head. “If you fall asleep, I will remind you where you left off when you wake.”
Caught By Two Doms (Club El Diablo (Angel's Doms Book 2)) Page 9