by Lilia Moon
Harlan wasn’t wrong about the arrogance. And Quint is mostly right, but it amuses me to poke at where he isn’t. “Theater is magic if it’s got the right person behind it.”
Quint nods silently. Point to me.
I’m pretty sure I’m jousting with the wrong Dom. “Will you give me a tour?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why me?”
Because he’s the biggest hard-ass in the room and I trust him to tell me if I’m making a mistake. “Because you know Eli and you like him.”
A snort. “He makes me play way too much classical shit.”
I recognize a feint when I see one. “I wasn’t aware he made you play anything.”
A long silence. “It must be really strange to have known someone inside and out once and be trying to catch up.”
I close my eyes. He heard what I wasn’t even aware I was saying. All the points to the hard-ass on the stool, looking at me with empathy I can feel through my closed eyelids. “Strange, and wonderful, and important.” I can feel it calling to me. A partnership of hearts with a man I have always loved.
I need to know if I’m going to break either of us before I say yes. “Whatever there is between us isn’t going to go slowly. I need to know what I would be walking into, and for me, the best way of doing that is to try it on.” I look over at the door to the dungeon. “I know how to do a walkthrough of a part. I need to see what’s in there, Quint. All the talk in the world isn’t going to answer this for me.”
He huffs out a breath. “Normally I’d tell you that doing the walk involves trying some things.”
There’s only one person I could try them with. I’m here trying to avoid that. “I pushed him away once because it was best for who we needed to be. I’m not sure I could do it again.” I’m not shiny and bright and sixteen anymore. I know it’s not so easy to find someone who can see every speck of your insides and love you anyhow.
Quint sets down his glass. “I have some choices here.”
Interesting that he’s not giving them to me—although, in a way, maybe he is. “And those are?”
“I could call Eli.”
I’ve learned enough of the theater of this world to know that’s what he’d probably do in most cases. “Or?”
He looks amused. “Or I could tell you that you don’t get to walk through the doors of my dungeon without him.”
I’ve done my homework. I know he trains most of the new members. His word is as good as a barred door. “Or?”
His amusement vanishes, and his poker face along with it. He looks down at his drink, but I don’t miss the naked vulnerability in his eyes. “I’m going to tell you this as a Dom who’s freaking gone and fallen in love.” He looks over at me, and his intensity catches my breath. “Don’t do this without him. Let him be there for you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but his eyes stop me.
“I know you’re strong enough to do this alone. You’re also strong enough to decide whatever you need to decide with him standing beside you. You don’t need to do this behind his back.”
That hurts. “I was trying to do it on my own two feet.”
“I know—but he won’t see it that way.”
Damn. It’s the Thai food all over again. Perception matters. I can feel my resistance evaporating. “All right, I’ll call him.”
Quint’s fingers wrap around my closed fist. “You protected him back then, didn’t you?”
I can feel the tears rising. Twenty-six years of not being sure I did the right thing. “Yes.”
Another squeeze of my hand. “It’s time to stop.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eli
Ari raises an eyebrow as I walk into her domain. “I thought you were staying home tonight.”
Apparently news hasn’t traveled. “Chloe’s here. She wants a tour of the dungeon.”
Ari’s fast at the math of our lifestyle. She’ll know how long ago my siren in a red dress passed by her gate. I keep walking. Ari isn’t the woman I’m here for. I make it halfway across the lounge before I spot her, which has more to do with my nerves than the quiet corner Chloe’s tucked away in, chatting with a couple of subs.
I catch Quint’s attention. His text arrived shortly after Chloe’s voicemail and got my ass out of recording edits and into Dom gear. He nods back at me, and I’m not sure what to make of the look in his eyes.
It doesn’t matter. This is my scene coming up, not his. Because whatever Chloe might think this is, she’s just asked for a Dom at her back, and I’m fucking glad she decided to let it be me.
The two subs sitting with her take one look at my face and melt into the woodwork. She looks up at me, amused. “I didn’t realize scaring people was your kink.”
I take a seat beside her and kiss her cheek. “It’s every Dom’s kink, shorty.”
She makes a face, but we both know the nickname’s going to stick. “Thanks for coming.”
There’s only one way to have this conversation, especially with a woman who’s never inched anywhere in her life. “How were you planning on doing this before you called me?”
Her shrug is wry. “I thought Quint might give me a basic walk around and let me gather some information.”
He would have done it for most people who asked. I’m grateful he didn’t this time—and curious about what he saw that stopped him. “Why did you want to do it alone?”
Her eyes soften. “Because I can feel what there could be between us, and it’s not going to go slowly.”
I’m not sixteen anymore. “If we go.”
There’s pain in her softness. “Yes. I wanted to know more before I got you involved.” She sighs. “Maybe I walk in there and take one look and know it’s not for me.”
She wouldn’t be the first, but I came here to be her Dom. “If we walk in there, I want you to give it an hour.”
Her eyebrows go up.
Welcome to my world, shorty. “The club has safewords. Yellow if you need to hit the pause button, red if you need to stop. You can use those.”
Realization dawns on her face. “You’re treating this like a scene.”
I don’t know any other way to walk a woman around a dungeon and keep her safe. “Yes. My job is to see that you get what you need in there. Your job is to trust me to give it to you.”
Pain leeches out from her eyes over the rest of her face. “Even if it means I can’t be what you need?”
That’s a conversation for after the tour. One where I maybe introduce her to some of Quint’s shades of gray and flexible wiring. I lean my forehead into hers. Letting us both take strength from the answer that I know is the right one for now. “Even if. You’ve always been honest with me, even when it’s really hard. Whatever you learn in there, we’ll deal.”
She takes a moment—and then I feel her leaning. Putting weight on the emotional wall I just wrapped around us. Giving me what I crave as a Dom.
Trust.
I run a knuckle down her cheek. “Give me a minute. I need to check in with one of the dungeon monitors, see what’s going on in there tonight.” There are some things she needs to see, and more than enough members hanging out in the lounge to provide them on short notice.
Chloe nods at me, a little uncertain.
I let her stay there. One of the first and most important things I learned as a Dom was that growth, clarity, and pleasure all arrive more strongly when a sub starts the journey on wobbly ground. I hold her eyes a moment longer, promising her that steady exists, just not on her own two feet, and then I head for Harlan.
I need a woman in latex pants, stat.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chloe
Three Doms have messed with me in less than a dozen hours. Harlan and Quint left me grateful. Eli’s left me shaking and we haven’t even started yet.
He feels different in this skin. More solid. Less likely to sway in the wind, and yet I’ve seen him lose himself to the music right here in this room. He still knows how to sway.
Two hands land on my knees, and there’s a face, eyes crinkled, smiling up at me. “What’s got you amused, shorty?”
I’m not sure he wants to hear about the finer points of corset making—and this feels like the end of a ball of string. One I need to keep following for a bit to really understand what it is. “Something I’ll share with you later.”
He raises a surprisingly stern eyebrow. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
He’s putting his Dom skin back on. It’s fascinating to watch. It’s like some of the very best actors. They don’t layer on a fake persona—they let themselves change shape. It teases at me. I want to know more of this new shape of Eli, even as it scares me. Even as I’m afraid it asks something of me that I don’t want to be.
Which is precisely why I’m here. To feel out the shapeshifting of this world. To see if any of it feels like it could be me. I hold out my hands.
He clamps his fingers around my wrists and pulls us both up to standing. “Two rules. One, you tell me about all the ways you feel. No holding back to protect me.”
I know he hasn’t been talking to Quint, but I’m feeling a little too naked right now. “It’s to protect me too, Eli. You’re going to have to give me a little time and space to figure out how I feel in there.”
His face morphs into something sharper. Firmer. “Time you’ll get. Space you won’t. Not unless I hear you say red.”
His words do something strange to my belly. I’m not sure I like it, but I’m definitely affected. “I don’t know if I can do this under pressure.” I wince at my own words. Can’t has never been a word in my vocabulary. “Scratch that. I don’t know if I want to.”
He laughs. “There’s my shorty.”
I have a strong urge to kick him in the knees.
He runs his hands up and down my forearms. “There are two kinds of dungeon tours, love. One kind is where you’re a tourist gathering information. The other kind is where you let yourself breathe in what’s in there and feel the power dynamics up close and personal.”
I sigh as realization hits. “That’s why I asked Quint for a tour. And why he said no.”
Eli growls. “He said no because he knew I’d turn his favorite guitar into splinters if he waltzed you in there.”
I start to laugh—and then I realize he’s dead serious.
The jiggle in my belly is back.
I take a breath to try to settle it, but there’s no time. Eli somehow has me moving, headed toward the door to the dungeon with a hand on my back, almost like he’s trying to keep me from finding my balance.
I catch Harlan’s eye as we walk through the door—and hear his words echo in my head. A good Dom doesn’t give you what you want. They give you what you need. Tonight, Eli wants to be the one shaping the riverbanks. I feel my head tipping down, accepting what he’s offering, before my mind knows I’ve made a decision.
I feel him stand straighter beside me. Wrapping himself around me with his energy, his breath, his absolutely focused presence. “Thank you.”
I don’t ask him how he knows. Eli has always known.
I tip my head back up and look around. My first impression is one of backstage during dress rehearsal, an almost overwhelming blanket of sound, raw and hard on my ears and very much like the bowels of the theater. The actors are different, though. Their stage isn’t out through the curtains. It’s here and now, and at least half the people in this space are currently audience, not entertainment.
My heart beats faster. I close my eyes. This isn’t a world that wants me to make sense of it. Everything in here is an invitation to immerse—or to run.
Eli bends to my ear. “We’re going to take a slow walk. My choice of where we go and how long we stay.”
I can feel my spine stiffening in protest—and the audible smack as it runs straight into the steel of whatever he’s wrapped around us. The steel that demands my trust. That insists I let go of meeting my own needs and hand it over to him. My breath catches in my throat. This was supposed to be a tour, but it has so very clearly become something else. Somehow, I’ve taken the step I was trying to avoid.
The one where I step into his world.
I’m not scared to be here. I’m scared of where I might need to step after I’m done.
He tucks his fingers under my chin and presses upward, infinitely gentle, as he turns my face to meet his eyes. “This is how I know how to hold you best in here, Chloe. If that’s not what you want, use your safeword and you can leave or have Quint do your tour.”
He wants to be the one who does this for me, I know that. But I don’t see that need in his eyes at all. All I see is me. This wonderful, brave man, putting himself aside and letting this be all about me.
Riverbanks. I’ve seen them serve so very many people.
Time to see if anything in me wants to be water.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eli
I see her consent before she turns back to face the music of the dungeon, eyes closed and chin dropping down. Listening. There’s no fear in her—just spit and fire and curiosity and the wild generosity that’s always flowed from the deepest part of her.
My job tonight is to let her stretch to the healthy edge of that and no further. Even if it means letting her walk away.
I take a fast, experienced read of the lounge. Harlan gave me a quick download on the action and not much has changed. There are half a dozen major scenes in progress and some minor ones—new pairs feeling each other out or more experienced players showing greener ones some of the ropes. Literally, in some cases—it looks like Matteo is doing a demo of his Japanese bondage skills.
That might be an interesting one to watch, but it will be a while before he has his sub trussed up.
I can see Ari helping Tamelia, one of the club’s veteran Dommes, set up a hasty scene along the back wall. Tamelia casts a quick look at the woman at my side, scanning her body language. Most would read Chloe’s current posture as classic newbie sub, but I can see that Tamelia doesn’t. Which nicely supports my instincts—and makes my heart hurt.
I steer Chloe toward the back corner. Tamelia isn’t ready for us yet, and I’m not ready for her. Tank and Eva have a basic bondage and spanking scene going on in the corner, and Eva’s hamming it up enough to have drawn in a sizable audience. Tank isn’t sure enough of his skills yet to have put them on display in the middle of the room, so his exhibitionist sub is pulling the audience to her. Which her Dom is rapidly figuring out, given the wry look on his face as we walk over.
I don’t spend much time watching the two of them, though. I’m far more interested in the reaction of the woman tucked in to my side. Her eyes aren’t on the floor anymore. Chloe’s scanning the action, taking in the watchers and the hulking guy wearing a gray shirt that doesn’t hide a single one of his muscles. She looks at Eva last, right as Tank’s hand lands on his sub’s ass and she howls like he just split her in two.
I catch Chloe in mid-takeoff to launch herself between them. “Get past your first impressions, shorty. Really look.”
Tank swings at Eva’s ass again, and she howls—much to the amusement of the audience, because he stops his hand just before it connects. He growls, and she has the wisdom to look abashed. “Do that again and I’ll give you something to scream about.”
Chloe winces beside me. I hold my breath, willing her to see beyond the army-sergeant language to the layers beneath. To Eva’s need for drama and noise that doesn’t cause any damage. To Tank’s growing certainty that his big hands haven’t actually done a woman he deeply cares about any harm. To the high-voltage trust running between them like a living thing. All dressed up in the language of a big guy about to beat the crap out of a tiny woman while she’s tied down and utterly defenseless.
Tank swings again, connecting this time. Eva squeals, with slightly more decorum, and Chloe winces.
I bre
athe, waiting. Sometimes a sub needs some help seeing the beauty under the violence. Sometimes she can’t see it at all. And sometimes, in moments I’ve always been proud to be a part of, she can find the way herself. I keep Chloe tucked in tight to my side, saying with my body what I haven’t yet said with my words.
Two more heartbeats and then I hear it. The soft whoosh of breath as something catches Chloe’s attention. My ears tune in to the quiet music of her dawning curiosity. To the slow shifting of her weight off the balls of her feet. To her shoulders, letting go of her ears, and breathing that no longer moves in time to the beat of Tank’s hand.
She’s not just seeing the layers. She’s been caught by one.
I try to follow my sub’s line of sight, because I can’t actually tell what has her intrigued. Ari catches my eye from behind Tank and wraps her fingers around her own wrist.
Bondage.
I take note of Tank’s really basic tie-downs and lean over to my sub. “Tell me what you see.”
“He’s hurting her.”
“She wants him to.”
A long, shaky breath. “I think she does.”
I can hear two things in that breath. She’s definitely seeing some of the layers—and she has no desire at all to trade her ass for Eva’s.
I ignore the sad shrinking of the hope in my heart. Impact play is a common kink, especially in a dungeon, but it’s not the only one. We’ll keep walking. Keep watching. And I’ll give her another look or two at hard surfaces meeting bare asses. Sometimes first impressions are wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chloe
We’re leaving Tank and Eva, and I’m grateful. I’ve met them both, and my head knows that Eva is at least as capable of saying no as I am and Tank would be absolutely horrified if he did anything to abuse her trust, but the rest of me is having trouble getting past the fact that this is what the two of them want to do together.
Past that fact that this doesn’t feel like anything I ever want Eli and I to do together.
