Dungeon Royale (Masters and Mercenaries) (26 page)

Charlotte pulled out her blush and eyed Penny critically before she started applying the light pink color to her cheeks. Penny stayed still. Charlotte was an artist and Penny had recently become her favorite canvas.

“She thinks Simon is holding a torch for a woman named Avery.”

“Avery Charles?” She’d been his target in his last SIS operation. He’d infiltrated the organization she worked for, a charity that was headed by a man who dealt arms to war torn parts of Africa.

“Avery O’Donnell now. She married one of Ian’s men. She just had a baby, a boy named Aidan. Don’t move or I’ll mess up.” She swept the brush across her cheek. “Chelsea’s decided that Simon is only interested in her because she reminds him of Avery. I explained that Avery is practically a saint and she has next to nothing in common with her except that they both suffered injuries to their legs. Simon doesn’t run around trying to rub himself all over every girl on crutches, so I’m pretty sure he’s interested in Chelsea for Chelsea, though the way she’s treated him, I have no idea why. I think we can safely say he’s a masochist.”

“I remember that op. Simon liked Avery. He thought she was innocent and he wanted to make sure she didn’t get hurt, but he never mentioned a deep and abiding passion for her.”

“Well, try telling my sister that. Sometimes I think I did more harm than good by taking her with me. Open your mouth a little.” She pulled out the gloss and started painting it across Penny’s lips. Intimacy. She’d learned more about friendships and intimacies in the past week than she could have imagined. Intimacy didn’t have to mean sex. Intimacy was really revealing herself to another person, opening herself up and allowing the people around her to change her in small ways, to let their strengths become her own.

“Taking her with you when you went on the run?” She asked after the gloss was on. She’d learned the whole story of Charlotte and Ian over the last couple of days. It made her problems with Damon seem simple.

“Yes. Although I didn’t have a choice at the time. We had to get away from my father’s organization. We did not have to become international information brokers. Oh, sure, it protected us and gave us power and crap, but I think Chelsea got addicted to it. It also allowed her to hide away and live in front of her computer. I should have taken her to the park and forced her to socialize with the rest of the puppies.” She took a step back and smiled. “You look awesome. Are you ready for this?”

Damon had walked the dungeon floor with her the night before, but they hadn’t played. During the afternoons, he’d taken her to his “toy room” and allowed her to be acquainted with the various tools he employed. He’d sat beside her as Ian had presented a class on Shibari, tying up Charlotte in intricate designs.

But tonight, they were playing. She and Damon. In public.

“I’m ready.” She wasn’t so sure she could say the same about Damon. He’d enthusiastically shagged her at every opportunity, but he seemed reluctant to play. He let her sleep next to him, but still took his own shower. He’d moved into the guest bathroom, leaving the master to her. He dressed in another room as well, as though sharing the mundane intimacies of life was too much for him.

Or he was simply holding himself apart so he could leave her when he’d promised to.

She’d hoped that sex would bring them closer, but it was a false thing. It felt perfect when he held her, but the distance between them afterward was becoming impossible to handle.

She heard the insistent thud of industrial music coming from the dungeon. Trying to push aside her problems with Damon was hard, but she was determined to enjoy the night. It was her first time to play, her first time to really be in the dungeon in something other than an observational capacity.

“Come on. Let’s go see what trouble my sister’s gotten herself into. She doesn’t do well in dungeons without someone to speak for her. Seriously, I’ve thought about shoving a ball gag in her mouth before we leave the locker room at Sanctum.” Charlotte took her hand. “Why didn’t Damon give you shoes?”

Because he was being somewhat kind. That was what Penny thought. “I’m not good in high heels.”

“Or it’s because he likes you being so much smaller than him.” Charlotte always seemed to look to the most romantic explanation of everything.

They left the light of the dressing room and were immediately enclosed in the soft night of The Garden. A full moon was shining down and the jasmine was blooming from the walls.

“Gosh, it’s so pretty here.” Charlotte looked up, wonder on her face. “Do you ever wonder how a man as dark as Damon came up with this place?”

Every moment of every day. She breathed in the scents of the dungeon. Jasmine and loamy earth, and leather with the faintest hint of sweat and sex. Cobblestone was cool on the flats of her feet. Since meeting Damon, she’d become aware of the world around her in a way she hadn’t before. The ivy that wound its way across the dungeon would never have caught her attention, but now she saw it. Green, shiny, alive. It crept up the walls and across the floor, invading the space and bringing it to life.

She caught sight of Damon. He was standing beside Ian, both men in leather pants, vests, and boots.

Was she fooling herself? She wanted to cross to him, to sink to her knees in front of him and know that he wanted her there, but she worried she was setting herself up for more heartache.

And then he turned, his eyes catching hers and just for a moment, they lit up, his mouth opening a bit, his whole body turning toward hers. He shut it down, but there had been lust and something else in his eyes for that one minute. It was the same look he’d had on his face the first time he’d brought her into The Garden. Pride.

He was proud of her.

“Oh, girl, you are one of us now.” Charlotte put an arm around her and impulsively kissed her cheek. “Let’s go and join our intensely obnoxious men.”

Penny nodded. She’d gotten far more comfortable around Ian Taggart. She’d learned he was mostly bark. Oh, she was sure when the man really decided to bite he would rip a throat out, but there was an actual fully functional heart under all his cursing.

If a man like that could let go and be happily married, why couldn’t Damon? God, she’d just thought it. She’d admitted what she really wanted. To be Damon’s wife.

His face had lost that momentary wonder and was back to what she’d come to think of as his Dom face. Gorgeous, just the slightest bit chilly. He gestured for her to come to him.

She did because no matter how cold he seemed, she’d caught glimpses of the real man and she would risk heartache to find him again.

She crossed the distance between them, praying she looked natural in her very little clothing. She was used to covering up, but she’d discovered that all those clothes formed a barrier between her and the world. She’d practically turned into a nudist in the comfort of Damon’s apartments.

Damon stood at the edge of a crowd of ten or fifteen people. The Garden, she’d discovered, was very exclusive. On the nights it was open, there were never more than twenty or thirty people in the club, including the staff.

As she joined him, she heard the
thud thud thud
of a flogger hitting flesh. A woman was chained to the St. Andrew’s Cross, her body already sagging.

“Holy shit,” Charlotte said. Her husband’s hand covered her mouth, and he dragged her close.

“Don’t you say another word,” Taggart commanded quietly. “I had to negotiate for her. We got her down to her leggings, but I couldn’t let her leave the bra on. If Simon hit the metallic parts, it could really hurt. She’s fine. Let them be. Let them work this out without your interference.”

Simon wielded what looked to be two floggers, one in each hand. He moved to the music, allowing it to guide his strikes in a pulsing rhythm. His wrists flicked, snapping back and forth, the sound of the falls striking her skin reaching a crescendo.

It was a beautiful dance and Penny watched, utterly fascinated by the way Simon handled the scene. He stopped suddenly and ran a big palm down Chelsea’s back. He was so much larger than the brunette that his palm took up almost all the space between her shoulders. He leaned in, seeming to say something to his partner as he cupped the nape of her neck.

She simply nodded and he stepped back, his hand coming out to request another instrument. Ian stepped up, handing him what looked like a furry black glove.

“It’s called a vampire glove.” Damon whispered into her ear, dragging her against him. He slid an arm around her waist, cradling her back to his front as he quietly explained. “The material is extremely soft. Simon’s been warming her up with a deerskin flogger. Her skin is getting very sensitive. Watch.”

Simon ran the glove across her back, and Chelsea seemed to sigh and rub against it. Then suddenly she stopped, shuddering and moaning softly.

“There’s a row of metal studs hidden in the glove that Simon will manipulate to keep her off balance. They won’t cut her skin, but she will feel it. If she wasn’t so stubborn, he would run that glove all over her body and there wouldn’t be an inch of her skin that didn’t feel alive.”

Penny turned her head up, speaking softly to Damon so she didn’t disturb anyone. “Why does it help with the pain?”

“Some people get endorphins from enduring, rather like a runner after a marathon or someone working out. I would bet she’s actually quite submissive, but she won’t allow herself to practice in real life. So she finds her subspace in bits of time when the pain becomes too much to handle. If she were my sub, I would put her on a regular yoga routine to keep her flexibility up. I would get her out from in front of the computer and force her to deal with her issues, but she’s quite vocal about not taking a Dom even though I think Weston would accept her in a heartbeat.”

Simon put the vampire glove down and selected another flogger.

“Oh, he’s getting a bit nasty now,” Damon whispered. “That one’s pure leather. It’s softened up a bit, but do you see the small knots on the end of a couple of the falls? Yes, that’s going to sting a bit.”

Chelsea stiffened the first time he struck her with it and then after a long shuddering breath, her head fell forward. He found his rhythm again, moving to the music as he struck her shoulders, arse, and hamstrings. He avoided the spine, focusing on the big muscles. After the first sting, Chelsea seemed to go completely limp, her body moving easily with the strikes, but not fighting them at all. She accepted everything Simon gave her.

Charlotte was watching, her eyes never leaving her sister as she hung from the cross. Ian had an arm around her as if he thought she needed support, or perhaps he was worried she would intervene.

He alternated between flogging her and running the vampire glove over her sensitive skin.

Penny relaxed back against Damon. Every now and then he would point out something Simon was doing and why he was doing it. He seemed very dismissive of the fact that she was wearing heavy leggings.

Chelsea was wrong, she realized as she glanced around the crowd. No one would judge her. There wasn’t a single perfect body in the building. Most of the men had scars. It did nothing to take away from their attractiveness. If anything, Penny found she liked them. It let her know these were men who had fought.

Many of the women would be considered overweight by society standards, but their Doms seemed to like them that way. Chelsea had a few curves, but she wasn’t heavy. She was a pretty woman, especially when she smiled. No one would make fun of her for her scars. Not here.

Yet she clung to those leggings, even when she was willing to take off her shirt to be tied down.

Simon finally placed the flogger on the table and went to untie her.

“Charlie,” Ian barked his warning as his wife stepped away from him.

“It’s only if she needs me.” Charlotte moved forward, clutching Penny’s hand.

As they moved closer, she could hear Simon talking in low tones as his hand found Chelsea’s hair, stroking her. “You did so well, love. So well.”

Chelsea seemed to be shaking herself back to consciousness. “Oh, is it over already?”

Simon chuckled. “Of course not. I need to take a look at your back. I need to make sure I didn’t leave marks. Let me take you to the aftercare room and give you a good rubdown. You’ll sleep so well.”

Chelsea shook her head. “No. I feel fine. Better than fine actually. You’re very good at what you do.”

His hand tightened in her hair. “Do you know how much better this could be if you let it? Do you know how I could make you feel? Give over to me, Chelsea. Let me take over. You won’t regret it. I can make you feel so much.”

Penny wanted to move away, to give them this intimate moment, but Charlotte wouldn’t move.

Chelsea shook her head and started to pull at the bindings that wrapped around her wrists. “No. Let me out. I want out now. I don’t want aftercare. I don’t need it.”

“Chelsea,” Simon started.

“Get me out of these, Weston. I’m done.” Her voice rose, losing the dreamy quality she’d had before and becoming panic tinged. “Charlotte!”

“I’m sorry, Simon.” Charlotte moved in, her hands going up to untie her sister.

Simon stepped back, his face going blank. He began cleaning up, ignoring the woman he’d just lavished so much time on.

And when she likely thought no one was looking, Chelsea turned and stared at Simon’s back, longing plain on her face.

So afraid. She was so afraid. It was plain for Penny to see because she’d been there. She’d been mad about Damon Knight for years and she was sure she’d had that very look on her face a million times when he walked across the room, paying her absolutely no mind.

She had this chance. She wouldn’t get it again.

Where had Damon gone? She looked and he’d moved with Ian into the bar. The two men were sitting together, Ian’s brow furrowed, his agitation obvious.

She walked back to him, dropping to her knees and taking her place at his feet. A week ago, she would likely have been horrified by the idea, but it didn’t make her less of a woman. Kneeling at her lover’s feet didn’t mean she was a doormat. It was play and an offering of sorts. It meant she was willing to be what he needed her to be.