by Lynda Aicher
Sensing her descent, he eased up, letting her drift to a slow finish. He removed his touch, using his arms to hold himself up and give his aching legs a break. But he kept his body around her, not touching but hovering just inches away.
Reminding her who had given her the release she’d needed.
“What’s my name?” he asked her, telling himself that the rough grind of his voice was from his exertion alone. It had nothing to do with the tightness in his chest as he waited for her answer.
Her panting ceased and she went still for one long agonizing moment before she finally said, “Deklan.”
His breath rushed from his lungs, head sagging until his forehead rested between her shoulder blades. “Yes,” he mumbled against her skin, not completely sure what he was agreeing to. But that was the only thought he had. Yes.
Chapter Six
Deklan eased to the side, the air rushing in to cool Kendra’s back the second his warmth was removed. The moisture chilled almost instantly and felt good against her heated skin.
She kept her eyes closed and centered on her breathing, her mind floating for a bit. It’d been so long since she’d allowed herself to let go like that. Long before she’d left Eric. There’d been many times that she’d hidden within herself to get away from him. But this light, freeing, drifting sensation was something she’d forgotten about.
“Kendra.”
He was still near her. Deklan hadn’t left. Even with her eyes closed she knew he kneeled beside her. Waiting until she was ready to move. His voice rumbled close to her ear, his breath ruffling the damp hairs at her nape. He seemed to like doing that. Speaking close to her. Only to her.
Eric had always been loud, ensuring everyone could hear his commands. Know the control he had over her. She shuddered, the thought driving a chill through her flushed system. Damn him for invading her good space.
There was a thump of boots then something soft was placed over her back, covering her with warmth. More importantly, it shielded her exposed body, cloaking her from prying eyes. A courtesy so rarely extended to her that the tears threatened once again, but she wouldn’t allow them to fall.
“Thank you.” The low words slipped from her lips. Did he know what it was for?
“Of course,” he said before his hand eased under hers to pry her fingers from their hold on the forgotten bar. “You can let go now.” There was a lift to his voice, as if he was amused by her actions. “The Scene’s over.”
He rubbed each finger, easing the ache that had cramped them. So gentle, despite his obvious strength.
“Cali and Allie are probably wondering where I am.” She should move. She knew that. But she didn’t. It felt too good lying here, letting him care for her.
“Jake knows where you are,” Deklan said, his massage extending up her arm to work at the muscles in her biceps. She prayed that Jake had kept her friends from the Dungeon. She didn’t want them to see this side of her. Cali might know about Kendra, but seeing a friend morph into a sub can have a shattering effect on a relationship. Blending the two personas and accepting the new perception wasn’t something everyone could manage. Even if they were into the scene.
And she couldn’t lose her friends. That alone forced Kendra to open her eyes. She needed to move before they found her.
She blinked until her vision came into focus. Deklan was right there, smiling at her. It seemed strange. She was pretty certain it wasn’t an action he did often. But it softened his features, making his jaw less pronounced, his lips seem softer and his blue eyes lighter. It also showed just a hint of a dimple on his left cheek under the shadow of his beard.
Kendra stared at the little indentation, fascinated that it dared to mar the hardened presentation. She imagined it would completely ruin the impenetrable image he projected if he ever let a full smile show. She’d like to see that.
Clearing her throat, she propped her hands on the bench and started to push up. Immediately Deklan was there to lift her until she was standing. Her legs were weak and she leaned into him, even as she tried to keep her exhaustion from showing. He held her, tucking the blanket around her shoulders and taking the time to ensure that it offered the full privacy she now wanted.
With the Scene over, her body and mind sated far more than she’d hoped, the unease returned. Wrapped in his arms, his woodsy scent blended with the muskier smell of her release and reminded her that he hadn’t come. Would he expect that now? She started to step away, but he tightened his arms, keeping her close. She tensed, that one restrictive action taking away any sense of calm she may have had.
“No second-guessing,” Deklan said.
“You’re a mind reader now too?” she tried to joke, unwilling to let him know how close he was to the truth. She swallowed. He isn’t Eric.
Deklan rubbed his hands over her back in a soothing motion, and eventually she let herself relax into his chest. Her arms were crossed in front of her to hold the blanket and provided a small barrier, keeping her from fully collapsing into his offered strength.
“No. Perceptive.”
Too perceptive. “I need to go,” she said. But she still didn’t move. It would be so easy to stay there within the circle of his arms. But it was only a temporary haven. She stepped back and that time he let her go.
Without saying anything, he grabbed her dress from the hook on the wall and extended his hand to her. She searched his face but found nothing of what he was thinking. Any hint of the lightness from seconds before was gone.
As much as she wanted to—her training told her she should—she couldn’t follow him blindly. “Where’re we going?”
“You need to dress, and I need to see that you’re okay.” He didn’t seem angry at her question. It was more like a Dom finishing his responsibilities.
“I can go to the locker room.”
His lips thinned but he kept his hand extend. “I’d like to see to your care,” he said, confirming her suspicions. He was just finishing his job.
Shaking off the bit of closeness she’d let herself feel, she placed her hand in his and let him lead her from the room. She kept her eyes downcast, grateful for the mask that covered most of her face, but she wouldn’t let her shoulders slump no matter how much she wanted to hide.
Deklan moved through the Dungeon, his pace slow as if he was aware that any fast movement would result in her fleeing, even if he did have her dress. She couldn’t look at those she felt watching her, so she placed all of her concentration on keeping her feet from stumbling, moving one foot in front of the other.
She didn’t look up until he released her hand to open a door then stood aside. She paused at the entry, seeing the empty room before her. It looked like an employee lounge with a small kitchen area along one wall. There was a large refrigerator and soda machine in the corner and a seating area with a couch and two chairs taking up the rest of the space.
He leaned in and pointed to a corner by the ceiling. “There’s a camera there. Everything we do is monitored. You’re safe.”
Her hands flexed on their hold of the blanket and the nerves returned to ball in her stomach. This wasn’t a Scene. He wasn’t playing Dom now. But she still couldn’t enter a room alone with a relative stranger and trust that he wouldn’t harm her.
Damn Eric for stealing that from her too.
She couldn’t do it. Shaking her head, she backed away. It was too much. “No. Sorry...” She couldn’t look at him knowing the censure she’d see. “I can’t.”
Why had she followed him this far? She twisted her head around, taking quick stock of her surroundings. They were alone. How’d I let this happen? Her pulse started thumping loud and insistent, beating a tune for her rising panic.
“You’re okay, Kendra,” Deklan said. His voice sounded distant, barely penetrating the drumming beat of her heart.
She shook her head, denial her first response. She wasn’t okay. God, she was so pathetically far from okay. She backed away, cautious steps of retreat from the threat
before her. She never should have come here. Back to this world.
“Kendra.”
No. She had to breathe. Her chest constricted. Take a breath. Just one. Then another. She had to go. Get out of there and away from the danger.
“Kendra.” The sharp command snapped her out of her daze, her eyes shooting to stare at the Dom.
He stood in the open doorway, but she was halfway down the hallway. His face was hard, impassive as he watched her. He was so big. Taller than average, with muscled arms and chest that took up most of the door space. The urge to run was so strong that she turned to do just that.
“You need your dress.”
She stopped. Right. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to get a grip. She couldn’t leave the club wrapped in a blanket. He wasn’t threatening her. She could process that logically, but it didn’t change her emotional reaction. Breathe. She had to get air.
“Should I get Cali?”
She shook her head. “No,” she croaked, her throat too constricted to speak. “They can’t know.”
His sigh reached her ears and sounded too much like a reprimand. She cringed. When he spoke however, his voice held only patience. “I can’t leave you like this. I’ll wait out here. You can change in the room by yourself.”
“I...I can’t,” she managed to stammer, her voice shaking to her shame.
Kendra opened her eyes and edged farther down the hall, closer to the sounds of other voices. Witnesses. The heels on her boots clicked on the tile floor with each movement, each tap a measure of her failure.
He paced her keeping his distance, his steps matching hers. Not stalking, she reminded herself, her eyes on the plain black door in front of her. Her safety exit. But it seemed so far away. Was the hall that long? Focus.
Finally her hands clasped the cold metal bar on the door and she pushed it open, using every bit of strength that she had left. Warm air, heavy with the scents of the Dungeon, hit her face and she was able to take a shallow breath. She gasped, stumbling away from the door before she propped herself against the wall.
A couple of people turned to look at her and she could almost hear their unspoken questions. Their judgments. God, she must look so pathetic. Her chest tightened again, any ground gained at leaving the hallway retracted by the pressure of so many eyes. Her fists pressed against her breastbone, her lungs seeking air but finding none.
Deklan stepped into the room and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door after it closed. He didn’t approach her, just quietly stood guard.
“Breathe, Kendra.” His calm voice reached her in a hollow echo, as if he was speaking through a long pipe. “Come on, do it with me. Deep breath in, hold one, two, and out one, two. Again. Deep breath in...”
She listened, anchored to his voice and repeating words, following his commands until she was able to take slow, deep breaths through her nose. Her heart rate slowly decreased as the tightness in her chest eased and the queasy sickness in her stomach subsided with the waning of her panic attack.
She hated them. Damn, how she hated them. They made her feel weak. And now, in the glaring light of the Dungeon, the reason for the attack seemed so trivial. Then again, the triggers usually were, which only made her feel guiltier. She looked at Deklan out of the corner of her eye, expecting to see anger or at least impatience. Instead she saw concern, which was almost worse. She didn’t know how to deal with that.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse and she hoped he heard her. Again, she was grateful for the mask that now hid her discomfort.
“My fault,” he answered, taking a small step closer but still giving her space. “You said not private. It was my mistake.”
She looked to him, surprised by his admission and the genuine distress in his voice. His eyes were narrowed, causing frown lines to wrinkle his forehead. He was a study of concentration with her as his focus. It made her uneasy but not scared.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, extending his hand to hold out her dress. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”
Was this for real? A Dom apologizing? She was at a loss, having never experienced such a thing. A Dom never showed a weakness even if he was wrong. But here was a very strong man doing just that.
A man. Not a Dom. Maybe that was the key.
She reached for her dress, another wave of embarrassment flushing her skin at her inability to keep her hand from shaking. “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say.
The dress was silky and soft against her palm, reminding her of why she’d bought it. Thankfully the hysterical laughter stuck in her dry throat. The misguided beliefs she’d tried to convince herself were truth seemed so glaringly false now. Who’d she been kidding?
She hated this world and all it represented. It’d stolen her life and forced her to leave everyone and everything she’d known. Yet here she was, unable to leave behind the one thing that had brought her nothing but pain. The literal truth of that almost made the tears flow once again.
No. She wouldn’t cry. Not again. Not over this. Not in front of him now.
Kendra straightened, pushing away from the support of the wall to stand on her own. She looked around the room, filled with all the things that both repulsed and attracted her. More than the equipment, it was the distinctive blend of scents and sounds that triggered an immediate reaction in her. A need she didn’t want but couldn’t seem to purge.
And she wondered for the thousandth time, would she ever be strong enough to shake this addiction? But this time a new truth emerged—did she really want to?
* * *
Deklan seethed. Within himself he battled an anger he hadn’t felt since he’d slammed his stepfather against a wall and almost beat the man to death. That was over twenty years ago and in all the years since that event—fifteen years of military service, countless official and not-so-official wars, the unjust deaths of too many comrades—he hadn’t experienced this kind of rage.
For the second time in his life he wanted to kill a man. Whoever the faceless bastard was who’d done this to Kendra deserved to die. But then, death would be too merciful for that asshole.
She was struggling to keep it together, and he couldn’t help her outside of talking to her. In fact, talking was his only option. Every dominant male bone in his body was urging him to hold her, to offer comfort and take away her pain. But he’d blown any chance of doing that with his own stupid mistake.
He’d wanted to protect and comfort her. Instead, he’d screwed the fuck up. When had he ever forgotten such an important detail? Not private. One simple rule, and he’d blown it. Even if the Scene had ended, he should’ve known based on her actions that the rule still applied.
He’d been so proud of her when she’d gotten through the Scene. She’d obviously been seriously abused by someone in her BDSM past. Yet she’d trusted him. The connection between them had been so strong. He’d never felt that close to a new sub. To any sub.
Now she didn’t trust him at all.
She clutched the blanket around her shoulders, pulling the material tight as if it would hold her together. She was trying hard to marshal her anxiety and hide her emotions. But behind the mask he could see her teeth working the inside of her tender cheek. And nothing could hide the mixture of fear, pain and that god-awful shame in her eyes.
Damn it. He wanted to take that all away. To show her there was nothing to be ashamed of. That BDSM was about much more than fear and pain. As far as he was concerned, fear should never be a part of any play. She was a masochist, and someone had twisted her need for sexual pain until it was now a dirty little secret she wanted to hide from.
He could change that. He wanted to change that for her.
She squeezed her eyes tight, a quick second of courage boost, before turning back to him keeping her gaze lowered. “I’m gonna go. Thank you...sir. For the Scene.”
So polite and correct. Actions so ingrained she probably didn’t even recognize them for what they were. Deklan�
��s jaw ached with the effort it took him to keep his expression neutral. Were her submissive behaviors natural, or drilled into her by the sadist who’d whipped her bloody?
Kendra turned then and fled before he could respond. Despite the rampant urge to follow, he remained motionless. To move a muscle—to even blink—would break his control. He was trained to hold his position, even when every instinct told him to do otherwise. Any movement would endanger and hurt others.
And he couldn’t do that. He’d already harmed Kendra enough.
He watched her sandy blond head disappear down the stairs, her retreat from the Dungeon made with a precise dignity that spoke more to her character than any training could.
Even with her gone, he didn’t move. The anger still raged too strong for him to give it motion. The shallow breaths he allowed were just enough to get the oxygen he needed, not that anyone would see his chest moving.
Another second, and Seth’s brown hair appeared over the stair wall. He made his way straight to Deklan, no pretense provided. The other man gave him a once-over before matching his pose against the wall. “That was a fuck-up.” Seth’s straight shot was exactly what he expected. And needed.
Deklan grunted. “Saw it all?”
“Rock called as soon as you left the security room.”
Of course his security guy would do that. Should fire his ass, but the man did the right thing. “She okay?”
Seth glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs, as if he could see her now. “I sent Cali after her. Told her not to ask questions.”
Like that worked with women. “Fuck.” The curse was biting and low but did nothing to release his anger. “What was Jake thinking?” Deflection wasn’t his normal reaction, but if the other man hadn’t switched her wristband color, she never would have entered the Dungeon.