by Joey W. Hill
A Dom doesn’t misbehave. He shows a sub what she can have, when he wants her to have it. If she behaves.
At her impish smile, he sighed, a quirk to his lips, but resumed dancing with her. They moved together, so fluidly. How he spun her around, guided her feet with the direction of his own, it was like she was floating within the circle of his arms.
His words had her thinking, though. “You were really there. Is anything we’ve done tonight like it?”
He looked around at the decorations, the outfits that staff members had put together. “Echoes,” he said. “But an atmosphere, a time period, it can’t be duplicated. For all the drugs and sex of that time, there was an innocence and lack of self-awareness then. We’re far more jaded and self-conscious now. This is a nice homage to the best parts of it, though.”
She was pleased by his praise. He’d slowed them to a simple swaying back and forth beneath the disco ball. As he gazed down at her, he opened his mind, and let images of that past time flood into hers.
He hadn’t done that before, and it startled and delighted her at once. Though she liked nothing better than looking at him, she closed her eyes so she could shut out all other input, fully step into the memories he was offering.
She saw a dance club he’d been in decades ago. There was a haze of smoke she was glad not to be inhaling, but it added to the surreal, glittering atmosphere. Glittering because of all the sparkles on the outfits, the rotation of the disco ball. The hairstyles and make up were like what would be represented here tonight, but yet different, as he’d said. It was similar to viewing a movie shot in the seventies, versus a current day film emulating the look of those decades. The original view was grainy, more real, unpolished.
Then, as if there was a spotlight on her, she saw a woman on the dance floor, her arms and hips moving with sensual grace and an earthy sexuality. She turned her head toward Ella and smiled, her whole heart in her eyes.
The image winked out, as if the camera had been shut off to end a scene. A second later, it started up again, in a different part of the club.
She opened her eyes, and registered the brief storm clouds in Wolf’s gaze, the tension in his jaw. He hadn’t meant to include the woman in the memory, but Ella expected she had been so much a part of it, it would have been impossible to excise her.
“Is that…”
“Yes. That was Sheila.”
Ella held the image in her mind, thinking of the details she’d been able to absorb.
She’d been so beautiful. A cloud of soft dark hair around a youthful, rounded face, full lips, laughing eyes. She was wearing a pants suit in a rich salmon color, tied in the back, low in the front. Large gold hoops at her ears. Around her neck, on a decorative chain, she wore Wolf’s dog tags. On her finger glittered a wedding ring.
“It was on a leave,” he said. “Before everything.”
Just that brief look, and she’d seen in Sheila’s eyes what Wolf had realized, too late. Sheila had been a strong woman who loved him with everything she was. Him giving up on their love, their family…it had broken something in her she couldn’t fix.
Oh Goddess, she wished she hadn’t had that thought.
“It’s only the truth, little girl,” Wolf murmured. “Don’t worry about it.”
She looked up at him, her hands on his rigid biceps. His hand was curled hard into her waist. She lifted herself up on her toes, brushed her lips against the base of his jaw.
“She was wonderful, Wolf. I’m so sorry.”
“How Deep Is Your Love” started up, with its dreamy soft quality. The disco ball was active, its dim snowfall of lights rotating over the floor, over their skin.
Wolf drew Ella closer, moving her in a slow four-step waltz to the tune, holding onto her. She didn’t say anything more, letting him feel whatever that image had brought to him. But she didn’t want him to go too far into that dark place.
I missed you today,” she whispered, pressing her face to his chest. “I don’t know if it’s okay for a servant to feel that way. I’m not yet sure what all a servant does or doesn’t do.”
“There’s no rule against a servant being head over heels about her Master or Mistress.”
“Just against the vampire feeling the same.”
He made a noncommittal noise and she left it there. Accepting the bounty of what she had in the here and now.
“You teach others that, little girl. In so many ways.” He eased her back after a few more rotations. When he spoke again, his more practical tone reassured her that she’d tuned him back into the here and now.
“For the day-to-day, our relationship can be what we want it to be,” he told her. “It’s only when we’re around other vampires that more of the protocol stuff kicks in.”
“Like not hitting a vampire in the head with a pool stick?” She couldn’t resist the tease.
“Yes.” His hands tightened on her. “You ever put me through something like that again, I will dish out a punishment ten times worse.”
She shuddered at the thought. Another type of person might have had the indignant thought “Put you through it?” since she’d been the recipient of all those cane strikes, but she knew what he meant. She’d much rather take someone else’s pain than watch them go through it. Or worse, be the one dishing it out. While the Dom in him had cherished what she was willing to endure for him, she understood the line past which he had most definitely not liked it.
“I’m not talking about being around vampires like Fort, Allan and Saturnia in the situation we’ve been in here,” he continued. “Though technically, as senior vampire, Fort could have initiated something with you and Hollow on our off times, we don’t really have that kind of relationship. But when the Georgia overlord has his annual event, all vampires in his territory are required to attend.”
“I get to go?”
The skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You do. Does that scare you?”
“Not if you’re going to be there.” She looked up at him. “Do we get to dress up?”
The amusement deepened, but there was a far more serious note to the explanation he offered, in her head this time. Remember what I said. You may be required to have sex with other servants as part of the entertainment. Vampires can be very creative sexually, and the games keep the cutthroat politics to a low simmer.
“Wow.” She rolled that over in her mind. “Okay. So a lot like orgy night in the private back room. I can do that. As long as that’s what you need from me.”
At his look, she shrugged. “Sex is sex, Master. I learned that when I…was working the streets.”
His hands tightened on her, his expression darkening, but she shook her head. “It can be awful, but I was lucky. The girl who got me into it, she and her friends, we watched out for one another. I could choose my clients and yeah, sometimes I was hungry enough to be a little less choosy, but it was giving the client something he wanted. That satisfied my submissive side, while I earned money to eat.”
“Ella.” He held her tighter as she took a breath, rushed on.
“Sometimes sex is viewed as this tremendous treasure and gift, a be all, end all. Normal sex is just sex. It's just a really good meal, or an okay meal. Not spiritual or earthshattering, not good or bad. But sex with someone I care about or love? That can become the meal of all meals."
She smiled up at him. “So what I’m saying is, the sex isn’t the important thing to me. There are other, more important things I only want to give to you. As long as I don’t have to give those things to anyone else, I don’t have any issues.”
His eyes flickered and his lips parted, as if he might ask her what those things were, but Ed segued to “You Should Be Dancing” by the Bee Gees. It brought more staff members to the floor. Wolf transitioned to a medley of dances. Before long, he wasn’t only teaching her, though he kept her close, using her as his demo partner for the couples’ dances. He worked them through the Bump, the Bus Stop, the Electric Slide, and made them all la
ugh when he introduced the very simple Sprinkler for those like Tex, who didn’t have a dancing bone in his body. After that, they all just free styled it, a mix of every dance from every era, the rowdy fun egged on by Ed’s subsequent choice of “Disco Inferno.”
When Wolf initiated a sexy bump and grind with her, it got way more into the grind part of things, fast, with his large hands clamped on her backside. The other staff members shouted encouragement. Ella simply looped her arms around his neck and held on. It was arousing, and so, so much fun.
She loved seeing him smile, and she thought everyone else did as well. They were seeing a different side of Wolf, too. And they were all carrying on like kids, having a good time dancing. Even with all the vampire stuff, this could be part of her life from here forward. Enjoying this with him.
Now Wolf slid his hands from her ass. He rested one palm against her lower back beneath the point of the shirt. The intimate touch made her shiver, because it was also a reminder of what was now imprinted on her flesh there.
She’d noticed it that night he’d third marked her, but he’d noticed it first. They’d been getting dressed in her small cottage and abruptly he’d gripped her arm, keeping her facing away from him, her shirt gathered in her hands. After a bated pause, he’d dropped to one knee, caressing it with his fingertips, much as he was doing now—and had been doing, with welcome frequency, during the time in between.
“Right after a third marking, a new mark shows up on a servant’s flesh,” he’d murmured. “The shape always has a special significance. Though I’ve seen it on other servants, I guess I didn’t believe the part about the symbolism.”
He’d let her see it through his eyes, explaining with a picture, instead of further words. It was a cross between a tattoo and a brand. The instantly recognizable shape had brought a peculiar tightness to her chest.
A phoenix. A mythical creature reborn from the fire. The raised mark was a dark crimson color, with the bold lines of a tribal tattoo. The phoenix’s lifted wings almost met in a circle above its head.
The first time some of the Atlantis staff had seen it, she’d had to come up with some crazy story about having it done at the carnival and forgetting to tell them about it. She hadn’t wanted them asking who had done it and seeking that person out for similar work, since the curious blend could only be duplicated by a third marking.
But as she’d rattled off the awkward explanation to Chantal, she’d glanced across the room at Anwyn and seen the knowledge in her eyes. In that moment, Ella had realized the significance of the trinity of teardrops—or drops of blood—in a circular pattern on Gideon’s chest, over his heart. And now she knew what the “D” on his wrist brand meant.
Another delicious secret for their exclusive club within a club.
Returning to the present, Ella gazed up at Wolf, her heart in her eyes. The mark didn’t just represent who she was, but that she was bound to him. Forever.
And then some, little girl.
“Ella, Ella.” Charlene was waving to catch her attention. Seeing it, Wolf backed her over there, putting her in a dip in front of Charlene, making her laugh. She cupped Ella’s head playfully, tousling her loose hair.
“You had a message from Master Gregor. He’ll be held up tonight. He asked if you could move your session with him to eleven-thirty instead of eleven.”
“Sure. All the theme night stuff I have to oversee will be done by then. Oh, crap. I need to make sure the props he wanted have been pulled from inventory and prepared.” She put her hands on Wolf’s formidable biceps as he helped her back onto both feet. She beamed up at him. “To be continued.”
She started to move away, but abruptly found her arm in his very firm grasp. Wolf turned her to face him squarely.
“I think you better rewind and explain to me what you’re doing, having a session with another Dom,” he said.
The look on his face, the tension in his hands, a vibrating energy that was more vampire than human, focused her immediately. Charlene registered it, discreetly withdrawing, though she gave Ella a pleased wink that said, like the rest of the staff, she was playfully enjoying seeing the two of them as a couple.
So was Ella, but this was an unexpected wrinkle. Her Master was waiting for an answer, and didn’t look pleased. “He’s trying out some new wax play techniques and wants to demo them on me first. A paid session…no sex.”
“Paid sessions involve sexual interaction. Touching, orgasms, oral.”
“Yeah. But what we were just talking about, vampire get-togethers, it’s less than what can happen at those.”
“Those are under my supervision. At my direction.”
She was glad of that, because she didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t approved by him first. But she’d assumed the things she did here, under the auspices of her job, that he already knew about, fell in that category.
More storm clouds gathered in his narrowed eyes. His attitude was giving her not-unpleasant butterflies in her lower belly, but she reminded herself she had to be practical, not dreamy about her Master’s possessiveness.
“Okay, maybe not. We really haven’t talked about it.” She moistened her lips. “I don’t want to do anything that upsets you, but…I have to do my job, Wolf. Paid sessions make up a good chunk of my monthly income. Plus tips. So what do you need from me on this?”
He stared at her, then let her go. “You’re fine,” he said. “You’re right. You have to take care of yourself, pay your bills.”
“Right.” So why did she feel like something was off, like he was saying words he didn’t want to believe? “If you want me to approach something differently, I just need to know. I’m figuring all this out, trying to understand how it works.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He sighed and curled a lock of her hair over her ear before he tugged on the strand. His gaze dipped, swept over her colorful, sexy outfit again. The heat in his expression suggested he was about to take her to a hidden corner to feed him, in a couple different ways.
She thought about being there first thing in the evening when he woke, so he could hold her against him. His fangs would puncture her neck as he thrust an impressively thick “morning” erection in her, stretching her, demanding more from her, growling as she dug her nails into his back…
His silver eyes grew more vibrant. “Go do what you need to do for your session tonight. You’ll feed me later. When I call for you.”
And then he was gone, leaving her on the floor with her hands closed on emptiness.
She wasn’t sure if she’d offended him or not. Even with being able to talk in one another’s heads, some of the more frustrating things about a new relationship persevered. She suspected a request for full access to what was going on in his head would be met with a flat no, especially in the vampire world.
After she took care of what would be needed for Master Gregor, she took her dinner break, and ran a quick errand she’d promised to do for Krista. When she returned, rather than heading right back into Club Atlantis, she decided to take a few minutes to clear her head before Disco Night was in full swing. So she headed to her loading dock, walking around the long ways.
Yeah, she knew nobody liked her to go there, but it was still her best thinking spot. And now she had a vampire in her head she could call if she got into trouble, right?
The number of soda can mobiles had increased. As she took a seat on the dock and tilted her head up to look at them, she wondered about the person who worked there and made them. They fluttered above her head, creating a hollow clunk-clank sound with the breeze.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
She started at the even male tone, then saw a slim man wearing slacks and a placket shirt with the logo of the company whose dock she was sitting on. “Oh, hi. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be trespassing.”
He shook his head, waving an affable hand. “You’re fine. I’m Bill. I handle the night shift security here. I see you’ve been enjoying my handiwork.” He gestured to
the mobiles, making Ella’s mouth crease in delight.
“I love these. You made them?”
“Yep. We do recycling, so I make all sorts of things out of the trash. Origami out of the paper goods, mobiles out of the cans. I’ve seen you out here before, enjoying them. On the monitors inside.”
She chuckled. “I’ll have to tell our people you guys have a good eye on things. I get a lot of shit about coming out here by myself.” She beamed at him. “Now I know I’m not alone at all.”
“Sounds like you have good people who want you to be safe. I have a sister and I’d probably feel the same way.” Bill ambled past a stack of pallets, a barrel trashcan roped to one of the covered loading dock pillars, and came to sit down next to her. “So what’s going on at that fancy club of yours tonight?”
“Disco night,” she pronounced. “Hence the crazy outfit.”
“Looks good on you,” he said, without any hint of creepy come-on. His blue eyes were friendly, and familiar. He’d probably gone by the alley some nights on his way to his job. Since they were neighbors, she wondered if she should invite him back to the club as a guest, if he would be interested.
“I saw you come in on that side,” he nodded toward it. “You must have come from the street, rather than taking your usual short cut.”
“Oh, yeah.” She looked that way and gestured. “I usually cut through, but—”
And then all was darkness.
She’d fallen off her bike once, her helmeted head smacking the curb. When she woke from the blackout, it was like struggling to the surface of murky water, with weights tied to her.
She had the same feeling now. She was aware something bad had happened, that she needed to be afraid, but that uneasiness couldn’t push her to consciousness yet. So she drifted. Then, somewhere deep inside, far away but getting closer, was a voice. Someone was calling her. And he was very, very angry.
Wolf.
He was connected to her. He was going to find her.
