Becoming His, Learning to Breathe: Part Two - The Collective - Season 1, Episode 8

by Ellie Masters

  “Why do I feel like you’re manipulating me?”

  “Because I am,” she said with a smirk. “We’ll watch for a bit. I’ll learn whatever it is you seem to think I don’t understand about all of this, and then we’ll see what happens next. Maybe I’ll drop to my knees and blow you in front of them.”

  “You’re a mouthy sub.”

  “And you love that about me.”

  “For now,” he said, “but don’t get to used to it.”

  “Never.”

  Derek pulled back the thick drapes, then led her back to the bar. Warren and Karl sat on the stools. Justine knelt beside Karl on the floor, while Ellen had been parked along the wall with the pegs. She flashed a brief smile at Sally, then bowed her head when Derek glanced at her.

  He leaned down and whispered in her ears. “Slaves in parking aren’t to be acknowledged.”

  “That seems so cruel,” she said.

  As they drew closer, her eyes widened, taking in the tattoos on Justine’s naked body. Derek pulled back a stool and gestured for her to take a seat. Instead of sitting, she knelt beside Justine.

  “They look so real,” she said, reaching out to touch. Jerking her hand back, she asked. “Do you mind?”

  Justine glanced up at Karl, likely asking permission to speak. Karl seemed to enjoy taking away her voice. He gave a sharp jerk of his head, and Justine lifted, twisting her back to better expose the tattoos.

  “They’re amazing, aren’t they?” Justine said.

  Sally ran her hand down the smooth expanse of Justine’s back, expecting to dislodge the butterflies perched on her skin. “They look so real,” she said, making another pass with her hand. “It’s freaking my eye. Like I should be able to feel them, or brush them off.”

  Five butterflies, all detailed in vivid colors, had alighted on her back. The shading and contouring of the artwork made them look alive.

  “I’ve seen a lot of tattoos, but this is some of the best work I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a blush. “I had an incredible artist.”

  “It kind of reminds me of some tats I’ve seen recently.” She spared Justine the details of Ally Winters with her skin piercing roses, and John Doe with his scorpion, spider, and machine within the man.

  Karl upended his tumbler of whatever he was drinking and glanced down at Justine. “It took forever to find an artist who had the skill I was looking for.”

  “You commissioned these?”

  Justine flushed. “It was a submission gift,” she said. “I’ve always wanted tattoos.”

  “And I told her no way in hell would I let some jackass with a crayon mark something that was mine.”

  “This is incredible,” Sally said. In fact, she bet there were few people in the country with the skill to pull this off. “Who did it if I may ask.”

  “Oh,” Justine beamed. “It was this really cool place called Motor Quill. The guy is like a savant.”

  “Savant?”

  “Yeah, he’s sweet and all, but weird, too. Like that movie with Dustin Hoffman…about the autistic man who was brilliant. This guy is like that, but with art. He has tons of pictures on his walls.”

  “Why do you say savant?” If this guy was one of the premier artists doing tattoos, he probably knew about other people in his field. Artists tended to gravitate toward one another, sharing secrets or competing with one another. This might be exactly what they needed to identify her John Doe.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t speak much and had a horrible stutter. He seemed kind of simple, but man he does good work.”

  “Do you think I could get his number?” But Justine had mentioned the tattoo parlor’s name. All Sally had to do was pass that information along to Mac who had people to run down leads.

  “Why all the questions?” Karl’s gravelly voice rumbled from above.

  Sally glanced up at him and met his scraggly face. Mirth swirled behind his eyes, along with a sharp intelligence.

  “It’s nothing really,” she said. “Just something that might help at work.”

  “If you’re looking for 3D tattoo artists,” he said, “I kept my list. Searched all over the country for someone with enough skill to mark Justine’s flesh.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  “Anytime Miss Sally,” he said with odd emphasis on her name.

  She glanced at Derek and noticed his frown. Those damn honorifics were hard to remember and didn’t come naturally.

  “Um, thank you, Master Karl,” she amended. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Derek,” she said. “I need my phone.”

  He’d taken her phone and purse from her when they’d arrived, and had handed them off to their driver, Dan. Then Derek had led her around back to the concert.

  Derek gripped her hand. “You want to stay here and watch for a bit, or head up and see more of the concert?”

  What she wanted was for him to take her back to that room and introduce her to the sensual realm of pain, but she squeezed his fingers. “I don’t think I’ll ever have the opportunity to see Angel Fire so up close and personal again. Maybe head upstairs? I need to shoot a text off to Detective Mac.”

  “Come,” he said, drawing her back through the dungeon to the private room. He held the door open while she ducked inside, scrambling to put on her clothes. He came to her, letting the door drift closed and batted her hands out of the way of fastening the buttons to her blouse.

  “You missed one,” he said. He undid the three buttons she’d hastily fastened. Indeed, she’d done them up wrong. “Talk to me, my sweet submissive. What’s going on?”

  “It has to do with one of my cases.”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I worked a case earlier in the week, an addict who overdosed. The problem was that when I looked deeper, she hadn’t OD’d at all. It was a murder, but kind of freaky.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, you heard part of it. It’s the case I was discussing with Mac and Reid in the diner.”

  “I remember,” he said. “There’d been something about cloves.”

  “Yes, and then I got this other case. It’s even stranger. Someone sliced this man open and poured condensed milk into the wound.”

  “What did your detective friends think of that?”

  “Reid is a private investigator. Mac’s the detective.”

  He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “What did they think?” He gave her a look stating this wasn’t the time to mince words.

  “I don’t know.” She vented a frustrated sigh. “I called them Friday night, spoke to Reid. He’s dealing with it.”

  In all the years she’d known the two friends, they’d always picked up on the first, if not second, ring of her phone. This week something had changed. She’d been forced to leave voice messages for both of them, not once but twice now. She didn’t like the change in their routine and hoped it didn’t mean anything bad was happening.

  “The thing is,” she continued, “I was able to identify the girl. You wouldn’t believe the guy who basically marched into my office. Huge-assed dude.” She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Well, I just realized, he has the same name as Ash Dean’s stage name. They’re both Blaze! It’s kind of funny.”

  “How about we circle back around to your work?”

  “Oh, right. Well, I don’t have ID on my John Doe, but he has a 3D tattoo like Justine’s. In fact, Ally Winters, the addict, she had one, too. The tattoo is unusual enough that I’m hoping I can use that to identify the victim on my table.”

  He scrunched up his face. “You leave them out on the table?”

  “Oh, no. It’s just how I think of them. His body is in cold storage. But, I need to get the name of that tat parlor to Mac, along with the rest of Karl’s list. There can’t be that many tattoo artists with that level of skill. I’m really excited. This could be huge for helping with the case.”

  “I�
�m convinced,” Derek said. “Let’s go find where Dan put your stuff.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. As they walked out of the dungeon, he had the phone pressed to his ear. From what she heard of the conversation, he spoke to Dan and told him to bring her things. At the top of the darkened stairs, Dan greeted them with her purse.

  “Thank you, Dan,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, Miss Sally.” He turned to Derek. “Is there anything else you require, Master Derek.”

  Avalanche

  Sally fished her cellphone out of her purse. They were anything but good. One glance at the string of frantic texts and her legs gave out. A strangled cry erupted from her throat.

  “No!”

  Derek reacted to the fear lacing her cry by grabbing her and sheltering her within his arms. “What is it? What’s happened?” He cast about for a threat.

  “Derek!” She held out her trembling hand and showed him the texts from George.

  Derek scanned the texts, then yelled over his shoulder for Dan. “Beta!” he roared. “Get back here now.”

  Between choking sobs, and through a curtain of tears, she reread the panicked texts.

  Avalanche.

  Buried.

  Help!

  Tank free.

  The timestamps showed that George sent the texts over an hour ago, just after she’d arrived at Damien’s house.

  “Who’s Tank?” Derek asked.

  “George’s dog.”

  Derek ran a hand through his hair. “Shit!”

  She slid to the ground, bent her knees, and wrapped her arms around them, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Wait,” he said. “You told me about Tank.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t stop the tears long enough to form words.

  Derek bent down and shook her gently. “Sally, I need you to pull it together.”

  “I can’t! I can’t lose them.”

  “George isn’t lost,” he said. “The dog, Sally. Didn’t you mention the dog was being trained?”

  “Y-yes,” she said, “in search and rescue, an avy dog.”

  “Avy?”

  “Avalanche search and rescue. They use them at the ski resorts in Tahoe.”

  Dan trotted up. “Yes, Master Derek.”

  “I need you to prep the helicopter, and get search and rescue on the phone.” He turned back to her. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “I-I do, but it’s not going to help,” she mumbled. “He sent me a text.” Pointing to the phone, she asked him to scroll through the messages. “He was heli-skiing in the backcountry and wanted to work on Tank’s training.” She swiped at her cheeks. “It’s useless; he could be anywhere.”

  Her friend was buried, or dead. She tried to remember how long someone buried in an avalanche could live. It wasn’t so much they would freeze to death. Snow was a great insulator. It would depend on how big of an air pocket he’d been buried beneath. George would suffocate! Deep wrenching sobs burst from her body. Shaking cries laced the air as she howled for her best friend.

  “We’ll find him,” Derek promised. “We’ll find him.”

  “How?” She managed one word from beneath her blubbering cries.

  “He said Tank got loose?”

  “Yes.” But Tank could have been buried, too. Avalanches roared down mountainsides at insane speeds.

  “Do you know if George has Tank wearing a GPS collar?”

  “He does, but I don’t know how to track it.”

  “Don’t worry; we happen to have an expert nearby.”

  Karl ambled up the stairs from the dungeon, his eyes widening when he saw her curled up in near fetal position next to the wall. “What the hell is going on?”

  Derek glanced up, relief evident in his eyes. “Go outside. Grab Forest. Tell him I need him now.”

  “On it.” Karl turned to Justine. “Hun, why don’t you stay with Sally. I think she needs a friend.”

  Over the next few minutes, more people gathered. Warren brought Ellen up from the dungeon, and like Karl, parked his slave beside her. She was bracketed by Ellen and Justine, who held her hands and let her lean on them for support. Derek barked orders to an ever-growing stream of people, organizing their efforts.

  Despite her fear, she couldn’t help but admire the way he took charge. Derek had an indomitable will. When he wanted something done, it got done, and he had no problem giving orders.

  Dan returned and notified him the helicopter would be ready for flight within the hour. Forest stomped in, and after a few rushed words with Derek, he crouched before her, asking questions about George, Tank, and the kind of gear George used. He retreated to one of the nearby couches and balanced a tablet on his knee while holding a phone to his ear.

  Karl’s thick Texan drawl carried across the room. From his conversation, she deduced he was on the phone with search and rescue in the mountains. Warren was on the phone, too, talking to the heli-ski company which had dropped George and Tank in the backcountry earlier that day.

  Dan returned. “Helicopter is ready, Sir. The pilot just arrived and said he can go in ten minutes.”

  Derek scooped her up in his arms. “We’re going to find him,” he promised.

  He carried her outside. Behind the mansion, the concert remained in full swing. Angel Fire had taken the stage again, and Blaze’s amazing vocals belted out one of their older hits. The crowd watched the stage with as much fascination as the helipad. A massive helicopter, a Falcon 7x by what was printed on the side, waited for them. Derek put her in one of the spacious seats. The thing was huge with seating for ten, plus the pilot.

  Forest joined them, climbing into one of the seats. He fastened his harness like an old pro, then went back to work on whatever was on that tablet. Karl and Warren joined them but left Justine and Ellen on the ground. Dan trotted up, his arms overladen with thick jackets.

  “Master Derek,” he called out. “Wait!”

  Derek leaned over and helped her fasten her seat harness, then turned back to Dan. “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” Dan said as he passed out heavy coats to everyone on board. He even had a women’s coat to lend her.

  “Dan, thank you.” It hadn’t even occurred to her to think of a coat. Down in the valley, temperatures were in the mid-seventies. Up in Tahoe, it would be below freezing. At altitude, where George might be, it would be decidedly colder.

  Forest reached above his head and pulled down a set of headphones. He pointed above her head. “Put them on. It’s easier to hear.”

  Karl and Warren each grabbed a set, then Derek helped to settle hers on her head and adjust it for comfort. The blades outside spun up, and Derek shut the outer doors.

  He spoke into a microphone attached to the headset. “All in,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir,” a voice responded, presumably the pilot’s.

  Warren spoke next. “Got the GPS location where your friend was dropped off, Miss Sally. The company is sending a chopper to see if they can locate where an avalanche might have happened. Hopefully, by the time we get there, we’ll have a location.”

  Thank you, she mouthed. Her throat was too thick with fear to say anything else.

  Derek got Forest’s attention and made some kind of sign. Her headset remained quiet, but clearly, the two of them were involved in some conversation.

  After they had taken off, she tugged on Derek’s sleeve. She’d been speaking, but no one responded. After tapping the headset, he clicked a dial on his. “What’s up, love?”

  “How long until we get there?”

  “It takes an hour to fly from Napa to Tahoe. We’ll be there soon.”

  Soon seemed to take hours, but the rolling hills of Napa and the flatter plains of Sacramento eventually gave way to snow dusted roads. As they climbed, the snow grew thicker on the ground, until the entire landscape was covered in white. Derek grabbed her knee, providing support, while she nibbled on her fingernails.

 
Finally, they did land, although Derek asked her to stay inside the heated cabin of the helicopter. Forest remained inside with her, tapping on his tablet.

  Derek was a large man, broad-shouldered and well-muscled. He towered over her when they stood together, but Forest Summers was something else entirely, a Viking-god of a man. She understood what people said. Women swooned in his presence, while mothers sheltered their kids. But, from the soft smiles he tossed at her, she was beginning to understand this mountain of a man was really a gentle beast.

  He noticed her staring and looked up from his work. Like Derek had done, he turned a dial on his headset. When he spoke, his deep voice boomed in her ears. “I almost have it,” he said.

  “Have what?”

  “The signal to your dog’s chip.”

  “What?” Excitement flooded in her veins. “You can do that?”

  He lifted the tablet and turned the screen to face her. Lines of code filled the screen.

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “It means we’re going to find your friend.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Looks like your boyfriend is back.”

  Derek opened the doors, allowing a gust of frigid air to rush inside. Sally clutched at the borrowed coat, burrowing into it for warmth. He gestured for her to follow him. It took a couple of seconds, but she figured out the latches of the harness. Then she put on the coat but forgot to take off the headset. When she tried to get up, the headset yanked her back down. Forest glanced up, a smile curving his lips. Derek said nothing, and simply offered his assistance to free her. Headset off, she climbed out of the helicopter and stayed close to Derek, hugging him for warmth.

  “Look,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the helicopter. “The company your friend hired has found the avalanche site. We have search and rescue on the way there as well. I want you to stay here in the hangar while we fly out and meet them.”

  She pulled up short. “No.”

  “Don’t argue with me,” he asserted. “It may not be safe, and I’m not going to risk you.”

  “Listen,” she said, “you’re amazing…”