“I'm gonna turn the lights down low, sugar. As dark as I can. I'm right here, I'm not leaving you, but you need to sleep now. Don't worry about what happened, just close your eyes and float away.” A warm palm cupped her cheek, then firm lips touched her forehead.
She listened to him walk away again, then the lights cut out into blessed darkness. A moment later, another light flashed on and was quickly muted to a low glow. Barely enough to illuminate the walls of Liam's office. It was soothing, in a way. A chair creaked as weight settled into it, then silence fell.
When the audiobook began to play, she couldn't have loved him more.
*
Sitting in Liam's chair, bathed in the soft light of the dimmer lamp on the desk, Thane leaned back and steepled his fingers, tapping them thoughtfully against his lips. His phone was on the desk, a husky male voice narrating a tale of romance and battling characters from the speakers. He'd seen the flash of relief on Connie's face, a spike of peace through the pain, when he pressed play and let the words conquer the silence.
His sub was sleeping now, exhausted and far too fucking pale.
He had questions, more than he'd get the answers to, but it didn't stop him from spinning the last thirty minutes around in his head like a clay model on a sculptor's wheel. Around and around, studying the flaws and weaknesses in the art. Looking for where he'd gone wrong, what had tipped the scales from a brief punishment into a disaster.
Thane glanced at her, his lips twisting as he frowned. Yes, he'd been angry that she'd let her temper fly without any apparent control. He'd wanted to make sure public submission was the right course of action for them tonight—something they should have discussed before they’d gotten near the club. She'd offered it so beautifully, but he'd heard the quiver beneath her words, that subtle ripple of hesitance she probably didn't know was there.
Her reaction emphasized the truth.
The gift had been presented, then snatched away. Understandably. She was Avalon's Mistress, one of the reasons he'd been attracted to her from the start. He had nothing to lose by coming out as a Switch, no friendships to screw up with the revelation, and no standing within the club to uphold.
Connie's life was here. Her friends. Her contemporaries.
So, what to do?
They'd made progress in the few weeks they'd been together. Submission came easier to her in private, he was beyond sunk in love, and he was sure she felt the same way about him. They'd exchanged the words, which to his mind cemented the fucking deal. Now he just needed to figure out whether he'd knocked her feet out from under her and set her back twenty steps when it came to revealing her proclivities to the club.
Too late now. The impromptu scene on the bar would be the talk of Avalon by now. More than a few of the spectator's faces had been alive with awareness, tendrils of knowledge brightening their eyes. Dominants and submissives alike had recognized the shift in balance happening in front of them, and he'd seen both incredulity and acceptance in them.
The others, the ones who didn't understand…well, they could go sit and swivel on the most uncomfortable phallic object they could find if they chose to judge what they couldn't grasp in their tiny minds.
So, did he push and steal the gift from her fingers, or back off and let her use the Domme as a shield to hide behind?
Yeah, that was a no-brainer. If she got the Domme back in a strong position in her mind, he'd never get her back. She'd use tonight as a prime example as to why she should never have let her guard down, and batter the submissive back into her cage, weld the door shut, and drop it into the biggest, deepest well in her clever little brain.
She'd run.
That galled. It really did. Thane rubbed a hand over his heart, remembering how it had kicked with trepidation and shock as she fled. There'd been barely a flicker of her intentions in her devastated gray eyes before she'd just…gone. His head had been too caught up in the rush of dominance, the heavy slap of wet towel meeting flesh and the marks it left behind for his body to react fast enough.
If Atticus hadn't had his eye on the Connie-shaped ball, Thane would've been chasing her across the parking lot.
Before he could rethink his plan, Thane reached out and tapped the intercom button on the desk, watching the small red light blink to flashing green. When Liam's voice floated from a hidden speaker, the light turned solid. Keeping his voice low, hoping the microphone could pick it up wherever it was, Thane said, “Liam, I need a favor.”
“Go for it.”
“I need wrist and ankle cuffs, a blindfold, and a collar. With a leash,” he added on impulse.
Silence. A long, tense silence with only the murmur of the club humming through the com link and the drone of the book narrator as background noise.
Liam cleared his throat. “Okay, I'll get them to you. Can it wait a few minutes? The bar's jammed; everyone wants a drink before Braun makes the announcement.”
“Braun's here?”
“Yeah, with Bodie in tow. He's making the announcement and then dragging her home. Something about she shouldn't be out of bed after her escapades last night, but as the club owner, making important announcements falls under his purview. Give me ten, and I'll get what you need.”
“No rush, Liam. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” The intercom light flashed green, died to red.
Thane ran his hand over his face. Connie would wake with reminders of her submission already in place. Grounding her to that obedient side of herself before she could imprison it was the only way he could think of to keep her with him.
He closed his eyes and let himself follow the book, his lips twitching as the narrator threw himself into a sex scene that raised even his eyebrows. For a while, he half-dozed, one ear on the book, the other on Connie. It felt like he was in tune with her every breath. He just wished he could tap into her thoughts with the same ease.
Something banged on the desk, snapping his eyes open. Two sets of cuffs and a collar with leash sat in the light of the lamp, along with two clenched fists pressed against the wood. He followed the burly arms up from those lethal weapons, all the way to the furious face scowling down at him. “Hey, Att.”
“Don't Hey, Att me.” Livid green eyes pinned him, violence radiating from the beast. “The fuck you want a blindfold for?”
“Why do you think?”
The Master snarled, thick and obscene. There was a moment where Thane feared he'd be lifted clean out of the chair and dragged unceremoniously over the desk to meet Atticus's wrath. The submissive part of him was desperate to surrender, his gaze threatening to lower in deference to the fucking Alpha male, but he knew the instant he did that, he'd lose any ounce of respect Atticus had for him.
“It's her hard limit,” Atticus snapped savagely, the outrage in his tone filling the room despite the low volume.
Head-to-head, then. Dominant versus Dominant. Thane pushed to his feet and mimicked his adversary's stance, fisting his hands on the desk and leaning forward until they were almost nose to nose. Gray eyes to green. Power against power. “I fucking know.”
Breathing hard, the tension between them was razor-sharp and liable to snap at any moment. Thane braced himself for a blow that would rattle his teeth when he saw muscles flex beneath the black shirt with its gold and silver AA logo, and he just knew it would feel like a sledgehammer smashing into his jaw.
““You’re going to take it; every inch of my cock is going to plow into your ass and you’re going to accept it.””
Their eyes held for a second before Atticus blinked, his eyebrows lifting in a what the fuck was that? arch. The tension did indeed snap, but not how Thane expected—the Master's mouth twitched, then spread in a mocking grin as he snorted.
“Fuck, I know you're in dire straits when you're listening to shit like that.” The snort evolved into a deep, rumbling laugh that was synonymous with the man. He shook his head and shifted the weight off his arms, tilting his head to listen to what came next.
&nbs
p; “Harder and faster, he plows his cock into my ass and—”
Thane hit the pause button on the screen, cutting off the narrator before he could finish the sentence. “In my defense, the plotline is actually quite riveting. It seems to make Connie rest better when she's sick, so I won't complain.”
“Hmmm. Does she know you're going to cuff and collar her?”
“No.”
Reaching in his back pocket, Atticus drew out a swath of material, dangling it over the desk. “And this? Does she know you want to use this? Because her hard limit list states no—”
“Blindfolds, yes. Drop it, Att. Just let me do what I feel is best—I haven't let her down yet, have I?”
“No. Honestly, you've gotten further with her than I expected. She's lost some of those rough edges. She almost resembles the woman we lost months ago, which is miraculous in itself. I was giving up hope we'd ever get her back.” Atticus sighed and laid the blindfold on top of the cuffs. “Braun made the announcement for you and Saul, welcoming you both as Masters. He made your excuses, but I think most of the club saw the incident with Connie, so they understand. You might get mobbed when you leave here—there are more than a few members who want to congratulate you.”
“I'm not sure how long we'll be in here. The last time she had a migraine, she was down for hours. Of course, she was hungover then, which probably didn't help matters.” Thane picked up the blindfold, ran the silky material through his fingers. “I hate that she suffers with the fucking things. I thought I might drag her to the doctor, see if there's anything more they can do. Something preventative?”
Atticus slid his eyes over to the couch, his face softening. “Do you know, I've had the pleasure of having her in my life for a decade? Ten years. In all that time, she's grown from a timid, fledgling Domme into the tiger she is now. I've watched the journey, lived it with her. She's remarkable, Thane. Doesn't matter how much shit gets thrown at her, she doesn't let it stick—or so I thought. Turns out, she's been hoarding it. Bodie getting hurt was the beginning of the downward spiral. The clusterfuck with Archie was the nail in the coffin, I think. She's strong, she just needs someone to lean on and care for her when she'd rather hide the shit away. If you want her to go to the doctor, I'll back you.”
Thane held his hand out, pleased when it was clasped firmly. “I'll hold you to that, Atticus, when she's kicking and screaming all the way there.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ugh.
Connie hated the sore throat the meds left her with, every damn time. She hated the heaviness and the low-grade nausea. Lifting her hands to her face, she rubbed her eyes and took several long moments to appreciate the absence of pain. Blessed silence. No pounding, no throbbing, no desire to drill holes in her skull to relieve the pressure.
“Here, sugar. Drink this.”
When she opened her eyes, Thane smiled at her indulgently and wiggled a bottle of water in front of her. She'd almost expected the sexy asshole to have washed his hands of her after she'd all but spit in his face. Oh, and run. Couldn't forget the running, could she? She reached for it, then stared at her wrist in confusion. No wonder her arm felt heavy, there was a goddamn cuff circling her wrist.
And a matching one on the opposite limb.
“Thane? What the hell is this?”
“That's Master Thane from here on out, sugar. And these,” he ran a finger over one of the cuffs, “are a symbol that you're mine. After tonight's disaster, I want to give you definite boundaries. When you submit to me outside of the private playroom, you'll wear these.” He gave her a long, steady look. “You'll wear my cuffs and my collar, Constance. Reminders that you're in my hands, and you're safe. No more fucking running.”
She swallowed hard, her mouth drier than the Sahara. Taking the bottle from his hand, she drank deeply. “I'm sorry.”
“You said that more than once,” he said with a shake of his head. “When did the migraine start, Connie?”
Drinking again, she took her time answering, testing the ground before she walked on it. She didn't want to take a wrong step and plummet into a pit. Her eyes found where her teeth had bitten into her arm, feeling loved when she saw the neat square of white gauze taped over the self-inflicted wound. “About the time I apologized. My arm was stinging, and I…I don't know what happened. I just needed to get away. The migraine came out of nowhere, blindsided me.”
He nodded and stroked the hair away from her face. “So, stress and alcohol are two triggers.”
God, she hated that word. Trigger. Like a loaded gun was pointed at her head with someone else's finger just waiting to fire a bullet into her brain and send it haywire. With a moan, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around the room. It took a few seconds for her to remember she was in Liam's office. Much like Braun's, only on a smaller scale and a lot less opulent—Liam liked to keep things basic and efficient.
Filing cabinets, desk and chair, couch. Security monitors on the desktop, mini fridge in the corner.
Her dress was tossed over the back of the couch and her boots were placed neatly by the desk, which meant… “Jesus, I'm still naked?” She moved her legs, felt the same tight weight around her ankles as there was on her wrists. “Ankle cuffs?”
“Reminders,” Thane told her. “Think of them as my hands, sugar.”
Connie waved that off. Rubbing her forehead, she jerked as she remembered why they were at Avalon in the first place. She groaned and wiggled her way off the couch, swaying as she stood and reached for her dress. They were going to be late for the announcement if she didn't drag herself out of this post-pain funk.
“Where are you going? Sit down before you fall on your ass.”
“It's the Master's announcement tonight. If I hurry up, we can—”
With a patient smile, Thane rose and set his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to sit back down. He plucked the dress from her uncoordinated fingers, then draped the blanket over her again, making sure she was covered before he spoke. “It's nearly oh-two hundred hours, sugar. The announcement was made hours ago.”
It took her several moments to calculate army time into normal time, then guilt twisted her insides into a painful knot. Oh no. Oh please say she hadn't fucked that up for him. “You went out and made yourself known, right? Listened to the fancy little welcome speech and got the slaps on the back and the…” She trailed off when he didn't lose that smile. She could read the answer in his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck, Thane, why didn't you go?”
He linked his fingers through hers. “There were more important things on my mind than slaps on the back, Connie. A man has priorities, and you’re mine. It's fine, I promise. Are you ready to go home or do you want to stay here?”
A second helping of guilt at making him miss his big night gnawed at her. Adding additional Masters to the club was a rare occurrence, and had only happened a few times since the club opened. A couple had moved on to pastures new, and one had been fired from the position and banned. The most recent additions were Loki and Liam, and their ascension to the inner circle had been a few years ago.
The announcement was a rite of passage for new Masters, and he'd missed it because of her.
“Home,” Thane decided. “You need more sleep in a proper bed.” He turned to the desk and pressed a button. When the light turned solid green, he said, “Liam, we're heading home. Would you mind getting the door?”
“Sure thing. Be right there.”
“Why are you not angry with me for ruining tonight?” she asked.
“Because nothing was ruined. You took your punishment for snapping at me—that's done and dusted, sugar. Can't say I'm not irritated that you chose to bolt rather than talk to me, but we'll discuss that when you're not pale as glass.” He tossed her dress over his shoulder, then tugged her onto her feet. As the blanket slipped, he caught it and wrapped it around her from the back, then hefted her into his arms and limped toward the door. “We'll get your boots tomorrow.”
“You sat here
for five hours?” she mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Are you crazy?”
“For you. Only for you would I listen to that damn audiobook for hours. I thought I liked anal,” he muttered, carrying her through the office door as Liam opened it. “That dude practically lived up the heroine's ass. For someone who had an aversion to anal sex, you sure like listening to it.”
When she squeaked, he laughed and kissed her hair. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Connie. It's definitely entertaining to listen to, and I picked up some new ideas.”
“You wouldn't.”
“Of course I would.” Thane swept her out onto the porch as Liam opened that door too, then turned. “Thanks for waiting for us, Liam. Sorry we kept you so late.”
“No problem, it's not far off my usual time for locking up and going home. Drive safe.” Liam winked and shut the doors, the locks sliding home.
The night was crisp enough that their breath was visible. Connie huddled into the blanket, into Thane, to keep warm as he carried her across the empty parking lot. She noticed the living room light was on in the house; she hoped Bodie was having a quiet night. The less turmoil that girl faced over the next few months, the better.
If Connie had one wish granted, it would be that Bodie got to hold a healthy baby in her arms after everything she'd been through. That she got the chance to learn she wasn't a product of her upbringing, that she wouldn't become the people who hurt her. Bodie and Braun deserved the joy of being parents after the shitstorm they'd survived.
She closed her eyes, content to be swept away by the man she loved. He handled her so carefully, even as he juggled her to reach the truck keys. Christ, she wanted to wipe tonight clean. Remove the smudges her actions had smeared over the glossy surface of their dynamic.
Had she damaged them?
Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Page 37
