Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso

by Kaitlin Maitland

  Rolling to her side, she stared at the selection of whips, canes, and floggers hanging on the wall. They didn’t look intimidating anymore. They looked promising. Like the possibility of a fulfillment she hadn’t known existed. It was the feeling she’d gotten with John multiplied by infinity. A safe haven where she could strip away the mask she wore in polite society and be whoever she wanted.

  In essence, she now understood what she had craved so deeply about ballet. The discipline. The ability to stretch her mind and her body to the max while becoming part of something larger than herself. The comfort of limits based not on her bank balance or her pedigree, but on her abilities.

  She still wanted to dance, but it was never going to satisfy the beast that lived inside her. Not now that she knew what was out there.

  Which brings me right back around to wondering what I can possibly offer these two men. Something they seem to have considered since I’m here all by myself like the creepy stalker chick who won’t leave after the party’s over.

  Sitting up, she threw her legs over the side of the bed with a sigh. She felt like Sleeping Beauty. There was no way of tracking how much time had passed while she’d been cocooned in this world of their making. Now it was time to face reality.

  The pink dress she’d worn to the club was draped carefully over one arm of the St. Andrew’s cross. She made a face when she picked it up. What she really wanted were some jeans and a sweater. Unfortunately she hadn’t thought to pack an overnight bag for an encounter she hadn’t really expected to happen.

  What did I think was going to happen?

  That was a question she couldn’t answer. She puzzled it over while pulling the flimsy dress down over her body. Her tiny beaded bag sat in the crook of the cross arm. She unzipped it and pulled out her phone, shocked to discover it was already four in the afternoon. Her one night had been over hours and hours ago.

  No wonder I’m here alone.

  Yesterday about this time she’d been finishing up the paperwork that would see her employed by Boston School for the Arts as a student teacher. Somehow her experience with Malachi and Demon had made her more certain it was a job she could do, and do well. Silly, considering the two things were not even remotely connected.

  Her heels were tucked to one side of the cross. The only thing Selena was missing were her panties. They seemed to have disappeared altogether. She looked around to see if they’d somehow been shoved aside, but it was like they’d evaporated.

  It wasn’t that she’d never gone without, but this particular dress was really short. One nice breeze and she’d be flashing whoever happened to be looking. Plus, there would be no bending, squatting, or otherwise retrieving anything. It would be like asking to be impaled from behind. A warm thrill made her pussy lips plump in eagerness. Not that going without panties to give quick access to Demon and Malachi would be a bad thing.

  She wasn’t happy to discover herself alone with no clue where her two one-night lovers had gone. It was so tempting to track them down and beg them for just one more night. And another after that. And another. Until she’d achieved maximum satisfaction and was absolutely ready to let go.

  As if that’s ever going to happen.

  Selena sighed and exited the training room sans panties. She paused in the dimly lit corridor, trying to remember exactly how they’d gotten there. On her first visit, Malachi had pointed out the nearest exit, but the stairwell looked dark and forbidding. What if nobody manned that door during the daylight hours?

  Selena opted to search for an exit in the better-lit portion of the Underground. She backtracked down the hallway until it opened into the room where she’d seen the submissive on display. She gazed at the tower where the man had been restrained. It looked innocuous in the empty space.

  She wondered what it might be like to be tethered in front of an audience and then teased and pleasured for their amusement. It sounded provocative in a way. To show others how powerful and seductive Demon could be when he let the calm mask he wore slip away, or to let an audience view the beauty of Malachi’s big body as he sank deep inside her.

  What if they wanted to share?

  The thought made her sick to her stomach. She’d come to Triptych with the vague notion of a threesome. Any two men would have done because she hadn’t any idea what the concept would entail. There had been no way to understand how much trust, how much willingness to set aside inhibition it took to be with two lovers at once. Now, she was of a completely different mind.

  Perhaps that was the scariest part of this entire experience. How was she supposed to go back to her normal life? How could she ever go out on another date, or find another lover? Who on earth could ever compete with men like Demon and Malachi?

  Tears stung her eyes, and Selena brushed them away in shock. She didn’t cry. Not anymore. She hadn’t cried since the night Seth Overton and Joshua Breckenridge had allowed Asylum’s owners to blackmail Jackson Wilhelm into signing divorce papers. There was just no point.

  From the long, low room it was easy to remember which passage led back to Triptych’s main dance floor. She walked with purpose. This wasn’t the time to collapse into a puddle of feminine drama. She’d put that behind her, every bit of that behavior. The snarky comments she’d always used to hurt Desiree’s feelings. The manipulations she’d used with her brother to get her way. The society bitch who used her name and her money to push her way into people’s lives only to make them miserable. She didn’t want to be that person anymore.

  Selena reached the door at the bottom of the wide stairwell where she and Lars had tried to get past the doorman less than twenty-four hours ago. She pushed hesitantly, afraid it would be locked tight. It groaned and opened just a crack. Putting her shoulder into it, she shoved hard. The way her luck had been lately, she’d get it open just far enough to slice her body in half on the way through.

  Abruptly the door swung wide open. “Where did you come from?”

  Selena was lucky to be on her feet with both arms still attached as she found herself face to chest with Owen the guard troll. His frown could have peeled paint. Even his warm caramel skin didn’t soften the obvious irritation in his expression.

  “I’m looking for a way out.” She tried to appear completely composed while also making certain she didn’t accidentally flash him. “It would be very helpful if you’d show me. That way I can call a cab and get out of your hair.”

  There were a lot of things going on behind his ebony eyes, none of which he apparently felt inclined to share. “Does Malachi know you’re leaving?”

  Interesting. He didn’t even mention Demon. She knew Malachi ran Triptych. Apparently the employees were used to thinking of him as the boss. Now that the big oaf mentioned it, she wasn’t sure if Malachi knew she was leaving or not. She’d woken up alone. Wasn’t that sort of a dead giveaway she’d overstayed her welcome? Her heart gave an unpleasant double thump.

  Breathe, you silly little girl.

  “I know you’re blonde, but I didn’t ask a particularly hard question.” Owen’s left eyebrow lifted into an elegantly sarcastic arch.

  What is this guy’s problem? “God, you’re an asshole.”

  To her shock, he laughed. It turned him from sarcastic to sexy. Even that change didn’t make him more attractive to her at the moment. He was standing between her and a clean getaway that didn’t involve throwing herself at two men who had obviously lost interest.

  “Follow me, Blondie.” He turned and strode off, leaving her to follow or be left behind.

  She ground her teeth at the hated generic nickname. Too bad she couldn’t leave his ass right here and find her own way out. If she could be sure the front doors were unlocked, she would have taken the chance.

  He headed left at the top of the stairs and crossed the massive dance floor. It looked ten times bigger without people filling it from wall to wall. Selena craned her neck back and tried to take in the whole room at once.

  The arched ceiling overhead w
as so cathedral-like it brought back memories of going to Christmas Mass as a child. It was beautiful in a Gothic way that seemed to fit Malachi. She wondered if he’d been the one to suggest the venue. Considering his private tastes, it was pretty much perfect.

  They came to another set of stairs, but this one went up instead of out. Selena paused, trying to decide where Owen was taking her. He hadn’t actually said he would show her out. He’d just demanded she follow along like an errant puppy.

  He didn’t even bother to look back at her. “Either walk or I’ll carry you.”

  “Uh-uh, no way. I want out, not up.” She crossed her arms and pasted her best don’t-fuck-with-me expression in place.

  Owen heaved a giant sigh and descended the four steps he’d already climbed. Selena scuttled back, expecting him to start heading toward the front doors. Surely the guy had a key. He was the door troll, right?

  She yelped as he lifted her right off her feet. Her belly hit his shoulder with a thud, and her dress flew up to expose her naked ass cheeks.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re not wearing underpants? What kind of skank runs around in a dress like that with no panties?”

  “The kind that had them stolen by an unknown person sometime in the last sixteen hours. For all I know, you’re the one who stole them.” She made a pfft! noise as she tried to spit her hair out of her mouth. The braid Demon had plaited was long gone, and the tangled strands were hanging practically all the way to Owen’s ass.

  “As if! Don’t friggin’ move. Got it?” He started to climb the stairs. “I don’t want to get busted for accidentally touching you.”

  She noted that he was indeed being very careful to keep his hands away from her crotch though he’d been nice enough to pull her dress back over her butt. “This is ridiculous, Owen. Last night you wouldn’t let me in, and now you won’t let me out? What the hell?”

  He snorted. “If I let you leave without Malachi’s say-so, I’ll be lucky to only lose my job.”

  They’d reached the top of the stairs. She could see a little of the flat stone beneath Owen’s boots. His muscular shoulder was starting to cut into her belly below her ribs. “You keep saying Malachi. What about Demon?”

  “Malachi’s my boss. He runs the club. I consider it a blessing that I don’t have to worry about pissing Demon off. Malachi’s a hard-ass, but Demon is scary as shit when someone crosses him.” His hold on her legs grew a fraction tighter. “If you’re playing with both of them, you must be suicidal.”

  She thought of Demon’s stone-cold expression and what had lain just beneath it. She’d been lucky enough to have just one opportunity to thread her fingers through that silken hair and gaze into his face. She had no doubt the man could be scary. His aura was fierce, but there was nothing on earth that could convince her he meant to harm her or Malachi. Ever.

  “Son of a bitch, they’re arguing?” Owen growled. “Does Malachi have a death wish? What the fuck is going on around here?”

  At first she didn’t understand what he was muttering about. With all the blood rushing to her head, it was difficult to hear anything over the roaring in her ears. As Owen’s strides grew longer and more energetic, she became aware of two male voices. They sounded as loud and angry as they did familiar.

  Owen bucked his shoulder to deposit her back on her feet, and Selena nearly swooned as the combination of weightlessness and the blood draining from her face screwed with her equilibrium. She reached out and grabbed her jailer’s arm for support.

  “Do not puke.” He pulled his arm away as he stepped back. “I don’t want it on my boots.”

  Her rising ire helped counteract the wooziness. “I hope your mother loved you, because I’m pretty sure that’s the only woman who ever will.”

  “I never knew my mother. She played whore to a guy from the Narragansett nation, and here I am.” His sneer held a lifetime’s worth of pain and derision. “At least you can call me a bastard and know it’s true.”

  “Owen…”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, choosing instead to shove open a thick door. Without the wood barrier, the raised voices thundered down the open corridor above the dance floor.

  “You got a minute, Malachi?” Owen asked.

  “I’m a little busy, Owen,” Malachi said in a bizarrely normal tone.

  Owen pushed the rest of the way into the office, and Selena angled her body to peek around his bulk. What she saw made her heart leap into her throat. The room looked like an office of sorts. Malachi lay flat on a thick Persian rug. Demon had him pinned to the floor.

  “Hey, it’s no problem. I thought I’d remind the two of you there’s not much time before that private party shows up.” Owen leaned one broad shoulder against the door frame. “I’ll just take her downstairs and shove her pantyless ass out the front door. Maybe by the time I’ve kicked her to the curb, the two of you will be ready to talk business.”

  “Her who?” Demon asked.

  Selena gasped in indignation and elbowed Owen hard as she pushed her way past. She glared up at the door troll. “I almost thought you were human. Won’t make that mistake again!”

  Malachi frowned. “She was trying to leave? Why?”

  Owen made a face, obviously unfazed by her insult to his humanity. “I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss it if the two of you are done beating the shit out of each other.”

  In one smooth motion, Demon stood. “Selena, come here.”

  What she should have done was turn and walk away. It wasn’t possible. As soon as her brain processed the order, her body wanted to comply. There was still a tiny traitorous part of her that wished she could be part of their lives. As if there were some Alice in Wonderland potion she could take that would render her experienced and worldly enough to leave her vanilla life behind and take up residence in theirs.

  I’m a silly, silly twit.

  Owen stepped aside, and that seemed to be all it took. She walked into the office and placed herself before Demon with her eyes downcast so he couldn’t see the foolish yearning she was certain they held.

  Though he didn’t stand, Malachi rolled to a sitting position, drew his knees up, and wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t look any worse for wear.

  “Boss?” Owen gazed pointedly at Malachi. “Incoming guests, remember? The Donner party will start arriving in an hour. The human-food-platter chicks are already here.”

  “Nyotaimori.” Malachi shook his head and shot Owen a look of exasperation.

  Owen snorted. “Whatever. They’re still chicks that stick food on their bodies and let people eat it off. I don’t know who’s nastier, the platter or the eater.”

  Selena had to agree with Owen on that one. Apparently Triptych provided a venue for just about anything that didn’t fly in the mainstream. The city of Boston had moved to shut down nyotaimori parties based on sanitation concerns. Regardless, the whole conversation seemed to have taken a rather bizarre turn.

  Malachi sighed. “Trace should have already set up the West Hall. The caterer will be at the service door in thirty minutes. If you could let them in, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Consider it done. Now you all can get back to—whatever. Not that I know or care. No judgment here.” Owen gave Malachi a nod of respect and then turned and walked away. He’d said earlier he didn’t want anything to do with Demon. Apparently his strategy was to pretend the dominating presence in the room didn’t even exist.

  “Look at me, Selena,” Demon ordered.

  She swallowed hard. Denying him wouldn’t help anything, so she peeked up at his face. She had expected anger or irritation. Even indifference would have made sense. What took her breath away was the arctic cold in his eyes.

  “Why were you leaving?” he asked.

  “You were both gone. I thought…” Most of her thoughts were too pathetic to say out loud. “I thought you were done with me.”

  “Do you want us to be done?” His expression hardened even further, the sight cre
ating a physical ache inside her.

  She could feel Malachi’s slate-gray stare boring holes in her, though she dared not look away from Demon to meet it. It was the definition of that awkward moment when you’re tempted to lay all your insecurities on the line in order to keep a lover that might not want you anymore—or in her case, two lovers.

  “Selena, I need to know.”

  Fear made her sweat. Her gaze darted around the room as she agonized over her answer. A photo of a little girl dressed in a pink tutu sat on the bookshelf. Allie. There was so much more to this story than her desires. Why hadn’t she seen it? These two men were in an epic struggle with a dominating bitch for control over a thirteen-year-old girl’s future. They’d been lovers for over a decade. She had been Allie’s age when these two had begun their relationship. What could she possibly bring to the table to make her an equal? She had nothing.

  I am nothing.

  The utter desolation made her breathing ragged. Her pulse pounded in her neck until she was certain Demon’s sharp black eyes would see it fluttering beneath her skin.

  “Selena?” he whispered.

  “Our one night is over, and I’ve got a life to get back to.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Half of Demon’s world collapsed with her statement. Behind her slender form he could see Malachi’s face turn ashen as if he’d just been gut punched. Of all the scenarios they’d been arguing about today, this one had never entered their minds.

  He was glad to see his hands were not shaking when he pulled out his phone in order to send a text. “Go out of this office and back down to the dance-floor level. Turn left and head for the front doors. The one all the way to the right is unlocked. There will be a cab waiting at the curb.”

  She seemed to waffle a little bit. He could sense her uncertainty in the way she shifted from one foot to the other. Emotions more powerful than even he could control whipped through his system. He forced back a snarl as he put everything on lockdown.

  “I…” She exhaled raggedly before standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for everything.”