Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso (21 page)

Her only thought as she waited for her lungs to remember the taste of air was that she was forever spoiled for anything else. There would be no satisfying the craving after this experience. She knew what was possible. How could she ever settle for anything less?

Chapter Nineteen

Demon listened to the daytime sounds of Triptych as he sat in Malachi’s office. The cleaning crew was buffing the old sandstone on the main dance floor. The dust they kicked up drifted to the choir loft and tickled his nose.

Wan sunlight filtered in through the diamond-paned windows. Though he couldn’t see out, Demon knew there were nearly eight inches of new-fallen snow, compliments of the previous night’s storm. If he were lucky, it would keep Seraph away longer, but it wouldn’t stop time.

Lars would be back the following morning in search of answers, and Demon would give them to him. There was no way to predict the outcome once all the information was out in the open. If Seraph had truly struck up a new agreement with Demon’s uncle Han, there would be no saving her from her own stupidity.

He lounged back in Malachi’s chair and let it twirl slowly in a circle. He’d left his two beautiful subs dozing quietly on the bed in the training room. They were exhausted after playing most of the night and part of the day. So was he, but not enough to pull him away from the necessary task of finding a way out of this fucked-up mess for all four of them—Allie, Malachi, himself, and now Selena. Because after finding her, he had no intention of letting her go.

Pulling out his phone, Demon sighed deeply and then dialed a number he should have forgotten fifteen years ago. It rang for so long that his heart rate had almost returned to normal. An abrupt click nearly made him jump out of his chair.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice asked in Mandarin.

Demon searched his brain for the language he hadn’t spoken in more than a decade. “Hello, Aunt. May we chat for just a few moments?”

* * * *

Malachi stretched and drew Selena’s warm body a little closer. More than an hour ago Demon had slipped out of the room. Malachi had sensed his larger-than-life presence leaving. This wasn’t the first time Demon had left Malachi in bed to take care of “business.” Every time it happened, his heart crumbled just a little bit.

It was difficult to explain that part of their relationship. He loved Demon; he always had. How could he not love the man that had relentlessly cared for both him and Allie? It wasn’t enough, though. It wasn’t that Malachi wanted to disturb the balance of power. He was happy with the role he played as Demon’s submissive lover. There were lines in their relationship that could not be crossed, and Malachi respected the hell out of that. He knew Demon had some dark shit in his past. So did Malachi. It was the fact that Demon never seemed willing to let Malachi all the way in that cut him to the quick.

Unlike this little minx.

Selena was different from anyone Malachi had ever met. She craved attention, to be noticed, to matter. She was also willing to go to extreme lengths to get what she needed. He’d experienced her recklessness firsthand and knew what she really sought were boundaries. Not the bullshit expectations she’d been fed in the vanilla world, but a safe place she could be accepted for who and what she was.

What he could not guess was how any of this was going to work. Seraph’s threats had hung over his head for so long. Now he suspected Demon was working an angle to bring it all crashing to the ground.

That just pissed him off. Why wouldn’t Demon accept his help? Why did he play things so close to the vest that Malachi felt like a useless pawn?

Because I’ve always let him.

Malachi brushed his fingers over Selena’s petal-soft cheek. He wanted this woman in his life, in his daughter’s life, in Demon’s. It was past time to leave his scarred seventeen-year-old self behind and reach for the future. His hopes might not be the most conventional, but when had conventional ever done anything for him?

* * * *

Selena woke up alone in the cavernous chamber. She’d heard Demon leave hours ago, but Malachi hadn’t been gone long. She could still smell his lingering scent on the bed beside her. Her body responded instantly to the memories it invoked. Her nipples puckered into tiny points, and her pussy grew moist and warm.

Down, girl!

She flopped onto her back and stared up at the elaborately tooled oak and iron canopy overhead. Not that she was an expert after one night of BDSM play, but she did realize how laughable her comments to Malachi about sex and pleasure had been. She hadn’t known what to expect that first night. She’d had no point of reference, no previous experiences to fall back on, and had been far too stupid to know it.

What could they possibly think of her? They were obviously older. She suspected Demon outstripped her by nearly twenty years, but age was just a number. Experience, though, that was something else.

She recalled the first time she’d had sex with a near stranger after her divorce from Jackson had become final. He’d claimed his name was John, which was bullshit, but she couldn’t even remember what she’d told him to call her. It had been the transience of the situation she’d wanted. Knowing beyond doubt that this person would never pop up again in her life had given her the courage to let loose a little. In her mind that had meant a sloppy make-out session in a club and some grinding on the dance floor to be followed by ten minutes of sweaty doggy-style sex in her limo. Until John, her sexual experiences had involved lying on her back with her legs spread and pretending to enjoy the five minutes of action her prep-school partners had been able to give her. The things that really turned her on would have shocked those men—boys—whatever they were.

Rolling to her side, she stared at the selection of whips, canes, and floggers hanging on the wall. They didn’t look intimidating anymore. They looked promising. Like the possibility of a fulfillment she hadn’t known existed. It was the feeling she’d gotten with John multiplied by infinity. A safe haven where she could strip away the mask she wore in polite society and be whoever she wanted.

In essence, she now understood what she had craved so deeply about ballet. The discipline. The ability to stretch her mind and her body to the max while becoming part of something larger than herself. The comfort of limits based not on her bank balance or her pedigree, but on her abilities.

She still wanted to dance, but it was never going to satisfy the beast that lived inside her. Not now that she knew what was out there.

Which brings me right back around to wondering what I can possibly offer these two men. Something they seem to have considered since I’m here all by myself like the creepy stalker chick who won’t leave after the party’s over.

Sitting up, she threw her legs over the side of the bed with a sigh. She felt like Sleeping Beauty. There was no way of tracking how much time had passed while she’d been cocooned in this world of their making. Now it was time to face reality.

The pink dress she’d worn to the club was draped carefully over one arm of the St. Andrew’s cross. She made a face when she picked it up. What she really wanted were some jeans and a sweater. Unfortunately she hadn’t thought to pack an overnight bag for an encounter she hadn’t really expected to happen.

What did I think was going to happen?

That was a question she couldn’t answer. She puzzled it over while pulling the flimsy dress down over her body. Her tiny beaded bag sat in the crook of the cross arm. She unzipped it and pulled out her phone, shocked to discover it was already four in the afternoon. Her one night had been over hours and hours ago.

No wonder I’m here alone.

Yesterday about this time she’d been finishing up the paperwork that would see her employed by Boston School for the Arts as a student teacher. Somehow her experience with Malachi and Demon had made her more certain it was a job she could do, and do well. Silly, considering the two things were not even remotely connected.

Her heels were tucked to one side of the cross. The only thing Selena was missing were her panties. They seemed to have disappeared altogether. She looked around to see if they’d somehow been shoved aside, but it was like they’d evaporated.

It wasn’t that she’d never gone without, but this particular dress was really short. One nice breeze and she’d be flashing whoever happened to be looking. Plus, there would be no bending, squatting, or otherwise retrieving anything. It would be like asking to be impaled from behind. A warm thrill made her pussy lips plump in eagerness. Not that going without panties to give quick access to Demon and Malachi would be a bad thing.

She wasn’t happy to discover herself alone with no clue where her two one-night lovers had gone. It was so tempting to track them down and beg them for just one more night. And another after that. And another. Until she’d achieved maximum satisfaction and was absolutely ready to let go.

As if that’s ever going to happen.

Selena sighed and exited the training room sans panties. She paused in the dimly lit corridor, trying to remember exactly how they’d gotten there. On her first visit, Malachi had pointed out the nearest exit, but the stairwell looked dark and forbidding. What if nobody manned that door during the daylight hours?

Selena opted to search for an exit in the better-lit portion of the Underground. She backtracked down the hallway until it opened into the room where she’d seen the submissive on display. She gazed at the tower where the man had been restrained. It looked innocuous in the empty space.

She wondered what it might be like to be tethered in front of an audience and then teased and pleasured for their amusement. It sounded provocative in a way. To show others how powerful and seductive Demon could be when he let the calm mask he wore slip away, or to let an audience view the beauty of Malachi’s big body as he sank deep inside her.

What if they wanted to share?

The thought made her sick to her stomach. She’d come to Triptych with the vague notion of a threesome. Any two men would have done because she hadn’t any idea what the concept would entail. There had been no way to understand how much trust, how much willingness to set aside inhibition it took to be with two lovers at once. Now, she was of a completely different mind.

Perhaps that was the scariest part of this entire experience. How was she supposed to go back to her normal life? How could she ever go out on another date, or find another lover? Who on earth could ever compete with men like Demon and Malachi?

Tears stung her eyes, and Selena brushed them away in shock. She didn’t cry. Not anymore. She hadn’t cried since the night Seth Overton and Joshua Breckenridge had allowed Asylum’s owners to blackmail Jackson Wilhelm into signing divorce papers. There was just no point.

From the long, low room it was easy to remember which passage led back to Triptych’s main dance floor. She walked with purpose. This wasn’t the time to collapse into a puddle of feminine drama. She’d put that behind her, every bit of that behavior. The snarky comments she’d always used to hurt Desiree’s feelings. The manipulations she’d used with her brother to get her way. The society bitch who used her name and her money to push her way into people’s lives only to make them miserable. She didn’t want to be that person anymore.

Selena reached the door at the bottom of the wide stairwell where she and Lars had tried to get past the doorman less than twenty-four hours ago. She pushed hesitantly, afraid it would be locked tight. It groaned and opened just a crack. Putting her shoulder into it, she shoved hard. The way her luck had been lately, she’d get it open just far enough to slice her body in half on the way through.

Abruptly the door swung wide open. “Where did you come from?”

Selena was lucky to be on her feet with both arms still attached as she found herself face to chest with Owen the guard troll. His frown could have peeled paint. Even his warm caramel skin didn’t soften the obvious irritation in his expression.

“I’m looking for a way out.” She tried to appear completely composed while also making certain she didn’t accidentally flash him. “It would be very helpful if you’d show me. That way I can call a cab and get out of your hair.”

There were a lot of things going on behind his ebony eyes, none of which he apparently felt inclined to share. “Does Malachi know you’re leaving?”

Interesting. He didn’t even mention Demon. She knew Malachi ran Triptych. Apparently the employees were used to thinking of him as the boss. Now that the big oaf mentioned it, she wasn’t sure if Malachi knew she was leaving or not. She’d woken up alone. Wasn’t that sort of a dead giveaway she’d overstayed her welcome? Her heart gave an unpleasant double thump.

Breathe, you silly little girl.

“I know you’re blonde, but I didn’t ask a particularly hard question.” Owen’s left eyebrow lifted into an elegantly sarcastic arch.

What is this guy’s problem?
“God, you’re an asshole.”

To her shock, he laughed. It turned him from sarcastic to sexy. Even that change didn’t make him more attractive to her at the moment. He was standing between her and a clean getaway that didn’t involve throwing herself at two men who had obviously lost interest.

“Follow me, Blondie.” He turned and strode off, leaving her to follow or be left behind.

She ground her teeth at the hated generic nickname. Too bad she couldn’t leave his ass right here and find her own way out. If she could be sure the front doors were unlocked, she would have taken the chance.

He headed left at the top of the stairs and crossed the massive dance floor. It looked ten times bigger without people filling it from wall to wall. Selena craned her neck back and tried to take in the whole room at once.

The arched ceiling overhead was so cathedral-like it brought back memories of going to Christmas Mass as a child. It was beautiful in a Gothic way that seemed to fit Malachi. She wondered if he’d been the one to suggest the venue. Considering his private tastes, it was pretty much perfect.