Secret Mercy

by Rebecca Lyndon

  Secret Mercy

  Masters of Mercy #2

  By

  Rebecca Lyndon

  Copyright 2012 by Rebecca Lyndon

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written consent from the author/publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  “Happy Birthday to me,” Paige Murphy said as she struck a match. For half a second a brilliant white flash lit up her dark kitchen as the fire came to life. She stared down at the teardrop-shaped flame in her hand until the fire had nearly reached her fingers. Only then did she touch it to the pink and white striped candle.

  Paige drew in a deep breath and held it.

  And held it.

  Damn, she was a coward. Of course, she’d always known that, but not being able to muster up the courage to blow out her own damn birthday candle—that was a new low. A few more seconds ticked by. If she waited much longer the chocolate ganache-topped cupcake would be covered in candle wax instead.

  What did it matter anyway? It was just a silly birthday wish. It wasn’t as though anyone was listening. So what the hell?

  Paige closed her eyes and blew.

  I wish I could start my life over.

  The kitchen had barely gone dark when her cell phone began to ring. Paige nearly jumped out of her skin as it skittered across the smooth counter behind her. She didn’t need to look at the illuminated screen to know it was her best friend, Selena, calling…again.

  Paige clutched her hand to her chest, resisting the urge to reach out and grab the phone.

  Everyone else—her parents, her sister, her friends—had been content to call once and leave the same basic, polite message.

  Happy birthday. Hope you’re out having a great time.

  Then they’d all had the good grace to leave her be. But not Selena.

  Selena had never been one to take a hint. She wouldn’t just leave well enough alone and allow her best friend to stew in self-pity on her thirtieth birthday. No, she’d kept calling all day, just as she had ever since Zach left, with offers to go out, to party, to show that son of a bitch just what kind of wild and sexy woman he had been stupid enough to leave.

  The problem was, she wasn’t that woman. She never had been. Not even back when she and Selena had been roommates in college. Even then she’d been the quiet one. The prudent one. The rational one.

  Damn little good it did her.

  Zach had been one of her famously rational choices. He’d been a decent enough guy at the beginning of a promising law career when she’d met him. So what if he didn’t make her knees weak or her heart buzz? That kind of attraction didn’t last. The stability he offered was a thousand times more important than fleeting lust. It was the solid kind of foundation that a couple could build a future on.

  Everything Paige had done in the last five years had been with the happiness of their life together in mind. She’d deferred to his judgment on every major decision—their vacations, her job, their apartment. She’d even kept her demands in the bedroom to a minimum in order to keep him feeling good about himself.

  None of it had worked. Three weeks ago, Zach had walked out. He’d found someone else, he’d said. Someone who made him feel alive.

  Whatever the hell that meant.

  The phone stopped ringing. Paige leaned against the counter, her shoulders sagging in relief. Who was she kidding? How was she going to find the courage to start her life over if she couldn’t even bring herself to answer the phone?

  A sudden pounding on the door made Paige jump.

  “It’s no good pretending, Paige. I saw your car down in the lot.” Selena’s muffled voice sounded from the other side of the front door.

  Paige froze, even though she knew her friend couldn’t see her. She didn’t dare make a sound. Maybe if she were quiet enough Selena would figure she had gone for a walk or was out with other friends.

  A moment later, her phone started ringing again.

  Paige dove for it, fumbling to hit the silent button.

  “Open up, Paige. I can hear your phone, and I can hear you.”

  Crap.

  Paige felt as if someone had piled weights on her as she slunk to the door and unlatched it. If the last few weeks had taught her anything, it was when to admit defeat.

  “Hello, Selena,” Paige said as she opened it. Selena looked phenomenal in her favorite tight, little red dress. Her going out dress. Double crap. “This really isn’t a good time.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Selena said. She looked Paige up and down and shook her head. “Damn girl, I had a feeling you weren’t going to be in good shape when you refused to answer your phone, but I had no idea it was this bad.”

  Paige turned away from her friend and headed toward the couch. The air trapped in the cushions whooshed out as she plopped herself down. “Great to see you too.”

  Selena followed her inside and shut the door. She adjusted the large designer bag slung over her shoulder as she took in the sight of Paige’s apartment-turned-cave. “You haven’t set foot outside all day, have you?”

  Paige shook her head. There was no use in lying. Selena would know. The same way she’d known she would be home tonight wallowing in self-pity. Good friends were like that—they could just tell.

  “Well, that’s changing right now,” Selena said. “We are going out.”

  “But—”

  “No, sorry. I’m not accepting any excuses tonight. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up.” Selena eyes brightened. That was never a good sign. The heavy feeling in Paige’s chest increased.

  “What opportunity?”

  “You’re never going to believe this,” Selena said, and started to dig around in her bag.

  “Unfortunately, I have a feeling that I am,” Paige muttered. She had learned years ago never to dismiss anything that her friend said. With Selena, the more outrageous a story was, the more likely it was to be true.

  “Then feast your eyes on this, birthday girl.” Selena pulled out a shiny red card and held it out.

  For a brief second Paige’s pulse sped from something other than anxiety. Excitement. It had been so long that it took her a moment to recognize it.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  Selena’s smile grew. “Oh, it is.”

  Paige leaned forward and took it. She knew she shouldn’t. Selena would only take it as a sign of approval, but Paige couldn’t help herself.

  She turned it over in her hand. It was stiff and heavy. It looked real. It felt real. But it couldn’t be.

  Embossed letters, a shade darker than the shiny scarlet foil that covered the card so that you had to turn it in the light to see. You are cordially invited to Mercy Club.

  Paige slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “I was hoping you would know what that is,” Selena said.

  Of course she knew—everyone did. Even before the article in last Sunday’s paper, the topic of a mysterious sex club taking over the Arsenal was on the tip of everyone’s tongue. No matter what side of the controversy people came down on, they couldn’t resist speculating on what exactly went on within the walls of the of one of the oldest buildings in San Francisco.

  “How did you get this?” Paige asked.

  “I met a guy in line at Little Skillet.”


  Paige narrowed her eyes. “And you're sure it's legit?”

  “Always so skeptical.”

  “Of random men handing out sex club invitations in breakfast buffet lines? Yes, I am. And you should be too.”

  “If you had seen this guy you would understand. Damn, he was fine.” Selena pulled out her phone and showed Paige a picture. Dark hair, dark eyes—he was hot. Paige might have even dared to sneak in a picture of him if she had seen him in front of her in line. Okay, she never would have, but she would have thought about it.

  Just like she was now thinking about what it would be like to actually go to Mercy Club. She could only imagine all the delicious kinds of sin that went on in there. Dark and passionate sins. Secret sins.

  Those people probably felt alive.

  But Paige Murphy wasn’t one of them. She couldn’t be. She was the rational one, and rational women did not run off to depraved, lust-filled nightclubs just because they were going through a rough patch. No matter how much they wanted to.

  “Great. I hope you have a wonderful time.” Paige handed Selena her phone.

  “You’re coming with me.” Selena used that tone that Paige dreaded, the one that said that making up her mind was good enough for both of them.

  “But the invitation is only for you. I don't have one.”

  “You don’t need one. I told this guy, Robert, that I wouldn't come unless I could bring a guest.”

  Paige's mouth fell open. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because I am your best friend.” Selena’s expression turned serious. “And because you need this, Paige. I'm worried about you. It was bad enough when you were with Zach, but now it’s even worse.”

  “I’m fine,” Paige tried.

  “No, you’re not. You hardly ever pick up the phone anymore. You never go out. You’re acting like your life ended the day that idiot walked out. You need something to shake you out of it. Promise me that you'll come and stay for a little while. Have a little adventure. Even if nothing happens.”

  “Nothing is going to happen,” Paige said a little too quickly.

  Selena waggled her brows at her. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  “I had a feeling you would say that, so I brought you something.” Selena tossed her massive bag toward the couch. Paige caught it with a groan. “Come on, Paige, don’t you want to remember what it feels like to be alive?”

  If Selena had said anything else, Paige was certain she could have resisted. But that phrase, so close to those last words that Zach had said before he’d left, was something she couldn’t ignore.

  She had forgotten what being alive felt like. It didn’t matter when it had happened or whose fault it was. All that mattered was that it had happened. And now Paige had the chance to start over.

  It was time.

  Alan Fitzhugh watched from the second floor balcony as the guests began to filter into Mercy Club. Each one had been invited for a reason, and Alan didn’t have to guess at any of them. He could sense all of their unfulfilled desires. They crowded inside his head. Usually the sound of their combined cravings never rose above a murmur in the background of his mind, but tonight every one of them was a scream pounding against his skull.

  He grasped the railing tighter, his knuckles turning white.

  Two weeks had passed since his friend and former commander, Richard Guildford, had found Cassandra—his One. The orgasm that she’d given him in the Arsenal’s dungeons, the one he had waited nearly a thousand years for, had returned his soul and changed everything.

  Which meant that it had been two weeks since Alan had invited a woman into the club. He’d been foolish to deny himself for this long. He was a creature of pleasure, an incubus. His whole existence was for a single purpose, to offer up women’s pleasure to the goddess who had long ago made him what he was. The otherworldly hunger inside him increased with every passing minute of denial. And while he knew his thirst could never be fully slaked, he didn’t know how much longer he could contain it before it overwhelmed him.

  But he had to try.

  He had been an incubus for so long now that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to change back to what he was before. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to be human. Hell, he couldn’t even clearly remember the faces of his own family anymore.

  The last vivid image he held of his mortal life was standing at the grassy bank of the Orontes. The goddess Ashira had worked her dark magic on all of them, promising Alan and the other men in his small, elite company of crusaders everything they could ever desire. All each had to do was surrender his soul and his release until the day his services were no longer needed. Only then would their souls and orgasms be returned to them.

  Alan had proved his allegiance with his fingers tangled in her hair, gushing the last of his come down her throat. The men who had become his brothers had all watched as he gave up everything he was and became something more.

  He’d had always known in the back of his mind that his day would come. But somehow, as the centuries had rolled on, hope had turned into resignation, and resignation into acceptance.

  But what he thought didn’t matter. Fate, he knew, always found a way. That didn’t mean that he would go down without a fight.

  His body was wound painfully tight. The vivid pictures in the minds of the people coming through the doors were driving him mad with want. He didn’t think he could endure another second surrounded by the pull of their desires. He just needed a little time away, some time to clear his head.

  Alan slipped down the stairs to a back door. The exit emptied out onto a side street. The chill night air washed against his face and arms, cooling his blood.

  He leaned against the corner of the Arsenal. Hard, ragged brick pressed into his backbone as he gazed out at the brilliant necklace of lights illuminating the cables of the Bay Bridge.

  After a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and listened to the soft drone of the city he had come to love. Out here in the open, the sound of the masses was bearable. He could lose himself in the sea of minds abuzz with the everyday business of living. Waves of thoughts drifted in and out of his head, none of them demanding his attention—a driver upset about traffic, a businessman unhappy with his job, a couple on a date wondering if dinner would lead to anything more this time.

  Then a rogue yearning broke the calm. Unfulfilled female desire so keen it called out to him from blocks away. With every second it grew louder. She was moving closer. Coming to him, he knew it.

  Warning bells sounded in his head. This was just the kind of situation he had spent the past weeks trying to avoid. He should walk away, head in the other direction, outpace her until the siren call of her longing was no more than a whisper.

  But he didn’t. Not once in a thousand years had he ever managed to outrun destiny. Besides, there was no guarantee that this woman, unknowingly making her way toward the creature that could make all of her erotic dreams come true, was his One. No guarantee, but never before had he been able to feel anyone so clearly. He drank it in and waited. By the time Alan heard the click of her heels on the pavement, he sensed her every emotion.

  Fear. Shame. Anticipation. Want.

  It was an intriguing mix. His hunger, and worse, his curiosity, rose.

  Alan turned his head and opened his eyes as she approached. She was walking with someone else, but he honed in on her immediately.

  Tall and curvy, done up for a night out, she was temptation enough. Russet curls fell loose around her shoulders, bouncing with every step she took.

  She was far from perfect, but Alan found that only aroused him more. She was uncomfortable in the clothes she wore, alternately tugging at the low neckline and short hem of her dress. She was barely able to make her way down the street in her high stilettos. She kept her palm flat against the side of the building, focusing on every step she took.

  Until she looked up and saw him.

  Honey-brown
eyes went round. Her hidden thoughts went wild. The keen cry of her hunger called out to him. For a brief moment hope blossomed within her, and just as suddenly she tamped it down.

  This was what he was made for—to shine a light on dark desires, to make them real. Had it been earlier in the week Alan might have been strong enough to resist the temptation. But now?

  Not a chance.

  If Ashira had any mercy, she would let this poor woman walk by.

  The woman pulled her hand away from the wall to walk around him. She slipped on the wet spot in the sidewalk, and her feet came out from under her. Without thinking, Alan shot out to catch her.

  His arms folded around her a few inches from the ground. Soft flesh beckoned beneath the thin material of her black dress. The last of his resolve slipped away as she rubbed against him. He relished the feel of her body molding against his as he lifted her back up on her unsteady feet.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was breathy. A pretty pink blush tinted her cheeks.

  “No need for apologies.”

  “Paige.” Her friend rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Selena.” She pulled away from him at the sound of her friend’s voice. “I just can’t walk in your ridiculous shoes. I’m taking them off as soon as we’re inside.”

  Selena, a woman who was obviously far more comfortable in her skin, raised her eyebrows and gave him an approving smile. “At least you had a white knight here to catch you.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Paige mumbled. Her eyes were downcast, a pretty pink glow was lighting up her cheeks. She was using her embarrassment to hide her desire. If he had been anyone else, it might have worked.

  But he wasn’t anyone else. He was an incubus. A ravenous one, and he had just had a taste of what he wanted most.

  Alan nodded and stepped back toward the wall. He didn’t need to watch them go to know that they were headed to the door of his club.

  Just like he said, Fate always found a way in.