Two Doms For Angel (10 page)

Zach ran his unencumbered hand through
his hair, giving himself a moment to control his frustration. “No,
I’m still planning dinner with Lydia, and your new
daughter.”

“
Lydia will be happy to hear
that.”

“
We’ll be heading back to
Nathaniel’s estate early tomorrow, just send me an email when you
have a date. I’m at loose ends for a while so my schedule is open.
Angel will accompany me.”

“
I’ll make arrangements with
Lydia and let you know.” Relief was evident in Damian’s
voice.

Zach remained silent as he and Angel
made their way to the suite. He turned to her when the front door
clicked and the outside world no longer intruded.

“
Your master had everything
well-planned, and now I’m planning to get drunk. It would be best
if you went to bed.”

“
Yes, sir, but my hair needs
to be dried.”

He could see it worried her
to ask, which only exasperated him more. “Do what you need to do.
I’m not
making
you
go to your room; I just think you would be more comfortable. I’m
not always pleasant company when drinking.”

He sighed with the wary look she gave
him and couldn’t help his self-deprecating laugh, “I would never
harm you but I tend to get moody, and my best behavior goes down
the drain. You have nothing to fear or your…Master would not leave
you in my care. I’ll see you in the morning at
breakfast.”

“
Yes, sir.” She walked into
Nathaniel’s bedroom looking like a forlorn child.

He heard the soft click of
the door and made his way to the mini bar. He needed a mind-numbing
dose of liquid fire.
Decisions, decisions;
Jack or Jose?

He sat on the couch, placing the bottle
of whiskey on the side table with a tumbler and poured his first
shot. No chaser, just the raw burn making its way down his throat.
The alcohol seeped into his system and the dull throb in his knee
lessened. He was surprised it held up so well for the exhibition
and he knew Marguerite’s tender loving care made a world of
difference.

Three shots in; he saw the light under
Angel’s door turn off. Four shots in, and his brain was no longer
swimming in misery about the circumstance Monroe had placed him in.
His thoughts drifted, reliving the feel of Angel’s wet hair sliding
through his hands. Five shots and he lost count. Eventually he lost
consciousness.

The screams were in another language
and his foggy brain had trouble sorting out where he was. Who the
hell was screaming, and what the hell was he supposed to do about
it? One thought brought him back to the land of the living:
Angel.

The world tilted as he managed to get
up from the couch and stumble into Nathan’s room. The screaming
stopped suddenly and he used the door jamb to steady himself. Angel
sat straight up in bed. Tremors racked her body, and with the dim
light from the outer room, he saw when her nightmare world returned
to reality and she recognized him. Her eyes followed him when he
stumbled closer and eventually fell onto the mattress, landing
almost on top of her when the edge hit his legs before he was
ready.

She scrambled quickly to the side,
trying to get away, but his arms grabbed the soft flowing material
of her nightgown and pulled her tightly to his body.

She screamed again but his hand came up
and covered her mouth and he spoke huskily against her
ear.

“
I’m not going to hurt you
Angel. I’m drunk, not a monster. Relax and go back to sleep. Monroe
told me about your nightmares. I’m not going anywhere, though I
probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. Rest and let me sleep off
the alcohol. I’ll be good in a few hours.”

His hand left her mouth, and slowly,
the stiffness in her body receded when he made no move to touch her
further. Their breathing slowed almost in unison and eventually
Zach knew nothing more.

Bright light seeping through his closed
eyelids caused him to wince. Squinting, he managed to open his eyes
but quickly closed them again. His foggy mind flashed with snap
shot images of the evening before. And, he vaguely remembered why
he was waking up in Monroe’s bed. A bed Angel was no longer
occupying.

He groaned and opened his eyes
completely, looking around the room. His gaze rested on the
nightstand; a glass and two pills sat next to a bottle of
Ibuprofen. He didn’t question their appearance, just grateful that
relief would be coming soon.

Sitting up slightly, he managed to
swallow the pills. Then he saw her.

She was kneeling by the bedroom door,
in nothing but her underwear: her knees spread, and her hands held
behind her back.

“
What the hell?” He didn’t
care if she loved the bastard, Monroe was a dead man.

She didn’t look up at his words, just
kept her head down. How long had she been there? This fucking slave
shit was going to kill him and he refused to play this end of the
dominance game. He rolled from the bed and walked over in his bare
feet, thankful he still had pants on.

“
Angel, look at
me.”

Her reddened eyes came up, the path of
her tears leaving small pink trails down her cheeks. She didn’t say
a word but her lips trembled.

He barely held back a groan from his
throbbing knee, which was stiff and sore, as he sank to his knees
in front of her.

“
Angel.” His hand went to
her cheek, his thumb wiped at a lone tear making its way down the
rosy curve; her skin, like satin; her eyelashes wet, with the
incredibly blue of her eyes begging for something he couldn’t give.
He couldn’t control the multiple thoughts running through his mind
but she needed to understand one thing.

“
I’m not Monroe; I’m not
your master.”

Panic swirled in the blue depths and he
chose his next words carefully.

“
I’m not leaving you but we
need to establish some boundaries for both of us. Did you have a
contract with Monroe?”

She took a breath and some of her panic
receded. “Yes, sir.”

“
Would it be possible for me
to read it?”

“
There is a copy at the
estate.”

“
Good. Have you eaten
breakfast?”

“
No.”

“
I would like to dine
quickly in the suite and then get on the road. If you don’t mind
ordering, I need strong coffee and toast. I’ll shower and be ready
to eat in twenty minutes. Can you be ready then?”

Relief was apparent in her
expression.

“
Yes sir.” She hesitated.
“What should I wear?”

He ran his hand through his tousled
hair. “Whatever you’re comfortable in.”

He placed his finger against her lips
when she tried to answer. “My name is Zach. I want you to say,
‘Yes, Zach.’”

Her voice whispered, “Yes,
Zach.”

The sound went straight to his groin,
“Thank you. Now, somehow, I need to get off the floor and I have a
feeling my knee won’t make it.”

It was like a bullet went off in the
room. She was off the floor and using her arm and body to help him
up. He might have commented on the unlikeliness of her being able
to keep him from landing on his ass, but her breasts next to his
face caused his cock to swell larger, and words were momentarily
beyond him. As a Dom, he refused to allow a woman’s body to have
control over his mind. Angel caused all his training to fly out the
window and he knew if he tried to speak at that moment he would
have sounded like a babbling school boy.

Her hand immediately left his arm as
soon as he was upright. He turned and limped from the room, making
his way to the shower, cursing his stiff dick and hoping his hand,
warm water, and soap would help it stay in line. His hangover
didn’t seem to deflate his raging erection.

Chapter Nineteen

There were so many questions running
through his head but his brain froze again when he saw her choice
of clothing. The white pants were loose fitting, almost flowing
over her lower body. The navy blue top was cut high at the neck,
and fell over the curve of her breasts and past her waist. A white
scarf covered her head and hid her glorious hair, somehow secured
under the glossy material. Though she covered her body, nothing but
a complete facial mask would hide her beauty. The color of her
blouse accented the blue of her eyes and the smooth plains of her
exotic face were defined by the edge of material against her
skin.

“
Is my attire appropriate,
sir?”

He frowned in displeasure and her hands
went to the knot of the scarf. His hand met the top of hers,
covering her trembling fingers, and stopped their
movement.

“
What is my
name?”

She hesitated but then replied,
“Zach.”

“
You look lovely but I want
you using my name.”

“
Yes…Zach.”

“
Thank you. I called
Stephens, and he’ll pick us up in fifteen minutes. I need a bit of
food and coffee before traveling.”

She looked at him for a moment, “Master
doesn’t always allow me to cover my hair.”

“
Do you feel more
comfortable with it covered?”

“
Yes, sir…Zach.”

Her quick save made him smile. He
understood Monroe’s reasoning; it almost hurt to see her hair
covered but Zach wanted her comfortable. “You look fine.” More than
fine.

They ate quickly, saying little. He
knew she cast furtive glances his way while he enjoyed toast and
fruit along with the caffeine. Freshly showered, with the Ibuprofen
kicking in, and his stomach filled, he felt much better and more in
command of his circumstances. They needed to talk but he wanted to
read the contract first and decide how the next few weeks would
proceed.

The smile and hug Angel bestowed upon
Stephens startled Zach but not as much as the smile and embrace
Stephens returned. The dower old coot had a soft spot, but then
again so did Zach, and he felt jealous that Stephens received such
warm regard.

Zach remained quiet during the drive,
wondering when Monroe would return. He also remembered Monroe
giving him carte blanche when it came to Angel. Just the thought
had his cock responding and he shifted in the seat cursing himself
for wanting to hide his erection. Monroe needed to return
quickly.

***

The contract was short and
straightforward. It was different than the few Zach had signed for
his D/s relationships. There were no limits, soft or hard, and
anger tightened in his gut. The contract stated Monroe decided all
limits. It was complete bullshit. Zach knew Monroe loved edge play
and even crossed into RACK. The thought of Monroe— hell, the
thought of anyone—having that control over Angel made his blood
boil. What the hell was the matter with him? Yesterday he
verbalized some of his internal feelings about Monroe, to Monroe,
and today he wanted to kill the man. Again.

He needed to speak with
Angel.

After searching the house, he finally
broke down and asked Marguerite.

“
H
iciste mi grito preciosa dulce.”

The rapid fire words were
too fast for Zach to follow though it was obvious by her tone that
Marguerite was angry.

“I’m catching part of what
you’re saying but…”

“
You make
her cry, mi hombre fuerte grande.”

“Ah, hell.” His hand went
through his hair. “I’m at a loss, Marguerite. I may be big and
strong, but I don’t have a clue how to handle a slave. This is
Monroe’s doing, not mine.”

“Signor Monroe make her
happy. She smile, but she no smile when she come here. Now she no
smile with you. Her soul lost, it returned. Signor say you help to
bring back more.”

“
Well, I’m
glad he told you because he told
me
nothing.”

“
She love
you, she love Signor. She ask Marguerite muchas preguntas. She
tiene imágenes”

“Questions and pictures
about what?”

“
Mi gran
hombre estúpido.”

“I feel stupid but why
me?”

Her eyes actually rolled
and Zach took a minute to process their conversation.

“Where are the
pictures?”

“Her room.”

“Where is she right
now?”

“
El
jardín con lágrimas.”

“English, please.” His
frustration was at its limit and his voice was hard.

“
El
garden with tears, hombre estúpido.”

Without another word, Zach
left the kitchen and made his way to Monroe’s bedroom. He had
knocked on the door earlier with no answer. This time he entered
without bothering to knock.

The room had Monroe written
all over it, and he allowed his eyes to travel around the opulent
surroundings. It was hard not to notice the restraints at the
corners of the four-poster king-sized mega bed. The bindings
actually surprised Zach. It was unlike Monroe to play anywhere but
his dungeon, or when he was working his art in the photo studio or
some club. Zach walked over to the double shuttered doors on the
east side of the room and pulled them open.