Mathieu blew out another breath and absently scratched Gator. Maybe he was looking for phantoms, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that death had come knocking and he’d gotten lucky. But at what cost?
He got up and pulled his jacket on. It was time to see what stalked the night.
chapter Sixteen
Want
Mathieu stared down at the lifeless body partially tucked under some hedges. One arm was obscured by the greenery, while the other was tossed out, as if she’d been reaching for something. The well-manicured grass had been pulled up by the roots and clumps of dirt clung to her fingers. There were furrows in the ground where she’d kicked and thrashed, struggling against her attacker. Most telling of all were the marks left on her. The bruises around her throat. The goose egg at her temple.
“It looks like her left forearm is slashed as well,” the CSI taking pictures said to him.
Mathieu should have known Seth would strike again. He wasn’t afraid of the women seeing him. He knew the moment he struck they were going to die. But not Lisette.
“Hold the bush back for me, will ya? I need to get pictures of her or the examiner will bitch about it all day long.” The CSI edged around the body until he was at her head.
Mathieu circled until he could push the bush back enough for the picture.
The early light glinted off a silver bracelet circling her wrist. It was too big, too clunky for a woman. The camera flashed as Mathieu leaned forward, squinting to see the jewelry better.
“Stay out of my shot,” the CSI groused.
“Sorry,” Mathieu muttered.
He waited for the man to be done before crouching next to the body and carefully lifting her wrist. His blue gloves matched the veins that stood out against her ashen skin. On the silver plaque the words, Hunt or be hunted, were in bold block letters. A message? Seth’s calling card?
This was too serious. Too personal now.
Mathieu glanced around at the officers surrounding him, the people taking pictures, others holding the morning gawkers at bay. This was what happened when he sat on what he knew. No more.
He pulled out his phone and made a call to his sergeant. It went straight to voicemail, so he left a request to call him back. Mathieu wouldn’t say too much unless he was in person, but it was time to be honest. He’d need to bring Amber in on it, and be prepared to take whatever heat came off his admission.
Mathieu went through his duties at the scene, but his mind wasn’t in it. While he was serving the dead, his heart was with the living. Odalia had today off, so Lisette wouldn’t be alone. She wouldn’t be easy prey.
The best thing for Lisette was to go forward. Now that Seth was taunting him, it was the only way.
He hit redial and waited until the call went to voicemail once more.
Whatever it took, he’d make sure she stayed alive. She might not agree with his choices, but he’d keep her safe.
Lisette paced back and forth in the kitchen, swiping a rag over the spotless counters. Odalia and Jacques chatted in the living room, their voices low. Not that Lisette was paying any attention to them. She’d caught a bit of the news, talking about a strangled woman found in the park, before Odalia had changed the channel. She was probably over-thinking everything, but she couldn’t help it. This last week had been a little slice of heaven when the rest of her life had gone to hell so fast.
To make matters worse, Mathieu wasn’t answering his phone. She didn’t want to burden her host with questions about his whereabouts. Odalia had been so kind to her already and now she had her man over. And Jacques appeared to need a little TLC himself. If Lisette was the type to get intimidated by appearances, the sight of Jacques would have her running far, far away.
Jacques Savoy was a big man, probably bigger than Mathieu, and he wore his badassery on his sleeve as if it were a badge. The image was diminished by a badly swollen and probably broken nose, but that only made her want Jacques on her side if things ever went to hell.
“Hey, Lisette,” Odalia called.
Lisette stopped her pacing and turned toward the lovers.
“Do you want to get out tonight?” The way Odalia asked her that, with a slight twist of her lips and a spark of mischievousness in her eye perked Lisette’s interest.
“Maybe. What do you have in mind?” She leaned on the counter, eager for some type of distraction.
“A friend of ours is having a Fuck Valentine’s Day party tonight. It’s a private kink event at his house. We were thinking about going. Interested in coming with us?” Odalia had one of her hands engulfed in both of Jacques’. With her dark hair down, curling around her shoulders and breasts, she was beautiful. A bit of Lisette was jealous of her, but she couldn’t hold it against the woman too much.
“I don’t know.” The idea of going to a kink party without Mathieu was akin to going to a couples dinner solo. She’d be the odd-woman-out on all fronts, and if someone did want to approach her to do a bit of pick-up-play, she couldn’t. Without thinking about it at all, she knew that she couldn’t play unless it was with Mathieu. He might not consider himself her Dom, but in her heart she belonged to him. For now.
“I totally have an ulterior motive,” Odalia announced.
“Come sit,” Jacques waved her into the living room.
Lisette did as he bid and took up a spot in the lone armchair, crossing her legs and busying her hands with scratching Creature. Though not as friendly as Gator, Creature had warmed up to her and now sought scratches and pettings from her when Odalia was otherwise occupied.
“How much of Mathieu’s history do you know?” Odalia asked, tilting her head to the side.
“I know a good deal, but not everything I guess.”
“Do you know about his ex?”
“You mean Amanda?” Lisette didn’t really have to ask; she knew Mathieu’s hang-ups on the woman were toxic. But they were his.
“Yeah, okay. So he hasn’t been out to a kink event with his old circle of friends in almost two years. I’m pretty sure I’m his only non-family friend and we might as well be siblings anyway. If I invite him to go out, he’s going to say no. But I was thinking…” Odalia grinned impishly.
“That if I go he will too?” Lisette cocked her head to the side. She didn’t like the manipulation factor, but Mathieu needed to be pushed outside of his comfort zone. “But there’s no guarantee he will.”
“He’ll go,” Jacques said with certainty.
Odalia peered at her lover. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
“I don’t really have anything with me to wear to a kink party.” Her lingerie and kink wardrobe had once been extensive, but she’d left it in Miami, divided between a storage unit and Seth.
“Please, I have a huge closet and we’re about the same size.” Odalia uncurled from Jacques’ side and rose. She extended her hand toward Lisette and nodded toward the stairs. “Come on. We all need to get out.”
Lisette let Odalia pull her out of the chair and up the stairs.
Unlike the downstairs, which was comfortable and unisex in the décor, the bedroom was soft and feminine.
“It’s kind of a mess, sorry.” Odalia hurriedly shoved a few things under the bed and tossed the comforter back.
“It’s fine. Remember, I’ve been living on people’s couches for the last couple of months.” It stung her pride to own it, but it was the truth. “How long have you two been together?”
Odalia turned and headed for her closet, Lisette following.
“Like, a month and a half.” Odalia grinned and shrugged, but there was a girlish quality of excitement to her when she said it.
Lisette leaned against the doorframe and gaped at the closet, which was almost an entire room unto itself.
“This is why I bought this place. Some of the other condos have two bedrooms up here. I have a huge closet.”
“Oh. My. God.”
Lisette followed her in, not sure where to
look first. There was a dressing table at one end, clothes along one wall and built-ins for more clothes storage on the other. Odalia had stopped at the very end, where she had three standing mirrors set up in one corner and a little boudoir couch.
“I have some new stuff. Haven’t even taken the tags off yet.” Odalia picked through the hanging rack of silk, lace and leather. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she had a large selection.
“I don’t think I ever had this many clothes when I had a place to put them.” Lisette pulled an ornate, leather and gold stitched corset out, admiring the workmanship and coveting it just a bit.
“To be fair, I used to model, so I went home with the clothes as payment for a lot of the gigs,” Odalia explained.
“Used to? Why not anymore?”
Odalia pursed her lips and a shadow seemed to pass over her face. “I had an incident. Some erotic shots I did for Jacques back before we were together got stolen. It was a big thing and now I’m having to keep my nose super clean for work. It blows. I really enjoyed modeling. Not for the clothes or the money, just because I liked it.”
“I get it. I blog because I like it. I never thought anyone would read me or care about what I had to say. I still can’t believe Kinky Girl has turned into a thing.”
“Here. I think this will fit you.” Odalia held out a bit of black silk and lace. “Your boobs are a lot bigger than mine. Try this and if it doesn’t work we can do something else.”
Lisette accepted the garments and went to the couch. She glanced at her host, flipping through her options, and smiled. She liked Odalia; even if Lisette was jealous of her relationship and looks, she wouldn’t trade places with her. Jacques wasn’t Mathieu, and Lisette would never know what to do with hair that long.
She stripped down to her panties and pulled the lingerie on. It was a simple, well cut garment, with thin straps, demi-cups that barely contained her breasts and an A-line cut that fell to her upper thighs with two slits on the front panel, accented with little leopard print bows at the splits and between her breasts.
“Damn. That looks hot.” Odalia peered over her shoulder in the mirror. “What do you think? Comfortable enough? Or do you want something with more coverage?”
Lisette twisted, arching her back and watching herself in the mirror. “Ya know, I think it’s fine.”
“Awesome. Here are the panties. Do you want stockings? What about shoes?” Odalia scampered down to a section set aside for shoes. “I have some leopard shoes?”
“I can wear my own panties. I don’t want to take yours.” The panties matched the set, with leopard bows and scalloped lace. It was sexy and she wanted them, but wouldn’t dream of accepting them.
“Do you know how many pairs of panties and shit I have? Wear them. Consider the whole outfit a gift. I have to downsize anyway.” Odalia brought her two pairs of heels, a black sky-high pair and a lower leopard print pair.
“Yeah?”
Odalia shifted her weight. “Yeah, I mean, Jacques and I haven’t been together long, but it would be a lot easier if we moved in together.”
“So you’re going to?” Lisette shoved her professional self in a closet and reveled in the simple joy of her new-found-friend’s happiness.
“I don’t know. I haven’t suggested it. Yet. Might not for a while, but few places have a closet like this. I’m just thinking about the future.”
“Well. Okay.” Lisette glanced at the panties. “In the spirit of helping you into the future, I will accept this gift. To help you.”
Odalia snorted. “Thank you. You’re so gracious.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
They finished getting dressed and Odalia rolled out the make-up. Lisette’s nerves ramped up the closer they got to being ready. What if Mathieu didn’t go with them? What if he told her to have fun?
Lisette went through the rest of the routine in a daze, allowing Odalia to dress her in a wrap dress and usher her out of the door. They drove for what felt like forever, but ended on an old, tree-lined drive in the heart of New Orleans. Old antebellum mansions stood silent sentinel on the nights festivities.
Their destination was a quiet three-story house. The curtains were all drawn and no one was outside, but the cars were a dead giveaway.
She followed the couple into the house, where it was like stepping into another world. On the outside, a quiet, normal evening. Inside, they were greeted by a woman chained to a closet, wearing a smile and the tiniest of panties with heart shaped pasties on her nipples.
“Good evening. May I take your coats? Vanilla wear? Bags? Do you need your shoes cleaned?” The greeting slave said it all with a smile.
“I have half a mind to hug and pinch that ass of yours, but I won’t get you in trouble,” Odalia said to the slave with a wink.
The slave’s grin widened, evidence that this was a role she’d been tasked to play tonight.
Jacques shed his coat first and turned to his bag, rummaging around for something, while Odalia disrobed, giving up her coat and the tank-top that happened to fall low enough to pass as a dress, leaving her in a crimson nightie. Adequately undressed for the moment, Odalia turned to Jacques, who produced a collar. Lisette watched Odalia hold her hair up, her grin growing impossibly wider as he buckled the symbol of their relationship around her neck.
Lisette realized she was staring and hurriedly plucked at the knot holding her dress together and handed it over to the slave. Instead of taking the dress, the slave grabbed her wrist and pulled her in for a hug, as if she knew exactly what Lisette needed. She accepted the hug and gave the woman a squeeze.
She’d been away from the kink scene for so long. She’d missed the feeling of family, the sense of belonging. This woman might not know her, but she recognized a need.
“Thank you,” Lisette said around the lump in her throat.
She straightened, rubbing her palms on her hips and turned to face her friends.
“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone.” Odalia took her arm and together they strode into the party.
True to her word, Odalia introduced Lisette to more people than she could ever hope to remember. Usually she could have done a passable job at remembering names, but none of them were Mathieu. She smiled and shook hands, meeting Doms, subs, Tops, slaves, bottoms, Masters and kinksters, all of whom were hospitable, some flirtatious and even a few she wanted to get to know because they oozed interesting life stories. But her heart wasn’t in it.
“Are you here with anyone tonight?” an attractive, lithe man with shaggy brown hair asked her. He had tattoos swirling around his biceps, a few earrings in his left ear and a glimmer in his eye that promised trouble in the best ways.
He wasn’t Mathieu, but she considered it for the breath of a moment.
“Sorry, I’m not playing tonight,” she answered, getting to the heart of his question.
“Doesn’t hurt to ask.” He shrugged and smiled. “If you change your mind—?”
“She won’t,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she froze, too startled to even breathe.
“Mouton. I haven’t seen you in an age.” The potential Dom’s posture changed, the glimmer extinguished.
“Now you’ve seen me.” Mathieu pulled her back against his chest and her muscles went lax. She knew he was showing his dominance over her right now—and she reveled in it. In front of this man and whoever was watching, there was no denying they were together. Even if it was just for a night.
“Yeah. I see you.” The Dom’s gaze flicked to her. “You need anything, ma’am, you just give Remy a call, ya hear?”
“She won’t,” Mathieu reiterated.
“I don’t see a collar, Mouton. The lady can make her own choices, but I ain’t stupid. Ya’ll have a good night, ya hear?”
Remy turned and slid through groups of people, stepping into an adjoining room.
Lisette turned and stared up at
Mathieu. “Who was he?”
“A bounty hunter.” The way he said it, with a curl of his lips, told her there was more to the story than that, but she doubted she would get that now.
“Nice to see you.” Her nerves began to clamor in the back of her head. Would it be like last night between them now? What would play be like now that sex was on the table? Remy might have been the smarter choice to safeguard her heart, but she was happy Mathieu was there. Even if he didn’t seem pleased to be there.
He glanced around, shifting his weight as he did so. The muscle at his jaw twitched, giving his unease away. According to him and Odalia he hadn’t been in this scene for two years.
“Come on. Play time will begin soon.” He took her hand and pulled her through the people.
She knew the evening had a dedicated social hour, but she hadn’t realized it was drawing to a close. Glancing around as they passed, she did see people bringing out bags, others losing more clothing. Her breathing hitched. Were they going to play? She’d wanted that, but hadn’t really thought it would happen. Not with the distance Mathieu had put between them since they’d had sex.
He led her through the graceful home and up a flight of wooden stairs. Ancient photographs kept vigil on their climb until they reached the second floor. There were a few people here. A small group at the landing, a few couples hovering in doorways, but nothing like the press of people downstairs.
Mathieu led her with purpose to a room near the end of the hall. He urged her inside ahead of him and closed the door behind her. Goose bumps chased each other down her arms and legs.
The room was beautiful, done in a manner that embraced the age of the architecture, but with newer designs. The walls were broken up with two having a two-toned red Victorian, bold wallpaper, while the other two were painted a solid red. The furniture was a dark wood, polished until it shone, with brass fittings and a four-poster bed. The duvet was also red. She was sensing a theme here.
Standing in the corner to her left was a non-assuming St. Andrew’s cross, and to her right an A-frame, wooden spanking bench with red leather cushions on either side so someone could either kneel over the top of the frame or straddle it. The top was also thoughtfully padded. Both pieces of furniture seemed as if they fit the room, stained dark to match. The cross even had brass rings. Whoever owned the place paid attention to detail.
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