Nobody's Hero

by Kallypso Masters

  “If Marc’s family won’t accept me, I’ll have to let him go, because I will not come between them. So I’m scared, because I don’t want lose Marc. We’ve become very close in the past two months, and I really think he’s the one for me, but the thought of being rejected by his family just petrifies me. I’m dreading the thought of spending New Year’s Eve with them.”

  Karla reached out and patted her friend’s back. “Angie, I’m sure they’ll love you, just as much as Marc does. But I think you need to tell him how you feel. Open and honest communication is so important in any relationship.”

  “I know. I really should. And I will.” She looked from Karla to Cassie, as if to convince them, rather than herself. “Soon.”

  Cassie smiled. “Why don’t you put your emotions, the fear and the hurt, into the mask and then toss those emotions and the mask from the circle?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot that part.” Angie smiled and shook her head. “He’s not going to be too happy to see what I did to his club mask” Angie stared down at the mask a few moments more, then flung the mangled mask outside the circle, just as Cassie had tossed away her bottle.

  “Just keep the lines of communication open. I’m sure you’ll be able to work through this anxiety."

  Cassie was so intuitive, so wise. Karla thanked the gods she could count her as a friend.

  “I hope you’re right. I had no idea how worried I was about it. I’ve just tamped it down, because we’re so new to being a couple. I really do love him, but I want the kind of love my parents had—the kind that lasts forever, even beyond death. Anyway, thanks, Cassie. I think this has helped a lot.”

  Angie grinned, and Karla relaxed a bit. She reached over to her and, once again, they were in a three-way group hug.

  When they separated, Karla’s heart began pounding against her chest. She looked down at the tiny Honda motorcycle in her hand, trying not to picture Ian riding on it, the semi crushing him, his mangled body flying through the air to land with a thud against the pavement. Okay, fail. That’s all she could think about.

  “Why’d you have to ride that stupid thing, Ian?” Tears burned her eyes. “You always thought you were invincible. That nothing could pierce your super-human armor.” A tear splashed onto her hand, then rolled off onto the tiny bike. His casket had remained closed at the funeral. She and her parents hadn’t wanted to see the reconstructed face the morticians had tried to make look like her beautiful, handsome brother.

  “Why’d you stop coming to see me at the club those last months? We used to be so close.” She squeezed her eyes shut as pain tore through her stomach. Don’t puke, Kitty. A tear trickled down her cheek, the cold air nearly freezing it against her skin. She held the bike up above her head, shaking it at the heavens. “Why, Ian?” she screamed. “Why did you fucking leave me? Why don’t you ever talk to me, send me messages, communicate with me?” Her voice grew louder with each accusation, but she no longer cared what the neighbors thought. Cassie and Angie disappeared. This was between her and Ian. “How could you leave and not come back? I hate you for dying on me, Ian! Do you hear me? I hate you!”

  She flung the bike so hard it careened over the wrought iron fence at the other end of the deck and fell toward the driveway.

  Chapter Seven

  Adam closed the door of the SUV and ran his fingers through his hair. When was Damián going to be able to rid himself of the images that still plagued him? Fucking PTSD. Tonight the boy had been consumed by memories from that rooftop in Fallujah. Memories of Miller’s crushing weight on his chest, the sergeant’s bloody brains spilling onto him. Adam had gotten him to take a sleeping pill and he’d finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. But how long before…?

  “I hate you for dying on me, Ian! Do you hear me? I hate you!!!”

  Karla? His heart pounded against his chest. Was she in the throes of her own nightmare? It sounded like she was up on the deck. He looked up in time to see a tiny projectile spinning end over end until it banged against his chest and bounced off. He bent down to pick it up. A toy motorcycle?

  Taking the steps to the porch two at a time, he unlocked the back door, raced up the stairs, and ran across the bedroom to the French doors in time to watch Karla’s naked ass as she stepped into the hot tub to join Cassie and Angie. What the fuck?

  Concerned and more than a little confused, he hurried to the doors and opened one to go out on the deck. “Karla, are you all right?”

  She turned, her breasts lit by the shimmering glow of the candles on the edge of the hot tub and the lights inside. She looked like Venus rising from the sea. He refused to look anywhere near her Venus mound and still felt his balls tighten and his dick spring to life.

  “Mast…Adam,” she said, looking down at her friends, then back at him. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”

  “Obviously. What the fuck’s going on?” Why were you screaming like that?

  He took in the candles, smelled burning sage, something one of the men in his unit—a Shoshone—had done as a religious observance on base when he’d wanted to cleanse some thing or some place. He also could swear he could smell the “Oak” body wash Joni’s mom supplied him with every Christmas.

  Karla began shivering, her nipples looking harder and more erect. “Sit down in the damned water, Karla, before you freeze to death.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She sunk into the water, her face appearing shaken and a bit dejected. He noticed the stricken look on Cassie’s face and a glare from Angelina, who then cast a worried glance in Karla’s direction. Angelina’s eyes opened wider. Hell, she’d probably caught onto the submissive responses Karla had given and figured out the two of them had been playing at dominance and submission. Only it was something much worse, actually

  But right now, he was more concerned about her screaming her hatred for her dead brother a few moments ago. Where was the rage and anger now? She seemed almost serene, although still very unhappy.

  “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on? Karla, what’s this all about?” He held the broken toy in the palm of his hand, and she looked down at it as if she’d seen a ghost from the grave.

  “Take that horrible thing away from Kitty!” Cassie glared at him, the most emotion he’d seen on her face in, well, ever. Very protective of her friends, something he admired, but didn’t appreciate at the moment.

  What the fuck were they doing out here?

  Cassie wasn’t finished with him yet, either. “We’re trying to have a cathartic healing. You need to take your negative energy and leave.”

  “I and my negative energy own this deck, this bedroom, this house,” he said, spreading his arms to indicate the entire deck and house. “I’m not the one who needs to leave.”

  A choking sound from Karla brought his attention back to her, only to find her in tears. Fuck. What the hell was wrong? Before he could go to her to comfort her, the other two women were moving to her side, obviously as naked as Karla was, and reaching to put their arms around her. She obviously didn’t need him.

  “Fine. Stay as long as you like. I’ll be down in my office. Karla, when you and your friends are done doing…whatever it is you’re doing…come downstairs. We need to have a talk.”

  Without waiting for a response, respectful or otherwise, he turned to walk back inside and made a beeline to the sanctuary that was his office. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone laying siege there.

  First his bed. Now his deck.

  Women. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand them.

  * * *

  “What’s his problem, Kitty?”

  “What’s with the Master and Sir stuff, Karla? I had no idea you two were…”

  “We just started this morning, well, yesterday morning now, I guess.” Karla looked from Cassie to Angie. “Look, it’s complicated and I’m not supp…ready to discuss it. But I’m so sorry he took out his anger on you two, especially after we’d worked so hard to cleanse ourselves from our neg
ativity.”

  “Don’t apologize for him. He’s responsible for his feelings, not you.”

  But I made him feel that way. She remembered her mother’s words to Ian, when he’d lose his temper. “No one can make you angry, Ian. You choose to become angry.” Well, maybe, but Karla knew she needed to go to him, and she dreaded the confrontation to come. Why had he been so angry for her using his deck and hot tub? Or was something else going on?

  Cassie insisted on finishing this part of the ceremony, but Karla’s thoughts were on the man downstairs, waiting for her. Would he punish her for not asking to use his deck? A tray was passed in front of her and Karla blinked back to the present, reaching down to take one of each of the two items Angie had prepared and ate them, but couldn’t say what they were. Her stomach was in knots worrying about what Master Adam would say and do. Sometime later, she had no idea how long, Cassie stood and blew out the candles. Karla knew the time had come to face the music—the most discordant music she could imagine.

  Karla trudged down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the hallway leading to his office as if she’d been sentenced to the gallows. The drumming of her pulse did nothing to allay her tension. She knocked on his door.

  “Come.”

  She wished he’d been commanding her to come another way, but that wasn’t going to happen this morning. When she walked into the room and saw the look of concern on his face, she thought maybe she’d been wrong. He wasn’t angry anymore?

  “You wanted to see me, Master?”

  At her words, a change came over his face. She almost thought there was reluctance, but he commanded, “Close the door.” She did as instructed and walked toward his desk. “Kneel.” His gaze went to a mat at the side of his enormous desk, and she went there without question, falling to her knees. She kept her back straight, her eyes downcast, and her hands, palm up, on her thighs.

  “Strip.”

  She was still wearing his terrycloth robe, because, oddly enough, her Master’s scent in the fabric had given her some much-needed courage. But she slipped it off her shoulders and let it puddle around her knees and legs at his command.

  “If I don’t want you to look at me, I’ll blindfold you. Eyes on me.”

  Ka-thunk.

  She closed and opened her eyes slowly, drawing a deep breath, then raised her head. Adam still wore his black leathers from their earlier session but had on a white dress shirt, open at the collar and tucked into his pants. Seeing him sitting in his office, she felt a memory of a fantasy stirring inside that surprised her, but she wouldn’t go there. Tonight wasn’t about fulfilling fantasies. Master Adam wouldn’t play when he was angry. She'd seen him stop scenes in the club when he thought a Dom wasn't in control of his anger.

  “Explain yourself.”

  The vulnerability of her naked and subservient position, coupled with having her emotions lying right at the surface from the ritual ceremony with her friends, weren’t a good combination. Tears welled in her eyes and her lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t think you would be home so early.” His brow furrowed, but he waited for her to continue. “Cassie will be leaving today and I thought it was the last chance we’d get to perform the ritual we’d planned to do up on Mount Evans two weeks ago.”

  He relaxed and leaned back in the swivel chair, spreading his legs open. She tried not to look at his tight leathers, but they had some kind of hypnotic effect on her. He had a bulge in his leathers telling her he was turned on. Well, that made one of them.

  “Eyes.” She looked up at him again. “Do you mean to tell me you and Cassie get naked every year and do pagan rituals during your camping trips?”

  She thought she saw him bite the corner of his lip. Was he teasing her? She took another much-needed deep breath, but maintained her rigid posture. “Yes, Sir. It’s a time to release past hurts.”

  He closed his eyes as if in pain and his lips twitched. “Stand up, kitten.” She stood up, naked, raw, and vulnerable. “Put the robe on and come here.” She did as he instructed, her hands shaking. He wasn’t angry anymore? She didn’t want him to be displeased with her.

  He held his arms out to her and she crawled into his lap, tugging the robe tighter around her neck to keep herself warm. She held herself upright and rigid, not sure what he wanted her to do, until his hand on her cheek guided her head to his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, kitten. You scared the fuck out of me when I came home and heard you screaming at Ian. Then, when I found you all in the hot tub, well, I…”

  “Don’t apologize, Sir. I didn’t ask permission to use your hot tub. You were right to be angry.”

  “Fuck that shit. This house is as much yours as it is mine. I wasn’t upset about your using the hot tub. I thought you were…hurt, or hurting.” He stroked her hair, and his voice softened. “I was worried about my little kitten.”

  The dam broke, and a sob tore from her chest at his words. She clutched the front of his shirt and held on tight.

  “Shhhh. I have you.”

  He rocked the chair and held her while she cried, until she began hiccoughing and sniffling. “Tell me about the ceremony.”

  She waited until she had regained some of her composure. “I’m so angry at him, Master. He left me. He left me even before he was killed on that damned motorcycle. Why didn’t he come to see me at the club those last few months? And why doesn’t he come to me now to let me know he’s okay?”

  He continued to rock back and forth in the chair, the motion providing her with some comfort. “I can’t answer those questions, but I know anger is about the toughest part of the grieving process to get through. But you do have to get through it; have to let it go. Having your ceremony will probably help.”

  “Were you angry with Joni?”

  Oh, shit. Why had she brought Joni into their special time together?

  * * *

  Still am.

  Now where had that brainfart come from? She’d been dead and buried for nine years now. What could he possibly still be angry about?

  Then it hit him. He’d expected honesty from Karla. He owed her the same.

  “Yeah. I think she knew her cancer was back when I was home on medical leave earlier in the year she died. She didn’t say anything, so I had no fucking idea. I went back to war not knowing she may not be there when I got out.”

  She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Oh, Master, I’m so sorry. But isn’t a slave supposed to share everything with her Master?”

  “We weren’t in a TPE arrangement then. Those relationships are hard to do long-distance, although lots of people do it on the internet now. Internet access was pretty limited in Kandahar back then. Besides, I couldn’t maintain an intense relationship like that and also keep my focus on the war.” He’d always put war zones ahead of Joni.

  Karla’s fingernail scratched his whiskers, seemingly fascinated by the sound. His dick stirred again. Damn. This wasn’t the time or place.

  “What’s your favorite fantasy, Master?”

  Whoa! Clearly, her thoughts had strayed into similar territory. How could the two of them be so different and still have times like this when they were in sync with each other? “I have a few. Having a beautiful harem girl is one.”

  She giggled, making him grow hard. “What’s so funny?”

  “I think I can…I mean, I can’t really picture you being into the sheikh or sultan thing.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I spent too much time in the Middle East. Not that I saw any harems or would like the responsibility of that many slave women.” God, no. Just having three naked women on his deck had been enough to stop him in his tracks.

  “How about you, kitten? What do you fantasize about?”

  She reached out to stroke the collar of his shirt. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “It can’t be any further out there than mine, can it?”

  “Well, no. It’s boring as fantasies go.”

  “Tell me.”

  She
glanced over at his desk, ignoring the photos of Joni. “I think it would be really hot to have sex on a desk like this.” Her fingers stroking the smooth wooden surface of his desk gave him a raging woody now. “Maybe even to be spanked—” She looked up at him and clarified herself. “Not too hard; just for fun.”

  He chuckled at her stipulations, then caught himself. “Your Master decides how hard and how long, kitten, whether it’s playtime or punishment time.” He felt her grow stiff in his arms. Both of them needed to blow off some steam tonight. That she’d shared the fantasy with him was enough for him to know she needed to experience it. Now.

  “Stand up.”

  She did as he instructed without hesitation, but he noticed the hem of the robe she wore shaking as she stood before him.

  “Strip.”

  Karla let the robe glide down her arms. Her erect nipples, no doubt still sensitive from their nipple-clamp play in the great room last night, called out to him, but he fought the urge to touch them yet. Clearly, she was as turned on as he was. He stood and began removing items from the top of the desk—his laptop, photo frames, desk blotter. No, he’d leave the blotter. Probably part of the fantasy. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up his leather toy bag, where he’d left it last night.

  “Give me your wrists.”

  She held her slender wrists out in front of him, and he cuffed each one before reaching back into the bag to pull out four utilitarian cuffs and an equal number of chains, laying them on the blotter. She flinched. Well, he’d let her think he planned to use the chains on her backside for a bit. A little fear and anticipation would heighten the senses and her responses to what he would be doing to her body. He pulled out two more padded cuffs like the ones on her wrists and worked his way around the desk, bending to attach of the utilitarian ones to each of the legs. When he stood, he noticed Karla’s gaze hadn’t left the chains and her eyes were as wide as saucers.