Unsurprisingly, his hand wasn't shaken. He withdrew it after a few moments, understanding he'd landed smack in the middle of the massive Master's radar. He could almost feel the luminous red dot of a sniper's gun making little circles in the middle of his forehead.
“Are you a watcher, Thane?”
Chapter Four
Connie jerked in Atticus's hold, trying to twist her head to glare at her captor, but he kept her still. Kept her looking at the stranger sitting on the stool in front of her, his lips half-frozen in an awkward smile. Jesus, could this be any more embarrassing?
She didn't know him, couldn't remember seeing him in Avalon before, but then her attention span of late had been sporadic. He was…unusual, she thought as his amber eyes met hers as if to say, How do I answer that? Beautiful amber eyes with little dark flecks scattered through the irises.
He had a rugged face, weathered and wise, with some interesting lines here and there. Laugh lines, smile lines, and more than a few worry lines scored his features, but it was a friendly face. He looked like a man who enjoyed life despite having a monumental obstacle or two tossed in his path. He wore a week’s worth of silver-streaked stubble, but his hair was dark, glinting with matching silver highlights at the temples.
Shaggy, not long. Thane had the kind of hair she loved to fist in both hands while she guided an eager mouth to her pussy. Somehow, it was easy to envision him on his knees with his broad shoulders pushing her thighs open, running his tongue along her slit…which was ridiculous considering he wasn't pumping out submissive vibes.
“Not by trade,” Thane answered Atticus with a curious frown. “Aren't we all watchers by nature?”
Atticus's laugh was dark. “I suppose we are.” His lips touched Connie's ear as he murmured, “This would make an exceptional punishment, would it not? We had an agreement, little sub, which you've blatantly reneged on tonight. You got my note?”
Digging deep, she pulled the Domme around her like a shield. They were in public, for fuck's sake, and her reputation was standing on shaky ground. If she said the wrong thing, would he castigate her here? She nodded once, swallowing as Thane pulled his bottom lip through his teeth.
“I'm giving you two options, Constance. Go to the room, strip, bend over the foot of the bed, and wait for me.” He nipped at her lobe, sharply enough to make her gasp silently. “Or ask your new friend here to bear witness to me sliding a nice, thick plug up your ass.”
The Domme threw up her hands in frustration, lecturing Connie with an acid-tipped tongue on how she'd made this goddamn bed and now she'd have to be tied to it, because Dominant Connie was severely outgunned.
“I said—” she hissed.
“You forfeited,” Atticus interrupted. “Choose.”
Oh, she'd go to the room, she thought with a touch of venom. She would go to the damn room, but she wasn't going to strip for him. Oh no, she was going to find the biggest paddle in there and beat him to within an inch of his life for putting her in this position.
Or you could just walk away, a little voice suggested. Walk away, out of the club, and drive home. Spend a pleasant evening listening to suicide songs bouncing off the walls. It's easy enough to do if you want it, but you don't. You crave the connection of submission, you want the tranquility of handing over the responsibility of thinking. That's okay. It's okay to want to submit, you know that.
Connie batted the irritating know-it-all aside. The grip of Atticus's fingers on her neck was urging her to surrender. He wasn't rough, wasn't exerting bruising pressure, but his message was crystal clear—he was the Dom, he was in charge, and she would do his bidding whether she believed she wanted to or not.
“It was nice meeting you, Thane. If you'll excuse me, I…I…” Shit, what could she say? Excuse me, I have to go let this big bastard standing behind me strip me naked down to the soul so he can see what makes me tick?
Knowledge sparked in that amber gaze, and Connie got a feeling the newcomer had summed her up already, quite accurately. He glanced at Atticus, back at her, and inclined his head. His lips curved into a smile that lit up his whole face. “You go do what you have to do,” Thane told her. “I understand.”
Atticus released her. As she walked away quickly, she glanced back to see him leaning an elbow on the bar, apparently diving into a conversation with Thane. A serious conversation, she thought as Thane's brows drew together. She hoped to God, Atticus didn't grill the poor guy.
*
“You were listening to my conversation with Saul last Friday, weren't you?”
Thane cast aside his urge to lower his eyes, straightening his shoulders instead. “I may have overheard some of it, yes. None of which have I repeated in or out of the club. None of my business, after all.”
Atticus rested his elbow on the bar, leaning his weight on it as he studied Thane through narrowed eyes. That green stare missed absolutely fucking nothing. “There's a reason you eavesdropped. You weren't in the walkway because you were just passing through. Why?”
There was a time to lie through his teeth, and a time to be honest. “I like her. Connie.”
“You like her, but she didn't know you existed until a few minutes ago. Are you stalking her?”
Thane scowled. “Do I look like I'm stalking her?”
The Master grinned slowly. He stood tall, looming over Thane where he sat on the stool, and lowered his voice several octaves. When he spoke, he did so quietly, but with enough dominance in his tone to make Thane's body sit up and listen. “When I ask you a question, you'll answer me with respect.”
The thrill of submission was like a drug. It had been far too long since he’d responded to a command so firm. Thane's eyes dropped to the middle of the barrel-sized chest. “Yes, Sir.”
“Well, I'll be damned.”
A big hand dropped on Thane's shoulder and patted him gently. “Relax, Thane. You just told me everything I need to know. How long have you been submissive?”
“About the same amount of time as I've been dominant,” Thane replied, raising his gaze. “I'm not entirely submissive, Atticus. I'm a Switch, I'm happy in my own skin, and I'm not a stalker. Connie appeals to me on several levels, I'm just working my way up to getting to know her. She's more than meets the eye.”
“She is indeed. Stick around, Thane. I might have a use for you in the near future.” Atticus lifted his hand and signaled Liam. “I've got to go make a phone call. Liam will get you a drink if you want one. My advice with Connie is, if you're serious about making a play for her, don't be submissive. You're not the only Switch in Avalon.”
Thane didn't watch Atticus leave. The Master hadn't even flinched at Thane's revelation, which meant he really did miss nothing. It was actually kind of refreshing to be accepted so easily, without even a joke or two at his expense. While it remained to be seen whether the rest of the club would be quite so blasé, Thane had fresh hope he'd fit in here.
He ordered a beer, content to sit for the night and run through what had just happened. He would love to know what Atticus might use him for. In the near future—was that tonight, next week, six months from now? If it meant spending time with the delightful enigma that was Connie Monroe, Thane would wish the time away.
“One beer.” Liam set it down in front of Thane. “You look like someone just handed you the key to the universe.”
“You know, it feels that way. The last club I went to, I ended up in a brawl with a Dom who decided I wasn't man enough to be a member there. His little pea brain couldn't understand that I'm still a testosterone-fueled man, even when I'm on my knees in front of a strong woman. We had a difference of opinion, I kicked his ass, and the club sided with him.” Thane lifted his beer in a salute, then drank. “Does that happen everywhere, do you think? That close-mindedness?”
Chuckling, Liam shook his head. “Not here, it doesn't. We don't give a shit whether you're dominant, submissive, or both. Braun's a big believer in equal opportunities, and he doesn't tolerate bullying in any fo
rm. Just be yourself—as long as everything you do is safe, sane, and consensual, you're part of the family.”
“Makes a nice change.”
“Tell me about it. I don't know how welcome I'd be in other clubs if they found out I'm a bisexual Dominant. Most places wouldn’t even take it into the equation, but I've heard of establishments that don't take kindly to their members being themselves. They like their Dominants straight and white, and their subs female, pretty, and submissive. If you decide to stick around, you'll fit right in here.”
“Perfect.” He lifted his glass again. “Here's to finding where we belong.”
*
Connie paced around the room, seething. She'd kicked her boots off because, although she'd worn them as a statement, they really weren't the most comfortable boots for pacing in. Being a nice, quiet submissive wasn't in her plans tonight, not after she'd seen the toys spread out on the bedspread.
Butt plug. Lube. Nipple clamps. Scented oil. Paddle.
She shouldn't be here. The past week had been just one mess after another. Three sessions with Caera had left her drained—the girl had a maze of triggers inside her head, and Connie inadvertently kept hitting the buttons to send her falling away from reality. Trying to map them was exhausting, but she could only take tiny steps forward until the map was complete.
Connie understood why there was a lack of notes in the girl's file, and why she'd been passed from therapist to therapist. It wasn't going to happen again, but Connie was giving serious thought to what actions she could take to keep the girl safe from herself. Caera's journals showed a distinct disregard for eating, for staying hydrated. Sleep remained essentially non-existent.
On top of that, Connie had had the pleasure of two sessions with Anarchy, which hadn't gone well. Her friend was floundering under the guilt of killing a man, and was concealing it with a perky, happy façade to stop her Master from worrying over her. Not that Jasper wouldn't pick up on the little white lies, but he also wouldn't be thankful for Archie's attempts at hiding it from him.
Alicia's love of Disturbed was deepening, and she was becoming more ensconced in the words blaring from the speakers twenty hours of the goddamn day. She was slipping through Connie's fingers, which meant she was scrambling her tired brain to devise a way to get through to the girl.
Add in the numerous other patients on her schedule, her refusal to attend Avalon all week, and the conflict Atticus had stirred inside her…Connie was sinking fast, with the bottom nowhere to be seen. She'd come tonight to prove she was still the Mistress of Avalon, still a kick-ass Domme, and here she was, breaking every resolution she'd made over the past seven days.
Five minutes ticked past. Where the hell was the mountain? He should've been here by now. Unless he was off in the parking lot somewhere, murdering the hapless new member for daring to speak to her. When another five minutes flew by, her temper was burning down to embers, leaving her tired and sad.
She clambered into the rocking chair and made it swing, closing her eyes as she curled into the seat. Back and forth, back and forth. Lulling her deeper into the fatigue haunting her bones. She didn't relish the idea of being punished for her disobedience, but she had warned him.
Several sleepless nights caught up with her, and she dozed as the chair rocked.
“Maybe I should just shackle you to the bed for the next few weeks,” Atticus rumbled, startling her awake. “You're not listening to what I say, you're ignoring my directions. At this rate, you'll be burned out and useless by the end of the month.”
“I'm fine. Just resting my eyes.”
“You've been resting them for an hour, Connie. I meant what I said. If you don't want to submit to me, I'll find you someone else. You've been dodging me, all of us, for the past few days. I thoroughly enjoyed last week, and I hope you did too.” He sighed as she stretched and stumbled to her feet. “Perhaps the problem is that we know each other too well. What do you think of Thane?”
Her brain twitched, trying to change tracks as the subject bounced from one subject to another. “Thane?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“He seems okay,” she said, baffled. God, she hated having a serious discussion when she wasn't alert enough to process the information. “Why?” When he pinned her with a look, Connie remembered what she'd agreed to do when she was in this room, with him. “Why are you asking, Sir?”
“What is rule number two?”
Oh boy. She scrunched her face up, trying to recall his damn rules. Atticus had texted them to her nearly every day, so in theory, she should know them by heart…if she'd actually read them. “Ah…that's the trust rule, right? Trust you to look after me and understand you're doing things for my sake, yadda blah.” Well, it was something like that, she was sure.
Atticus's face darkened. “That's number three, but I think that comes into play here as well. Rule number two: you are submissive to me or any other Dom who comes in here.” He grasped her face, studying her keenly, then shook his head. “This isn't going to work, Con. We know each other too well, and you don't see me as a Dom, you see me as your friend. I'm not willing to destroy our friendship, not when you need all the friends you can get to pull you through this.”
Part of her felt the loss keenly, realizing she'd pushed him away too far, but another part was relieved she'd be left alone to handle the disaster of her life by herself. She eased back gently until his big hands left her cheeks, nodding her agreement. “I don't want to lose you as a friend either, Atticus. Thank you for trying to help, but I can manage. I'm just glad you've seen how ridiculous it is to try and make me submit when I'm not—”
He snorted and raised his eyebrow at her. “I said you don't see me as a Dom, Connie. The plan is sound. The plan will work, just not with me. Not with Loki or Jasper or Liam. We're your equals here, we don't see you as submissive, and I, personally, find it difficult to keep pushing you because I only know you as a dominant personality.”
“Been doing a pretty good job of it,” she muttered.
“That's because I love you.” There was no humor in his voice. “I want the old Connie back, not this mopey, weighed down version who looks like she might just go home, go to sleep, and not wake up. I want you around for the next fifty, sixty years, Connie, and the way you're going…I'm worried for you. We as a club are worried about you. So, I've taken some liberties.”
“Liberties,” she repeated dumbly.
Atticus walked over to the door and yanked it open. Sticking his head outside, his voice rumbled as he spoke to someone, then he stepped back. He gave Connie a rueful smile, then another man limped through the doorway and simply stood, watching her as Atticus closed the door.
“Thane doesn't know you or your history.” Atticus didn't move away from the door, which concerned her slightly. “You don't know Thane or how he'll react to you acting out. He's passed the club background check,” he said pointedly, and Connie knew he really meant the guy had passed Atticus' strict background search. “He knows your hard limits, and the room is wired for the club safewords.”
“Don't you dare leave this room, Atticus!” Please don't leave me.
Her friend—her fucking ex-friend, she thought furiously—mouthed behave, then slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly at his back. Leaving her alone with a complete stranger. Well, she'd just have to suit up and kick Thane's ass for being stupid enough to take on a project he knew nothing about. If Atticus had told him to tame her, he would get more than he'd bargained for.
Amber eyes didn't leave her face. Not at all. Didn't even flick down to caress the swell of her breasts popping up from the corset. The look in those eyes was different to what had been in them when she'd met him in the bar, as though steel shutters had closed behind them. Patient, yes, but this was a man who'd chosen his battleground and was standing firm.
“This is definitely an interesting twist on the evening I had planned,” Thane mused slowly, his lips curving. He had a nice smile, even with that wolfish e
dge to it. “I figured I'd come meet some new faces, have a drink, maybe talk a lovely lady into sitting with me and talking for an hour.”
Her lip curled. “If talking's all you’re here for, maybe Avalon’s not for you.”
“Fear is a funny thing. It makes people shut down, pushes them into running and taking cover. It can loosen tongues, encouraging someone to say what they might not mean to.” His eyes darkened along with his smile. “That's strike one, Constance. Believe me, you don't want to strike out.” He walked over to her, favoring his left leg. “I'm not a bad guy, I promise. You have my word you're safe with me. But I'm not a pushover and I don't back down unless there's a damn good reason.”
Calm, controlled voice. No blustering threats, no nasty taunts. Thane simply said what he had to, and she respected that. When he came close, she almost took a step back, almost lowered her gaze before she reminded herself who she was supposed to be.
“Atticus might have given you inaccurate information,” she told him with an apologetic shrug. “We've been friends for a long time, and he seems to have it in his head that I need to submit. I'm really sorry he's dragged you into this, but your services as a Dom for hire or whatever arrangement he's set in place aren't required.”
Thane laughed and stopped less than an arm's span away from her. Pinning her with those goddamn eyes, he snapped out a single word in a tone that hit her nervous system dead center. “Kneel.”
She didn't have chance to argue, barter, backchat, or refuse. The resonance in his voice tugged her submissive side along like a toy truck on a string. Her knees hit the carpet, and she quivered as she assumed the position Evan had literally beaten into her. Legs spread, back straight, chin on her chest, and her hands clasped at the base of her spine.
“That is beautiful. Damn near perfect, except I prefer a sub's hands to be on her thighs, palms down, and her chin to be…” A fingertip hooked under her chin, eased it up until her head was level. “Just like that. I like to watch a woman's eyes; she can't lie with her eyes like she can with her mouth. Now,” he continued, walking around her, “Atticus filled me in on just about everything. Discretion is assured.”
Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Page 9
