“It’s her journal, Nicolai.” Julianne’s eyes were entranced as her fingertips ran over the pages with trembling reverence. Inside the book were letters, dried flowers and many old photographs. “Where did you get this?” she asked breathless.
“That doesn’t matter,” Genevieve said a bit too quickly. “What matters is that you have it now. I hope after you’ve had time to go through it, you will understand the unique beauty of Lianne and possibly of yourself.”
Perhaps it was his distrust of conformity, but now something seemed off. Genevieve’s eyes met his briefly before she lowered her gaze. When she spoke again, the voice was artfully composed.
“This journal tells a story, Julianne. A love story. One that you should know.” She paused with a heavy breath. “It’s the story of Lianne, Gilles and Xavier Talbot.”
The words hit him like a battering ram. “What!”
Julianne jumped in her seat at the outburst. He’d scared her so he reached for her hand, but kept his eyes locked on Genevieve.
“They were lovers before Julianne was born and…”
Nicolai cut her off. “Pardon me, Sister, but why would you,” he gave a pointed look to the cross around her neck, “ever share something like that with Julianne?”
“This is Julianne’s past. She deserves to know it,” Genevieve replied in the haughty voice he’d expected initially.
“No. It’s Lianne’s past,” he corrected in a stern voice, his Dom voice.
Genevieve’s chin rose. “I do not judge.”
“Bullshit,” he snapped to a stand and got right in her face.
The Sister began wiping her hands over her grey frock. “Of course I have reservations about Julianne being exposed to this lifestyle, but it seems necessary at this point. Wouldn’t you say so, monsieur?” Accusation simmered in her words, but her confidence was badly shaken.
“How dare you show up here…” The words were eclipsed as understanding filtered through his shock. It wasn’t judgment he saw in Genevieve’s face. Contrition marked her expression at telling Julianne about her mother’s sexual history.
So why is she? “How did you get Lianne’s journal?”
“It’s time I go.”
The Sister was flustered, trying to avoid his eyes as she struggled with the weight of her…guilt.
His body blocked her retreat. “Who sent you here?”
“Nicolai, stop it.” Julianne hurried to Genevieve’s side.
The tension threatened to snap his jaw as he glued his lips together. Julianne cannot hear the answer to that question.
“I’ve tried to do my best for you, Julianne, because I loved Lianne.” Genevieve’s voice broke. “And I love her daughter too. Very much.”
Nicolai couldn’t speak past the foreboding storm gathering in his mind. Julianne threw her arms around Genevieve and looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
If he was right, he just might.
*****
“Tell me you didn’t know,” Nicolai barked into the phone without bothering to mask the fury in his voice.
He’d never been so disrespectful with his mentor. The formal protocols of the Order didn’t allow it.
“Hello, Nicolai,” Darion answered with an unspoken warning in his voice.
He ignored it. “Damn it, Darion. Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“That you didn’t fucking know that Xavier, Giroux and Julianne’s mother were lovers.”
“I knew,” Darion replied, offering nothing more.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” he snapped.
Darion’s reply was mild, but chastising. “I told you I would attempt to discover Xavier’s connection to Julianne and I did. I didn’t tell you what I learned because this situation involves Xavier Talbot or have you forgotten that? While I’ve discovered facts about Julianne’s past, facts don’t tell me what I need to know. I know nothing of Xavier’s feelings about those facts. Until I do, I could not risk you being harmed.”
“Harmed?” Shock rose in his voice. “I thought everything was alright when you told me Xavier changed his mind about Julianne and the Order and now you’re telling me he might harm her!”
“As I said, I don’t know what Xavier’s intentions are. Until I do, I will not eliminate any possibility.”
“Jesus, Darion. You should have told me.” There was no masking his shaken faith.
“Had I believed that was best, I would have, but your muse inspires passions that make reasonable men unreasonable.” The uncharacteristic softness in Darion’s voice said he counted himself as one of those men, but the next words were sharp. “We cannot afford unchecked emotion when dealing with Xavier. How did you find out about the affair?”
Darion was right. A wrong move with Xavier could be lethal. Nicolai set his anger aside and focused on figuring out the ramifications of what he’d just learned. “Julianne’s godmother gave her Lianne’s journal. I suspect someone put her up to it and I’m guessing it wasn’t you.”
“No, but I did speak to Genevieve. Does the journal say anything about the break up?”
“It ends while everyone was still living happily ever after. So this is why Xavier hates Gilles. Because of the affair.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“But why would a nun reveal a mother’s ménage to her daughter? That makes no sense.”
“As you said, perhaps someone encouraged her.”
“By encourage, you mean threaten.” A sick feeling sank in his gut. “And by someone, you mean Xavier.”
Darion continued with his usual calm formality and Nicolai was grateful for it. Without that anchor, he would fly apart. “The Sister implied that it was Gilles who ended the affair and I will say that I am not comforted to know Julianne’s father separated Xavier from the woman he loved.”
“Xavier wants revenge?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence stretched between them as Nicolai tried to get control over his emotions. He didn’t know what to think or do next. All he could do was put his trust in the man he respected most and ask, “What do we do now?”
He did not get an answer he wanted.
“The Bacchanal is coming up and Xavier has requested Julianne’s presence at the Grand Ball.”
The Bacchanal was an annual weekend of lavish parties in Monaco. It was the only time the entire membership of the Order came together. Xavier hosted the Grand Ball at his mansion and the extravaganza made even a royal affair look common in comparison.
“If that depraved motherfucker has his eye on my woman, I’m not walking her right into his clutches.”
“It would be unwise to deny him, Nicolai. Once I observe Xavier’s reaction to Julianne, I will know better how to proceed.”
“I respect your opinion, Darion, but…”
“Listen to me, Nico. Xavier is playing some kind of game. He’s been tracking Julianne for months through a private investigator. I don’t know why, but we have to find out. Hiding won’t accomplish anything and we cannot show our hand. Please, give me your trust in this and allow me to handle Xavier in my own way. I give you my vow that that no harm will come to you or Julianne. I will die before I let that happen.”
For the first time, Nicolai heard fear in Darion’s voice and it silenced his arguments. Everything inside wanted to refuse Darion’s advice, but Darion did not hyperbolize. If he said he would die to protect Julianne, he would, and if he said they had to face Xavier at the Grand Ball, they did.
His hands shook as the full horror of the situation hit him. He was no fool. Not after the extremes he’d witnessed in his lifetime. Rules didn’t apply to men like Alexi Stavros and Xavier Talbot. They did as they damn well pleased. Nothing was beyond their reach and no one had power over them. If Xavier meant to harm Julianne, Darion was the only hope for a happy ending.
“Alright, Darion. We’ll do this your way.”
*****
Julianne studied her reflection.
Who is the w
oman staring back?
Her mother’s journal lay behind her, discarded on the floor of her boudoir, surrounded by photographs and mementos of a secret life. Julianne had been told all her life that she was “just like” Lianne. But the woman exposed in the journal was so childlike.
Am I really her?
Everything she learned about Lianne made her desperate to reexamine herself, but it felt as if she was looking through the frosted glass in Nicolai’s studio. Nothing was clear. It was as if she had floated through her life in a haze. Like a child. A child she didn’t want to be.
She reached behind her head and began to braid her hair. Her fingers moved swiftly, following a familiar pattern. Doubt twisted her mind like the hands in her hair, tighter and tighter.
Was her sexuality her own? Did she really want to join the Order? Hollow eyes scanned the extravagant items filling the boudoir. Or was she still a poor little rich girl locked in a gilded cage?
Julianne wanted to scream, but never would. Instead, she lifted the belt in her hand.
Nicolai’s voice rang over the sound of leather slapping against skin. “Stop! What the hell are you doing?”
“Leave me alone, Nicolai.”
“No. I will not let you hurt yourself like this.” He grabbed her wrist and jerked the belt out of her hand. Some emotion, not fury, but something damn close, reeked out of every pore. “How can you do this to yourself? Why didn’t you talk to me?” He looked horrified. “Damn it. After everything we’ve been through, why can’t you turn to me?”
Impotent rage consumed her, making her callous to Nicolai’s pain. She looked at him with cold eyes. “I hurt you. I want you to hurt me.”
“Honestly, at this moment, I want to.” He threw the belt across the room. “But I won’t. I’m angry and upset. This is not the time to hand me a whip.”
“Please, Nicolai. I need this,” she begged. “I have to know the answer.”
The sudden desperation in her voice snapped him out of his emotion. “The answer.” He turned careful eyes on her. “The answer to what?"
“Whether I am who I am or just the reflection of my mother and father,” she wailed, the pressure inside boiling over.
“You’re not thinking straight. What you’re saying is wrong…”
“Is it? Why am I a painter? Why am I your lover? Is there anything about me that is my own or am I just what my father made me? Who am I, Nicolai?”
As the perilous question sprang from her lips, she saw the fear in him rise. She wasn’t the only one who needed that answer.
“Alright, Julianne,” he uttered with resignation.
Her heart sank. Nicolai rarely called her by her given name. He did now because he didn’t know whether she was his anymore. Well, we'll both find out soon enough. Stepping down, she moved to the wall and pressed her chest against it.
His hands came to her shoulders. “I love you with all that I am. If this is what you need, I will give it to you. But not like this.”
Nicolai guided her back to the platform in front of the mirror. The pain etched on his face showed that what she asked gave no pleasure. Doing this was costing him.
“I’m not your father. You are not your mother. This experience is about us,” he said, his fingers skimming over her waist to meet the tail of her braid. He began to loosen the hair. “You have such beautiful hair. It flows like silk through my fingers. I never want to see it plaited like this again.”
Draping the strands over her shoulders, he kissed her exposed back. “Kneel on the floor and place your hands on the step. Arms straight. Keep your eyes on me while I do this.”
When she knelt, the angle of her body was such that her full length was reflected. Nicolai turned away to retrieve the belt and she watched him in the mirror. His movements were smooth and unhurried as he shed his jacket and tie, laid them over the ottoman and rolled up his sleeves. When he turned back, his bearing changed. He seemed to stalk toward her and she recognized the stance of a Dom. Colder. More distant. More intimidating.
“Spread your legs,” he said sharply.
His gaze absorbed her as if she was a work of art for him to admire. Fingertips ran down the slim column of her spine as if she was an object for him to possess. The look in his eyes and the way he placed his hands affirmed his dominance. Her vulnerability to him stabbed through her, a hard, tight thrust that tightened her body.
“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful,” he whispered.
Drawing a deep breath, he circled behind her and stared, his entire concentration on her back. With a practiced flick of the wrist, he snapped the belt against the carpet near her knees, testing it.
The anticipation rose.
He raised his arm. The strap arced over his head and landed with vicious precision on her skin, the harsh crack resonating in the small room. The first strike was always the hardest, but this pain was shocking, so much more intense than what she was used to. Nicolai hit her harder than she’d ever been hit before.
She struggled to keep silent, gulping for air. The second lash ripped a guttural moan from her throat. At the third, she dropped her head between her arms onto the step to hide the unwelcomed tears.
“No, baby, head up. I want it to see it all.”
She lifted her head and looked into the mirror. Nicolai’s eyes locked on hers, but gave nothing away. He was breathtakingly beautiful, yet beneath the exquisite exterior, she recognized a man whose passions drove him to dark extremes. A man who delighted in his dominant nature, but who, until yesterday, held so much of himself back.
Nicolai wasn’t holding anything back now. Months together and this was their beginning.
How far will he take me? How far will I let him?
Nicolai raised the belt in his hand and paused, the question plain in his eyes. Do you want me to stop or do you want me to take you where only I can?
What do I want?
She remembered the spanking. How she thought it was painful when it was actually a faint approximation of this pain. But then came the ecstasy of giving herself over to Darion. How much more invigorating would that rush be with Nicolai?
“I’m ready to go with you.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling his relief, and let everything flow free.
The belt cut into her flesh again…but this time, it felt different.
Mesmerized, she watched the graceful swing of Nicolai’s arm, rising above her and falling. Again and again. Concentration and carnal lust played on his face as her body writhed with each kiss of his whip. Her hair fell around her face. Tears streamed over her cheeks. Sweat coated her skin. And the fire of tormented passion burned in her eyes.
Panting breaths became explosive gasps as Nicolai painted red stripes across her back. Pain pulsed along each one and sent echoes of arousal spiraling through her.
“Let go, baby. Scream for me.” His voice was low, rough around the edges. He was pushing her now, daring her.
Nicolai’s whole body flowed into the next strike, forcing her to give what she held back with brutal force. The potency of the lash pulled something latent from her depths. A voracious, savage sound that shook her whole body rose up. For the first time in her life, she opened her mouth and screamed.
Freedom.
Her body strained in agony, even as she arched her back, waiting, wanting another bite of the belt. Wanting another taste of Nicolai’s freedom.
Part of her was shocked that she could respond this way, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She couldn’t stop her screams. And she could never deny what she felt. She reached for the pain, reveled in its dark pleasure. Each touch of leather to her skin heightened the blooming arousal and left her greedy, hungry for more. Each loud, tortured cry released another bind on the woman locked inside of her. The woman only Nicolai could set free.
They were beautiful together. Two people lost to the intoxicating rhythm of this erotic dance, moving in perfect synchronicity. One unable to dance without the other.
She threw h
er head back as her screams became moans, the proud moans of a woman who enjoyed this dark submission. As the next lash fell, she let the pain and pleasure combine to drag a sound of pure, unabashed ecstasy from her lips. She looked into Nicolai’s eyes as her entire body flowed through the next wave of their dance.
When the belt landed again, there was no pain.
Nicolai dropped to his knees. Something inside seemed to rip apart at the seams to reveal the primal animal beneath the supremely civilized facade. He strained for breath, his broad chest rising and falling, as he surrendered to his own dark need.
My wolf.
He wrapped the strap around her neck, tugging her onto hands and knees, and reached between her legs. A ravenous growl rumbled through him when he felt the thick cream coating her folds. She spread her legs wider and rubbed against his hand, inviting him to take her completely. He pumped his fingers deep into her and she released another wild scream for him.
A hand pressed her head to the floor, leaving her backside high in the air, and the strap uncoiled from around her neck. The whip began to dance again, moving up and down, marking the back of her thighs. The blows were slower, more sensual, building a steady heat in her skin.
She moaned into the carpet. It isn’t enough. I need more. So much more.
“Please, Nicolai. Take me there. Set me free.” Her voice was hoarse and desperate as she teetered on the edge of agonized excitement.
He reached over her bottom and spread the soaking lips of her sex. The leather tapped her clit in quick, steady snaps. Sharp darts of ecstasy shot into her, feeding her passion until he worked her into a heated frenzy. An enormous orgasm filled her, every cell yearning for release, but she held back, waiting, refusing to fly apart without his command.
The torment was exquisite.
“S'il vous plait, Maître.” The words slipped through her lips before she could stop them and panic replaced ecstasy.
Nicolai paused, then answered with words that reached right into her soul, “Your Master will always take care of you. Always give what you need. I love you, Beauty mine. Come for me.”
One final, biting kiss of the belt was all it took and she came.
Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) Page 29