Tempting Calm Waters_A Blood Brothers Standalone_Book 2

by Samantha Wolfe

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Quote

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Wild Blood Exerpt

  Thanks for reading

  Books by Samantha Wolfe

  About the Author

  Tempting

  Calm Waters

  A Blood Brothers Standalone

  Book 2

  By

  Samantha Wolfe

  Copyright © year 2018

  All rights reserved.

  Falling in love is not rational. It's madness. A beautiful, wonderful moment of magnificent insanity.

  -- Michael Faudet

  PROLOGUE

  ____________________

  Scott

  Three years ago...

  "What's your safeword, Bree?" I asked the drop-dead gorgeous brunette cuffed face-first to the St. Andrew's cross in front of me. I adjusted my grip on the braided leather handle of the cat o' nine tail flogger in my hand as I awaited her answer. I eyed the luridly bright-red marks on the soft skin of her upper back and sweet curvy little ass with a self-satisfied grin. They were hot as hell, and I damn well put every one of them there.

  A moment passed, and she didn't answer.

  "Answer me, Bree," I demanded gruffly, thinking she was just lost in subspace and needed a little prodding to respond. I'd been slowly working her up to this point for the last half-hour or so, and she tended to fall pretty deep when the endorphins kicked in.

  She started mumbling to herself, but still didn't acknowledge my words or even my presence. I dropped the flogger and stepped closer to her as worry niggled in the back of my head.

  "Bree?" I asked gently as I reached out to turn her face towards me. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her expression was a grimace of pain, not the blissed out, slack-jawed one of a happy sub deep in the euphoric high of subspace that I expected.

  "Please hurt me, sir," she whispered roughly, her dark-brown eyes unfocused. "Please hurt me again. I deserve the pain." Tears began welling in her lost and broken gaze.

  What the fuck? I immediately uncuffed her wrists and ankles from the cross and removed the nipple clamps I'd put on her earlier. I scooped up her petite little body and carried her over to the nearby bed, then sat down and cradled her against my bare chest as she began sobbing loudly.

  All I could do was hold her and comfort her as she fell apart, still begging me to hurt her while I wondered what the hell was going on. She hadn't safeworded once while we played, hadn't seemed in distress at all until this moment. We'd been playing for a few weeks now, after thoroughly pre-negotiating everything beforehand. We'd discussed the safeword, hard limits, soft limits, everything. She said she was a masochist and got off on the pain, and I was a sexual sadist, so we'd been pushing the boundaries of pleasure and pain together and having a damn good time doing it. The sex was wild and explosive, and some of the best I'd ever had. She was passionate and enthusiastic about everything we'd done so far. I thought we were well-matched and on the same page, but clearly something else entirely was going on here.

  "Bree?" I said softly when she began to calm down a little. "Talk to me, babe. Are you okay? Why didn't you use your safeword?" I asked, my voice turning a little frustrated as I continued speaking. After all, what was the point of pre-negotiating anything if you couldn't trust your submissive to use the damn safeword? I might be a sadist, but I didn't want to hurt anyone against their will, or cause actual physical or psychological harm. The BDSM principles for any activity or relationship were that they be safe, sane, and consensual for that reason, and I staunchly followed them.

  Suddenly, Bree glared at me and began struggling in my arms. I didn't want to hurt her, so I released my hold on her. She got to her feet and staggered. I unconsciously reached out to steady her, fearing she'd fall. She immediately batted at my hands and moved away from me.

  "Don't touch me," she snapped out as she stared daggers at me. Good God, if looks could kill, I'd be a goddamn corpse.

  "What the hell, Bree?" I growled at her in irritation as I stood.

  "Why didn't you stop whipping me, you asshole?" she said accusingly as she pointed a finger at me.

  "Because you didn't use your safeword," I answered her in confusion, ignoring the disrespect she just threw at me. She obviously wasn't in a good place right now, and we were clearly done playing. I figured it was best to let it go, and at this point I didn't think we would ever be playing together again anyway.

  "Liar!" she practically shrieked out. "You ignored it because you wanted to hurt me. You...you sick fucker." She rushed forward, and before I could even react, she slapped me hard across my left cheek with a firm and stinging blow that snapped my head to the side. What the fuck?

  She pulled her arm back to do it again, but I shot a hand out to grab her wrist. I had to grab her other wrist to keep her from smacking me with that hand. I grasped her tightly as she fought my hold on her. I'll be damned if I let her hit me again, even if I didn't know what the fuck was going on here.

  "You sick abusive bastard!" she screamed as she continued fighting to free herself from my strong grip.

  Her words struck a nerve, and I instantly let go of her. I'd never been accused of that once since I got into the BDSM lifestyle, and her accusation stunned and offended me. She stumbled back and fell to the plush rug under her feet. "Shit," I said and moved forward to help her up.

  "Stay the fuck away from me, Scott," she snarled out.

  I stopped in my tracks with my hands up in a placating gesture as she pushed herself up onto her feet. I growled deeply, angry and wondering what kind of fucked-up Bizarro World I'd just stepped into. Bree was obviously unhinged and living in a fantasy world, but I certainly wasn't going to make it worse by going anywhere near her again.

  She stalked over to the nearby dresser and grabbed her clothes off the top of it. "You are one sick fuck," she added vehemently as she pulled on the short cocktail dress she'd worn tonight. She snatched her heels up off the floor as she walked toward the door. "I don't ever want to see you again."

  "Fine," I snarled out between clenched teeth. I was fine with never setting eyes on this crazy bitch ever again. Especially when she spouted out absurd bullshit lies about me. I watched her fling open the door and stomp out of the room, slamming the door in her wake.

  I sighed and dropped down to sit on the bed, and stared around the playroom we'd reserved for the rest of the night. What the fuck just happened? How did I not see she was unstable before now? What kind of Dom didn't even realize it after playing with her multiple times?

  She'd hid it so we
ll and apparently lied to me about everything, and must have been using me to hurt herself all along. What a sad fucked-up thing to do to yourself. I couldn't even hold on to the anger anymore. She obviously needed help, but thankfully that wasn't my problem. I didn't plan on ever spending any time with her again. Hell fucking no. I wasn't anyone's therapist. As a recovering addict, I could barely manage my own life most days.

  I sighed in resignation and rose to clean up and put the room back the way it'd been when we came in here less than an hour ago. Once I was done I pulled my shirt and suit jacket back on, and left the room shaking my head at the unexpected turn of events tonight. I just wanted to go home now and forget this night even happened.

  I left the room and made my way down the hall lined with doors to more private playrooms, then out into the main room of Désir Dangereux, the BDSM club that I'd been a member of for several years. I ignored the throbbing erotic dance music and the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. I walked past the sitting areas unfazed by the people making out and groping each other on the low sofas amid the sleek and decadent decor. I paid no mind to the people coming and going from the public dungeon room nearby where all the real action was taking place. I headed straight for the bar, deciding I needed a few moments to catch my breath before I went home.

  "Good evening, Scott," Jack, the bartender said with a nod as I slid onto a stool in front of him.

  "Hey." I nodded in acknowledgment at the tall balding man behind the bar. He was used to my laconic style of communication and didn't say another word. He reached under the bar and pulled out a cold sparkling water. He twisted the bottle open and sat it in front of me, then moved off to serve another patron.

  I took a few swallows then stared at the bottle, wondering at my own stupidity and obliviousness over the last few weeks. I felt like a dumbfuck. I sighed and picked up the bottle again, intending to take another few sips before getting the hell out of Dodge. I'd had enough of this disaster of a night.

  "Mr. Conrad," a deep British accented voice said from just behind me.

  I turned and looked up and up at the grim-faced giant dressed in all black standing behind me. It was Pete, the club's head of security here, and at The Indigo Room, a nightclub I co-owned as a silent business partner with my best friend Calder Rennen. Pete was the biggest human being I'd ever seen. At least six and a half feet tall and well over three hundred pounds of pure muscle, he dwarfed my five-foot-eleven frame. We weren't close since I didn't work with him on a frequent basis, but we'd always gotten along just fine. It was apparent from the somber look on his face right now that he wasn't here just to say hi. The guy usually had a friendly smile on his face whenever we talked. He wasn't smiling at all right now, and I didn't like it one damn bit.

  "Could you come with me please, sir?" he asked politely, but there was no mistaking it for anything but the order it was.

  "What's this about, Pete?' I asked worriedly as I spun around on the stool to face him.

  "Mr. Landis needs to see you in his office."

  "O-kay..." I replied slowly as I frowned up at him. That didn't answer my question at all. Even though Rex Landis was a good friend of mine, being called to the club owner's office couldn't be anything good.

  "You need to come with me, sir," Pete said more forcefully now as he arched a brow at me and gave me a hard stare. It was intimidating as fuck, and I certainly didn't want him manhandling me for the whole club to see.

  "Alright," I said irritably as I raised my hands up in surrender.

  I slid off the bar stool, and Pete motioned for me to walk ahead of him. What did he think I was going to do, make a break for it? I wasn't insane. I knew for a fact that Pete was faster than he looked, and he could squash me like a bug if he wanted to.

  He escorted me to a door near the bar and opened it to usher me in ahead of him into a hallway. I walked down the hall with Pete a close shadow behind me. It almost felt like I was being walked to my execution, and I suddenly had a really bad feeling about all this.

  When we reached Rex's office door, I rushed forward and pettily made sure to grab the knob first before Pete the gorilla could do it for me. Yeah, I was getting annoyed now since I still didn't know what any of this was about. As a P.I., I hated being left in the dark. It was my job to know shit. It didn't remain a mystery for long though.

  I opened the door and walked in only to freeze just inside the doorway. Rex was sitting behind his desk with a grim expression in his usual gray suit with his perfectly trimmed graying hair and matching full beard. And sitting there in a chair in front of him and sobbing pathetically was Bree. You know that really bad feeling I had a moment ago? Well, it was now sickening dread.

  "Have a seat, Scott," Rex said evenly as he motioned to the empty chair in front of his desk next to Bree's.

  I ground my teeth together and went to sit down, keeping my eyes pinned to Bree with a hard glare, daring her to look at me. She just kept staring at her clasped hands in her lap as she continued weeping. I shook my head and met Rex's gaze. He was pressing his lips together with a pained look in his whiskey brown eyes. Pete stepped into the room and closed the door. I could feel him looming behind me.

  "What's going on here, Rex?" I asked defensively, even though I was pretty sure I already knew.

  "Bree here is accusing you of purposefully ignoring her safeword, and physically abusing her tonight." His voice was stern, his eyes grave.

  What? My mouth fell open in disbelief at the confirmation of what I suspected. I guess I'd hoped I was wrong.

  "That's not true, sir," I immediately replied, my tone vehement and firm as I caught and held Rex's eyes unwaveringly. He knew me, knew I would never harm a woman. Plus, I'd never broken a single rule here at the club, ever.

  "See?" Bree said pitifully to Rex. "I told you he would deny it."

  I turned wide disbelieving eyes on Bree, and she still wouldn't look at me as she sniffled a few times for effect. You gotta be fucking kidding me. This is how she repaid my trust, by calling me a liar and throwing me under the bus? I wasn't gonna lie, the betrayal stung.

  "These accusations are complete bullshit, and you know it, Bree," I growled out fiercely as I glared at her. "Why are you doing this? Why?"

  Now she finally turned to meet my gaze as big fat crocodile tears welled up in her eyes to slither down her cheeks. "You're sick and you need help, Scott," she said waveringly. "But I won't let you hurt me or anyone else ever again." She breathed a deep shuddering breath and continued, turning her pathetic show on Rex again. "I...I wanted to explore my sexuality in a safe place with someone I could trust, but now," -she sobbed a few times- "but now it's all ruined, and I can never set foot in here again without remembering tonight." She hunched forward and shook with more sobs while I watched her incredulously.

  I couldn't help myself at that point and instantly burst into laughter that had a hard and unmistakable bitter edge to it. She glanced up to give me a baleful stare. Bree was going to learn right now that she was fucking with the wrong guy.

  "I'll give you this much credit, Bree," I said snidely with a sneering grin. "You are damn good. You almost had me going there for a minute." I shared a quick smirk with Rex and Pete. "Do you believe this bullshit?" I threw a thumb toward her. "This bitch is crazy." I looked at her again. She'd stopped crying completely now and looked enraged, her eyes wild and full of absolute fury. It was time to go in for the kill. I snorted out a laugh. "Uh, oh, looks like you broke character, babe. Where are the waterworks now, huh?"

  Suddenly, Bree let out an earsplitting shriek of rage and launched herself out of her chair at me. Holy shit! I was trying to get enough of a rise out of her to get her to show her true colors, not have her all-out attack me. I jerked away and raised my hands to fend her off, but before Bree even had a chance to touch me, Pete had lunged forward and already plucked her up like she weighed nothing.

  He brought her in close to his chest and wrapped his massive arms around her upper body in a bear hug,
restraining her arms at her sides and lifting her up in the air to keep her from hurting herself or anyone else. She was left dangled from his arms, kicking and screaming as she struggled against his grip to no avail. Bree might as well have been fighting a giant fucking oak tree. Without a word, I rose and went to open the door, letting Pete out of the office to take care of our little actress. Good riddance.

  I shut the door as I shook my head and snorted. "Can you believe that shit?" I said with a flabbergasted expression as I turned back to look at Rex again, whose face was apologetic. "Seriously, what the fuck?" I started to feel pissed off. It took a lot to make me truly angry, but lies and betrayals of trust were a huge trigger for me. "How the fuck did that crazy bitch get in here in the first place?" I shook my head in disgust, the fury getting stronger as I lashed out. "Will you let anyone join now? What happened to a simple fucking background check, Rex?"

  Rex's eyes hardened as he stood. "We routinely do them, Scott," he said tightly, "but you know they aren't foolproof, and I don't appreciate you speaking to me like that."

  "I don't appreciate some crazy nutjob that you let in here accusing me of sexual assault after I fucking trusted her!" I was on a roll now and getting angrier by the second.

  "Calm down, Scott," Rex said sternly with an angry glare.

  "No," I snarled back at him. "I will not calm down. This is fucked up, and you know it. Calling me back to your goddamn office like some middle school bully who needs reprimanded was fucked up."

  "Scott," Rex snapped out fiercely. "You know I have to take any allegation of abuse here seriously."

  "But it was me," I growled out and jabbed a finger into my chest. "You know me, Rex. You shouldn't have doubted me for a second."

  He shook his head with a confused expression now. "I didn't doubt you."

  "Then why the dog and pony show?" I asked furiously. "Why not just kick her ass to the curb and revoke her membership? Why treat me like a fucking suspect if you didn't doubt me?"