BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

  She held out her arms as she approached the bed. Instinctively, Eva opened her own arms, and as Nora sat beside her, the two of them embraced like long-lost sisters. Inexplicably, Eva burst into tears as Nora held and rocked her.

  “Ah, don’t cry, sweetie,” she heard Charles say, his voice filled with concern.

  “It’s okay, Charles,” Nora replied, and Eva realized she was also crying. “They’re tears of joy.”

  Chapter 10

  Jack grabbed the box of tissues from the table by the bed and handed several to each of the still sniffling but now smiling women. “The doctor said Eva is being discharged. I was thinking she—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, Nora said eagerly, “Of course you’ll come home with us, won’t you, Eva? We have a small guest bedroom”—she flashed a rueful grin in Jack’s direction—”I mean, it’s really small, right, Jack? But you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like. Unless, that is”—she faltered a little —you have somewhere else you wanted to go? Family, maybe?”

  The moment Nora made the offer, Jack realized Eva would probably want the comfort of another woman nearby after what she’d just been through. At the same time, he’d been expecting Eva would come home with him. Perhaps because he’d been the one to discover her, and because he’d been the one to accompany her to the hospital, he felt a proprietary interest, even a responsibility.

  “No,” Eva said quietly. “No family.” But instead of saying she’d be happy to go home with Nora, she looked instead at Jack, a quiet pleading in her eyes, the ghost of a shy smile moving over her lips.

  Encouraged by this, Jack said, “Or it might make more sense for you to come home with me.” He kept his voice gentle and calm, aware it was quite possible after her ordeal she would want nothing to do with any man, however kind and noble his intentions might be. But at his words, her face brightened perceptibly, a flash of hope lighting her eyes.

  As if Eva had spoken aloud, Nora, who was also watching Eva, suddenly said, “Of course. That’s what you must do, Eva. You’re absolutely right. I didn’t realize…” Nora reached for Eva’s hand and gently clasped it, smiling at her. A look was exchanged between them that Jack couldn’t quite decipher.

  “Jack does have a lot more flexibility in his schedule,” Charles added, “and you shouldn’t be left alone right now, Eva. On the other hand, if you’d rather stay with us, we can—”

  “No,” Eva said, her voice firmer than before, her smile, while still shy, broader. “I’d like to go with Jack.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Jack said, smiling back at her. “You’ll be the first guest in my new place.”

  There was another knock at the door and they all looked in the direction of the sound. Jack was expecting the nurse with the discharge papers, but instead saw Jessica Dade.

  “Hello there,” she said briskly, entering the room. The last time he’d seen her, she had been wearing a red leather dress that fit her petite but curvaceous body like a glove, but today she was wearing a charcoal gray business suit, the long jacket over a white blouse, her skirt falling just below the knee. She carried a large shopping bag in her hand.

  Jessica approached the bed, her face crumpling with sympathy as she saw Eva. “Oh, dear,” she breathed. “You must be Eva. I’m Jessica, one of the keyholders.” She patted Eva’s thin arm.

  Eva smiled faintly. “Hi.”

  Jessica continued, “I heard what that monster did to you. Can you tell us how he got you up there without anyone knowing? I’ve been trying to puzzle that out. Are you able to talk about it?”

  “I came for an interview. The sub for hire position,” Eva said. “It seemed legit at first. When he showed me the various dungeon rooms and told me to strip for the physical part of the interview, I didn’t suspect anything. Then when he pulled the knife”—Eva drew in a sudden, sharp breath, followed by a strangled sob. She put her hands to her face. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “It’s too soon,” Nora, who had remained on the bed beside Eva, interrupted quickly. Gently she took Eva’s hand. “Later. We can sort all that out later.”

  “Of course. Forgive me,” Jessica said brusquely. Her eyes, Jack noticed, had filled with tears, which she blinked back as she continued, “On behalf of all our members, I want you to know we are so, so sorry about what has happened to you.”

  Eva looked up, managing a small smile as she looked at them all. “It’s okay. I mean, I know this wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame any of you for what happened.”

  “Be that as it may,” Jessica said, “I know I speak for us all when I say we feel responsible nevertheless. As legal counsel for Hawthorne Dungeon, I plan to be with you every step of the way.” She glanced around the hospital room. “The keyholders will cover any and all expenses associated with this whole horrible affair—hospital costs, any legal costs you might incur, all of it.”

  All the members had been notified the night before via a phone chain about the atrocity that had been perpetrated in their shared building. Everyone had unanimously agreed, no matter what it cost, they would do the right thing by Eva in whatever ways they could, both financially and otherwise.

  “Thank you,” Eva said.

  “Have the police been by?” Jessica asked Jack.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “They said we could come to the station later today, as long as it’s before five. Eva is being discharged as soon as the nurse comes back with the papers.”

  “I’d like to go with you when you go to make your statement, Eva, if that’s all right,” Jessica said, quickly adding, “Not that you need legal counsel. I just want to provide support. The process can be rather stressful, especially when sexual assault is involved.”

  “I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Eva replied.

  Nora, who was still sitting beside Eva, said, “And Jack, too, right? You’ll want Jack with you when you talk to the police?”

  “Yes, please,” Eva said so fervently it made Jack feel both embarrassed and pleased. “Jack, too.”

  “Have you had a chance to shower yet?” Nora continued. “Oh!” she blurted, cutting herself off. “I almost forgot.” She looked at Jessica. “Did you get the things?”

  “I did.” Jessica held up the large white shopping bag. To Eva, she said, “Nora guessed you’re about a size four, is that right? I picked up a few things for you, until you can get your own clothes and toiletries.”

  Tears filled Eva’s large brown eyes, and Jack had to resist a sudden impulse to wipe them away, aware the gesture was too intimate for the circumstance. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s very kind.”

  ~*~

  Eva stood in front of ceiling-to-floor windows in Jack’s loft and admired the view of building rooftops and the New York skyline beyond them. It was a crisp fall day, and lemony sunlight filled the room. She loved the airiness and space, a marked contrast to the small, dark prison in which she’d been confined for the past seven weeks.

  It was a relief to be here in this quiet, peaceful space, especially after all the hubbub and overwhelming attention, both at the hospital and afterward at the police station. Eager to get it over with, they had gone straight from the hospital to the station, where Eva had given her statement in a small, claustrophobic interview room with institutional green walls and cups of watery, bitter coffee.

  While it had been embarrassing and even humiliating at some points to state what had happened into the tape recorder set on the table in front of her, it was also a relief. As if by saying the words aloud into that machine, she was purging them from her being—letting them unspool from the tightly coiled knot she’d held inside herself all these weeks. When she had finished she felt both exhausted and curiously light as a result. That dark and terrible time of her life was over.

  The evil psychopath who had abducted her was now the one imprisoned, locked behind bars without bail, awaiting trial for kidnapping and repeated sexual assault. Jessica had warned Eva the trial process could be stressful
and invasive, the hours spent at the police station only a taste of what she might expect as key witness in a sexual assault case. While Eva understood this, she was ready, more than ready, to do whatever it took to put Phillip Duncan behind bars.

  Jack had held her hand underneath the table during the interview, for which she’d been grateful. His grip was both firm and comforting, and she’d felt safe with him beside her. She had been glad Jessica was there, too, especially when one of the cops taking her statement asked questions in such a way that made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced Eva hadn’t asked for the treatment she’d received, at least on some level, by virtue of applying for the sub for hire position. Clearly, he was clueless about the lifestyle, with only the vaguest notion of what it entailed. He made no effort to hide his disapproval of what he thought he knew about BDSM. Jessica had swiftly put the guy in his place with a few well-aimed barbs that had the guy stammering his apology.

  She could hear Jack moving about in the kitchen. He was making them a late lunch of spaghetti, and the delicious aroma of tomatoes and garlic wafted toward her, making her stomach growl, despite the hot dogs they’d bought from a street vendor on their way back from the police.

  She looked down at herself and smiled faintly, thinking it wouldn’t be long before her clothes fit properly at this rate, though at the moment she resembled nothing so much as a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy. As a result of the enforced near-starvation diet Master Phillip had her on, the jeans Jessica had brought stayed up only because of the belt they came with, and two of her could have fit into the knit top. The stretchy underwear and sports bra were fine, though. She was glad to be covered up, at any rate, her welted, pale skin hidden from prying eyes and unwanted attention.

  Before leaving them at the station, Jessica had given her a fat envelope filled with cash. Embarrassed, Eva had tried to hand it back. “Absolutely not,” Jessica had insisted. “It’s the very least we can do. As a result of what happened to you under our roof by someone we hired, you’ve lost your apartment and your job. I’ll follow up as we discussed to see if we can trace and recover your things, but meanwhile you’ll need money for the basics. This is not a loan, so don’t even think about trying to pay it back,” she’d added before Eva could suggest precisely that.

  “Would you like a glass of wine with the meal?” Jack’s smooth baritone startled Eva from her reverie. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly as she turned to face him. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He had two glasses of red wine, and he held one out toward her. “It’s a cabernet. Or I have white, if you’d prefer.”

  “I love cabernet,” Eva said, smiling as she took the glass. “Thanks.”

  There was a dinging sound from the kitchen. “Oh,” Jack said. “That’s the garlic bread. Come to the table. Everything’s ready.”

  Eva followed Jack, sipping the wine as they walked. The loft was just one huge space, but it had been sectioned off into rooms with tall folding partitions made from cherry wood and rice paper.

  Eva had been delighted but not really surprised to discover Jack was an artist, the bulk of the loft dedicated to his studio. As soon as he’d told her he was a sculptor it had made perfect sense. His hands were long-fingered and beautifully shaped, and there was a quiet fire in his eyes she associated with creativity and passion.

  The food was simple but delicious, and Eva had to pace herself to keep from falling on her plate of pasta like a ravenous beast. She took a bite of hot, crusty garlic bread and had to press her lips together to keep from moaning her appreciation.

  “Good?” Jack said, and Eva realized he was watching her with an indulgent smile. “I’m glad you’re eating. We need to get some meat on those bones.”

  “Delicious,” she enthused, picking up her wineglass to hide the sudden heat in her face as she thought about what he must see as he regarded her bald head and baggy, unflattering clothes.

  To think, she’d finally met a man she was reasonably sure was a Dom, though they hadn’t had a specific conversation in that regard—but he was a keyholder at the Hawthorne Dungeon, which meant he was into the lifestyle in a serious way, and he didn’t strike her as at all submissive. To top it off, he was single, artistic, successful, handsome, kind, considerate and he could cook! Jack McQuade was her ideal—the very man she’d dreamed of when she came to Manhattan in search of herself, with all that implied.

  And Jack—what did he see when he looked back at her? Instead of the confident, sassy young woman with the long, golden curls cascading down her back and a bounce to her step, did he see a broken weakling with the haggard look of a death camp victim? He had found her bound and gagged, sitting in her own filth, naked and shaking with fear. Would he ever be able to move past that stark and dreadful first impression to see the woman she was inside?

  It’s up to you, Eva. You’ll have to show him—and yourself.

  To do otherwise would be to admit Master Phillip had won. Yes, she knew she would have to deal with what had happened to her—to fully process it so she could then let go—but now was not that time. First, she needed to recover her physical health. She craved peace and rest and sunlight.

  Jack, as if sensing her need for some semblance of normalcy, gently steered the conversation to safe topics like where she’d been born and raised, and what had brought her to the city. He was attentive and seemed genuinely interested, his focus on her complete without being overbearing.

  As they discussed career dreams and aspirations, Eva admitted, “I went the practical route, focused on a ‘readily marketable degree,’ as my guidance counselor was fond of saying. But truth to tell, I always kind of regretted majoring in business. I’m twenty-seven and I’ve worked in commercial banks and for a stockbroker and I’ve hated every second of it. I came to Manhattan, not just to explore the BDSM scene, but also to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. The thought of actually making a living doing something you love”—she shook her head—”that’s got to be the most amazing thing.”

  “It is pretty fantastic,” Jack admitted. “I got really lucky, though. I won a full scholarship in Italy based on this competition thing my senior year of college, and that really got me on the right path. If I hadn’t been handed that amazing opportunity, I doubt I would have found the courage to strike out on my own.” He smiled at her, those green eyes crinkling into half-moons. “What you did—coming to New York from Buffalo to make it on your own—now, that takes real guts.”

  Eva felt warmed by his words, and by the sincere look in his eyes, though she felt compelled to set the record straight. “Oh, come on,” she protested. “Millions of people do that every day. It’s called desperation.” She laughed ruefully. “It must be amazing to be able to do the thing you love most in the world, and earn a living in the process. I’m so envious of that.”

  “It is amazing. I feel very lucky.” Jack regarded her with an earnest gaze. “What about you? What do you love to do? What’s your passion?”

  Eva shrugged, about to say she didn’t have one. But that wasn’t really true. It was just that she’d never dared to imagine passion and work could be fused. Seeing Jack’s success and obvious happiness with his life, she was starting to understand there were possibilities of which she’d never dared dream.

  Though she felt a little ridiculous admitting this to a world-renowned artist, she offered shyly, “I used to love to paint. I haven’t done it in years, though.”

  “What medium?” Jack said eagerly. “I have some oils and canvas in my studio. I could set up an easel for you if you want to dabble a bit? Good therapy.”

  “Oh, no,” Eva said, shaking her head. “I was terrible with oil paint. I liked to do watercolors. I found it, I don’t know, very peaceful.”

  “Watercolors,” Jack said, his tone almost reverent. “Now I am even more impressed. One reason I love working with clay, and with oils too, is I can redo it. I can smash it up and start over. I can scrape it off and start fresh. I can tinker endlessly u
ntil I get it just right. It takes a definite and specific sort of courage to paint with watercolors. I don’t have any watercolors here, but there’s a great art supply shop a few blocks over. How about we’ll go out later and pick some up?”

  “Oh, no, I mean, it’s been years,” Eva protested. “I’m sure I’d be horrible. Especially compared to a real artist.”

  Jack laughed. “Don’t be silly. I promise not to look if you don’t want me to. Think of it as a kind of meditation. If that means it’s for your eyes only, I totally respect that.”

  When the meal was over, he stood and reached for her plate. “Let me help,” Eva said, also standing. “I really don’t require being waited on hand and foot.” Though she hadn’t had that much, the wine must have gone straight to her head. Suddenly dizzy, she reached for the back of the chair to balance herself.

  “Whoa,” Jack said, sprinting around the table in a flash, his steadying hand on her shoulder. “I will let you help, I promise.” He put his arm around her and guiding her away from the table. “Just not today. You haven’t even been out of that place for twenty-four hours yet. The hospital stay was hardly what you’d call restful. Here’s what you’re going to do.” He led her toward a partition at the far end of the loft. “You’re going to lie down here in my amazingly comfortable futon guest bed and get some much needed rest. When you wake up, if you feel up to it, we can go out to the art supply shop. Nora wants to come by later to take you clothes shopping, too.”

  They stepped behind the partition to a small but comfortable space that contained a futon bed covered in white sheets and a dark blue quilt, two plump pillows at its head. There was a long, low bureau across from the bed, several small bronze statues of horses arranged on top of it.

  They were beautiful pieces, all sinew, muscle and flowing manes. Eva ran her finger along the back of a horse in mid-gallop. “These are beautiful. So alive.”

  “Oh, those?” Jack shrugged. “Thanks. They’re from my early days, back before I worked up the nerve to sculpt the human form. I just have too much stuff, you know? These are overflow—I had to stick them somewhere. But I’m glad you like them.”