by Lynda Aicher
She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the hard grit of the brick beneath her hand, the cool gust of wind that chilled her damp skin, the faint scent of dirt from the flowerpot in the corner. All of the little details that kept her from thinking of the bigger, more terrifying things.
“Hey, Kendra.”
She jerked around at Allie’s voice, startled that her friend had snuck up on her like that. Forcing a smile, she responded as was expected. “Hi, Allie.”
Allie walked up the short path from the drive, her heels snapping on the cement in a crisp rhythm that seemed to match her. She tilted her head, scrutinizing Kendra as she approached. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”
Kendra puffed out a snort. “Thanks.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Allie pursed her lips. “You know what I mean. You always look good.” She waved a hand in Kendra’s direction. “With a body like that, how could you not? What I meant was it looks like something’s bothering you.”
Kendra turned away, pulling the key out of her tight jogging bra. “I’m fine,” she said, concentrating on unlocking the door. “Just tired from my run. What brings you over here?” Allie lived in a condo across the back courtyard from Kendra’s and didn’t usually have a reason to be on this side of the building.
Kendra pushed the door open but stopped frozen before she could enter. Her eyes were trained on the plain white envelope sticking out of the empty flowerpot. It hadn’t been there before. She always checked the area when she left.
Instantly everything went dark except for that white piece of paper. Nausea rolled her stomach and she swallowed against the sickness. Feeling heated, her skin tingled with the flush of fear and she swayed before her hand shot out to grab the doorjamb.
“Kendra.” Allie’s voice drew her out of the void, a precious sound that kept her from tumbling into the blackness. Then Allie’s hand was on her shoulder, holding her steady. “What’s wrong? Kendra. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing,” she managed to mumble. She shook her head and yanked her attention away from the letter. “It’s nothing. Really. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Don’t bullshit me.”
That pulled a sardonic chuckle of agreement from Kendra’s chest. “Can’t bullshit the lawyer, can I?”
“No. You can’t,” her friend insisted, not even offended by the comment. Without missing a beat, Allie reached over, yanked the upsetting object from the flowerpot and knocked the clinging dirt from the paper before holding it up. “Shall we go inside and see why this has you so upset?”
“No.” Kendra shook her head and held out her hand. “We won’t. Just give it to me.”
Allie’s eyes narrowed as if she was debating her options before she handed the letter over. “I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
A tempting offer, but where would Kendra start? “Thanks. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She tried to brush it off, waving the letter like it didn’t weigh a ton in her hand. “Probably just a note from my landlord.”
She turned away and stepped into her condo, only to freeze a second time. She looked back to Allie and worked to keep her voice even. “Do you want to come in for a minute?” Even though the door had been locked, she was suddenly petrified to go inside by herself.
“Sure.” Allie pushed up the sleeve of her gray suit and checked her watch. “I have an hour before I have to be back.”
Able to move again, Kendra exhaled and continued inside. She couldn’t stop from giving a quick check over everything. She scanned the sparse contents of the living room, just a faded blue couch and chair, a garage sale coffee table and an old TV on a do-it-yourself stand. The few magazines she’d collected appeared untouched in their neat stacks beneath the low table. Her inspection ended on the pole still wedged in the track of the sliding door and she breathed a little easier.
“Wow,” Allie said from behind Kendra. “I take it you haven’t finished unpacking yet.”
She tried to laugh at Allie’s joke, but she was all out of bluffs for the day. Instead she turned away from the living room content that everything seemed untouched and went to the fridge, tossing the letter on the counter as she went. “Can I get you anything? Water, soda?”
“Water’s fine.”
She grabbed two bottles and handed one to her very first houseguest. “I guess you can tell decorating’s not my thing.” She cracked her bottle open and took a long, refreshing gulp of the icy liquid. It felt like heaven against her over-parched throat. After a couple more swallows, she lowered the bottle, only to be nailed by Allie’s searching scrutiny.
“Do you at least want to open it while I’m here?” Allie crossed her arms over her chest and nodded toward the letter. Her long, curly hair was pulled back into a large clip at her nape giving her look a severity that matched the sleek, navy suit. Silk, if Kendra was guessing right. Her mother would be disappointed that she couldn’t name the designer too.
Clearing her throat and the thought, Kendra set her bottle down and picked up the discarded letter. She flipped it in her hands before quickly sliding a finger under the seal. There was only her name written in block letters across the front. It could be anything.
But it wasn’t.
Somehow she knew that. Just like she knew that her sought-after sense of security was going to be shattered and the quaint little life she’d built here would be ripped apart.
After so long, there were some things she just knew.
That still didn’t stop the tremble of fear that clamped around her heart when she read Eric’s words: I know where you are. That was it. Of course he would find her. She hadn’t gone to extremes to stay hidden. She still used her real name and had been forced to draw from her trust fund to pay for the condo rent, even though she tried to use her Target income to pay for everything else. It’d been blind desperation that had her hoping he’d just let her go.
That thought almost seemed funny now. Just another thing in the long line of truths she’d been hiding from.
Folding the paper back up, she ripped it in half, then again until there was nothing left but a pile of tiny scrap pieces.
“Your landlord must be a real dick,” Allie observed, her dry wit making Kendra smile. “Makes me glad I own my condo.”
“He’s the biggest,” she agreed.
“Do you need my help?”
Here was another person offering to help her. It was like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and ended up in an alternate world of unbelievable kindness. “Thanks. I’m fine.”
“Right. And I’m the handsome prince coming to sweep you off your feet.” Allie set down her unopened water and moved to the door. “My services are always free for you. Okay?”
“Services? What do you mean?”
“Legal. If you need them. I have a ton of pro-bono hours I need to rack up to maintain the firm’s public image.” Allie checked her lipstick in the small mirror next to the front door then tucked an escaped curl back into the clip. She turned around. “The other services I charge for.” She wiggled her eyebrows in a lascivious manner.
Kendra laughed. “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”
A quick glance at the clock, and Allie was out the door. “Gotta run. Be careful, Kendra. Call if you need anything.” And she was gone, a whirlwind of energy that had the force of a sledgehammer. And the tact too.
Feeling better than she had ten minutes ago, Kendra turned back to the pile of papers on her counter and swiped them into the garbage can. It wouldn’t be that simple to get rid of Eric, but she wasn’t going to let him stop her. She liked it here and she was done running.
That meant she was done running from herself too. For once she had to thank Eric. She wasn’t going to be scared by him, and his little letter gave her the determination to do exactly what he’d hate for her to do.
A smile on her face, she locked the front door and wandered upstairs. She had an outfit to pick out for that evening.
* * *
“You su
re you know what you’re doing?”
Deklan shot a glare at Seth before he turned back to his task. Not a chance he was answering that question. Instead he ran the towel over the vinyl-covered table, all of his focus put on cleaning the piece of equipment he was going to use that night. His plans included something that would build Kendra’s trust. He was preparing, even if he still doubted her appearance. She’d said she’d show, but her actions said something different.
Seth moved around the table until he stood in front of Deklan. “I assume you’ll see to all of the paperwork. Just because you’re being stupid doesn’t mean you’re an idiot.”
“Fuck you.” Deklan straightened, throwing down the rag he was using. “I train subs. That’s part of my job.”
“And I take care of the club.” Seth leaned in, pressing his hands on the table. “That’s my job. Did you do the full background check on her? Screen the medical? Sign the legal work? Or are you bypassing all of the rules in your quest to be the savior once again?”
“Watch it,” Deklan warned. “You’re pushing too far.” He bent down and picked up the bottle of cleaner and jar of metal polish with slow, controlled movements.
He walked away, putting the cleaning supplies back before going to the long row of cabinets that held the Dungeon toys. The entire time he was aware of Seth silently stewing near the middle of the room.
“Is the club okay?” Deklan asked as he opened a cabinet, the door hinge squeaking. Even with all of the equipment filling the unoccupied Dungeon, the large space felt hollow. Every sound seemingly magnified in the quiet when the room was normally filled with a large variety of noise.
“What? Oh, yeah. It’s fine.”
He scanned the floggers and crops lined up in neat rows on the different shelves for a second before glancing over his shoulder at Seth. His hands were shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans, his hair unbound and hanging around his face as he stared at the ground. Seth had been on edge for the last few months, little things ticking him off when they normally wouldn’t. “The paperwork will be on your desk before the Scene starts.”
“Right.” Seth gave a tight nod, his lips pulled thin. “Of course it will.”
Deklan turned his attention back to the floggers, contemplating which one to use that night.
“Do you trust yourself with her?”
Seth’s question was so out of the norm that Deklan actually jerked around to stare at the man he’d known for over twenty years. The other man wouldn’t look at him. Instead,
Seth continued to stare at the ground, which was even more uncharacteristic of him.
“What’s going on, Seth?” Deklan forgot his task for the moment and walked back over. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
The other man shook his head as if he was clearing away cobwebs then gave a shrug. “Nothing. Just taking care of the details.” He glanced distractedly around the room before yanking his hands from his pockets to comb his fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face. “Just be honest with yourself on this one. She’s more than a trainee.”
Yeah, she was. But was he going to admit that to anyone else? Fuck, no. Zero point in giving anyone that kind of leverage. “I’m fine.”
Seth assessed him for a long moment, his face tight like he was holding something back.
Before he could say anything more, Deklan switched gears. “Help me move this table.” He stepped around and grabbed the end of the padded massage-style table. “I want it over by the wall.” He nodded toward the space he’d already cleared in the far corner.
With a long sigh, Seth did as Deklan asked. Together they lifted and maneuvered the table around the other equipment until they could set it down in front of the mirror that covered a large portion of the wall.
Seth wiped his palms on his jeans and assessed the setup. “What are you planning?”
Nudging the table until it was aligned perpendicular to the mirror, Deklan tried to gauge Seth’s question. Was it curiosity or judgment on the other man’s face? Did it matter?
He returned to the toy cabinet before he answered. “Nothing extreme. She’s still too skittish for me to give her what she really wants.”
“And you already know what that is?”
What was up with him? Deklan turned to stare directly at Seth, meeting the waiting confrontation with his own irritation. “Yeah. I do. You gonna doubt that too, or are you done being a dick for the day?”
Cursing, Seth turned away and headed toward the stairs, his boots slamming hard and frustrated on the wood. His non-answer as clear as any words he could have said.
Deklan looked back to the crops but didn’t really see them. Did he know what he was doing with Kendra? Of course he did. Fuck Seth for putting doubts in his head.
Chapter Ten
Kendra stepped into the dimly lit entry of The Den at exactly nine o’clock. The bouncer looked her over, his slow perusal assessing, not judging. She gave him a tight smile, willing her voice to work. “I’m expected.” That was all she could get out. She was incapable of forming whole sentences at the moment. It was almost as if the sound of her own voice would change her mind. Make her run away instead of moving forward.
“Name?” the big, bald man asked as he picked up the clipboard sitting on the table next to him.
“Kendra Morgan,” she answered, her voice only slightly raspy. She cleared her throat and swallowed but resisted the urge to close her eyes. She wasn’t going to hide or run. It didn’t matter how much her stomach ached or her palms sweated. This was an opportunity she had to take.
The man’s head snapped up, a slow grin forming on his lips. “Ms. Morgan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stepped aside, unblocking her view from the rest of the entry area. “Check-in’s over there. I’ll let Master Deklan know you’ve arrived.”
Kendra nodded her thanks and managed to walk over to the indicated area on mostly stable legs. Taking a breath, she gave her name to the buxom blonde dressed in red latex behind the counter. The body-hugging dress had a zipper up the front that looked stretched to breaking from the strain.
The blonde gave a full smile, easing some of Kendra’s tension. “Do you want to check your items, or would you like a locker key?”
“Check,” Kendra answered as she removed her trench coat and handed it over with her purse. She didn’t plan on hanging around long enough after the Scene to need a locker. The cool air that lingered in the entry area hit her skin, and she shivered. The black mini-skirt and tank did little to keep her warm. The outfit wasn’t exceedingly sexy, compared to what other subs would be wearing. But she also didn’t plan on having it on for that long.
The muffled thump of the dance music hit full-blast into the area as the door to the main room opened. Kendra jerked around to see Deklan moving through the open doorway. Instantly, heat flared within her, chasing away the lingering chill. Dressed again in all black, the tight T-shirt stretched over his chest, showing his well-defined muscles and hugging the girth of his biceps.
He didn’t smile, not here. Now, he was all business. Stubble covered his jaw, matching his short-cropped hair, lending a hint of darkness to his appearance. Everything in her warned that this was a dangerous game she was playing, but she couldn’t make herself stop.
She didn’t want to stop.
If there was any chance at all, even the slightest, that Deklan could help her accept her need, then she had to try. She had to do this because she didn’t want to continue living in the pit of shame that trapped her now.
“Kendra.” The low purr went straight through her, ramping up the anticipation but also stirring her nerves. He stopped before her, his dark military boots coming into view. She sensed his presence, the energy reaching out to her in an almost tangible way.
Her skin prickled, the small hairs on her arms rising with the goose bumps. “Sir,” she mumbled. Here, at the club, he wouldn’t want to be Deklan anymore.
He reached down, separating her clasp
ed hands before taking one in his. “This way.”
She followed, all too aware of the number of people loitering around the area watching them. He led her into the main room of the club, the loud music and crowd of people putting her at ease. Here she was only one of many.
He kept a firm hold on her hand, weaving his way through the people until they reached the same VIP booth she’d sat in the last time she’d been there. She slid onto the bench seat and he followed, his large body edging her around until she was resting against the back curve, giving her a clear view of the room. But her eyes couldn’t stray from the papers that lay on the table.
The contract.
“Do you want a drink?”
“No, sir.”
A pause. “Kendra?”
“Yes, sir?”
He placed his hand over the contract, blocking her view of the print she wasn’t reading anyway. “Eyes up.”
Instantly she obeyed.
His deep blue eyes peered into hers and held her as captive as shackles. “The contract has everything in it that we agreed to over email. To confirm—no blood. No public nudity. No intercourse. Nothing in private until you tell me you’re ready. The rest of your hard stops are also defined.”
He lifted his hand and brushed her hair behind her ear, his gaze straying to track the action. “I like it down.” His fingers threaded through the locks and followed the path until it reached the end just past her shoulders. “You’ll wear it down when you’re here unless I tell you otherwise.”
His touch was so alluring. Once again, it was tender when she’d been so used to harsh. Was it fake, this softer side of him? This is what drew her to him, she knew that. This show of caring that pulled her in until she almost begged him to hold her. She swallowed, wishing she’d accepted that drink offer.
“I have one more demand,” he said, her attention yanked back to the negotiations. “You’ll call me Deklan. Not sir. Not master.” He ran his finger over her lips, the pad rough over the softness, and her tongue immediately snuck out to chase it, seeking a taste of him. “Only Deklan. You’ll remember you’re with me. Not him.”