by Renea Mason
When she noticed me staring back, she smirked and refocused her attention back on Xavier. A wicked smile formed on her face and she shifted, uncrossing and the then re-crossing her other leg. The black stiletto heels with red soles hid the tail of the serpent tattoo that wound around her ankle and up her leg, ascending beyond the hem of her black dress. Long minutes later, she turned her attention from Xavier to me. I tried not to look away because darting my eyes would have been suspicious. At least not reacting gave me an alibi if questioned—‘Oh I was just staring off into space, I didn’t notice you.’ Her long fingers, accented with long red nails, gripped the hem of her dress and slid the fabric up her thigh, inch by inch, revealing more of the brilliant green and red striped snake. She continued until the satin threads bunched at her waist.
I continued to focus straight ahead, pretending not to notice her actions. If Xavier noticed he didn’t let on. I could hear the faint subtlety of Sebastian’s accent as he whispered to Xavier.
The woman uncrossed her legs again.
I almost gasped but fought the battle between shock and composure. She spread her legs. She was pantiless and unshaven. The body of the snake looped up and across her hair covered mound and continued between her legs until the body disappeared into her sex.
I took a long, shaky breath as her intense eyes bored holes through me. A patron crossed between us, and I took advantage of the moment and turned my back to her, moving closer to Xavier. I clutched his hand and squeezed. He smiled down at me and wrapped his arm around me. This was not the place to discuss what had just happened. I took a breath and told myself things like this were expected. This was where people came to be uninhibited. Where the shocking and unexpected went to play. This place unleashed a sense of vulnerability in me I wasn’t prepared for. My wristband might as well have read, ‘prey.’
Xavier started for the door, guiding me with him, apparently sensing my hesitancy. “You OK?”
I inhaled and on the exhale breathed, “Yes. I’m fine.” I paused, but quickly added, “My king.”
He turned and gripped my shoulders, searching my eyes for something. I forced a smile. “What happened?”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to lie to him, but it was too involved to explain. Plus, I needed his confidence now. The blasé ease with which he handled the bizarre allowed me to relax a little.
“Nothing, just nerves, my king.” The statement wasn’t a complete lie.
He kissed my forehead. “Come on.”
Xavier held my hand and Sebastian rested his palm on the small of my back.
The relief I started to feel from the men’s comfort was disrupted by a most disturbing sight. The snake woman waited in line to enter the main room only a few people in front of us. Her heels easily made her height comparable to Xavier, Sebastian or any one of her young male minions, but the back of her ankle caused me to stumble.
The back of the woman’s black dress reached the tops of her heels. The green of the snake’s tail continued into her shoe. But the exposed small amount of black, green and red gave me pause. The complete view of the snake and her mask had kept me from making the connection. I had seen this woman before.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Snake
Three years earlier
“Elaine, so nice to meet you. I’m Dr. England, please, have a seat.” She motioned to an oversize chair, upholstered with soft pastel hues, much like you’d expect to see in a living room, rather than an office.
She stood up from the desk that sat on the far side of a large, homey space with her notebook and pen in hand. Her sophisticated speech was upstaged by her commanding stature and perfect smile. Her hair, blonde and pulled back in a bun, showed off the angles of her face, but she tried to soften the lines with light pink lip-gloss and a shimmery blush that enhanced her radiance. I wondered if she’d been a model in another life.
“Thank you.” I took a seat in a cozy chair. I had never been to a therapist. Never really needed one. My father had been an excellent shoulder to cry on. My sister and I got each other through the hard times, like my mother’s death, so this was new territory. I wasn’t sure what she could do for me, but at the urging of Detective Kirk Mancini, the man who’d helped me bring my father to justice, I was here.
Kirk and I had nothing in common beyond my father’s case. Losing myself in someone, the only one who understood your plight, was easy. After that night in my apartment hallway, when the weight of everything my father had done came crashing down and consumed us, we’d agreed to never get caught up in each other again. A physical relationship would have complicated the case, and could not have led to anything healthy. Regardless, he was right. I needed to process the situation. He left Dr. England’s card on my counter the night we said goodbye.
She sat in the chair facing me and crossed her legs. Her robin’s egg blue pantsuit enhanced the color of her eyes as they raked over me, judging.
“Tell me a little about yourself. From our brief conversation on the phone, I know you’re here to talk about your father, but I want to know about you.”
I sat up and rubbed my hands on my slacks. “I’m an intern for Western Labs, working in their PR department, I’m single... I live on my own. There’s not much to tell.”
“Your job must require a lot of confidence. PR isn’t easy work, especially having to answer for an entity as large as Western. You must inspire people with your words.”
“I don’t know about inspire... But sticking to facts, that’s easy.”
“Have you ever been to a therapist before?”
“No. Never felt I needed one.”
She cocked her head to the side, seeming intrigued. “But you do now?”
I sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know what I need. I’m still in that place where everything I know doesn’t seem real.”
“Let’s talk about that. What doesn’t seem real?”
“My life. A couple of months ago, I was calling my father from every speaking engagement to tell him I’d arrived safely. He’d call me pumpkin and tell me how much he loved me. I knew I could always depend on him.”
“And...” She leaned forward and sat her pen on the notepad.
“And what? He’s a serial killer. I’m not certain that needs more explanation.”
She picked up the pen and scribbled something on the pad. “How does that make you feel?”
I raised an eyebrow, but quickly tried to hide my irritation. I wanted this to work, I really did. “I guess exactly how one might expect. Angry, hurt, insecure, all of the above. My head hasn’t stopped whirling to settle on one thing for long.”
“How did you feel when he confessed?”
My brow wrinkled. She had no trouble getting to the point. Maybe her ‘cut to the chase’ was a blessing since I was paying her by the hour. “Like my world had shattered. I held onto hope that I was wrong up until the moment they showed me the tapes of his confessions. He didn’t even try to hide what he had done.”
“But he refuses to tell them how many?”
I stared at my hands. “Yes.”
“Has he told you?”
I paused before answering. Was she getting caught up in his story like every other person in my life? When my friends no longer knew how to interact with me, they stopped. The one thing rarely ever considered was that victims of tragedy lose everything, especially when the perpetrator is someone as close as their father. In fact, I wasn’t even considered a victim in most people’s eyes; I was guilty by association. These were the kinds of things I would have loved to discuss with Dr. England, but she had jumped on the morbid curiosity bandwagon with the rest of the world.
“No, he hasn’t told me. Even if he did, what would his confession prove?”
She sat back and shot me that Barbie doll smile. “I’m just trying to understand what kind of relationship you had with your father.”
“Our relationship was normal. Piano lessons, dinner together, camping weekends, curfews, tr
ips to and from college, everything you’d expect from the textbook father.”
“Do you ever feel guilty that you didn’t catch him sooner?”
This time my irritation couldn’t be caged. “I’m not sure what you mean. Why would I feel guilty? He’s a master manipulator. The authorities didn’t even suspect him. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and I wasn’t even supposed to be there.”
“What do you mean?”
I laughed, but not in humor. “I was booked to be in a different city. The night before, I got a call and was told my boss was sick. They said I was needed in Milwaukee instead. They gave me different travel information, and the next morning I was on my way to Wisconsin instead of Florida. I wasn’t very happy because I’d been looking forward to the Florida sunlight.”
“So you didn’t follow him there because you suspected him?”
“No. I suspected nothing. I didn’t even know he was in the state. I knew he was going away on business, but I rarely cared to ask where. That’s the great thing about cell phones; they go with you.” I squeezed my hands together. “Even when I saw him sitting in that hotel lobby with that woman, I didn’t suspect anything. That’s why I didn’t approach him. My mom had passed years ago. I was happy he was trying to date, and the last thing I wanted was for his adult child to chase someone he cared for off. He didn’t know I was there.”
Her facial expression changed. Her warm glow turned critical.
“Someone called you and changed your reservations the night before you left, and you end up booked in the same hotel as your father?”
“Yes.”
“Who called you?”
What an odd question? “One of the executive assistants. I don’t remember which one. They handle all the travel, the call wasn’t exactly unusual.”
“What did they sound like? Was it a man or a woman?”
I glared at her. Her pretty, sunshine façade was masking something else. She was no better than my nosey co-workers, the lady at the bank, or my hairdresser. “A woman, but why does that fact even matter?”
“It doesn’t.”
I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back, sighing in frustration. “That’s the thing, nothing matters, yet I can’t see how I’m ever going to get past any of this nonsense.”
She leaned forward and pointed, narrowing her eyes. “What happened to your wrist? Did your father do that?”
I sat up. “What?” Turning my hand, I examined the wrinkled lines of puckered skin that striped my wrist. “Oh that. Car accident. It’s finally healing. The doctor said the redness will go away with time.”
She jumped out of the chair and jerked my wrist toward her. “This isn’t funny.”
I stood and yanked my arm out of her grasp. “I’m not laughing.”
Glaring, she stared down at me from her high heels. “You tell him whatever kind of stunt he’s pulling, I’m not amused.”
“Tell who, what? What are you talking about?”
“He finds it amusing to send you here to play games, after all he’s done.” She bent down, her chilling gazed fixed me where I sat. “You tell him that next time he oversteps his bounds, if he ever tries to play in my sandbox again, I’m going to start by killing the messenger, the rules be damned.”
“Look I don’t know what kind of issue you have with Detective Mancini...”
She strode to her desk, leaned over it and picked up the phone. As she stretched, her pant hem lifted, revealing a snakeskin tattoo covering the back of her ankle. The sunshine and flowers act was nothing more than a mask for the angry woman who was coming unhinged in front of me. The last thing I needed was more deception and drama. “I’m gonna leave.” Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I headed for the door. I closed my shaky hand over the knob and turned.
She screamed at the phone. “You piece of shit. I know what you did.”
I pulled the door closed behind me and left.
* * *
Holy shit. Crazy Dr. England. My world had been so insane, the bizarre encounter had barely registered until I glimpsed the same swatch of snakeskin. The slight change in perception sent the memories flooding back. Even though I hadn’t dwelled on the encounter, and chalked up her behavior to the strange things my father’s story evoked in people, the experience was memorable enough to keep me from seeking out anyone else for help. As the images of the visit resurfaced, the gravity of her reaction set in. Did she recognize me too? Was her show a power play? A message? One thing was certain; she was a member.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Pledge
The guests dispersed among the members already inside the house. The expansive room we entered had similar décor as the seating area we’d waited in but with lushly upholstered couches, ornate tables, and inviting ottomans scattered throughout. There had to be at least a hundred people in the open space. Dark, wood paneled, sliding doors lined every wall, partitioning this gathering area from the rest of the manor. Broad, muscular men in red cloaks huddled next to each other while men and women dressed in loose chain garments circulated between the furniture pieces, offering drinks on serving trays.
I tried to quiet the trembling of my hands. There was no way I could discuss Dr. England with Xavier now, and we had another two hours to pass before his service started. As if Xavier could read my mind, he squeezed my hand. “Let me get you another drink.”
He stepped into the path of one of the nearly nude servers and collected a glass from the tray. He turned around and gazed at me, holding the glass just out of reach. “Sebastian, look at her. Tell me what you see.”
Sebastian pressed himself against my back, gripped my hips, and then whispered in my ear, “The most beautiful woman in the entire establishment.”
I chuckled. I’d never compare to the naked servers. They almost seemed too perfect.
Xavier moved closer, allowing me to accept the glass from him. My body was sandwiched between the two men.
A rumbling sound echoed through the room.
“What is...” I caught myself. “My king?”
“Yes?”
“What is that noise?”
Xavier glanced over his shoulder. “Nothing, they are opening the doors to the playrooms.” Wooden panels shook on rails as they retracted into the walls. “Nothing to be concerned about. Many of the people are here to indulge in fetishes.”
I scanned the room for the snake lady.
Sebastian’s breath was hot on my neck. “We’re here to observe, right? Why don’t we take a little stroll, peek in a few rooms. There might be something you like.”
I chuckled under my breath.
He swatted my ass.
I jumped and fell against Xavier’s chest. “Hey.”
Xavier snaked his arms around my waist. “I think you might be surprised at what you can discover about yourself in a place like this.”
“It’s doubtful. I don’t like pain.” I quickly added, “My king,” and hoped he didn’t notice my slip.
Sebastian pinned me against Xavier. “Who said anything about pain? I remember how much you enjoyed yourself when X tied you to the Rainmaker. No pain at all, but you gave us your submission, your trust, and we barely knew each other. That bond will only get stronger the more we’re together, and you’ll be begging us to push your boundaries.” Sebastian pressed his pelvis against me. “Unfortunately, bending you over that table over there, and fucking you like I so desperately want to, is not on the menu tonight. I have to take it easy with this injury, but I’ve seen how creative you can be. Perhaps the night won’t have to be all business.” He kissed my hair. “Come on, I want to get a better look at this place.”
Xavier took my hand and Sebastian led the way. It still surprised me how at ease the men were with each other, especially Xavier. That Sebastian could speak so freely about having sex with me. In their eyes, there were no boundaries. No jealousy. Would I ever get past wondering what the other thought?
The first dark-paneled
room featured a woman bound to a wooden cross. She smiled at the man holding the whip. His head was covered in a leather mask. He teased her nipples with the tip of the whip handle.
Xavier pulled me along. “I don’t think that will interest you.”
“Do the people always stand around and watch?”
He turned toward me. His eyes narrowed.
I quickly added, “My king.” I didn’t need to address Sebastian formally because he was simply a guest, but for tonight, Xavier, for all intents and purposes, owned me, and I couldn’t afford to let the pretense slip. He was right to hold me in check.
The next room featured a woman tied to a bed. She was gagged and nude, and a dark-skinned woman held a large vibrator in her hand, holding the device up for the captive’s examination. The woman settled the device between the bound woman’s legs and she squirmed against the restraints.
Sebastian leaned to whisper. “Now that’s certainly not painful and is another way to make you pay for your smart mouth.”
I laughed. “I hardly think that making me come is going be incentive to make me stop.”
He nipped my earlobe. “Who said anything about letting you come?”
I turned and glared at him. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’re right. I would allow you to come. Eventually. Only after I felt you’d made up for all the delightful aggravation you’ve given me.”
“My king, would you intervene on my behalf?”
He smiled. “Absolutely, not. I’d assist in your sweet torture.”
Sebastian ushered me on to the next room.
I halted as soon as my eyes adjusted to the low light.