REVEAL - Scorpio & Harlan (Fettered Book 2) (11 page)

I
walk
through Fettered’s back door and sigh. The man needs to get out more, so that I don’t have to keep walking into a sex club to find him. There are edges here, even on a sunny morning when the kitchen smells like Gabby’s carrot muffins.

The three guys sitting at the counter eating them all stare at me, and then Damon and Quint mumble about things they need to do and head for the hills. I notice they manage to raid most of the muffins on their way out.

Harlan’s looking at me like he can’t figure out whether to hold me or spank me. “Hi, beautiful.”

I don’t want him to be nice to me this morning. I can feel the fight I want to pick with him rising in my throat, and I swallow it down. Ari says he’s offering me a gift. Until I can think straight, I’m going to try to believe her. I reach into my pocket and pull out the image that has collected an impressive number of wrinkles and stains since last night. I don’t let him see it yet. “I came to talk to you about this.”

He looks at me and nods slowly. “Lap or stool?”

I want to crawl into him and stay forever, but there’s no way I’m going to get the words out if I do. I fold my arms over my chest and stand my ground. “You’re right. This isn’t a hard limit, although I really want to say it is. It’s just something about me that I wish you didn’t see.”

He pats the stool beside him. “Come sit down. Have a muffin. Did Ari make sure you ate something this morning?”

The fight I swallowed is back in full force. “Did you send her?”

“No.” He’s not dodging my mad at all. “But I would if I thought you needed somebody.”

My hands clench into fists. “I’m not fragile.”

“I know that.” His hand moves toward me and then lands flat on the counter. “I talked to Damon this morning. In this lifestyle, talking is huge, and needing someone to talk to is never a weakness.”

He’s treading way too close to lands I don’t want to visit. “Sorry. I’m in a pissy mood.”

“I can see that.” He mostly manages to hide his smile. “Have a muffin.”

“I don’t want a bloody muffin.” I slam the image down on the counter. “This is the one.”

He’s watching me, not the picture.

Fuck. He already knows.

His eyes are gentle, but there’s no escaping them. “Why is this the one?”

I want to tell him. I thought I came here to tell him. To trust this big man with the muffin crumbs on his lip and the eyes that care about me —but I can’t. Not even for him. And that pisses me off more than anything ever. “I don’t know. The lingerie, maybe.”

His hand slaps down on the image. “Don’t dig yourself in any deeper, beautiful.” His other hand turns my chin to face him. “You promised to tell me the truth, even when it gets hard. You’re new to this, so I’ve given you some latitude with not telling me stuff. But don’t fucking lie.”

I can feel something in me snapping—and I let it. “You don’t own me.” The words fire out like bullets. Seeking blood.

S
he’s a trembling
, snarling mess—and she’s not done. “You don’t get to demand that I strip every damn thing for you just so you can get some kind of joyride off being a control freak.”

Fuck, how do I help her through this?

It’s not her words that matter right now. Those are just hot air. She’s right on the edge of bolting—and if she does, she won’t come back. I know this as surely as I know my own name. And I’m frozen by the war going on between the man and the Dom inside me. The man needs to hold her close and respect the edges she wants to stay away from and tell her it doesn’t matter and she’s entirely worthy just as she is. The Dom needs to help her be everything. It’s why I do this. To help people become who they’re supposed to be, let light into their dark places, strip off their armor, find their place to belong.

The Dom can feel the need beating in the woman in front of me, mouthing off so that I won’t see her.

But if I push, and I’m going to have to push hard, the chances are really good she’s going to run, and I don’t know if she’ll ever come back. She’s given me all kinds of warning—a sub who knows exactly where her quicksand lives and wants to fence it off and keep everyone the hell out.

I fall back on fifteen years of training. I don’t know what else to do. I snap as hard into Dom mode as I can, every fragment of body language making it clear what I expect. “There will be punishment for mouthing off, for lying to me. It will arrive in a box at your office in one hour.” It would be better to do it right now, but I can’t. I need to get a grip on the man first, so he doesn’t sabotage everything the Dom knows is right.

I leave the kitchen while she’s still speechless, heading for my safe place, for the dungeon that was the center of my world until a few days ago. I know before I make it two steps that leaving her alone like this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done—but I’m pretty sure it’s going to pale against what’s coming next.

H
e’s a dead man
—and then I’m going to make him rise from the dead so that I can kill him again.

I grab the box that I just opened on my desk, crumple the note that came with it into something the size of a spitball, and storm out of my office. Where I promptly collide with my favorite videographer and dump both of us on our asses. He stares at the maid costume that’s now spread out all over the hallway. The very skimpy, porny maid costume.

“Um, dare I ask?”

I growl and park my butt against a wall. “Harlan wants me to wear that. I’m on my way to kill him.”

Leo winces and slides his butt to sit against the wall across from me. “The man has balls, I’ll give him that.”

I can’t believe he’s even thinking of taking Harlan’s side. “This was one of my hard limits.”

He looks at the offending white lace again. “What specifically was your limit?”

I stab my finger at the lace. “This. All of this.”

He leans forward and rubs a hand down my shin. “Breathe, lady. Details matter here. Was your limit wearing a maid costume, or serving him, or role-play in general, or something else?”

My brain’s going to explode. “All of it. Any of it.”

He just raises an eyebrow, and I suddenly don’t have any doubts at all about what role he plays with Sam. “Do they teach that look at Dom school?”

He flashes me a grin. “Yup.”

Figures. “I don’t remember our conversation super clearly, but it’s the idea of being seen as something less that really torques me.”

He nods. “For what it’s worth, Sam dresses up in all kinds of things where someone on the outside might assume that, and not once, ever, have I thought he was less than me. Mostly the opposite, but he kicks my butt when I talk that way.”

I try to imagine Sam in a maid costume and what’s left of my brain falls off a wall of ice into the ocean. “I still don’t want to be anyone’s servant. Does that make me some kind of judgmental shit?”

The eyebrow is back. “No, it makes you a sub who knows herself well enough to tell her Dom important things that will help keep play safe and fun.”

I wince. “Except obviously I wasn’t clear enough.”

“You’re new, and he’s the best at reading body language of anyone I know.” Leo pats the costume. “Maybe he goofed, and if he did, you’ll figure out between you how to clean that up. But unless I’m missing some of the details, it sounds like he asked you to wear it. Not to serve him, not to role play—just to wear it.”

I hiss. “I’ll feel like less as soon as I put it on.”

He leans across the hall and strokes a knuckle down my cheek. “That’s very different than being treated as less. I don’t know for sure, but it sounds like he’s threading a very difficult needle. Doms only do that if they think it’s important.”

I lift up a leg and kick the door jam. “He wants me to wear it while he spanks me.”

Leo’s face twitches like hell, but he manages not to laugh. “Fun or punishment?”

Suddenly I’m nauseous and nothing about this feels funny anymore. “Punishment. I lied to him. And I said some really mean, bullshit things. I got scared and I ran off at the mouth and I threw crap at him that he totally didn’t deserve.”

Leo’s arms are around me before I finish speaking, and I turn into him, too upset to be picky about whose chest I whimper on. He holds me while I suck in enough breaths to hold it together, and then he pushes me back up to sitting, his eyes glued to mine. “Better?”

I nod and stay quiet. He’s clearly got stuff to say.

“In the vanilla world, when you screw up, you go apologize and then you try to figure out why you did whatever you did so that you don’t do it again.” He waits until I nod. “In the kink world, with a Dom you trust, punishment can get you there faster and cleaner. It repairs the trust, reminds you both of what you have to lean into so that you don’t have to be scared alone the next time.”

I can feel the tears forming, and that will end me where I sit, so I choke them back. “Just thinking about it makes me feel like a scared little kid.”

“At some point, tell Harlan that. That’s the kind of thing your Dom needs to know.” He runs a hand down my arm. “In the meantime, know that there’s one monumentally important difference between you and that helpless child.”

I shake my head at him.

He smiles. “One little word will stop your big man dead in his tracks. You have all the power, lady. Even punishment is your choice.”

I
’m an idiot
. A stuck-in-a-rut idiot who apparently doesn’t know how to stop being a Dom even when his happiness depends on it.

I’ve pushed and now Scorpio’s going to run, and then there won’t be a wonderful armful of woman in my lap anymore, and even my Dom’s not going to be very fucking happy about that. I spin around and head for the door. I spend too damn much of my life in this club and I need to get out.

I make it as far as the front walkway and find Ari sitting on a rock, wrapped up in a scarf and a hat the color of the maple leaves over her head. She takes one look at me and snorts. “Well, it looks like Leo was right.”

I don’t want to know what Leo has to do with anything. “I’m in no mood to talk.”

She twirls a red leaf in her fingers. “That’s not your safeword, buddy.”

I scowl at her. “Didn’t you have breakfast with Scorpio this morning?” There are rules about talking in our lifestyle, but we try hard not to put people in the middle. Even when they’re really nosy and volunteer.

She sighs. “Yeah. That makes this a little sticky, but if you talk to one of the guys they might agree with that thick head of yours.”

“What are you now, a mind reader?”

“You’re thinking you went too hard on her. That you should have backed off.” She raises an eyebrow. “How close am I?”

Pretty much on the button, but she doesn’t know the half of it. “She came to me this morning. Couldn’t get the truth out, so she lied and spewed some nasty crap. I kicked a punishment scene into gear. Sent her a maid costume to wear.”

Ari stares at me for a full minute without blinking.

I plunk down on a rock beside her. “So yeah, I’m pretty damn sure I pushed too hard.”

She leans into my shoulder. “You’ve fallen really hard for her, huh?”

I shake her off. “Why the hell is everyone telling me that?”

She snickers and leans back into me. “Remember when Emily came to see Damon in the dungeon? The second time, when she waltzed right in and dared him to spank her?”

Nobody at Fettered will ever forget that—or the scene that came after, where they both put their hearts on naked display for everyone to see. “Emily still doesn’t know we were there the next night, does she?”

Ari shakes her head. “We’ll tell her when she asks.”

I know where she’s going with this. “Not all big gambles pay off. What if Scorpio walks?”

“Then you grovel and you fix it.” She touches my cheek. “You’re not just her Dom, big guy, and she knows that. Trust her. Trust that what the two of you are building together will survive this moment.”

I let my head tilt down to her shoulder. “It could be really bad.”

She nods her head slowly against my cheek and wraps two warm arms around my middle. “I know.”

I
f looks could kill
, every living thing between my apartment and Fettered would be dead.

I can’t believe I’m here.

I stomp up the front stairs—I’m not going in the damn servant entrance. Not dressed like this. The door opens before I can kick it in, which sucks, because I need to take my temper out on something. I don’t give a damn if I’m the first maid ever to wear steel-toed boots. Maybe I’ll start a trend.

Right after I set Seattle on fire with my eyes.

I know why I’m angry. I know it’s a cover for hurt and shame and a dozen other things I don’t want to be feeling. Ari and Leo almost had me convinced there’s purpose in this, that Harlan’s doing it to give me a chance to be something more. Something that doesn’t have a tourist bone in its entire body.

They didn’t see how I look in this fucking maid gear.

The lounge is empty when I storm through it. I’m not surprised. I warned Ari I was coming.

I shove the dungeon door open and that’s where I find him. Standing in the middle of his domain, in leathers that say just how long he’s lived here. Waiting for me to show up and grovel.

If that’s what he wanted, he left way too many loopholes in his instructions. I’m following them. To the letter. And not a damn hair more.

I stop a foot from his nose. I refuse to be scared of this.

I shake off the trench coat I borrowed from Leo and dare him to say a word. His stupid note didn’t say anything about walking here dressed like a freaking porn extra. Clearly he went out of his way to find the most revealing maid getup in the history of the universe—and then bought it a size too small to spite me.

Edges. Blood. Today I want it to be his.

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even ogle my boobs, and this getup doesn’t leave much of them covered. He just studies me with silent, serious eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “Why are you here?”

I wonder if he’s ever been kicked in the balls. I’m here, I’m furious, and I did what he asked. He just needs to fucking get on with it. “For my spanking.”

“For your punishment.”

I will not crawl. “Call it whatever you like.”

He backs slowly over to the same spanking bench we used yesterday and sits down. “Come here.”

There’s no sign of softness. No sign of the man who did this so playfully last night while everyone listened. “No.” My anger is gone, a freaking bloody coward that fled the moment he spoke. I can’t do this.

His eyes are uncompromising granite. “That’s not your safeword. Use it or get your ass over my knee.”

Lightning. I’m going to say it. I intend to say it. I open my mouth to say it—and then I start shaking like a leaf, because somewhere in here is an edge I need and I don’t know how to leave without it and I don’t know how to stay.