Nobody's Hero

by Kallypso Masters

  “Ow!” Her gasp of pain surprised him, because he knew how much she could take by now and wasn’t anywhere near her limit. He released her tit and searched her face for answers.

  “I’m sorry, Master. They’re just more sensitive than usual tonight.”

  She’d probably have screamed if he’d put her in the nipple clamps tonight. He chuckled. The night was still young. He did so enjoy hearing her screams of passion that followed those of pain. No doubt her screams would be of both varieties before this night was over.

  He bent again and took her other nipple between his teeth, eliciting the same response. Her erotic dancing must have stimulated her, as well, preparing her for his mouth and touch. He’d have to get her to dance for him on a regular basis now, in private, as well. His own little harem girl.

  Even though he’d managed to ignore them during the height of Karla’s dance, the murmurs of several club members reached him now. He tuned them out and focused once more on Karla.

  “Your dancing turned me on, kitten.”

  She smiled like a woman who knew her power. “I can tell, Master.” She squirmed against his dick.

  “There’s nothing I want more right now than to take you to the Arabian Nights theme room and have you feed me grapes then have you, well, eat something else.”

  Her pupils dilated and he knew she was ready to leave the public area, too. But when he reached out to span her waist and lift her off him, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Wait, Master.”

  Why didn’t she just call him Sir again? Must be the harem slave girl role-play she was in. Well, if she wanted to role-play, he’d give her that. “What is it, my sexy little slave girl?” She nibbled on her lower lip and closed her eyes. He placed a knuckle under her chin and she opened her eyes as he tilted her head back. “What’s wrong, kitten. Tell me.”

  Her clear blue eyes met his gaze and she swallowed hard. “I want to be your slave girl again.”

  He hoped she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. He reached up to rub the scar at the back of his neck. “I very much want you to be my slave girl tonight, kitten. The whole harem fantasy is one of my favorites and you have pleased me by…”

  She reached out and placed a finger against his lips to shut him up. Not proper behavior for a slave or a sub, but he wanted to know what was troubling her and let it slide.

  “Not just tonight. I want to go back to the Master/slave arrangement we tried before. I promise I’ll do better this t—”

  “No, kitten.” If he’d slapped her, he wouldn’t have elicited a more shocked expression on her face. Her lips quivered as she fought to control her emotions. She needed to hear his reasons. Had he even explained the reason it wasn’t right when he called off their TPE arrangement before? He’d talked more about his regret for giving her that asinine command to get home from Cassie’s with only a thirty-minute window to spare. Then they’d dealt with the subdrop issue. Maybe if he focused this time on why a Master/slave wasn’t right for her.

  “I didn’t like seeing your personality change when you were my slave. It’s not a healthy BDSM choice for either of us. While I would enjoy having you as my slave girl on a short-term basis, in fantasy role-playing like tonight, I don’t want a twenty-four/seven slave ever again.”

  The look she gave him seemed to accusing him of lying. Where had that come from? He’d never lie to a sub. She ought to know that by now. “What was that thought?”

  She looked down at his vest. “Nothing, Mast…Sir.”

  She seemed disappointed calling him Sir again. Damn it, he needed to know what was going on in that beautiful mind of hers. “Whether you’re my slave or my sub, you answer a direct question. Now, tell me what you were thinking.” Eyes downcast, she opened her mouth to speak.” He needed to read what was going on here.

  “Eyes on me.”

  * * *

  Karla bit down on her lip again until she tasted iron. She took a deep breath and raised her gaze to meet his cold, angry stare. At this moment, he wasn’t pleased with her and the thought brought more unwanted tears to her eyes. She was failing so miserably.

  “Kitten, what’s going on?”

  “I need to be your slave, Sir.”

  “Why?”

  Because you love your slaves more, Sir. “Because…I need to please you.”

  “You’ve already pleased me—by being my sub.”

  “That’s not enough, Sir. I need to please you—on a deeper level.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”

  She took a deep, ragged breath. “Because I love you, Sir.” Oh, dear Lord. She’d said the words, not that they should come as any surprise to him by now. She’d never made any secret of her love. But somehow equating love with becoming his slave seemed so strange. When his expression became guarded, she knew there would be no similar words coming from his lips.

  Something inside her died.

  Karla couldn’t throw herself at him any longer. His penis no longer throbbed against her clit either. She had his answer. “I’m sorry if my love makes you uncomfortable, Sir.” She choked on a sob she could no longer suppress. What was with the fucking waterworks?

  “Karla, you’re a wonderful sub and I’d be honored to be your Dom, but there can’t be anything more than that. I hope you can understand…”

  “Yes, Sir. Permission to return to my room, Sir. I don’t think I can perform tonight.” She hoped he knew she wasn’t referring to singing. She saw hurt and regret in his eyes, then he looked down at her bare breasts and she understood the regret. At least he still wanted her for sex. But that just wasn’t enough for her anymore.

  “Permission granted.” He reached beside him and handed her the bra. “Cover yourself first.”

  She fumbled with the straps, but was obstructed by her damned tears.

  “Here, let me.” He took the bra from her trembling hands. “Hold your arms in front of you.” Apparently, he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough so he was going to dress her now. More fucking tears spilled down her cheeks. She hated to appear needy in front of him.

  With the pads of his thumbs, he brushed the tears aside and tilted her head until she met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Karla.”

  Call me kitten, Sir. Just one more time.

  But she knew she was no longer his kitten. All she could be to him was the singer in his club, a friend with benefits, and a sub he enjoyed playing with from time to time. None of which was enough for her anymore.

  She braced her hands on his shoulders and eased off his lap. Before she reached her room, she’d made her decision. Time to go home to Chicago. After making a couple phone calls, she pulled her suitcase from the closet and began emptying the drawers and closet, taking only what she’d brought with her. She realized how little she owned. He’d chosen everything she wore, and paid for it personally. Adam owned everything. God, he owned almost everything in here. So why couldn’t he accept her as his slave, too?

  She’d sold her soul to win Adam’s love the past couple months, and it had all been for nothing. She could never give him what he wanted and needed—his perfect slave, Joni, the woman who still owned him, body and soul.

  * * *

  Marc’s vintage Porsche was parked in his spot. He was supposed to be working today.

  Adam pulled the truck into the driveway behind the rental Karla used. He’d be glad when he had time to go vehicle shopping to replace the totaled SUV. First, though, he needed to check online safety reports to find the safest vehicle possible for her. If Karla had another accident, he didn’t want her to be hurt like she had been in the last one—or worse.

  Getting Karla her own car would give her more freedom. Her growing dependence on him was worrisome. This wasn’t the Karla he’d known a few months ago. Maybe he needed to talk with her about pursuing her recording career again. She’d been so anxious for that as a teenager that she’d even run away from home at sixteen. With her voice and her songwriting abilities, she could record CDs, MP3s, or whatev
er way music was being recorded these days, and market them online. Did Goth singers go on music tours? The thought of her singing in other clubs or in bars didn’t appeal to him, though.

  But having her own source of income other than what she made singing at the Masters at Arms Club would boost her confidence, too. He thought she’d bounced back to her old self again until last night in the club when she’d begged to go back to being his slave.

  Last night, he’d realized how much he’d inhibited her by controlling so much of her life. Hell, he’d thought she’d been happy to be rid of that damned arrangement when he’d safeworded and put an end to it. Okay, so he could have used a little more tact when he refused to go back down that road. Had he sounded like he was rejecting her, not just the Master/slave lifestyle? He hadn’t intended that. But what the fuck was going on in her head?

  She said she loved you, jarhead.

  Adam turned to stare at the passenger window, half expecting to find Joni sitting beside him. She’d called him jarhead the few times she chose to challenge his authority. He heard her voice now just as plain as if he were listening to one of her tapes. Was he losing it?

  Adam picked up the hardware store bag from the seat and heard the rattle of chains. While he very much looked forward to restraining her to his bed with them, he sure as hell didn’t want her to complicate things by trying to put chains on him. Why’d she have to bring love into the relationship? Not going to happen.

  He sighed. He’d have another talk with her today. She’d stayed holed up in her bedroom this morning, so he hadn’t been able to say anything about what had happened last night in the club. Something was going on inside her head and he needed to find out what it was.

  Exiting the truck, he walked toward the porch humming Under My Thumb. If she wanted to play the slave, he certainly could accommodate her fantasies, right up to chaining her to the chair in his office while he worked on the books, with her dressed in her harem-girl costume. He might need to buy more chains, but he wouldn’t live with her in that lifestyle twenty-four/seven.

  He walked into the kitchen to find Marc leaning against the counter. Alone.

  “Where’s Angelina?” It was unusual to find one without the other these days.

  “The airport.”

  “Where’s she going?”

  “Nowhere, asshole.”

  What the fuck? Marc’s foul mood registered for the first time. He’d never talked to him that way before. Shit, the man was pissed. What the hell had Adam done? “Come again?”

  “What the fuck are you doing letting that woman go?”

  “Angelina?”

  “No, god damn it. Karla. Keep up with this conversation.”

  Karla? Gone? “What the fuck are you talking about? She was in her room when I left this morning.”

  “Probably packing. So, she didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what? I just went to the hardware store, for Christ’s sake. Hell, I haven’t been gone ninety minutes.” He’d decided this morning he needed to outfit his bed for bondage scenes with Karla, rather than having to take her to the club bedrooms or theme rooms to play. He wanted to have her closer to him. Why would she leave?

  “She called Angelina last night and told her she was leaving today. She had more stuff than we could get into my Porsche, so Luke came over with the Land Rover. They’ve been gone about forty-five minutes.”

  “Why didn’t you text me?”

  “I did.”

  Fuck. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and saw he hadn’t turned it on this morning. Adam sank into a chair at the table, at a loss for words. She’d left him? She hadn’t even said goodbye? He’d thought she needed to sleep in this morning, but was she avoiding him instead so she could sneak off like this? She’d fucking left him? Why?

  “You’re a damned fool, Adam.”

  He glared up at Marc, who seemed to think her leaving was his fault. What had he done? Was this all because he couldn’t tell her he loved her last night?

  “How you haven’t been able to see all these months how much that woman loves you is beyond me. She fucking wore her heart on her sleeve. Even sang her feelings out to you on club nights, and you just walked around with your head up your ass. When the cougar attacked you, I had to pull her off the cat because she was trying to wrestle it away from you.”

  “Karla attacked the cat?”

  “Hell, yeah. Had it by the tail and wasn’t going to let go until I finally pulled her off so Damián could take care of it.”

  Shit. He had no idea she’d been in so much danger. Why hadn’t she stayed put like he’d told her? Why had she risked her life for him?

  Because she loves you, jarhead.

  Okay, Joni’s voice was starting to mess with his head. He shouldn’t have listened to the rest of those tapes last night when he hadn’t been able to sleep. Only she hadn’t called him a jarhead in any of them.

  “When you were lying in that hospital bed unconscious for three days, the only time she left your side was when we forced her to go eat. She didn’t want to leave you for a minute.”

  Adam had no idea she’d done that. No wonder she'd had dark circles under her eyes and had lost weight. He was a fucking dickwad with his head up his ass.

  Still, it was one thing saying that to himself. But being chewed out by a subordinate didn’t sit well with him. As Marc’s former master sergeant, Adam was more used to delivering a reaming out, not receiving it. Especially one he didn’t even deserve. If he’d done something to hurt Karla and send her running, he might think differently, but things had been going pretty well between them since her accident. Until last night. He thought they’d put that Master/slave crap behind them and moved on to something so much better. So, what was she doing wanting to revert to being a slave?

  What was she doing trying to get him to love her?

  “What are you so afraid of, Adam?”

  Adam met Marc’s gaze head on. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “You’ve been running scared since she got here. Why?”

  Adam didn’t need to answer to a corpsman. Whoa. They weren’t in the military anymore. Marc was his partner and friend now. Much as it irked him, he also had to admit the younger man was dead to rights, too. Adam had been on the run from her. But all that had changed after that night he’d taken her virginity. At first, it had only strengthened his need to be responsible for protecting her—from him. But when he’d tried to push her away, he’d only managed to pull her closer, until he’d nearly lost her in that accident out of stupidity.

  That night changed everything, he realized. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want anyone else to be his sub. He didn’t want anyone else—period.

  So what the fuck happened last night? What made her think he’d want to crush her lively spirit and make her his slave when their relationship had been so much more enjoyable with her as his sub, albeit a bratty one? At least she wasn’t predictable and dull, the way his life had been before she came back into it this past summer.

  Adam felt a hand slap the back of his head, bringing him back to the present. He looked up to find Marc glaring down at him. “I asked why you’re running, Adam.”

  When Adam glared back, Marc backed off. “Sorry, sir. But you asked me the same thing not too long ago. Remember?” Marc glanced down at the table. “You got me to wake up before I’d totally screwed the pooch with Angelina. It’s taken me a while to regain her trust after lying to her. Shit, from some things she said the other night, sounds like I still have work to do in that area.” He looked up again and Adam could see the pain in his eyes. “If I’d listened to you and ‘fessed up sooner, I wouldn’t have hurt her like that. She’s more than I deserve, but at least she gave me another chance.”

  “It’s nothing like that with Karla and me.” Adam had never lied to her. Not that he knew of anyway.

  “No, but you’re running just as scared and as fast as I was. I didn’t know Joni, but I know how much you l
oved her.”

  Adam looked down at his hands, unable to make eye contact with Marc. “I didn’t love her the way I should have. I’ve never been able to love anyone.” It just wasn’t in him.

  “Bullshit.” He watched Marc raise his hand as if to head slap him again before catching himself. “Adam, you may not get all mushy about it, but the way you protect and take care of those you love is as clear as the scars on your back. Not just women, but everyone around you. Look at this bunch of misfits you rescued in Iraq and took under your wing when you took a notion to start this club. Hell, Damián probably wouldn’t have survived the week after his discharge from rehab. I’d probably be sitting behind a desk at my family’s ski resort working up to my first heart attack. Even Grant’s found a haven here from whatever she’s running from.”

  Adam realized he probably needed to have a talk with her. Grant had shown up last winter full of anger about something and filled with secrets. He’d let Marc stew about his women problems damn near a year before talking with him. He didn’t know if Grant had man problems, or something else, but maybe he shouldn’t wait so long with her.

  Shit, he and his co-owners sure were a fucked-up mess when it came to relationships, though, so chances were Grant was too. But he looked out for them as any master sergeant would. Just like he continued to help take care of Garcia and Miller’s families. Marines looked out after each other. Didn’t mean anything more.

  Marc sat down at the table. “You’re more family to me than my own, Adam.”

  “Don’t turn this into a sappy coffee commercial. We all bonded on the battlefield. That’s what Marines do.”

  “Adam, you took Karla in, too, when she was hurting and lost. Maybe you didn’t intend for anything romantic to come of it, but I’ve seen you two together. She’s so fucking right for you and you know it. How can you just let the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time walk out your door?”