I glare at him as he closes the gap, slowly. A leap of faith, she said. It’s a leap we’ll take together, nothing to stop us in our adventures. We’ll take it and bed ourselves in, fucking until blood runs dry and screams go silent.
“This is done,” snarls out of me, at all of them. “She’s mine.”
I turn and reach for her cuffs, one arm wrapped around her without thought as I undo them. She’s going home, where she can rest, and then we’ll see how much of a fucking leap she wants to take. She’s my little toy to play with. Mine.
“No it’s not. You don’t get to walk out of here without their agreement,” Delaney replies, inching in closer to me. I steal a glance passed him, continuing to scowl at anything that dares move in my direction. Fucking purists, all of them concerned with welfare and decency. Not one of them knows how it feels in those final few seconds, and all of them want to. I can see it now in their eyes as they watch me, wishing they felt what I feel. “Take the other option if you have to, Blaine, but she’s not leaving here with you alone. You should know how this works for men like you.”
“Fuck you, Delaney.”
He snatches at my hands out of nowhere, knocking them away from the cuffs and me away from her. It jolts me in front of all these others, enough so that the three pairs of hands that grab me get purchase on my arms before I can fight them off.
“Coward,” he snaps, anger reflecting back at me. He lifts her, as I fight their hold, and turns to walk away. “You’re right, you don’t fucking deserve her.”
My feet halt their struggle, unable to move as my three try to reconcile the words and watch him carry her towards the cleansing room. Don’t deserve her. He’s right. We don’t. Never have done regardless of my feelings. We taint and taunt, amusing ourselves with toys to endure us. We ravage, no care to the skin that takes the beating. A frown comes at the thoughts, internal battles of love and lust raging with each other, tearing me apart at the images and thoughts occupying space in our mind. Monsters and magicians fucking with me again, winding me up and not letting me find any sense in all this.
“Why are you so baffled by this?” Lazeros asks, wandering over and interfering with my view of Alana’s limp body moving away. “You knew this would come once you found someone. You need it. Your type always do.” I’ve got nothing to answer him with other than frustration and fists that would rage hell if I could get free. Fucking purists and restrictive laws. All they do is slow the process, kerb it’s advance with their rules and traditions. I struggle against the hands holding me back, my monster rampant to get to her, my magician spinning furiously to find a way out. “You know you need the guidance and control, Blaine. It’s what you found us for, what you’ve helped us teach to others.”
I scowl at him, still too lost in my internal battles to deal with conversation. Discussion screams of reflection and consideration, attributes I achieve because of Eloise, not because of nature’s intent. And now, with her, I don’t want to consider any longer. I want to live and breathe again, let nature take its course without limitation.
“You can’t hide from us, Blaine. We won’t let you. The professor must be taught.”
I arch a brow at him, waiting for more wisdom to spout forth as I stare at the door Delaney’s gone into. He doesn’t give any. He does nothing but wait for my acknowledgement that he’s correct. He’s not getting it. Nothing is keeping me from breathing again. She’s my toy. My release. Fucking instruction be damned. I know what we need, and it lies in her hands. There is nothing else in my mind than getting to her and making that happen, without him or these fuckers still holding me fast.
“Tell them to let me go, Lazeros,” I mutter, trying to snag my arms away and still looking at where my little dove has gone. He doesn’t, which only riles me further and sends any hope I had of containing my fury spiralling.
Fucking reprobates, all of them.
My weight snatches and pulls until I gain leverage on one of them, hand wildly slamming out to break the other’s hold too. We spin in tandem, the world blurring by as I focus in on threat, my monster thanking me for the chance and reaching to break anything it can. Shouting and bawling, clawing for release in another way. It’s over before it begins, two of them on the floor by my feet and the first clutching his face for fear of it falling off his damned head.
I brush the arms of my shirt down, growling at one of them as it attempts to stand, and then looking to Lazeros to prove my point. I’m in control of this. Not him. Not them. And not anyone else who dares try to influence my stars. They’re mine to find. Mine to wander through and revel in, with her beside me for each further step forward.
Eventfully he sighs, as I start towards the room, then blocks me of my path towards her.
“You should trust us, Blaine. You want that below your feet, don’t you?” he asks. I glance down at the composure his sub offers, regardless of the volatility that just happened beside her. Brown hair, glassy eyes, her skin as reddened as I’ve seen my little dove’s on occasion. “You won’t get it without us. You’ll lose her without the control you need. Or kill her.”
The slow creep of my eyes back to his tells tales I’m not sure if he knows or not, but the tilt of his head tells me he knows something about what I am. Time watching me, maybe. In tune with his own sadism is more likely the cause. He’s one of the only others that’s taken that second option available, and the only one who would dare have this conversation with me.
“You might not want the rules, Blaine, but you do want her. She needs them from you, no matter how much you crave the lack of them.”
He walks off, barely any other acknowledgement to our exchange than that, and a gruff expression that tells me if I don’t conform my interlude in their world will be finished. I stare at the sub again, taking in her form and considering the implication of full control. It would minimise my destructive tendencies, make me accountable, her safe because of it potentially.
I could have that with Alana if I asked her for it. She’d give that if I pushed enough. She’s followed me here. Shown she’s willing, eager even for completion, regardless of my complications to her health. The thought of her walking away from the grave comes into mind, her ass swinging as she wandered calmly, not bothered by the bones she crossed on the way. And she crawled in here, not for me, but for her. She felt that need and embraced it, just as she did when I looked at these cuffs that still dangle in my eye-line.
“I love you.” The words murmur from me. I should have said them as she stood on that grave, should have offered them as she kissed the slab. I could have fucked her there, too, made new memories to think of the next time I visited.
“Sir?” I look down and find the sub wide eyed, her lips parted, questioning.
“Not you.” Her.
I drift my eyes over to the door again, trying to work out what changed in me as the others approached her. Jealousy perhaps. Possessiveness. Protection. Confusion. Or all of the above, cut with my own sins to trounce feelings and hopes. Leave them behind us so I could forget the decency I’ve aimed for with her. Lazeros is right. Without them to keep her safe, she has little hope of survival beneath me. My mind spun of its own accord, as it wants to do, ready to do its bidding with little respect to rules and obligations of trust. She frees me in that way, sets us open to possibilities and endless nights of passion.
“Go back to Lazeros, tell him he’s right,” I mutter at the sub, still intent on that door Alana hovers behind, waiting for me to come for her. “Apologize for me, and tell him I’ll take that second option.” If I haven’t just ruined any chance I had of getting it.
It seems to take hours for me to cross the space between us, effort labouring my steps as I stare into the activities around. Fucking rules. All this time spent teaching them, and yet now I baulk against their constraint, regardless of their necessity. But I’ll do it for her. I’ll do it for my stars and the horizon she’ll bring eventually, if I can make her give it all.
I push on t
he door only to find it’s locked.
“Delaney?” I shout, finally pushing the door. There’s no answer. “Open the door.” Nothing still. Nothing but the rumble of the club around me which is back in full swing, my interlude seemingly forgotten about. “Delaney?” Still nothing. I stare at the handle, wondering if I can break in.
“Why?” his voice echoes back through the wood, barely audible. I’m not answering that. I don’t have a fucking thing to prove to him.
The sudden sight of the door opening and his sanctimonious expression standing there infuriates me, making me step in to him to get to her. He holds up one finger and steps forward into me before I’ve got any further.
“Think about what you’re about to say. She’s battered, raw, and confused.” He snarls at me, a look of disgust etched into his features. It backs me off, never having seen such a sense of aversion from him before. “And from what I can see, you’ve offered her nothing but fucking confusion all this time.” Frustration forms in the pit of my stomach, veiled by him and his opinion of me. Fucking idiot. He has no right to an opinion of me. “Hesitance gets neither of you anywhere. You go all in, or you don’t fucking go at all.”
I stare, unable to make a response worthy of air time, and the growl that leaves my throat could well be heard by the entire club. To hear this from him is tantamount to being ridiculed by a teacher for misdemeanours.
“Why are you even here?” eventually snaps out of me. This place is nothing to do with him.
“I knew you’d come sooner or later,” he replies, smiling at my quietened tone. “I’m connected to upstairs.” He flicks his head upwards, presumably to God. “I’ve got powers.” Dick.
My eyes snake the room as my hands find a place on my forehead to soothe the sound of her screams echoing there, monsters calling me to decimate without this restriction I’m considering. Nothing but other couples carry on around the space reminding me of their rules. Fucking, howling. Dark corners, even darker thoughts. Love’s heated gaze, levelled at eyes below and above. They resonate so well, the taste of her blood joining the party to highlight the shiver that rides me. All my voices merging into one, enjoying her, needing her.
It’s so uncomplicated for them all, a sense of right or wrong drawn from safewords and fragrant displays of affection. Flowers, no doubt. The romantic mingling with the sinful. I snort manically, wondering if the flowers really mean so much when they come from hands like mine. I don’t care for them, nor do they offer any resemblance to the beauty of her skin in my fingers, fingers that still long to touch her even now.
“Move, Delaney.” I’m not looking at him, I’m watching another man whip his toy, her back arched as the strike lands, her face a picture of hell mixed with heaven’s call. “Move before I make you move.” My tongue strokes my bottom lip as I stare at the landing surface, hearing the yelp and willing the guy on harder, faster. That could have been Alana there now, her flesh enhanced by more stripes, her groans coming for others to listen to.
“Why?”
“Because she’s not your concern,” I snarl, my body spinning slowly to look at him, dismissing the other show. “She’s mine.” All mine. My responsibility. My obligation. My heart. My love. My sense of all this around me now. “Stop protecting what isn’t yours to defend.”
He nods as I turn, but it’s barely laced with agreement. More offered out of deferential respect for position and honour. It forces another snarl of aggravated impatience, my respect for his own position coming forth because of his ability to gain leverage on my emotions. I’d fucking kill him otherwise for blocking me.
“The man who crawled the floor for broken pottery is who she needs, Blaine,” he says, taking two steps away from the door he shields. I snatch a glance at the slight opening again, looking for her to no avail. “It’s who you need, too.”
“Just move.”
He stares for a while, not moving a damn inch as he watches me watching him, apparently still in a mind to protect what isn’t his. He’ll get two more fucking minutes before this turns into something that leaves all rationale behind. The guy might have a handle on his emotions, might even be superior in some ways, but this is becoming tedious to me. Which, while fascinating in my magicians mind, isn’t helping Alana understand her worth to me.
Eventually, rather than argue further in silence, he moves. A small sidestep, one that has Tabitha coming out of the depths of darkness to stand at his side. She leans in, his arm naturally draping around her waist as she watches me intently and waits. Love, it seems, comes in many forms, honest or not. Whatever they have, though, is nothing compared to the need that poisons my blood as I stand here hoping for absolution in new arms.
My hand is on the door before I’ve realised I’ve gotten to it, the cool metal heavy against my palm as I push gently and give one last glance at the man who saved my sanity from ruination. She’s the first thing I see, a blanket around her bare shoulders, her purple tipped hair hanging over her face to hide its beauty from me. She doesn’t move, nor look at me. She just stares at the floor, her leg hanging from the sofa she perches on.
There’s a few moments of silence, the only sound I’m interested in coming softly from her mouth, and then she sighs as her finger twitches the blanket around her.
“I don’t even know why you want me,” she mutters, still sheltering her face behind tendrils laden with sweat. “I’m utterly lost here.” I stare, transfixed by her form looking so small and fragile in this room. “Why, Blaine?”
Her words sound betrayed and desolate, as if she feels pointless in this idea of love. She’s far from pointless. She’s everything I need, warped with necessities I shouldn’t want.
I sigh and take a step towards her, wanting nothing more than to show her how much care I do have for her, but she flinches, her body moving away from me into the sofa. It’s a fear, or reaction, I despise instantly. It settles deep inside me, tearing a line through my magician’s amusement.
“You shouldn’t be scared of me, Alana. Not now.” She scoffs a little, hushed noises coming from behind the mask of blonde masses, but the sound of the tears isn’t lost from me. They scream over the quiet sense of composure she’s trying to achieve, making me long for her in my arms again. I stand firm, giving her some space to acclimatise to me again, hoping that offers her the respect she deserves. “It’s me that should be scared of you.” She sniffs a little, her hand gingerly coming to her face behind her hair, her body still unmoving. “I am scared of you.” Her leg pulls up, tightening her into a ball, no other reaction than that. “Do you understand why?” She bounces her head, a slight nod. It’s not enough confirmation for me, not enough for me to know she understands the entirety of this thing she’s entering. “No you don’t.”
“Is it fucking surprising I know nothing about your feelings?” she snaps, hair bobbing with the ferocity of her tone. There’s my brat.
I supress the smile that wants to come as I finally see those blue eyes glare at me, choosing to remind her of temper tantrums at another time. For now, she has carte blanche to be how she chooses to be, ask anything of me. Now I’ll answer. Now, and because of her coming here and offering everything she has left to give, she can have it all.
I move towards the door and close it quietly to drown out the exterior noise, flicking the lock as it clicks to. I don’t want anything to interfere with this conversation. No other thoughts to digest. No other person to determine our needs from each other. This the one thing I have to offer her now. The only way being with me will ever work for us. Lazeros is right. It’s her only hope.
She blanches again as I walk back and sit, her legs still curled up beneath her as if protecting her heart. I’m not surprised as I cross my legs, lean back, and keep watching, opening up my body to her. It’s hers if she wants it. Fuck it. There’s nowhere to hide anymore, nothing to keep from her. If she accepts what she already knows, and then accepts the terms of what we’re going to need, then we move forward. Otherwise coffee and
weekly chats it is, all the time intermitted with me scanning her road, watching her building, protecting the fucking ground she walks on and wishing I was a better man than I am. Or a simpler one.
“Ask what you need to,” I murmur, reaching for a glass of water on the table beside me. “Ask anything, I’ll talk and tell you.”
She narrows her stare, a slight sneer creeping up her lip. That doesn’t surprise me either given how hard she’s become to take me, even if it is that softness of hers I crave.
“Why do you want me?” The fucking question falls from her lips again, not one part of her eyes removing themselves from mine. I gaze back at them, part entranced with their hold on a soul I never thought could be breeched. She’s flawless, especially given this state she’s in. The bruises, the marks, the smell of her cunt lingering in the air, the taste of her in my mouth even though she hasn’t been in it tonight.
I sip some water, remembering that image of her beneath my sea, then the fear associated with her drowning before we’d even got a chance to start this corruption. Corruption, that’s what this is. I chuckle, my eyes flicking to those inked up fingers, the memory of them dragging on my skin almost enough for me to call this talking off so I can fuck the breath from her.
“I don’t want you, Alana.” Her eyes widen, her mouth parting as a puff of air comes from them. Horror etches in next as I caress my own mouth, waiting to see which version of her erupts first. Nothing else moves as she stares back, just the tremble of her lips and the matching quiver in her hair. Tenacity it is, then. Those damned eyes of hers, asking all the questions of my heart. It moves me in ways I’ve never imagined, just as she always manages to now I’ve let her in. Soft fingers on me, that fucking smile of hers, the giggles, the sense of her on my fucking chest as we sleep.
“What?” she says, eventually, her words failing other than that. I smile at her, wishing she was closer so I could run my finger over those blackened streaks running from her eyes, lick them away and hold them inside me rather than have her bear them any longer. That’s all this needs to be for completion. A lock and key, a collar buckled and worn with pride so she can breathe eternally in my care offering her skin as my reward.
The End Page 31