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

by Ellie Masters

  Bruce

  Bruce lay in a pool of blood. It had thickened and turned to jelly, congealing on the table. That alone told her it had been some time since he’d died. He’d been stretched out, legs straight and arms crossed over his body in gentle repose. Except there was nothing gentle about the way he’d been killed. With his eyes still open, the fear of his final moments was etched into his soul.

  He’d been tied down, his throat slit, and had clearly tried to fight. Her office looked like a scene out of a slaughterhouse. The once scarlet blood had oozed down his neck, flowed across the table, and dripped into a pool on the linoleum floor. There it had blackened as it dried. The blood on the table had soaked into his light cotton clothing, moving upward in a garish display. As his life drained out of him in a river of red, his skin took on the pallor of a corpse.

  The room reeked of fear and the thick coppery tang of blood. And on the far wall, words written in Bruce’s blood, made her skin crawl.

  We all fall down.

  Every day, blood coated her sterile gloves. Sometimes a drop would catch on the apron draped over her scrubs. She’d long lost the revulsion which came from its smell. It was so ubiquitous that it was no more significant than the undertone of bleach that was ever present.

  But this?

  She collapsed at the doorway and cried out. Derek lifted her into his arms, steadying her on her feet. There she wobbled on unsteady legs and fought against a wave of nausea. Suddenly, she bent over double, retching.

  Her instincts kicked in. The need to maintain the sterility of a crime scene had her backing out of the room. Turning, she ran to the locker room where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the nearest trash bin.

  She was followed by Derek, who helped hold her long hair out of the way. With her fingers gripping the rim of the trash bin tightly, she gagged against the acidic burn in her throat.

  “Come,” Derek said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He led her over to the row of sinks where she splashed water on her face and used her hand to cup water. She gargled, spit, then gave a shaky smile when Derek held out a towel.

  “I’m sure this isn’t how you saw this weekend going down,” she said.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against a porcelain sink. “Certainly, I had other activities in mind, but this is life. Speaking of, we need to call this in.”

  “The guys are going to be pissed.” She pat dried her face, looking at the hollowness of her expression in the mirror. First George and now Bruce? “They aren’t going to be permitted to leave until the crime investigators arrive. Let me call Mac and see what he can do.”

  “We need to make sure we’re safe, first.”

  “Safe?”

  “Sally, your coworker is dead on a table, and it looks somewhat fresh. I’ve checked out this room, but we don’t know that the killer isn’t still here.”

  It never crossed her mind to think the killer was still lurking about. “What do you want to do?”

  “You call your detective friend. Let me text Warren and tell him what’s going on.”

  “They can’t come in,” she said. “This is now an active crime scene. Better for them to stay outside. I’m sure they’ll want to head back to The Cellar, and they’re going to have to give statements.”

  “I sense a long night.”

  Her hands shook as she called Mac.

  “Mac.” She toggled the speaker so Derek could listen in.

  “Hey, Sally. Glad you called, I was getting ready to hit you up. I have a body coming in. Who’s on tonight?”

  She tried to firm up her voice, but like her body, it shook with fear. “I-I don’t know. I can look at the schedule, but I’ve got a body, too. Bruce is dead.”

  “Come again? Where are you? Are you safe?” His rapid-fire questions had her jumping.

  “I don’t know. I think so. I’m in the locker room at work. Derek is with me, but we haven’t looked.”

  “Stay put. Don’t leave that room until I get there. Understand me?”

  “O-okay. I have some friends outside. They’re in the very large helicopter taking up the parking lot. Should they stay? They haven’t been inside.”

  “Either you or Derek call them and tell them to leave immediately. Lock the door and do not leave that room. No matter what you hear. When it’s clear, I’ll personally come and get you.” Mac paused. “I don’t suppose Derek is armed, is he?”

  “I have no idea. We’ll do that,” she said, glancing at Derek who had been listening to every word. “I’m really scared.”

  “You and Derek sit tight. I’m already on my way. Fifteen minutes out.”

  “Thanks, Mac.” She ended the call, then asked Derek, “Are you armed?”

  “Sadly no, although this is one of the few times I wish I were. Dan acts as my driver and bodyguard. He’s armed, not me.”

  “Oh.” She scrunched her forehead. “I don’t really understand that relationship.”

  “My driver?”

  “Yes. You called him Beta. I’m assuming he’s the Beta on Master D’s blog, which makes him a submissive. Kind of an extreme one from what I read on Dominant Desires.”

  “Dan is my employee. He and Damien met through me. There’s nothing more there.”

  “He calls you Master Derek.”

  “When surrounded by my close friends he does. Damien is out of town at the moment, but he’s a twenty-four seven player. Dan is never allowed outside of his role as Damien’s slave. Part of that is proper reference to the other Masters in our circle, or Sir in public.”

  Her shoulder blades itched. Outside that door, Bruce lay dead on her table. The killer may or may not still be in the small building, although she was pretty certain that wasn’t the case. Nevertheless, it felt odd to be discussing the finer details of Derek’s unconventional lifestyle when she should be in there doing her job.

  “How long have we been here,” she asked suddenly.

  “Ten or fifteen minutes. Why?”

  “Once Mac gets here with his team, I’ll need to get to work on establishing a timeline and cause of death.”

  “I’m pretty certain cause of death is clear.”

  “I’ve learned to never assume anything.”

  “Mac asked who was on. Shouldn’t you call them in for this case.”

  “I should, but this is Bruce. He deserves…well, he deserves a little dignity.”

  “You’re a special person.”

  What she was, was in shock. Her insides quivered, and her hands still shook, but she focused on the job ahead, a job which would involve cutting open her friend.

  “What I don’t get is why he’s here at all,” she said. “When he left on Friday, he was itching to leave. Had this big family ski trip planned for the slopes.”

  A loud banging shook the hinges of the locker room door. Derek had secured the lock right after they’d entered. The sound made her jump. Derek motioned for her to move to the back of the room.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Mac,” a voice called out. “Derek? Is Sally with you?”

  “Yes,” she said from the back of the room.

  “Is it all clear?” Derek asked.

  “It is, open the door. I need to speak with Sally.”

  When Derek opened the door, Sally took in her dear friend. As usual, he had a pad of paper out. “Didn’t see a helicopter. I’m guessing your friends decided to leave?”

  “They never came inside,” Derek said, “but I’ll shoot you their contact info if you need it.”

  “Good.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “Now, tell me exactly what you did from the moment you entered the front door.”

  Thoughts of the security camera in the front lobby had her blushing, but it had only been a kiss. She told Mac everything that happened, how they’d found Bruce’s body, all the horrible details.

  “I need to get in there,” she said. “Scott Greyson is the M.E. on duty tonight, but I want to work Bruce’s case.”


  “That’s up to you. The crew is in there now. I know you know your way around a crime scene, but before you go, I need you to look around and see if anything is out of place or missing.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  She stepped up, slightly behind Derek, and reached for Derek’s hand, needing his moral support. One of the things she worked hard on was in humanizing the people who wound up on her table. It was too easy to see them as stiffs, but to say she didn’t keep some emotional distance would be incorrect. They were the dead. People with stories to tell. On her table, they spilled the secrets of their death. Now, the dead person would be Bruce, a man she’d spoken with little more than twenty-four hours ago. He had a wife. Kids. Bruce had plans for his life. Now, those no longer mattered. He was a body.

  Like all the others, she would find out who killed him.

  “Give us a moment.” Derek’s hard voice had Mac heading through the door. He gripped her arms, squeezing lightly, then stooped down. “You don’t have to do this. You can call in Doctor Greyson.”

  She adored the way he touched her, not with his hands, but with the force of his heart. His concern penetrated deep, sinking into her soul. For the first time, in a very long time, she didn’t have to face tragedy alone.

  When her husband died, George tried to help her grieve, but she’d pushed him away. Her friend supported from a distance, while her life essentially stopped, going on an endless cycle of eat, work, sleep, repeat. Derek didn’t allow her to withdraw.

  Not once had he left her side. Throughout this harrowing day, moving from one catastrophe to another, his solid presence soothed her fears, calmed the racing of her heart and, when she should have been suffocating with fear, he kept her breathing.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot. Bruce deserves it, but if you think I need to step back…”

  He brushed his lips over hers, a soft, loving touch which demanded nothing. “If I thought you shouldn’t do this, I would make it an order from Dom to sub. You’ve given me that control and I won’t hesitate to use it. The world is intruding on what we’re becoming, but even in tragedy, our connection binds us.” He swept his hand toward the door. “This is your life. I just wanted to make sure this is what you wanted to do. It’s not going to be easy.”

  She flung her hands around his neck and held on tight as he pulled her close. Their bodies melded seamlessly together, not in an embrace of passion, but in the tender connection between lovers.

  “Thank you.”

  As far as Derek’s statement about the exam not being easy, he was spot on with that. Mac refused to allow Derek into her exam room, stating he might contaminate crucial evidence, but she knew exactly how to step, what not to touch, and had done this dance thousands of times.

  Mac’s team swarmed around the building, inside and out, looking for anything which might lead them to the killer. The security feed was no use. Bruce had badged in from the back door, or the killer had used Bruce’s access card. Either way, they didn’t have cameras out back. She felt for a pulse and made the official pronouncement of death. Then, she pulled out her gear and went to work.

  Liver temps confirmed death had occurred in the past four to six hours. She took pictures of the body, adding to those of the crime scene investigators. They would take theirs back to the lab, whereas she would use hers for her report. After checking his eyes, she lowered his lids with a reverent touch and said a prayer.

  Her head-to-toe exam began at his scalp and progressed as far as the slit in his neck. A boggy orange substance oozed out from the cut.

  “What the hell?”

  Mac wandered close. “What do you have?”

  She grabbed her instruments and pulled back the edges of the wound. Whoever had killed Bruce did so with a sharp blade. The edges were nearly as exact as if he’d used a scalpel, but it was what was inside which stole her breath. Reaching in, she scooped out a lump of what looked to be pumpkin mix. She dug more out, this time coming up with a woody stick.

  Her stomach dropped.

  “Do you know what that is?” Mac asked.

  “No, but I have a guess. The gooey stuff is pumpkin, the stuff used to make pies, and this looks like a cinnamon stick.” The substance went into a specimen bag. “Whoever did this sliced open Bruce’s throat, waited for the blood to stop, and then shoved this into the wound.”

  “How do you know that?” Derek’s low rumble entered the conversation. He leaned against one of the swinging doors, holding it open, standing as close to the crime scene as Mac would allow.

  She pointed to a smear at the upper edge of the cut. “The blood swipes in, not out.” Straightening, she worked out the kinks in her back. Then she leveled Mac with a stare. “I’ve got cloves, condensed milk, and now pumpkin and cinnamon? Mac, this is Hannibal Lecter-creepy. What is it with dead bodies and food?”

  Mac shook his head. “I’m calling this in.”

  “I’m taking some time off,” she pronounced. “This has me scared, and I don’t want to be anywhere near here until you have some answers.”

  Home

  The night stretched into graveyard hours. Derek hovered for some time, but then he excused himself, moving off to give his official statement. When she finally completed her exam, she gave the preliminary results to Mac’s team.

  Derek waited for her in the front lobby and pulled her into his embrace. One touch was all it took. It had always been that way with him. Electricity hummed across her skin, the chemistry between them vibrated the air. Exhaustion pulled at her. Over the past few hours, she’d blocked out her emotions. In his arms, she broke down, clutching at him, and sobbing.

  “Shh,” he soothed. “It’s time to head home.”

  Outside, a sleek town car waited. No doubt Dan was at the helm.

  She wiped her tears and sighed. “I’d like that.”

  He escorted her outside. Mac’s team remained inside, still collecting evidence. Mac had said he had a body, but her office would be closed until the scene was cleared. She’d called Greyson in, and he dealt with Mac’s homicide victim, transferring it to their sister jurisdiction.

  She didn’t even ask where Derek was taking her. Her home was close, and she had no idea where he lived. She’d only ever been on his yacht. When they stopped, she was surprised.

  “I didn’t think you’d take me here.” Her house looked dark and lonely.

  “I hope it’s okay,” he said.

  She gave a nod. “It is. Are you going to stay?”

  “I’d like to. If it’s okay?”

  “You know you don’t have to ask.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Being your Dom doesn’t mean steamrolling through your life. I’m well aware of the memories in that home. I want to be respectful of your past.”

  “You are an amazing man, Derek LeMark.” She reached out and cupped his strong jaw. The roughness of his five o’clock shadow had moved way past stubble with the coming of midnight. Any other person wouldn’t have been as loving and astute.

  She hadn’t dated in the five long years since Thomas’ death. Other than George, no man had even been in her home since then. Now, she would be welcoming another man into the bed she’d once shared with Thomas. Derek was telling her, without saying it outright, that he wouldn’t push.

  She didn’t have to explain any of this to him. He’d already considered all the angles, but, for her, it was time to welcome Derek into every piece of her life.

  “I don’t want to sleep alone,” she said.

  “Good.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Neither do I.”

  While Dan drove away, she welcomed Derek into her home. It wasn’t a big house, but she gave him the tour, passing by the kitchen, living room, and two empty bedrooms before finally arriving at her bedroom.

  “If you don’t mind, I need to freshen up.”

  “Of course.” He placed a finger on her comforter and made a slow circuit of the bed. “Which side is yours?”

  There was a magic t
o his voice, it wrapped around her and pulled her with seduction, making her higher brain functions shut down. From there, it was all animalistic urges, passion so intense and intoxicating it became a drug, and her escape from reality. She needed that now.

  “Whichever side you don’t take, Sir.” Her use of the honorific brought an arch to his brow and tilted his smile upward.

  “Hurry up, sub.” He shooed her toward the bathroom. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  When she returned, he was already in bed. Not on the right side, or the left side, but laying squarely in the middle of the bed. He had the covers flipped back and patted the small patch of bed beside him.

  “Come here, my love.”

  She snuggled in beside him, loving his warmth.

  “You forgot to turn off the light,” he said with a low growl.

  Crawling out of bed, she turned the lights out, then returned to wrap her arms around his chest.

  “Now, sleep,” he ordered.

  “Sleep? I thought…”

  “It’s been an exhausting day. You need rest.”

  “Okay.” While a little disappointed he didn’t want more, fatigue pulled at her body and stripped her mind of the ability to think. Curled around his body, she let the day’s events flow through her mind, tucking them away where she would deal with them later.

  When she awoke, morning sun filtered through the room. Derek had her snuggled into the crook of his arm but was wide awake reading a book on his phone.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Morning beautiful. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “You could have woken me anytime.”

  “True, but then I would have missed watching you sleep. You’re beautiful when you’re vulnerable.”

  She breathed in his scent, closing her eyes with the desire for more. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, and their bodies melded with the intimacy of lovers. His hand tangled in her hair, and she loved how he let it tumble between his fingers before grasping another handful to let it fall all over again. His stare caught her breath, roving from her eyes, to her cheekbones, where it settled at her lips. That’s when he put the phone down, and the kissing began.