by Qwillia Rain
Again he shook his head. No. It was Helen, not Lawrence.
“She’s so pretty.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. Her voice sounded beside him. It was all right. He knew she wouldn’t have gone and left their little girl behind. “Damn it, Lawrence,” he whispered, turning to glare at his wife.
His heart slammed against his ribs. She was there, but not there. Her image shimmered in the sunshine, hazy, indistinct. Her dark brown eyes were sad as she smiled at him before her pale hands eased his little girl from his arms.
“No.” He tried to hold tight, but she slipped away. “Lawrence?”
“She’s so pretty.” Mattie smiled again, her gaze focused on the tiny replica of herself before tear-filled eyes met his. “It’ll be all right, Bryce.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re supposed to stay here. Damn it, Mattie, you can’t do this.”
“You’ll be fine, Bryce. You have what you want.” She nodded to his father and brother. “You have your family and the company.”
“We had a deal, Mattie.”
“She wasn’t part of our deal, Bryce.” Her fingers smoothed over the springy curls as the baby snuggled against her. “Love wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Stay.” Her image shimmered, out of focus.
Shaking her head, Mattie stepped away. “Babies need love, Bryce. You don’t want that. You never wanted it.” Nodding, she smiled. “It’s okay. She’ll be with me.”
“No, you need to stay here.” His voice cracked. “Both of you need to stay here.”
“Why?” She stepped closer, her breath whispering across his lips, her fingers reaching up to wipe the rain from his cheeks.
Rain? He glanced up; there were no clouds.
Her demand came again, quiet, curious, pulling his attention from the blue sky. “Why?”
“You love me.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers, stroked the pale pink cheek of his little girl. “You both love me,” he repeated.
A single raindrop splashed onto Mattie’s cheek as the hope faded from her eyes. Licking it away, the salty taste made him realize it wasn’t rain, but a tear. And not from her. From him. Even as his fingertips found the evidence on his face, Mattie was fading, his little girl as well.
“We’ll always love you, Bryce, but that’s no reason for us to stay.”
His eyes drifted to the headstone, not wanting to believe. The pain arrowing through his soul sent him to his knees. Her voice whispered through his mind as he finally took in the names carved into the gray marble.
“We’ll always love you, Bryce.”
Beside him his father and brother watched him, their heads shaking in bewilderment. “You have your company, Bryce. What else do you need?”
“Mattie!” The words burst from his lips as he sat up in bed. His chest heaved, his heart pounded, the darkness swallowed his cry, but the dampness of his cheeks and the trembling of his hands as he buried his face in them terrified him. Beside him, the bed was empty, as it had been for the last week.
Throwing back the covers, Bryce stumbled to the connecting door and pushed it open. The wash of moonlight through the open curtains outlined the body beneath the mound of covers. The cold sweat coating his skin made him shiver, but the pounding of his heart began to settle. The knot twisting in his gut smoothed out, but not enough to send him back to his bed. Just seeing her there wasn’t enough.
Crossing the floor in four long strides, Bryce eased beneath the blankets. She murmured a protest as the chill of his flesh came into contact with the warmth of hers. Curled on her side, she had one hand tucked beneath her pillow and the other cradling the curve of her stomach. The warmth of her body against his surprised him. In the week she’d refused his bed, he was sure she would have reverted to her habit of wearing an oversize T-shirt or pajamas to sleep. Tucking himself up against her back, he was careful to slide his left arm beneath her head while his right smoothed over her hip. Coasting along the soft flesh until he reached her hand, he took a moment to investigate the changes his babies had created.
The soft curve of her belly was firm beneath his fingers. He wondered how soon before the little ones inside started making their presences known with tiny kicks and jabs. Not for a moment did Bryce doubt that one, if not all, of the babies was a girl. “My Lawrence would never do anything as mundane as giving me a boy the first time out,” he whispered into the darkness.
The scent of sleep, moist skin, and a hint of magnolia clung to Mattie. Even as he shifted against her, tucking himself in closer, she adjusted to his movements, allowing one of his long legs to settle between hers while the firm jut of his arousal pressed against her backside. A week of denial had him aching more than he’d expected. Even in his first days at university, when the women were just beginning to get to know him, Bryce had never felt this desperate for the touch of a single, specific woman.
The smooth feel of her skin against his palm stirred the need for more. Easing up from her rounded belly to the heavy fullness of her breasts, Bryce investigated the differences to be found. Her heightened sensitivity was evidenced in the speed with which her nipples firmed beneath the caress of his fingertips. Even asleep, Mattie responded to his touch. The cheeks of her ass wriggled against his cock even as the first telltale dampness pooled against the thigh pressed against the heart of her body.
Shifting again, Bryce moved her leg so it rested along his while he pressed his erection into the moist tunnel he’d been missing. With the first firm stroke, Mattie’s eyes fluttered open, her body arched beneath him, deepening his penetration, before she appeared to become aware of his actions. Two more thrusts and tears filled her eyes.
“Don’t do this to me, Bryce, please,” she begged, even as her body gripped his, her arm curling beneath his to gain purchase on his shoulder and steady the rhythm of his body as it rocked forward and back within hers.
“Don’t leave, Lawrence.” Even as he spoke, he knew the words weren’t going to work.
“Tell me you love me.”
Her body flexed beneath him, the tensing of her thighs and the hardened peaks of her breasts signaling her building climax. “You don’t want to leave me.”
“Tell me you love me,” she repeated, the tears falling freely now, even as her body moved in time with his.
“Our little girls need me. You need me,” he countered, again avoiding answering. The tingle of his approaching orgasm matched beat for beat with the one he could sense building within Mattie. “Tell me you won’t leave,” he demanded.
“Tell me you love me,” she responded.
“You love me.”
“Tell me, please,” she begged as she tensed beneath him, balanced on the edge of coming.
He challenged her. “Would you believe me if I said I do?”
It was there, just an instant, then hidden away, but still he saw the mistrust she’d been so careful to hide. “Yes.”
He shook his head. “No, baby, you wouldn’t.” His lips smoothed away the tears on her cheeks. “I can say the words, but you still don’t trust them.”
And just as quickly as his climax teetered on the brink of exploding, he felt it dissipate with the light fading from Mattie’s eyes. Her own arousal disappeared, and the quiet tone of her voice sent chills through his body.
“That isn’t enough.” Pulling away, she smoothed her hand over his cheek one last time. “I’ll always love you, Bryce. Now let me go.” Turning away, she settled close to the edge, leaving a wide space between them.
Something kept him from closing that gap. He could tell her what she wanted to hear, but then what? Controlling his needs, harnessing his emotions, kept him from making the same mistake his father had made all those years ago. But it was still gaining him the same pain. Even as the sobs grew silent and she eased back to sleep, Bryce realized acknowledging his love for his wife wouldn’t be enough. In the same way that she had repeatedly rejected his offer of a collar this last week, his voicing his feelings wou
ld come too little too late.
Scooting across the expanse dividing them, Bryce tucked Mattie back into his arms and held fast. He may have fucked up tonight, but he had a plan. In the morning he’d discuss it with his father and Richard. They’d know what was necessary to convince her how sincere he was in his offer of a collar, and there was no damned way he was letting his woman run from him. “It’s okay, baby.” He smoothed her hair from her tear-stained cheeks. “I got the message. You need more than the words for proof.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll give you the proof, Mattie. I swear.”
Chapter Twenty
“Richard, what are you…?” Mattie watched Richard set a box on the bed.
“You need to get dressed, sweetheart.” Richard gripped her hand and pulled her from the chair she’d curled up in by the balcony doors.
“For what, Richard? My plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow.”
“You’re not getting on the plane, Mattie.”
Pulling free, she shook her head. “Richard, it isn’t going to work.”
Leaning forward, Richard cupped her cheeks, his eyes holding hers. “Give me a chance, Mattie. Get dressed, come with me, and then decide.”
“Come where, Richard? Do what?” Dropping onto the bed, she pulled the box into her lap but didn’t open it. “I’ve made my decision. Bryce knows my reasons.”
“There’s more to our lifestyle than bondage, discipline, and sex.”
“I’m aware—”
“No, Mattie, I don’t think you are,” Richard cut her off. “Bryce doesn’t live the lifestyle twenty-four-seven, but it’s not just a choice for him.”
“I know about how his great-great-grandfather founded the Diablo Blanco Club when he first settled here. How he and his wife—” She tried to stop him, but again he silenced her before she could say more.
“Quiet.”
The tone alone would have had Mattie demanding he leave, but when coupled with his expression and the way he held himself, she recognized it as the same one Bryce assumed when mastering her. Fighting the instinct to lower her head and drop her gaze from his, Mattie waited.
“Bryce isn’t playing at being a Dominant, Mattie. He is one. His father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather raised their sons and daughters in the lifestyle. Some were Doms and Dommes, others were submissives, but every one of the Halseys passes his or her knowledge on to the next generation. The Diablo Blanco Club wasn’t just some sex club a retired pirate and his wife dreamed up because they were bored.”
“But, he said he didn’t expect—” He was confusing her. If Bryce was a Dominant in the way Richard was describing, why would he only require her submission as it related to sex and not in all aspects?
“And he meant it,” Richard assured her. “Bryce doesn’t need to dominate in order to reaffirm what he is.”
“It still doesn’t resolve the problems between us, Richard. Can’t you see that?” She pushed the box aside and paced back over to the French doors leading onto the balcony. “It doesn’t change the fact that he won’t let himself care.”
“Who says he doesn’t, Mattie? You?” Richard again turned her to face him. “You may have been beside him in the office for the last eight years, but you weren’t there when he lost Miss Helen. You weren’t there when he had to fight tooth and nail to get his father to accept that the future of the company was on the West, not the East Coast.”
“And the only emotions he shows are related to the business.” Mattie moved to settle on the bed again, her hand smoothing over the curve of her belly as if the babies inside needed soothing as much as she did. “Other than sex, Bryce has…”
“Loved you better than any man ever could.”
Her head came up at the gritty tone of his voice. “Because he shared me with you?”
“And he will again when you’re ready for it,” Richard admitted. “Last time may have been a mistake, Mattie, but there were some moments when you were just as aroused, just as caught up in the experience as Bryce and I. Do you deny it?”
“I’m not denying—”
“Come with me.”
Richard gripped her wrist and drew her off the bed and out of the room before Mattie could voice another protest.
Down the stairs she trailed behind him, finding it easy to keep up with his shortened strides. The study door swung open, and he tugged her into the room.
“I’m sure Bryce told you about his namesake and his wife.”
Mattie nodded. Motioning to the two paintings facing one another from across the room, she assured Richard, “Yes, he told me about Collas Halsey’s Margaretta.”
“Did he explain about the jars?” Richard motioned to the various containers settled on the shelves around the room.
“No. I just assumed they were antiques.” Glancing around, Mattie counted ten containers. Each one was filled with dried flower petals.
Opening one of the glass-fronted bookshelves, Richard drew out a crystal container, its contents barely recognizable. “These are the petals from Collas and Margaretta’s ceremony.”
“Their wedding?”
“No.” Richard handed the jar to her. “Her Collaring Ceremony.”
“Collaring…” Mattie marveled at the weight of the decanter until she realized that the delicate etchings on the sides weren’t designs but actual words. Raising the glass closer, she read them aloud. “‘I give unto you this body, this heart, and this soul, knowing that I can trust you never to bring them harm. To think only of what is truly the best for me, and that your every command is given as a means of encouraging my awareness of the strength within me. I submit willingly to your mastery, endeavoring only to please you.’” Even as she finished, a shiver tingled through her, and she lifted her gaze to the portrait of Margaretta Halsey. The fire in the woman’s expression was there, but there was also devotion and love. A similar expression Mattie had often fought to keep from appearing on her own countenance for fear that it would be used against her.
Even as Richard lifted the container from her grip and returned it to its spot on the shelf and secured the cabinet door, he nodded toward the two paintings. Mattie’s gaze moved to the one of Collas Halsey, again marveling at just how uncannily the man’s likeness mirrored her own husband’s wicked good looks. Only the neatly trimmed beard and mustache as well as the period clothing identified the man as being a relative rather than Bryce himself. Looking more closely, though, she realized the eyes were a darker shade of green, much like the color Bryce’s took on while he made love to her, or when he coaxed her body to climax with his words. The amusement that softened the wry smile lifting his lips and the twinkle in the man’s eyes assured any viewer that the man wasn’t as hard as he attempted to appear.
“You’ll notice that every one of the jars is only half-filled.”
Mattie nodded. “I assumed the contents had settled.”
Richard shook his head. “No. As part of the family tradition, when a Halsey finds his true Dominant or submissive, and they exchange their vows in a Collaring Ceremony, the roses used in another ritual performed during the ceremony are dried and the petals placed in the jars. Then, when they pass on, no matter how many years fall between the death of one and then the other, one fourth of the petals are sprinkled on the sub’s grave and another fourth are sprinkled on the Dom’s or Domme’s grave.”
“This is all very enlightening, Richard, but how does it relate to Bryce and I? He’s never offered me a collar,” Mattie started, then realized her statement wasn’t quite truthful. “At least he never offered one without having been coerced or guilted into it.”
“That’s because he already considered you committed to the relationship, Mattie.” Lifting her left hand, he gently tapped her engagement ring and the wide platinum wedding band as well. “Do you think he’d expect you to wear a collar when you’ve only just begun exploring our lifestyle? This ring carries just as much symbolism as a collar among the members of the Diablo Blanco
Club, Mattie.” Turning his gaze from her to the painting of Margaretta Halsey, he pointed toward the hand holding the cat-o’-nine on her lap. “Only the true submissive of the eldest Halsey male is given the Dragon Rose ring. Every member of the Club knows this.”
“Oh.” The tiny sound made Mattie feel small, but she didn’t know what else to say, how else to express her dismay. All the weeks she’d felt as if Bryce was denying her devotion to him and the lifestyle their marriage had made available to her, the mark of his ownership was settled on her hand. “I feel like an idiot,” Mattie muttered, pulling her hand from Richard’s and fingering the rings she wore. Even her sister had figured it out before her.
“Do you love him, Mattie?” Richard asked, his gaze serious as he stood looking down at her, hands on his hips, the black silk shirt and black leather pants making him look even more threatening.
“Yes. More than I ever have.”
“Then let’s get your ass moving, or we’re going to be late.”
“You still haven’t told me where or why, Rich.”
“The Club. Bryce is waiting.”
* * *
Bryce fought the need to look at his watch again. It wouldn’t make his wife appear any faster, and Richard had already called to say they were on the way. All the preparations had been made and the central lounge of the Club held only those members he’d invited. Although similar in many ways to the formal wedding his father had helped plan just a few months earlier, this ceremony carried more weight and was of greater importance to the lifestyle his family had embraced for over seven centuries.
Drawing a deep breath, Bryce moved away from the window and settled into the desk chair.
“She’ll be here, Bryce,” Michael assured him. The comment was tossed over his shoulder as his younger brother focused his attention on the monitors displaying the entrance and lounge area of the Club.
