Cage. Oh God. Where are you?
“I’m nowhere near done with you, bitch.” His voice had deepened.
Something metal snicked open, and a new wave of fear descended over her. It was a dull realization, this awareness that she might die here. That, unbeknownst to anyone, they’d taken a madman into their midst. How ironic. Just when she’d thought her life couldn’t be any more perfect and now, she was thrust into the mouth of Hell.
The sound of a door opening interrupted the muffled nothingness of subspace she’d gratefully begun sinking into. The thud of flesh hitting flesh and the clatter of something falling to the floor.
“You bastard. What are you doing?”
“Get her down!”
Hands reached for her, and the straps holding her suspended were removed.
“God. Natalia.”
Cage. He was here. She mewled and turned away. He’d let her be taken and broken. Now he was here to witness her shame. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and despite her fear, she let him hold her.
“What are you doing here? She’s mine for the night.” The blond stranger ground out.
She cowered as the voice raked over her like a physical force, her body a throbbing mass of nerves and hurt.
“Like Hell.” Cage’s arms cradled her, and she sunk into his embrace. “Julian, this is your doing. Clean it up.”
“Get this fucker out of my club. Now.”
“Should we call the cops?” A female voice interjected.
“Do you really want cops in here? Fuck, Miranda. That’s all we need.”
Natalia moaned as the movement of her body jarred her injuries.
“Natalia. Natalia, honey, can you hear me?”
She did, but she was so tired. Her face remained the only part of her that didn’t ache, and now all she wanted to do was sleep. Natalia curled her face into Cage’s chest and took in his clean scent. She let the memory of his kind and gentle touch carry her into dreams and away from the living nightmare that almost claimed her.
Chapter One
Natalia Adams scrutinized herself in the mirror of the Inferno dressing room and tied the black lace mask over her face. She secured it with the ribbons until it nestled firmly where it would reside for the next four hours. Her claret red hair hung in messy ringlets, secured with a four-pronged bejeweled fork. So much sexier than her former brown color.
The black bustier and expensive leather pants hugged her body like a glove. Sturdy boots allowed her movement as she disciplined her submissive this evening. Her clients expected a Domme who could finesse any situation, and that’s what she gave them.
Her cat slid beneath her skin, eager to escape the confines of her human self.
“Hang on, girl,” Natalia whispered. “You’ll get to play soon enough.”
And she would. A run through the woods near her house was just what the doctor ordered. Especially when the human world became a little too much.
Tonight the main part of the club would be full of writers going through BDSM training with a rope tying segment by the club’s Shibari expert. The woman was a marvel. Last weekend she’d stopped to watch the petite Asian woman master the rope, all the while running the floor in bare feet. It just went to prove a girl had to have traction. Big heeled boots were good for show, but not much else. If you can’t work in them, why bother?
As Natalia, as a victim, she had left Inferno seven years ago, but now Mistress Elle walked the club's rooms with confidence and power. Any interactions with the front office, including her appointments, were scheduled via an online service, so she remained compliant. Her paperwork, including references, was registered with the office upstairs using her middle name, leaving no one the wiser.
“Mistress, your appointment is ready for you now.” A young female sub approached, as she applied the final coat of lipstick.
“Very well, Melanie. I’ll be out in a moment.”
The sub paused, a look of adoration on her face. “If you have any need of me, Mistress…”
Natalia smiled and this time let it reach her eyes. “Thank you. I will.” She walked out onto the floor and made her way toward the more private spanking bench toward the back of the club. She was able to monitor the entrance unlike some of the other areas. One way in and one way out.
Her boots sounded on the concrete floor, and she smiled as she entered the room. How tempting Rye looked when he knelt in a submissive pose. Muscles rippling, his dark hair fell against the back of his neck. Just the right length to hold onto. Between his powerful thighs his cock jutted out at attention, a sure sign he was glad to see her. A perfect sub, he performed whatever task she assigned, be it chores off site or giving her pleasure with his very talented tongue.
As she approached him, the raw need in his gaze flashed up even as he tried to hide it. Last week she’d forced him to watch the Shibari exhibit, his cock locked in a chastity cage. Through it all, he’d done as she asked, focusing only on what pleased her.
The week before that, she’d taken him to her house and had him clean it for an entire afternoon. Service was often the way subs proved themselves. It didn’t have to be overtly sexual. Nor did she always come across as the harsh disciplinarian. There was a balance.
He’d requested some additional time with her, and she found herself enjoying his company. When she left for her shift, she’d come home to an empty house with a pot roast simmering in the crock pot. House clean, the laundry folded, and he’d baked. Hell. He’d even fed her cat. But he wasn’t there, and that made the emptiness all the more hollow.
A flutter swung through Natalia’s lower body, something she hadn’t experienced in the five years she’d been training and working as a Domme. Feeling… Now, that was the most frightening thing of all. Was that why she’d put him in a cage last week? Probably. She had to reclaim her distance. He made her want. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for the submissives she worked with. It was her innermost pleasure to give them what they needed but Rye was special. Different.
He is one of our mates.
Stop it.
But she couldn’t silence the truth.
To come home and find his touches everywhere had left a mark inside of her. As a cop, she didn’t have much time for domestic things. Nor the inclination. But him… He would make the perfect wife. If you could call it that. Whatever it was, his brown eyes awakened something inside of her she thought was long buried in the past. When he touched her, he siphoned the rage that brewed in her belly, even after all this time.
***
Rye knelt in the submissive position anticipating the arrival of the woman he hoped would take him on as a permanent sub. Each week for the past year he’d come to her, but each week she denied him. Being in her home remained the ultimate torture. To be of service to her was his greatest delight. To have her push him away afterward had been agony. Rye wasn’t giving up. He watched her approach, her booted footfalls commanding his attention even though he was trained better than to raise his gaze from the floor.
Her energy was as rich and luxurious as her red hair and he longed to plunge himself into her depths, body and soul.
“Rye, It’s good to see you.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“You may rise.”
He stood on legs that had gone numb from kneeling and nearly stumbled as he smoothly righted himself. Rye quickly spread his legs and put his hands behind his back, lowering his head in submission.
“Very good.”
Like many others, Rye chose to keep his identity a secret. A basic black mask covered the upper portion of his face, allowing Mistress to see his eyes and mouth. His work as a psychologist in the community made anonymity a necessity. He worked primarily with trauma and crime victims. He also studied the different lifestyles within the BDSM community and was a resource to the local police department. Yet another very important reason to keep the mask on.
His life was full of cryptic things. An incubus by nature, he had discovered
early on that he fed on not just sexual energy but could also successfully absorb pain, leaving his host with a lighter burden than when they started. Whether it be a simple therapy session or an interlude with his favorite Mistress. He hadn’t heard of another demon having quite the same taste in energy sources, but it served him and the community around him well, so he didn’t seek to question it too much.
After all, it fed the endless hunger that comprised his existence. More than once Ryder had wondered if her tidal wave of chaotic energy was what drew him to her, even more than her shapely body.
“What am I to do with you tonight, Rye?” Mistress paced around him, gaze searching the wall of implements.
“Whatever Mistress desires, I shall do.”
And he would. He would move mountains for her, should she ask. It was as if she could look into his soul and pick out the thing he needed most. Well, he liked to think that he had a soul. Even if he was a demon.
“And if I asked you to stand at attention so I can look at you, will you do that?” Her words curled around him like wisps of smoke. There was an edge about her tonight. Almost brittle, and he was unsure how to proceed. There was more than one kind of mask.
Mistress walked around him, her eyes traveling over his body. Rye swallowed hard, his cock bobbing in the air. His desire for her warred with his mind. “Whatever Mistress demands, I will do, but I wish you would make use of me. Let me serve you. Please.”
Just being surrounded by the force of her energy was like a tinderbox edging closer to an open flame. He would soon combust if she didn’t refocus him.
She spun on her booted heel, her eyes bright behind the mask. Her auburn hair had come undone from the prong and trailed down her back, sexy and loose. He wanted to run his fingers through it. To bathe her. To touch her…
“And how would you do that?” She reached down and grabbed his cock, wrapping her fingers around his shaft.
He fought the urge to groan as her grip tightened, a drop of pre-cum shining from the tip.
“In whatever way you wish, Mistress.” His knees grew weak as she reached underneath and cupped his balls tight. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. She tasted of cinnamon, and as he leaned forward to savor her, she gripped him hard, coaxing a groan from his lips.
“Go to the spanking bench, but first I want you to pick out your punishment for this evening. Something that reflects the proper chastisement for this week.”
He gasped as her fingers parted from his testicles, and he staggered forward toward the wall. Of all the implements, his favorite had always been a plain wooden paddle. Made from walnut, the paddle was long with holes that parted the air as it connected. Rye followed his Mistress’ movement as she went to a counter and pulled out an assortment of objects.
“Mind your place, sub. Get over to that bench now, or you’ll taste more than a paddle on your ass tonight.”
Joy infused him. To be disciplined was to be loved. He knew she cared, but if only the expression on her face reached her eyes. Then and only then would he be content.
***
Cage observed the club-goers milling about the main floor of Inferno. It hadn’t been the same in the seven years since Natalia was attacked. There wasn’t a night that went by that he didn’t think of her. The wolf beneath his skin pawed at him.
Find our mate.
She had moved on. He couldn’t blame her. Not really. He’d failed in his role as dominant to keep her safe. But try as he might, he couldn’t bring either his heart or the creature inside of him to understand what his mind tried to wrap his head around. His Natalia might have been in the same town, but he hadn’t seen her much more than in passing, and even then, from a distance a few years prior.
The moment he’d bought the place from Julian, he’d torn down the room that asshole had mauled her in. Instead, he put in an atrium so he could sit and be surrounded by what Natalia loved most. Life and living things.
He nodded at a couple of regulars and wound his way through the crowd. The dungeon monitors were on double duty, as well they should be. The safest club in the city, he dared that motherfucker to step one toe in Inferno. He may have gotten away with it once but never again under his watch.
No. Scratch that. It had been more than once. Once every year for the past seven years, a woman who resembled Natalia was found dead at a BDSM club. Until this morning. It was all over the news. For whatever reason the killer either messed up or couldn’t wait for his annual pilgrimage to Hell.
Even after all this time he was wracked with guilt. He should have gotten there sooner. If fucking should’ves were horses. It was a whole lot of too little much too late. He’d let her down. If he’d been half as concerned with his responsibilities as a Dom as he had been trying to get the promotion from work, maybe he wouldn’t have lost her.
But you did, didn’t you? You did what you had to do, and everyone else paid the piper.
“Stewing in your juices again, boss?” Miranda slid up to the bar, her familiar bold makeup and rockabilly style making him smile. Her coyote danced in her eyes and he gave her a smile.
“Hey. You caught me.”
Miranda pushed a bottle of sparkling water across the bar. “Look, I realize you don’t want to talk about this, but there’s been a lot of media coverage about what’s been happening at the other clubs.”
Shit.
Ice slithered down Cage’s back. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.” He started to walk away, but Miranda’s next words stopped him in his tracks.
“Do you realize for the last seven years, there’s been a murder? Like on the same day?”
He felt a hand on his arm and turned his head to find the petite bartender gazing at him with concern in her eyes.
“Yeah. It hasn’t escaped my attention.”
“Is that why you upped security?”
He nodded. “Every new person in this room has been triple checked and vetted from stem to stern. Dungeon monitors in every room and someone watching the private rooms so nothing like that will ever happen again.”
“Good.” Miranda nodded, her face solemn. “I just wish she hadn’t disappeared. Natalia loved it here so much. God. She was like the sister I never had.” Tears brightened her eyes, and Miranda looked away, blinking quickly.
“I know. We were doing so well. She was excited about school being over, and I wanted to talk to her about taking things up a notch.”
“She was so happy.”
“I just don’t get it. She left the hospital and moved her stuff out without a word.” His own throat closed up, the memory of his girl nestled in his arms as real as it had been seven years ago.
A customer approached the bar. “I have to go. Look, we both miss her. Just keep up the good work, okay?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, winding through the crowd. He made the rounds most nights when he couldn’t focus on office work. He passed the occupied spanking booths, checking to see all was well. Then he passed the end booth and paused. The woman wielding the paddle on the male submissive was magnificent. Brilliant red hair trailed down her back, and the fierce expression on her face as she applied the impact play was brilliant.
She appeared so much like Natalia it broke his heart. But, then again, he saw a flicker of her wherever he looked.
The submissive known as Rye lifted his head, his eyes streaming with rapturous tears. “Thank you, Mistress.”
“You’ll thank me more in a moment.” She picked up a tube of lubricant and squirted it between the man’s buttocks. He shivered beneath her ministrations. “Tell me your color.”
“Green, Ma’am.”
“Good. Now, tell me your safe word.”
“Candy corn.”
“Now, that is definitely something to put a halt to things. Use it if you need to, Rye” The Domme presented a good-sized butt plug and with a firm hand, eased it inside of him.
Rye trembled, and Cage’s own cock stirred. She worked the sub, easing the plug int
o his body with whispers and caresses, his comfort and safety evident in her tone.
No. Definitely not his Natalia. She would have been on the receiving end, not the dominant one.
“Do not come.”
“Mistress…” Rye groaned, his cock dangling beneath him through the open area of the spanking bench.
She pushed the last part of the plug into him and reached around toward the sub’s cock. Natalia took the shaft in her hand and pumped him.
“Do you feel my plug inside you?”
“Yes…”
She popped him on his rosy pink ass. “Manners.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress. Yes. Ma’am.” He hung his head low, and Cage saw the strain in his posture as the redheaded Domme massaged his shaft from head to root.
“Do you want to present me with your offering?”
“Oh God, yes.” Rye panted. “I mean, yes, Mistress. Please, may I come?”
“You may.” She slid her hand from his cock to his balls and, as she touched his sac, the sub exploded.
Hips jerking, he came, his cherry red ass blossoming with well-mastered welts, the plug nestled firmly between his cheeks. Rye collapsed on the bench, his chest heaving as his hips pumped out the last spasm of his release.
Cage blinked. His cock was so hard, he wanted to pound into a wall. Fuck, that woman could work a sub. She moved so much like Natalia...but there was no way. The red hair, the masterful way she drove the sub over the edge. He needed to soak his head in a bucket of ice.
But then, as the Domme glanced up and saw him there, her eyes flashed and a look of pure longing zinged across her expression. It was so fast, he almost didn’t catch it.
Huh.
“Natalia,” he breathed as her lips parted, and she blinked, her face turning downward. When she looked up once more, all he saw was a woman in control, the illusion of his beautiful sub gone.
“God. I’m fucking losing it.” Cage shook his head and walked away, his erection subsiding with every step.
Natalia…
Westmore Wolves Series: Shapesifter Collection Bks 1-5 Page 35