Elusive Hero

by Joey W. Hill

  He raised a brow. "Problem, my lady?"

  She shook her head, which of course meant nothing. "Why are there always people like that?" she demanded. "Those who take advantage of someone weaker, in a position of less power? You use your sadism as a gift, a way of cherishing and giving pleasure. You understand what power is. It's a gift or a curse, a tool or a poison, but in its purest form, the way it's meant to be wielded, it's..."

  "Creation," he said. "You can create good things from it. Relationships that last, a stable foundation, a kingdom, a household, or build a rocket and fly to the moon."

  With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to a clump of crimson exotic flowers beside the path. As she did that, he closed the distance between them. He didn't touch her, which got her attention, especially when he crossed his arms, gave her a neutral look. "It's also a way to help a submissive know when she can let go. When it's not her job to take care of things."

  "I know you could have broken him in half. But you would have lost your job. He knows that, too. That's what I hate. It turned him on, being able to order you around like you were nothing. Nothing." When she closed her eyes, he put his hands on her shoulders.

  "You've been there."

  "Every made vampire has been. Probably most of the born ones. It makes you determined never to be one of those treated like nothing, ever again. An incentive program for upward mobility, if you will. I get that. It's how we survive. But pointless cruelty like that, just to make him feel better about himself... I try not to let hate consume me, but I could cheerfully tear his limbs from his body and watch him bleed to death."

  "Probably best not to go that way," Garron advised. "Theodosius has a limit on the number of guests we can kill each month. I think we've reached our quota."

  "Oh?" Her lips curved, despite the shadows in her eyes. "What does he do with them?"

  "Feeds them to his Kraken, of course. And the Kraken can only have so many a month. Don't want him to get fat."

  Her shoulders eased down and he massaged them, tilted her chin up with a thumb. "It's okay, my lady. You're a woman used to being in charge, no matter how much you crave submission. Correct?"

  Her brow creased. She wasn't sure where he was going. That was okay, because he was going to be crystal clear on this one.

  "During that first fight we had, I made it pretty obvious that I won't let you walk over me. You received that message, else we wouldn't have been able to go any farther. Understand?"

  She frowned. "I don't know."

  "I'm saying that if I choose to embrace a subservient facade, I have a reason for it. It doesn't touch who or what I am." He wondered if she understood the underlying significance of that. From the sharpening of her gaze, and her shoulders tensing under his hands again, he thought she did. He'd leave it there, but he wanted her to keep chewing on it. Despite the displeasure of dealing with him, the obnoxious guest had provided a good opening for that, at least.

  He looped her hand into his elbow. "Come on. I need a swimsuit."

  Chapter Seven

  The apartments on the fringes of this end of the resort weren't as posh as guest suites, but Theodosius treated his employees well. The rooms were comfortable and had lots of windows to provide good views of the ocean or forest. Their spacious, open air layouts were reminiscent of homes Garron had seen in Hawaii.

  He'd never played with a sub here, even a staff member. He'd never had that kind of connection with one, where she was given permission to see what kind of Dom he was in his personal space. He kept it in the confines of Club Sin or the areas designated for BDSM play because he understood when he let a sub cross this threshold, he was considering a relationship, something that would include yet expand the Dom/sub dynamic significantly.

  He hadn't reinforced to Kaela that she had to stay out of his mind, but she didn't seem to be listening now, because she had no reaction to those thoughts. Which was probably good. After he turned on the entry way and kitchen lights, he turned to watch the beautiful vampire drift through his main living area, taking in everything, what his decor said about the man he was.

  He winced at the thought. He was a minimalist when it came to decorating. The living room had a futon with a quality cherry wood frame and a bamboo coffee table. He had a bookshelf with a few titles on it, a compact, hi-powered stereo system for music. The kitchen was stocked with what he needed.

  As she stepped out onto the deck, fingering the potted plants there, most of them arranged by the Eden landscapers who put their touch on everything, he went to his bedroom to find his swimsuit. He didn't really go for the Speedo look because it always felt like he was wearing bikini bottoms, but one of the staff subs had talked him into a pair of shorts that hit high on the thigh and were snug enough to make the girth and length of his cock measurable to the eye if he was hard.

  "Master Garron, if your sub gets a good look at you in those, she'll do anything for you."

  He'd snorted at that, but had agreed to them, as well as a pair of normal swimsuit shorts for leisure swims. He'd actually found the tight style worked well to do his laps in the ocean in the morning, but women had other reasons for appreciating the aerodynamic fit.

  He didn't angst over the drawbacks to his scarred appearance, so emphasizing the attributes he knew would please women was a matter of practicality in his profession. But Kaela wasn't about his job. As he decided to wear the shorts for her, he realized his motives were somewhat different than usual. It was the first time in a while he'd thought about whether a woman liked his appearance overall... Or chosen what to wear because she made him feel good about himself and he wanted to honor that feeling with extra effort on her behalf. Kaela made him feel as if she liked...well, all of him.

  He shook his head, found himself smiling. He was an idiot.

  Turning his thoughts back to her, he expected she was enjoying the view of the water from the deck. A light screen of plants for privacy and barrier was followed by the beach sloping down to the water, about a hundred yards off. He'd stood on that porch during storms, watched the surf get closer. One time it had reached the deck, sloshed over the edge, wet his feet and ankles. He'd turned his face up to the howling wind and driving rain and thought how that fury had felt almost soothing on his scars. Funny, because he typically didn't enjoy wind in his face because of how it made them feel. But a storm was different.

  He slept on the futon, so his bedroom was just to hold clothes, his workout equipment and a desk to handle his paperwork and bills, not that there were many of those. Lodging, healthcare and utilities were part of the job perks, so that just left groceries and the infrequent impulse buy. Didn't need anything like life insurance, because he didn't have any beneficiaries for it, so no point. He didn't really care about how they disposed of his body.

  "You should," she said. "It has served you well, suffered for your choices."

  He turned. It had been years since he'd turned his back on a door when someone else was in his house, yet he had with her present, without thinking about it at all. When she spoke from behind him, having moved with that unconscious vampire stealth, he hadn't started. Perhaps because they were sharing minds, she felt as present as his own self.

  More than that, he felt safe with her. It was more than the thought he'd had at the pool. He genuinely felt as if he could trust her to watch his back, the way he watched hers. There weren't many in the world he'd say that about. Definitely none who'd accomplished that in less than two days.

  Her gaze flickered. "Here I was thinking you only had crude reasons for watching my back."

  "Well, there are a lot of good reasons to watch your back. No reason to limit myself to just one." He took her hand, tangled their fingers. "I can't seem to keep you out of my head, my lady."

  "I was trying to stay clear, until you left the room. I missed you."

  She said it simply, yet it wasn't simple at all, the way the words made him feel. She stepped closer, into the shadow of his body. She gazed up at him, lifted her hand,
traced the scars on his face again, followed them down to his neck. She liked touching them more than any woman he'd ever met. It was as if she knew they were the vital key to who he was at the bottom of his soul. Her stroke soothed the raw edges that came along with them.

  She'd been honest, and he gave her back the same. "I like hearing you in my head. When you talk, I don't have to strain to listen. I can almost tune out the verbal, focus only on the mental, even though I have to sort it out with your thoughts, what's speech and what's thought." He smiled faintly. "Could cause some embarrassment if I mix those up."

  She continued to study him, her hand drifting down his chest, nestling into the T-shirt he'd donned at the club. He put his hand over hers. "What are you doing?"

  Listening. Just...listening. Her lips curved, her eyes thoughtful. Being in your mind is like listening to the ocean. It whispers and roars, murmurs and laughs...it doesn't mind others listening to it, because it's self-contained. It knows who and what it is. It's both a place full of mystery and shadows, yet sparkling light in so many colors and brutal honesty...

  He thought he could feel her there in his mind, like the touch of her hand in places that so often remained untouched. His heart, his soul. Had he opened his soul to a woman, ever? He gave a vital part of himself to subs. That was important, for it to be as powerful as it should be, but did he open up this layer? Though he'd thought about finding that door inside her, the one that, if the third mark was shared, could be opened to him if she so chose, he hadn't thought about that same door in himself, or the sudden desire to give her that access. That reciprocal access was a way to an even more powerful connection with a submissive he wanted to keep for his own? Keep forever?

  Her gaze flickered up to his, held. "If I gave it to you here...would the third mark be the same as the second? Temporary? Gone once I leave?"

  "Vardalos and I didn't talk about it," he admitted. "But it stands to reason, doesn't it? If the second mark goes away, and that's a prerequisite for the third..."

  The idea hung between them, ripe fruit, heavy with temptation. All it lacked was a snake peddling it, but they didn't really need that, did they? All they had to have was the desire in one another's eyes.

  "I'd like to be able to stand inside your soul, Garron Rand," she said. "I expect it's very much like the man containing it. A stronghold. A safe haven. A place I can say I've had the privilege to be, at least once in my life."

  He cupped her face, sliding his fingers along the fair brow, the sculpted cheekbone, the delicate chin. "Beauty and the beast."

  "I expect either one of us could be the beast, couldn't we?" She tilted her head into his touch, a response and a caress at once. "I didn't want Beast to turn back into a pretty prince. I liked how he could be vicious and gentle both. You have to understand both sides of the coin to understand the value and purpose of each."

  Her gaze slid over his scars. "There are male vampires so beautiful it's arousing just to look at them. Some can also be as cruel as spoiled children, just because no one can tell them no. You understand the word no, Garron. You understand the force of that word, the consequences, the anguish of it. The lessons that can be learned from it. You understand denial and pain, and you know how to turn those things into pleasure for a woman."

  "I want you to stand inside my soul," he said abruptly, eyes boring into hers. "I want that. Let me give you that."

  Her eyes misted a little. "I'm not sure. I know you say it's temporary but...I'm just not sure. I've barely been here two days, Garron."

  He was reluctant to postpone it when it seemed they were both willing to do it, but as usual his gut gave him guidance, seeing her conflict. "Then we wait a bit."

  But he wanted to keep her mind on it. His gaze strayed back to the dresser. She'd said giving him a third mark, even temporary, might be too soon, and what he was thinking now could fall into the same category. Even so, he slid the top drawer open and reached into the back, closing his fingers over the box tucked behind neat rolls of underwear and folded socks.

  Feeling her eyes on him, he gave himself another moment, thinking it through, but he already knew it was the right choice. What was in the black velvet box had been purchased from a silver shop years ago, after his rehab, when his buddies took him to Hawaii. He knew it had been goaded by sentiment, thinking about a permanent submissive he knew he'd probably never have. But he'd never given it away, letting it travel with him from place to place.

  Since he'd come to Eden, he'd realized there were very few strong impulses in life which were random. It was as if there was a thread taking a man toward something inevitable, and he set down his intentions along the way, marking that trail.

  He opened the box, lifted out the contents. He heard her draw in a breath, felt that stillness sweep over her body, through her mind. The choker had been crafted with heavy silver links, each one twisted into the figure eight infinity symbol and connected to the next. No other adornment, the weight of it a statement of its own.

  As he turned to face her, he wasn't sure what he was going to say, but it turned out words weren't necessary. Both her slender hands cupped his large fist, her head bowing so she could kiss the silver links wrapped over his knuckles. The tremor in her hands matched something in himself.

  "I know you're worried about how you'll deal with things when you leave, my lady," he said, as steadily as he could. He touched her chin, met her eyes. "But no matter what happens, I want you to take this with you. It will remind you...you can always come back to me. I'll always consider you mine, Kaela. Maybe that will help."

  SS

  Help and tear her to pieces at once, to know her dream existed in reality. But she'd take it. Kaela would prefer that to the alternative. She lifted her head, her chin. "May I wear it now?"

  He moved behind her to thread the necklace around her throat. She put her hand up to touch it, hold it in place. "You have the strength to break it if you need to do so," he said.

  "I won't."

  As he adjusted it, he removed three of the links. In his mind, she saw he hadn't known what size neck the woman would have. He'd just known he'd put it on the neck of the woman who would be the one he'd want to always wear it.

  Her fingers flexed on the choker. When he fastened it in place, her hand remained there, her breath shallow again. "Master?"

  "Yeah." He had his hand on her nape, curved over it as she bowed her head and he leaned in, nuzzled her hair, pressed his body up against her.

  "I want to..." She turned, stepped back. As his gaze rested on her, she removed the T-shirt he'd loaned her, revealing her body in the scant swimsuit. Her attention went down, and then the rest of her did, her breasts so ripe and full in the swimsuit top they had a little quiver as she knelt before him. Resting her hands on his thighs, she fixed her gaze on the strained state of those wonderful swim shorts. When she'd first come into the room, she'd zeroed in on them, the way the fabric molded and creased over his muscular buttocks, emphasizing the strength of his thighs, the power of his upper torso. She was pretty certain he'd never have chosen such a style himself, so she blessed the woman who'd talked him into it, even as she had a perverse desire to do her harm. "I don't want to go to the pool yet. I want you to be with me...here."

  "You were listening to my thoughts."

  "Yes, Master. I'm sorry."

  "No, you're not." But his voice had that stern sound that said, rather than being displeased, he was considering exactly what they might both want. He wanted to take her here. Take her in ways neither of them would ever forget, and the sexual heat that surged from him over that idea made her tremble. It was as if the session in his room at Club Sin had been days ago, and she wanted him just as much, all over again.

  "Stay on your knees."

  Moving to his desk, he opened the top drawer, withdrew a quill. It wasn't a quill with a built-in pen, like most of them were. It was an actual quill, and he took a small pen knife from the same drawer, sharpened it even further. There was a pad of
paper next to him, but she didn't think he was preparing to write.

  "Eyes down, my lady." He didn't look up, which made the flutter in her throat and chest more frenetic as the seconds drew out. He hadn't said she couldn't talk, had he?

  "What do you really want, Master?" she asked softly. "What can I give you that no other sub can?"

  She jumped as he closed the drawer with a decisive slam. He wasn't angry, just catching her attention, but his tone told her he was ready to draw the reins tight. Excruciatingly tight.

  "I didn't give you permission to call me Master, did I?"

  "No." She shook her head. "I apologize."

  "You don't ever apologize to me, Kaela. If you do something wrong, I'll punish you, in my own time and way. Now look at me."

  When she did, he was putting the pen knife aside, testing the point of the quill. He stared at it before he lifted his gaze.

  "I want the chance to fulfill the dreams of a submissive who's like no other. Who needs it not just as a release at the end of the day, or to have fun, but because it's as vital as breathing or blood to her, and she's done the miraculous--gone without breathing for almost two hundred years."

  "Rather easy for vampires, really." The wry humor didn't ease how tight the words made her feel, like she was wrapped up in rope from neck to ankles the way he'd described, completely helpless to him. His crooked smile didn't dilute the intensity of his dark eyes, either.

  "Hard to do metaphors with you supernatural folk. Come here, my lady."

  At last it occurred to her, why the address sounded different when Garron said "my lady." It wasn't obsequious in the least. It was possessive. My lady.

  She went to him. She wanted to kneel at his feet again, so close to his erection he couldn't resist her. Her gaze slid over the terrain above and below, the ropes of muscles on his thighs, the layers sculpted over stomach and chest.

  He caught her arm before she let her knees buckle. "Trying to top from the bottom is never a good idea, my lady," he said with deceptive mildness. "Nothing will make me meaner, faster. Open up."