Pendulum (Kingdom of Night Book 1)

by L. C. Davis

  “What about this?” I asked sheepishly, moving my hair away. His eyes widened at the revelation of the jagged little marks towards the back.

  “Whoa,” he murmured. “Y-yeah, of course. Here,” he said, dropping what he had in his hands to pull out a black leather collar with a silver ring and a dog tag on front. “This will work perfectly,” he said, fitting it around my neck. I pulled my hair up so he could fasten it. Well, the collar was certainly thick enough to do the job.

  “And these,” he said, rummaging through the trunk again to pull out a pair of black leather cuffs. “These will cover your arms.”

  He wasted no time fitting me with the cuffs, linked by a long metal chain.

  “Now the harness,” he grinned, holding it out to me. I stared at it like the alien object it was. He rolled his eyes and started fitting it across my chest. I started to feel a bit like a horse with all the leather straps, buckles and rings.

  “What does this do, exactly?”

  “It does lots of things during play,” he replied. “But tonight it's just a shirt.”

  “A shirt?” I asked, casting a doubtful glance at my exposed chest. “It's not a very good one.”

  “Think of it like a shirt with windows!” He turned serious as he eyed me. “You'll be laughed out of the club if you wear jeans. Do you have anything else?”

  “I have a pair of dress slacks, some khakis --”

  “No, I meant anything that you wouldn't wear while visiting a nursing home.”

  I sighed. “I do have a pair of leather pants, but I've never actually worn them.”

  He blinked. “Why didn't you say so? That's perfect!”

  “I guess I forgot,” I admitted. “I bought them and then Jeff didn't want me to wear them out, so I just put them away.”

  “One, screw Jeff and two, he's not here,” he said, going over to my dresser. He started going through the drawers before I could protest and found the pants quicker than I could have. “Aha!” he cried triumphantly, holding them up. “These are so hot. Put them on!”

  I started to comply when he yelled, “Wait! What are you doing?”

  “Huh?” I asked, tripping a little. “I'm putting them on.”

  “With boxers? No. That's just...ew,” he said, scrunching his face. “One does not wear tight leather pants with boxers.”

  “You can't be serious.”

  He crossed his arms and gave me a look that said he was deadly serious. I sighed dramatically and slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts, pausing when he showed no signs of turning around. “Ahem?”

  He rolled his eyes and turned around. “Nothing I haven't seen before, ya know. Unless it's got polka dots or something.”

  “No,” I laughed, letting my shorts hit the floor before I slipped into the leathers. “Nothing special, I'm just a bit modest. Holy hell, these are tight.”

  “Well yeah, it's leather.”

  By the time I turned around, he was in a pair of slightly looser leather jeans of his own. He pulled on a transparent black tank top and a pair of wrist-length leather gloves.

  “Look at you,” I said, laughing when he twirled around playfully and did a little dance. “I can't help but notice you're not showing nearly as much skin as you've suckered me into.”

  He grinned. “Like I said, I'm not a sub. I don't have to be on display at all times.”

  “Neither am I. I'm not anything BDSM-y,” I reminded him. “I'm just going to this thing for you.”

  “I know, I know,” he insisted. “I just think it'd be a good thing for you if you like it. The sub is really the one in control. He's the one who sets the boundaries, he's the one who can call it all off with a single word, and he's the one who chooses the dom he's willing to accept.”

  “That does sound different from what I've heard,” I admitted. “But I just don't think I'm ready for any type of relationship right now, even if it's not romantic.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied. To my relief he moved on and pulled on his jacket and shoes. “We'd better get going. The line at the door will be insane.”

  “Is it really such a big deal?” I asked, zipping up my somewhat worn brown leather jacket. It didn't exactly match the rest of my aesthetic, but hopefully there would be someplace inside the Lodge to leave it. There was barely enough room for me in the leather pants, nevermind my wallet, so I slipped my ID, bank card and a twenty into one pocket and tucked my phone in the back one. I had forgotten to charge it earlier, but Arthur had his and I was sure it had enough juice to last me the night.

  “You have no idea,” he said, propping the door open with his foot. “It's almost as popular as some of the mainstream clubs. There's a huge LGBT population on campus, and some of them even come here just to be near the Lodge.”

  “You're kidding,” I hoped.

  “'Fraid not,” he laughed. “Even I'm not that devoted.”

  “They'll be judging the competition, right?” I asked, following him out to the dormitory parking lot. “The Wolves, I mean.”

  “The crowd determines the finalists, and then the Wolf Pack select the winner from there,” he explained.

  “Is there an alpha to this Wolf Pack?” I asked warily.

  “Yeah, his name is Ulric,” he explained. “I've been going to the club since I started school here and I've never seen him. Not even in the dungeon.”

  “But the winner becomes his 'pet'?” I asked, more intrigued by Arthur's strange world than I wanted to let on. “Without even meeting him?”

  He shrugged. “Guess he trusts his pack to know what he likes. All I know is that he likes to keep a low profile.”

  Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me, but I decided not to ruin Arthur's fun. He would probably just accuse me of being an armchair psychologist anyway. He came to a stop in front of a beautiful gold Mercedes that looked brand new. “Is this your car?” I asked in awe.

  “Yep,” he said, lovingly stroking the frame. “Birthday present. Hop in!”

  I did with great caution. It felt like I was going to break the handle just by touching it. I slipped into the tan leather seat without accident and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Chill, this thing is insured to the max,” he told me, starting it up. The engine purred to life and a CD track started playing. It was an eerie country rock ballad about someone coming back from the grave at the rapture. I recognized the singer's raspy voice, but I couldn't place the song. It was far from the ukelele ballad I had expected from my argyle-loving hipster friend. “What is this?”

  He made a disapproving tsk sound with his tongue. “You don't recognize the Man in Black? Kids these days.”

  “Country isn't really my thing,” I admitted with a small laugh. “This is kind of dark.”

  “The best music usually is.”

  “So where is this place?” I asked in an attempt to dispel the sudden tension in the car. Everywhere else I'd been in the relatively small college town had been a short trip on foot.

  “In the middle of nowhere,” he replied. “Well, in the middle of the woods at least.”

  “And it's that popular?” I asked in astonishment.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, turning off the main road in town. “It's not that far from the college, but guys come from all over just to have a session.”

  Arthur turned down a smaller, less defined road that had worn away at the edges and grown over partially with grass. “This is the only way to get there. Rumor has it the Lodge commissioned the road years ago.”

  “Wow,” I murmured, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. “Whoever runs this place must be really well connected.”

  “And rich,” he replied. “My mom knows him from chamber of commerce meetings and stuff. I couldn't dig too much without giving away my hobbies, but she was fuming last week because he bought some building she'd been bidding on.”

  There was rich and then there was buying buildings rich. I'd had enough experience with the latter to know I never
wanted anything to do with it again. At least not when it came to men.

  4

  “Almost there,” Arthur announced, following the winding road through a series of hills and dips. “Look to the right, you can see the top of the hill.”

  The outline of what looked to be a massive log cabin came into view. The closer we got, the bigger it looked. The grass lot out front was filled with cars, and more than half of them had the university parking sticker on the windshield.

  “Told ya it was popular,” said Arthur.

  He wasn't kidding. Men filed into the wooded mansion and warm yellow lights glowed through the many opaque windows on its three stories. It was hard to believe this was a BDSM dungeon rather than a secluded Swiss chalet.

  “How do you like the Lodge?” Arthur asked smugly. He must have noticed my slack-jawed state.

  “It's beautiful,” I admitted. “Not at all what I expected.”

  He laughed. “Bet you're gonna say that at least ten more times before the night's over.”

  The group in front of us came to an abrupt halt at the door. They were talking to a man I could only assume was the bouncer. At least there was something typical about this club. I was no shrimp at five-seven, and the man in front of me was easily over six feet, but the bouncer made us both look like kids.

  I managed to wriggle my fingers into my pocket and feel for my ID. I couldn't see him well, but he didn't seem like the type you wanted to keep waiting. I looked over to see Arthur take out some sort of card. I wasn't sure yet what the Washington driver's license looked like, but I doubted that was it. This was a jet black card with scripted red lettering and a picture square.

  When the huge man stepped aside, the group ahead of us filtered inside and I could finally see his face. He was the most gorgeous bouncer I'd ever seen, although my sample size was admittedly limited. He had shaggy dark brown hair that would have seemed black if not for the warm glow of the light above the door betraying some golden strands. Honey brown eyes shifted from me to Arthur and seemed to take in everything at once. Heavy dark circles ringed them, giving his otherwise generically handsome face some character. He had a strong jaw and the biceps stretching his plain black T-shirt's sleeves to their limit had probably been listed as references on his job application. He was the boy next door all grown up and potentially embroiled in a steroid scandal. If trouble ever reared its head at the Lodge, I had a feeling it didn't last long.

  I realized I was gaping, but my embarrassment was short-lived once I noticed he was doing the same. His gaze was so intense I looked behind me in search of the rightful object of his attention. Surely it couldn't be me.

  “Hey Arthur. Long time no see.” His voice was a surprisingly rich tenor when he finally spoke. “Who's your friend?”

  “Hey Sebastian,” said Arthur. He slipped the bouncer his strange black card. “This is Remus. We're here for the competition.”

  Sebastian's eyes flickered over me and a slow smile curled his full lips. “Well, he already has my vote.”

  I didn't know what to say to that. When it looked like Arthur wasn't coming to my aid, I said, “I'm not entering. Just watching.”

  “Huh,” he said, placing a red stamp on the back of Arthur's hand before handing his card back. He sounded genuinely disappointed. “Too bad.” He drew another stamp from his pocket and held out his hand. “Give me your left hand.”

  “Isn't there a cover charge?” I asked. Arthur's card probably gave him a pass, but surely I owed something. My hand hovered awkwardly by my pocket. There were others lined up behind us and I could feel the energy of anticipation and growing impatience. I was sure they weren't too happy that we were holding up the line.

  “No cover for subs,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  I opened my mouth to argue but Arthur shot me a dirty look. He grabbed my hand and held it out and the bouncer placed a blue stamp on my hand. I was expecting a red one like Arthur's, but for all I knew it was some “sub” thing. I barely even knew what the term meant and yet suddenly every stranger I met was convinced I was one.

  I tried to pull my hand away, but the bouncer held onto it. Our eyes met and his smile turned lopsided like he was acknowledging some secret between us. “Maybe I'll see you inside, Remus.”

  I managed to tug my hand free. Fortunately, Arthur started pushing me towards the heavy wooden door before I could respond. “Thanks, Sebastian,” he called pulling the door open with some effort. The bronze knocker tapped against the wood a few times. I noticed as we passed than the silhouette of the knocker belonged to a wolf rather than the typical lion. In fact, it looked almost identical to the stamp on the back of my hand. They really were committed to the theme.

  Once inside, we were met with a delightful rush of warmth. I didn't know what I had been expecting. Even after seeing the elegant exterior I somehow expected there would be whips and chains and strange tables everywhere. Instead I was surrounded by pine log walls, luxurious red leather furnishings, Persian rugs and a huge hearth in the center of the room with a crackling fire roaring within.

  There was no sign of the crowd that had preceded us. In fact, aside from a black-haired man reading a book and sipping a hard drink by the fire, the front room was nearly empty. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, black slacks and an elegant red vest, an ensemble that belonged in a reading room, not a glorified night club. He didn't even look up when we came in. The only other person in the huge room was a beautiful raven-haired woman at the front desk. The desk itself was so successfully tucked away behind the front door that I didn't notice it until I was standing in front of it.

  “Welcome to the Lodge, gentlemen,” she said in a proper English accent. “Mr. Donovan, it's good to see you again. And I see you've brought a friend.”

  I was beginning to think the Lodge had to be the fanciest night club in the country to have such an attentive concierge, but when the group behind us came in she barely gave them a glance before they disappeared down the hallway to our right.

  “He's a first timer,” Arthur replied. I was beginning to feel a bit like a purse dog being taken around for greetings.

  “Do you need to see my stamp?” I asked, hesitantly holding up my hand.

  She gave a musical laugh. “Oh no, Lodge members and their guests don't --” She seemed to freeze in place when she saw the stamp. “N-no,” she said with a short cough. “As long as you made it past Sebastian, you're free to enter the Cave.”

  “Come on, we should grab some drinks before the contest starts. It was good seeing you, Clara!” He grabbed my hand, already pulling me towards the hallway.

  “Enjoy yourselves,” the receptionist said with a wave. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I couldn't help but think there was something uneasy in her polite smile. When we passed, I couldn't help but notice that the man who had been reading by the fire was gone.

  Arthur gave me no time to ponder the stranger's disappearance as he dragged me into a massive room that was designed to look like an actual cave, just like he'd said. Artificial stalactite crystals hung from the ceiling and the walls seemed to be made of genuine rock. The dance floor and massive stage was the only thing about the club that was smoothly surfaced, and even it had been treated to resemble a thick layer of ice.

  A DJ was playing a heavily synthesized remix of some song by the Cure that I couldn't remember the name of but had heard a million times on the radio. No less than a hundred people were on the dance floor apparently having the time of their lives. Quite a few of them were wearing collars leashed by another dancer.

  I had never felt comfortable in regular nightclubs, but this was like being dropped onto a whole new planet. My concerns weren't eased by the sight of three heavily barred metal cages mounted in the rocks. One hung from the ceiling on a thick metal chain. Small crowds gathered around the cages and I realized that there were dancers inside, writhing and grinding against the bars to entice their audience.

  To my relief, Arthur took us over to the bar,
which looked like a cave within a cave. The bartender was a sweet-looking blond guy who barely looked old enough to be drinking himself.

  “Hey, there's my main man,” he said, extending a hand that was oversized compared to his average frame.

  “Hey Jason,” said Arthur. I watched them engage in some variation of the bro handshake and realized that my roommate was far more intimately acquainted with the Lodge than he liked to pretend.

  “I went to Brazil with my parents for summer break,” said Arthur. “I'm back now.”

  “Looks like you brought home a souvenir,” he said, looking me up and down. His impish grin and the fact that I was wearing clothes that screamed “Look at my body!” were al that kept me from rolling my eyes.

  “We're roommates,” I said before any more inferences could be made.

  “Roomies, huh?” His eyes traveled down one last time before he grabbed a bottle of tequila off the shelf behind him. “Lucky dog. So what'll it be, green eyes? I know this lush is gonna be pounding tequila shots all night.”

  Arthur replied with an unapologetic, “Yup.”

  “Just club soda. I'm driving.” Apparently.

  “Oh come on, we'll call a cab. I leave my car here all the time,” Arthur said, already done with his first shot.

  I hesitated. Maybe a drink would help my nerves. “I guess one glass of red wouldn't hurt.” I didn't care for much else. If I was going to waste money on alcohol on my nonexistent budget, it sure wasn't going to be beer.

  “Fancy, huh?” Jason grinned at me, grabbing a bottle off the top shelf. “I like that.”

  “Uh, I don't know if I'm that fancy,” I said, eying the bottle warily. It probably cost more than I made in a week at the library.

  “No worries. All Red Members and their guests drink free,” he replied, popping the cork and pouring a glass. “Besides, no one ever buys this stuff.”

  “Oh,” I said, unsure of whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Thanks, then.” I put my cash away and reached for the other glass with my free hand, not wanting to hold up yet another line.